Merry Christmas!

The stomach flu doesn't care about Christmas and took Wes down for the day, so we ditched him in his misery like any good wife would, and headed out for the Christmas Day festivities!

A little Christmas Eve Dodgeball/Nativity action, anyone. Do I sense a new tradition coming on?
The flu bug was kind enough to let Daddy put together Sophie's new bike, before seizing control. (Otherwise it would likely be would be missing several key bolts.) She was quite good on the new bike, and announced that Lani could go ahead and have her old tricycle.

As has become customary, the kids (and us) took home quite the haul from Grandma Karla's this year. In addition to getting all new fishing gear, Grandpa Jim had a great mind game gift exchange, which ended very nicely for us. Let's just say we took home the bacon and the kids had a dream Christmas -again. Thanks guys!
On to play with cousins. Ellyse didn't fare too well with the gift exchange. (I thought everyone loved cinnamon almonds?!) Where are all the missing Hatches? Penny for an uncle??
Yes Sophie, that's how I feel after Christmas too.

Overheard today:

Sophie attempting to explain to Lani the concept of forgiveness after swiping a toy that was rightfully Lani's:

"Lani, you have to forgive me. Do you know what it means to forgive?? It means I say sorry and you forgive, OK? -Got it?"

Incidentally, Sophie lacked all remorse, and had no intention of returning the toy.

_______________________________________________________________

DB to Jake in the midst of a dispute over a move Jake made while playing Mancala:

"Jake, YOU cheated! I know because you are the older brother. I have younger eyes than you so I know what I saw and you cheated!"

Who can argue with that?

Dominos

Nope, that's not a gift the kids got for Christmas. It's the way this ravaging stomach flu has worked in our house. It has methodically taken us down one by one. It took me as a victim on Wednesday and effectively ruined Wes' Christmas today. (Sidebar: I'm so sorry to those who came to our house to watch the BYU game in the middle of this. I truly thought we were done with it!)

I realize that this whole flu topic may be getting a bid tedious but I bring it up one last time for good reason. I have decided that it is the closest thing I will ever experience to knowing what would happen to my family if I disappeared one day (not that I'm planning a departure.) I have ADD, and don't sit still, well really ever. So there's no way I could otherwise conduct this experiment unless my physical condition absolutely prevented it. This flu qualified- you know the sit in a fetal position rocking while you pray that you feel better or die soon. I could not have helped my kids, done a dish, folded a piece of laundry or anything relating to that if I had to. Thankfully, Wes has the rest of the year off, so he put on his mommy hat (not literally) and took over. I could do physically do nothing but be vaguely aware of the chaos outside my bedroom door.

I am happy to report that in my forced absence, the kids ate, were bathed and dressed, and kept out of harms way for a day. Wes is a roll up your sleeves and help out kind of Dad, so I wasn't surprised. The Result?: I deducted points for the McDonald's dinner and the lack of any evidence of fruits or vegetables served, but he received bonus points for untangling and styling Sophie's rat's nest for hair. He did leave the boys behind while he ran to the store. I counted seven neighbor children in the backyard, but only one of mine while he was gone. They all listened to his strict instructions to not come in the house and my missing son eventually reappeared, so I let that one go. Overall, he did pretty well. He has proven his sprinting ability, but the marathon? Hard to say. I did get a good chuckle out his comment after I emerged from the bedroom after 12 hours...

"Did you know that these kids are a mess? All I have done ALL day is clean up after them! I got nothing done."

Really?

To be fair, I too was surprised at how hard it was to teach a few of his classes for him. Maybe it is good to switch roles every so often to appreciate each other.

Christmas Traditions

Like most families, we are trying to create some memories for our kids with some fun Christmas traditions. Wes and I both tend to be spontaneous and prefer to do what works last minute rather than plan ahead and make a big ordeal about activities. Having young kids has taught us that if you over plan you are only setting yourself up for disappointment. It usually goes down best when it is last minute. One day last week after the kids got home from school, they were bored and the weather was nice so I called Wes, told him to go home by way of Scottsdale and meet us with a pizza at the Railroad Park. We had a great time riding the train and seeing Christmas lights. If we had planned to do that weeks ahead, it would have rained or the one of the kids would've been sick. Never fails.

There is one tradition that seems to keep creeping it's way into our Christmas every year that I wish would stop. For the past two years, the kids have come down with stomach flu the last day of before Christmas break. This year was no different. Wes and I went to lunch for what we joked was "the company party" and just happen to leave our phones in the car. When we got back to the car we both had several missed calls from the school which is always a bit anxiety producing. Apparently Dylan walked up to his teacher's desk and said, "My belly doesn't feel..... " followed by projectile vomiting. Luckily, his teacher was able to jump to avoid the majority of the chocolate milk and pizza he had for lunch. Poor guy is now that kid who puked all over the class room. I shouldn't have worried about the stigma though, because it turned out to be quite the opposite. Two neighbor girls who are in his class came to the door to tell me to thank DB because they got to go out for a really long extra recess while they cleaned up the puke. Nice. He's a hero.

Despite our best efforts, we were unable to contain the flu. Just when we thought we were in the clear, Jake and Sophie began to puke within minutes of each other last night. It went on all night. Jake pukes, we get him cleaned up and we all just fall back to sleep, then Sophie pukes and the cycle repeats- Jake, Sophie, Jake, Sophie etc. If it wasn't so sad, it would have been funny. Needless to say, we are a little tired today. The puking has stopped, the house smells of bleach, and my high aspirations of passing out homemade neighbor treats has gone out the window. "Merry Christmas - here's some stomach flu laced cookies!"

By the way, if my cheap boss (also doubles as my husband) thinks that the whole puking drama has distracted me so much that I forgot about the lack of a Christmas bonus at our "Christmas party," he would be mistaken.

Sophie's Christmas

Santa Baby...
A little cookie with your sprinkles, anyone?
Penguin Sophie and the Railroad Park
DB and Sophie decorate the tree

The whole Christmas experience is so much richer since the kids entered the picture. Despite Jake's early rejection of Santa Claus there is still plenty of holiday magic to go around here, thanks to Sophie. She is at the golden age for Christmas. She absolutely whole heartedly believes in Santa's authenticity and is loving every aspect of the Christmas experience this year. I hate to have it come to an end and based on her comments lately, so does she. So far she sat on Santa's lap, rode the train and saw the lights at the Railroad Park, went to the ward party, and has done her share to help shop and decorate. When we come home from these events, she will inevitably ask, "Is Christmas over now?"

Grandma Karla sent a big box of goodies in the mail. Sophie was with me when we went to the mailbox, so naturally she assumed ownership. Wes opened up the package of delectable little chocolate covered cakes and let her pick one for a treat. No one else was around to see this full box. After eating one, she looked at Wes and said, "Daddy, I'm just going to go keep these in my room, OK?" So much for spreading holiday cheer.

Cheryl took her to see Santa at the mall with Lani, so by the time we had the ward party last night, she knew the drill. There is no fear of Santa. She fully understands his potential worth to her. She totally played it up and even went so far as to stroke Santa's beard to turn up the charm a bit. I think she might get that Oopsie Baby she's been vying for (or a cheap knock off in since I am her mom:)

The best part of Christmas this year has been her attempt to sing Christmas songs. Wes (AKA Clark W. Griswold) rigged up our Christmas lights to have his stereo attached to them. So when the lights are on, so are the tunes. I have been surprised at how many songs Sophie knows. Sometimes it turns into a medley of sorts with some made up words to fill the gaps, but that is the best part.

"Rudolph the red nosed reindeer used to jingle bells, jingle bells and Santa comes home tonight..Yeah!"

It's awesome.

Mustang Pride

One last huddle for the Mustangs.
Sophie loved being sandwiched between her two Grandpas.
The Mustang faithful.

I couldn't resist a quick update on the boys football tournament last Saturday. Every so often we hit a window with the boys that allows them to be on the same team, with Wes as their coach. I truly look forward to watching Wes coach these boys every week, and know that we are creating priceless memories for them. I'm grateful that my kids have a dad who takes such an interest in their lives, and relatives who are so nice be to show up at these sometimes tedious games. It meant so much to the boys that so many family members came out to their tournament. I was so proud of the way they played, and the way Wes coached. It has been frustrating at times because Wes is what I consider an ethical coach, meaning that at this tender age, every kid gets an equal chance to play regardless of talent or skill.

Unfortunately, when you are playing against other coaches who have a win at all cost and run up the score mentality, and the son of an NFL player at their disposal, it doesn't bode well for the team in the win department. The Mustangs won about half their games this year and lost a chance to play for the championship in a close 7-6 defeat in the second playoff game. It was funny to watch, as I began to be convinced that neither coach wanted to win, which meant a third hour of games and a sure to be slaughter of a championship game against what I consider and "unethical coach." I am so proud of the way they played (and were coached) and think they should hold their head high knowing that this is what youth sports should be about. So hats off the Mustangs, who will always be champions to me! Basketball starts in January and baseball is the spring. Watch your email, as I am sure Jake will keep you apprised of games times, and thank you again for your support!

The Intangibles

I've got to thinking lately about how crucial the intangible skills of life are. They are such a strong predictor of success in relationships, careers, and responsibilities. There are certain skills you just can't teach, and can't necessarily put your finger on until you get to know a person. They don't show up on a resume and can't really be taught in school. We are trying to hire a couple coaches for our business. Wes repeatedly has said, "I just need to find someone who has 'it'" We can't really put into words what that means, but we both know 'it' when we see 'it'.

December is a stressful month for me because I have no gift giving ability. I have never been good at knowing what to give someone and have always been insecure about this. I hate it when someone opens a gift I gave them in front of me. I will purposely be at the punch bowl or in the bathroom or in the car on the way home during this part of the party. I instinctively will begin to apologize to the recipient if forced to be present as they open the package.

I've decided it takes five things to be a good gift giver: love in your heart, time, creativity, talent, and money. Now by my calculations, you can be lacking in one or two of these areas and still be able to give respectively. In my case though, I severely lack in four of these five areas. The love in my heart I can do, but the tangible manifestation of that love is problematic. If your love language is gifts, we probably aren't friends anymore.

I have often thought that it would be nice if there was an opt-out program of some kind of like the do not call list. I sign away my rights to ever receive gifts again, and in turn I no longer will be expected to give gifts. My world would be so much easier if that existed. I could celebrate Christmas with no stress, regrets, or guilt. I would look at my beautiful tree on Christmas morning with the vast space surrounding it and think...free at last, free at last! This of course is merely a fantasy of mine and especially doesn't work with kids and the one fifth of the population with "gifts" as their love language (if you are a Gary Chapman believer) aren't going anywhere. They'll still get offended by me at least two times per year, their birthday and Christmas and probably more if they happen to have gotten married, graduated, or had a baby that year.

But let it be known, I do have love in my heart...just none of the other four things. I'm truly sorry.

Merry Christmas!

Santa Never Had a Chance

The magic is gone. First it was the Tooth Fairy, then down went the Easter Bunny. I knew it was imminent and dodged and stalled as long as I could, but as of tonight Jake is no longer a believer in Santa Claus. And right before Christmas too. It's a darn shame. I'm certain I took it harder than he did.

Here's how it all went down:

Jake: "Mom, I need to talk to you in private."

Me: "Ok. (knowing you don't ever say no to that) Let me get DB and Soph in bed."

Jake: "I need to know if Santa is real."

Me: "Well sure he is. Isn't it fun to know that he is going to bring all the good kids gifts? Now let's hop in bed."

Jake: "Yeah that's fun, but is he real?"

Me, starting to feel like a witness being cross-examined: "You know it's good to believe in Santa because he doesn't like to bring gifts to kids who don't believe in him. It's late, let's get to sleep."

Jake: "Well if he's not real, that doesn't matter does it? Is he real? Because you know the flying reindeer and the red nose and he's too fat to fit through most chimneys I've seen, and besides we don't even have a chimney. I just don't think I believe in all that anymore. So, is he real?"

Me, starting to sweat: "I don't know, I mean there was a real guy named St. Nick who gave gifts to kids a long time ago...(followed by some incoherent rambling)"

Jake, mercifully interrupting while losing patience with me: "Was it really you who wrote 'From Santa' on our gifts last year??"

Me, knowing I had been out witted and defeated by my seven year old: "Yes, Yes, It was really me. No, Santa doesn't jet around on flying reindeer with bright red lights for noses and slide down chimneys! But please don't ruin the fun for DB and Sophie and other kids. That's part of the magic of Christmas for little kids. Ok? He's just pretend."

Jake: "I knew it."

I half expected him to shout, "I rest my case."

Am I a terrible mom for shattering his dreams? Do you bold face lie when the kid is inches from your face starring you down directly asking over an over again. I cracked. Wes and I have a mantra with our kids that we repeat constantly: If you tell the truth you will always be in less trouble than if you lie, even if you did something really bad. So I guess the truth shall set you free or cause you to need therapy. One of the two.

I'm praying that next time Jake is curious about something that Daddy will be home. I'm lousy at this stuff and also I'm not taking him around any pregnant women any time soon. Go watch Spongebob like all the other seven year olds for Pete's sake!