Morning routine

Nutella toast is a favorite breakfast these days.  The first time I presented Nutella I was met with a strong "No, I don't want to try that."  He finally tried it and fell in love.  Since then, I use my "Nutella example" to urge him towards new foods.  Sometimes this works.

The routine of morning can be so difficult.  Some mornings just go wrong.  I have been in my closet - 10 minutes AFTER we should have left - with an outfit crisis of my own and a child who says his socks feel bumpy and he may need to change.  Mornings like that I just wish that a working mom could have a time freeze card.  Freeze.  Collect.  Regroup.  Change socks.  Okay, unfreeze, we are ready now.

Then there are other mornings when we really roll like clockwork. {thank heaven} Those mornings sort of shore me up and encourage me for the next one that may go very wrong.  But moments at breakfast, where we are sitting at the table, together - talking, reading, watching the woodpeckers, those short moments of still and routine are vital to me.  The effort of gathering, slowing a bit, waking up, being together. 

Rabbit's snow dance

We have been loving this book.  It really makes my day to come across a book that is equally enjoyed between mother and son.  And in the back of my mind, I love it even more because I love folktales and animal stories; I believe in their power. 

You must read this book to truly understand my story, but in the book, there is a snow dance. 

EEEE OOO

Thump! Thump!

EEEE OOO

Thump! Thump!

Yo Yo Yo!

Yo Yo Yo!

The rabbit gets his drum and sings the refrain so that it will snow.  Well, for the past 3 nights, at about 8:30 p.m., Calvin and I could be found on our front porch, squatting low near the concrete. Calvin has been in pajamas and bare feet.  I've been in shorts and flip flops (despite very cold temps for us!) We've been singing the snow dance, loud and proud, beating the rhythm on the concrete as we go.  It has been exuberant.  It is just one of those times where, as a mom, you get a vision of yourself 20 years from now, looking back at this silly, crazy, delightful moment in time. Those moments make me pause.  They sorta make me want to cry, too, but they are such a reminder to me that this moment is this moment.  Time keeps going. A child keeps growing. The timeline on these precious memories is limited. 
In an improbable twist...it "snowed" on Tuesday of this week.  Quotations are merited. Anyone above a certain southern latitude would spew their coffee all over me if I called what happened on Tuesday snow. But there's a 5 year old who believes his snow dance worked. ! So we're going to go with that.

The view from Christmas

 In a twist that I've never experienced before, we had a white Christmas.  Sleet began on Christmas day and snow began on Christmas night.  I still can't believe this photo of our neighborhood street.  Goodness.

It was all fun and games {drum roll} and then the power went out!  And stayed out! For 3 days! I do not mean to complain - we had it far better than so, so many people.  Our fireplace kept us warm and worked so hard for us.  We have a gas stove and Jason is such a skilled cook.  Many people had such a harder time.

After regaining power on Friday, I got a jolt of perspective when I opened the paper that morning and saw that Our House, a local shelter for the working homeless, lost freezers and refrigerators full of holiday food donations. A month's worth of meals gone in a few days.  Other people had sick children at home, newborn babies at home, or ailing parents.  At those moments you catch your breath to think how very fortunate you are at this moment in time.

When the power goes out, neighbors come out.  We had some neighborhood fun.  We chatted, shared, offered things, traded things, gave things.  Sort of makes you wonder why it takes so much to get people connected.  The holiday had its lessons, I think.  Lessons of thankfulness, adaptability, community.  It was a good Christmas.