Woodsy Christmas

Tags

Christmas, mountain biking

Every year I stop at this place in the woods

I swear I hear gnomes singing carols

It’s a little spooky

Witnessing their handiwork as I and my bike stand solitary amidst the splendor

Knowing the unseen decorators are watching

(I thought I would attempt a Beth style blog today)

I Will Survive

Tags

alyssa, Christmas, Hershey, Hershey's Kisses, Junior Mints, marriage, Pinterest, Valentine, valentine day

English: Junior Mints candy. Small chocolates with a minty, milky center. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ah, yes, love is in the air.  Smell it?

Oh, sorry.  My bad.

At work, it is fun to see the gifts being delivered to many of the women in the office and factory.  One woman who works in our assembly department walked by me today carrying roses and a balloon.  She doesn’t speak English well, but she always has a troublemaker grin, even more so when I asked her “OK, which boyfriend sent you the balloons and which sent you the roses?”.  I almost wondered if it was true!

The woman to desks down not only received a dozen red roses and chocolate, but her husband brought them with him along with their eight month old daughter at lunch.  Another received a stuffed frog with roses.  Even I got a big Hershey’s chocolate kiss from two friends.

I can’t participate in the retail contribution for this holiday.  Thanks to some major “oops”, we overdrafted our checking account this week.  Luckily, I have that Hershey’s kiss…. (shhhhh, don’t tell).  I wrote a little note to Mir and will give it to her tonight.  I am hoping it’s the thought that counts.

Think that will fly?

Probably not.  Maybe it will.  She knows the situation.  That goes with the marriage territory, right?  At this point in the game, if I try too hard, she is going to think I have a girlfriend.

I don’t have the energy or will for that.

One of the biggest joys I am having is watching the excitement that surrounds my sixteen year old daughter right now.  Yes, I have been married for twenty years and I have seen first hand the effort my wife has gone through to make Valentines special.  We were engaged during Valentines weekend, so at one time we both really got into the gifts and celebration.  My wife is not all that into it now, though, not like my daughter.

A single girl, especially a teenage single girl, approaches this holiday a whole lot differently than she will after twenty years of marriage.  I’m pretty sure she has been plotting for this day since well before Christmas.  In January, Alyssa showed me ideas she was exploring on Pinterest and other websites, asked me for advice on what she should say on the huge card she was making.  That card is indeed enormous, as large as a record album sleeve (records are really big CDs, for those who do not know), and several pages long.  It is detailed, with scratch off hearts, little envelopes attached with pictures from different significant outings they have had, a poem, little notes of sentiment.  She bought him a tshirt and giftcard with the little money she makes teaching flute lessons.  Her clothing choice has been in a state of flux, agonized over for the past few weeks.  Matt is taking Alyssa out tonight.  I am hoping it will be a night of magic for her.

The guy had best pass this test.  I’m pulling for him.  I know how tough this one is going to be.  He screws up, doesn’t react quite right, he is in big trouble.  Been there.  There is one thing helping him, though.  Alyssa’s previous boyfriend was a total blockhead when it came to anything remotely requiring sensitivity.  The bar is not quite as high as it could be.  And to give her current boyfriend credit, he seems to handle the romantic requirements very well.  I think he will pass.  I like the kid.  I’m pulling for him.

Me?  All I want is my box of Junior Mints.  Mir knows that is the way to my heart.

Christmas Has Come Without New Underwear

Tags

Christmas, family, gifts, kids

I caught this image this morning. Ahhhh… peace.

Christmas Day Closes….

I begin to write this blog with a pleasant buzz, not from alcohol as I have not imbibed, but from a truly blessed Christmas day with my family.  The day is about to close and throughout my house are many electronic devices in use, the lot of us enjoying some artificial respite from days of close proximity to each other.  My comfort comes from a warm pair of red angry birds pajama pants (a present from my daughter), the music of the Mumford & Sons CD (also a present from my daughter) on the living room stereo, the glow of the lighted Christmas tree, and an overdose of Fannie May chocolate vanilla creams.

When I say “respite” I don’t mean it in a negative way.  Christmas has been a four day celebration this year, mostly due to the timing.  It started Saturday morning with a party I enjoyed with my Panera breakfast friends, a trip south to my parents for a weekend Christmas celebration, back home last night, a mountain bike ride with friends yesterday morning followed by afternoon Christmas shopping and Christmas eve church, then capped by wrapping presents.  I fell asleep while I snuggled with my family on the couch during the annual Christmas eve reading from our Advent book and collection of Christmas stories.  I didn’t make it to the end of Mister Willoughby’s Christmas Tree before I was dreaming of sugar plums.  Christmas day has been unusual for us simply because we usually open presents, then travel three hours south to my parents’ house on Christmas day.  We stayed here, enjoying opening presents after sleeping in, then hot cinnamon rolls and eggnog, and time together over the gifts we received.  The kids are old enough now that they chip in without much, if any, discouraging words.  I cooked the requested meal of cheese stuffed pasta shells with garlic bread, perhaps one of the best batches I have cooked, and enjoyed the meal with Miriam’s parents.  Mir’s dad had three helping of shells, so I know they were good.

The mice are at play….

The day was spent together, a nice pleasant day.  Now Alyssa is enjoying the laptop PC we gave to her, Nate the video game and tablet.  My work bonus paid for a nice Christmas plunder.  Mir is catching up with the sisters she hasn’t heard from yet today.  She has six sisters, so that is a mighty task.

The preacher in me lives on….

One thought that struck me on Christmas eve and has continued to linger throughout the day is one that should have been clear to me long, long ago.  The thought is so simple, so easy that it may just be too easy –

My life has been spent and will continue to be spent trying to truly find God.  Like the wise men who were led to find Jesus by God’s design, a star that pointed the way, I am reminded of a God who is always there, waiting for me.  God is there, shows me the way, has really always been there for those who seek him.  Finding Him can be a long journey and I may not really see Him clearly until I reach my destination.  Christmas is perhaps the time each year and in my life when I can see God clearly, understand that He is there.  I need to be reminded of that.

May your Christmas have been as blessed as mine, as well as the year to come.

Spread

Tags

budget, Christmas, exercise, spending, weight

Book cover from children;s novel, Christmas Holidays at Merryvale by Alice Hale Burnett. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ho Ho Ho.

Santa is looming on the horizon with his booming laugh or whatever you want to call that sound he makes growing louder each day.  My children are both dreaming of large electronic sugarplums, day dreaming.  Alyssa already knows what she is getting from Santa Dad.  We picked it out and bought it together — a nice new laptop PC we found online the night before Thanksgiving.  Nate knows of said laptop PC and is therefore expecting Santa Dad to produce something equal in value.

Yikes.

Christmas is one of the challenges of parenting.  Our dilemma has always teetered on the desire to teach our children proper values, to keep them from the clutches of greed, and between the desire to give them the nice things in life.  I pay the bills, so usually it is me that tries to hold the spending down.  Mir goes crazy with Christmas presents and does not seem to understand that buying a lot of little things adds up quickly.  Our Christmas budget gets blown each and every year, the little things killing us more than the big things.  This year we are getting each child a big thing — Nate wants a tablet and will likely get one — but I doubt my sweet wife will stick to the additional $100 budget I have set for each child.  That’s a lot, I know, but we only get them for a short while.  In the meantime, I am counting on my Christmas bonus to pay for said presents, and I hope that Mir at least doesn’t spend all of that.  I’m no Clark Griswold and my bonus will not be the jelly of the month club, but the bonus is not a huge amount either.  What we don’t spend on presents will likely what we live on from Christmas to New Year’s day.

Speaking of Santa, another challenge that presents itself to me this time of year is my growing belly.  Cycling keeps it in check quite nicely during the warmer months, enough that my pants practically fall off by July, but I always find myself wondering why my pants are shrinking come this time of year.  Mountain biking helped keep the Santa spread the last few months, actually kept me in very good shape, but yesterday I noticed my waistline was tugging at my jeans.  Oops.  Time to behave, cut the sugar out of my diet for the next week, get back into the exercise regimen.

Ho Ho Ho.

Worm of Youth

Tags

Big Mac, Christmas, family, Father, fatherhood, God, Nate, parents, Saturday, Teacher, teen

The other day my 13 year old son shoved an epiphany down my throat.  Don’t laugh.  Boys are born with some kind of worm inside them that slowly eats the part of their brain that control the sense of reason, finally finishing it’s meal by the thirteenth year and belching it out as it dies a satisfied death.  Try to reason with a thirteen year old boy, explain a situation or something you have learned from life with experience, and it will be accepted with the same enthusiasm as a package of underwear on Christmas morning.  Thanks but it’s not what he wants no matter how useful, practical, or comfortable it might make him.  My son is thirteen years old and he needs to learn things his own way, on his own terms, and in his own time.

I don’t like watching Nate suffer through his teen years.  I try to help him and have tried all sorts of methods to do so – subtle hints, outright advice, demonstration, even telling stories of my own screw ups (the stories are told carefully as they can easily backfire..  After all, Dad did it, so can he).  Any time I try to make a suggestion, it is immediately met with a “oh, so it’s OK for you to eat a Big Mac after your bike rides but I can’t eat this whole box of Chocolate Chex in one sitting”.  Thirteen year old logic wants to trump all.

Boys do need to learn on their own.  That is the epiphany Nate threw down my throat.  I can tell him all I want, try to show him so many skills, but experience truly is the best teacher.

Dad, you really don’t need to tell me.

Example really is the best way for my son to learn from me.  The school of dad is best when the student doesn’t know that he is being taught.  Yeah, he was watching me eat that Big Mac and he is right, even if he is using it as a defense mechanism.  But he also watches me ride a bicycle thousands of miles a year and the discipline I demonstrate by getting up early each Saturday morning to ride is the example he sees.  The way I talk to my wife, his mother, will speak volumes when he enters the hallowed halls of matrimony.  My dedication to my job, faithfulness to God, respect for my parents, sacrifice for my friends, willingness to serve when I am needed, the time I give to him or his sister – all are what he is going to learn from.

There are boys who do listen to their father when he is trying to teach them something.  They learn skills, ask questions.  My son does want to know, but it’s best for him when it’s him taking the initiative with me, asking for advice, wanting to know.

Here is what seems odd to me — I was not like Nate when I was his age.  My dad is a doer, not a teacher, so when I wanted to know something the lesson was usually just watching my dad do whatever it was that I wanted to learn.  Of course, I also know now that dad is also a fly by the seat of your pants type, meaning that he learns as he goes.  That explains quite a bit.  So I want to teach my son what I wish my dad had taught me.

And he doesn’t want to learn like I did.  Talk about irony.

Should I get into the topic of learning by failure?  Naaaa… I’ll save that one.

 

Chocolate Chex (Photo credit: theimpulsivebuy)