Sleep over...

The kids have been wanting to have a sleep over together since I changed their room set up. Previously, Lorien and Wyatt shared a room while Clare was on her own. Now Lorien and Clare are in the "girls room" and Wyatt has his own "boy space". Anyway, they miss being together (Lorien and Wyatt) so a few weekends ago we let them all sleep together on the fold out couch in the office/garage/laundry/exercise/guess room/mini storage unit. I wish I took a picture of the whole room--that was the best part--seeing our kids squashed together on a bed surrounded by office equipment, holiday decorations, weights, gym mats, office chairs, boxes and piles of laundry. I guess a shot of them sleeping will have to do.

(Notice the box nearly falling onto Wyatt in the upper left corner.)

I love Anne, yes I do! I love Anne, how 'bout you?

Happy Birthday My Dearest Anne!

Let me tell you why I love Anne and why, if you are not friends already, you should befriend this lady. She is so kind and compassionate. She understands every situation and has advice for every complication. No one throws a better party and no one lends a better shoulder to cry or laugh on. Happy Birthday, Anne (again) and thanks for being such a great friend.

Love him...

Wyatt is growing into what I believe is a "typical boy". He loves video games and super heroes. He acts very silly around all of Lorien's friends and he does not want his Mother to kiss him any more--not even at bed time. But every once in a while he lets his tough-guy act slip and his sweet side shows:

He and I were walking back to the car this morning after dropping Lorien off at school. Wyatt looked around and observed: "There's nobody else outside right now. Just you and me." "Yep," I began "we are two lone people on the side walk." "We aren't alone," he corrected "we have each other."

Tug-tug (the sound from my heart strings) sniff-sniff (the sound from my tear-induced runny nose).

Ouch...

I am no athlete...not by a long shot. In high school my "sport" of choice was Cheer leading. I know there are die-hard girls out there who will insist that yelling, jumping, dancing and clapping in unison is a sport but I am not one of them. I'd call my high school cheering squad more of a social group than a sport. Sure, every so often we'd hoist the smallest of our squad up on to our shoulders or hands in an amazing feat of pubescent athleticism but really-we were just a group of peppy dancers in short blue skirts. (I've included a very old photo for proof--or laughs, your choice).

(I am the smiling brunette on one knee to the right--laugh all you want.) I am well aware of my low athletic threshold. I am also well aware of my deep and unstoppable love affair with ice cream, cheese burgers, milk shakes and chocolate. In (yet another) attempt to ward off heart disease I started "working out" this week. It is not going well. I posted that picture of me as a high school cheerleader because, believe it or not, it is waaaaaay less embarrassing than a photo of me trying to run down our street. My butt hurts, my legs hurt, my arms hurt and my abs hurt. Heaven help me...

December Blog Post Vomit...

Too much has been happening around the Anderson house and while I know it is exceedingly shallow of me to think anyone but myself would care about our daily comings and goings, I am going to post it all any way. Moreover, I am only fooling myself when I say "too much has been happening..." you'll see...if you make it through this loooong post...nothing has been happening. I just have the handy ability to talk for hours about events that lasted a minute.

First up, New Year's celebrations around the world! Lorien's teacher made the last week of classes all about New Year Celebrations. The kids learned customs from Thailand, Germany, China, England and Romania--to name a few. I was in the classroom almost every day that week. I loved being with the kids and watching their excitement over the little projects they were doing. On Friday Lorien's class had a big party to celebrate and act out all of the traditions they had learned. It was a crazy week.

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Squashed in the middle of a week packed with class room activities Lorien and I had a date at the San Francisco ballet to watch the Nutcracker. My friend, Heather, bought tickets a month in advance and asked if Lorien and I wanted to go. I agreed and forgot all about it... The evening before the performance I got a call from another friend wanting to know if we wanted to car-pool. (Thanks a million for calling, Bryant, I would have forgotten all about it otherwise.) My week had been busy and as the time to leave drew nearer I frantically tried to think of a way out with out wasting the money we spent on tickets. When nothing came to mind, Lorien and I loaded up, picked up our friends and drove to the city. I am so glad my attempts to back out of the ballet did not work. The show was spectacular! I've seen my fair share of Nutcracker performances so I can say with authority: San Francisco put on the best show I've ever seen. Lorien was enchanted by the costumes and dancing. We were both entertained by whispered conversation with friends. Even though I drove the wrong way down a one way street--straight into an awaiting police car--and missed my exit for the freeway the evening was a success. I especially enjoyed the time I had to visit with my friend, Marilyn, on the drive to and from the city. She is a fun gal who knows how to be patient with a scatter-brained driver!

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The weekend before Christmas we drove down to visit Will's Aunt Betty Jo and Uncle John (or as Clare says: Uncle Betty-John) who live in San Jose. We were totally spoiled with a mountain of gifts for the kids, a trip through "Christmas in the Park" and dinner at Original Joe's. Our very first winter here in California we met up with Betty Jo and John for dinner and Original Joe's and a walk through "Christmas in the Park". I remember laughing because a father standing next to us was scolding his son about taking his coat off: "You have to keep your coat on." He said "Do you know how cold it? It is 40 degrees, freezing!" I thought of Boston and knowing it was actually freezing there made me laugh. I must have acclimated to the warmer winter temperatures because I thought "Christmas in the Park" was absolutely freezing this year.

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And then there was Christmas! The wonder, the joy, the anticipation--no one was disappointed. We spent Christmas Eve making cookies for Santa and watching Christmas specials on TV. Clare managed to fall asleep at 5:00 pm but only slept for an hour. Will and the kids tracked Santa across the globe via NORAD, Wyatt was especially thrilled every time Santa's sleigh was spotted. As a result of living in the Pacific Coast time zone we are one of the last stops Santa makes. Lorien nearly burst into tears when Santa cruised over Boston at 7:00 pm our time. "Why did we ever move away from Boston?!?"

We got the kids into bed and started in on our "Christmas work". At about 12:30 am we heard Wyatt crying and coughing. He had the croup. Will spent a chilly twenty minutes outside with Wyatt wrapped in a quilt but Wyatt couldn't calm down enough to breathe. So we brought him into our room and opened the window as wide as we could. Will set up our cozy chair and I turned on a television show. Thank goodness for satellite channels that play kid cartoons around the clock. With some random ninga cartoon to distract him, Wyatt was able to calm down, return his breathing to normal and fall asleep. I thought with Wyatt up 1/2 the night we'd get to sleep in a bit but at 6:45 am the girls were up and Wyatt launched himself out of bed like he'd been sleeping for the last 12 hours instead of 4. Oh well!
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Christmas morning was perfect. I'll spare you the gift details and just say we felt very blessed for all that we have and received. Because of Wyatt's illness he and I missed a visit with Grandpa Clay and Grandma Lizz. Will took the girls over to Uncle David's house for a few hours so they could see Grandpa and visit with their cousins. (Sorry we missed you Clay and Lizz!)

Last, but not least, I got our holiday cards out!!! Hip-hip hooray for me! If you do not get a card in a week or so (and you want one) email me your address (anderson.cassie@gmail.com) because I am sick and tired of trying to chase down addresses. Seriously friends, I love putting together our holiday card but I would rather shoot myself in the butt with a potato gun than round up addresses for mailing. I hate it. Happy New Year!

Literally bursting with pride...

My daughters are watching the Nutcracker on PBS and trying to mimic every...single...move... I love it!

Clare has been through three different outfits--so far.

Tis the Season!

The Holidays are here! Time to trim the tree, bake cookies and play the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's "Christmas Cannon" at max volume until my family goes crazy. We haul a tree home from the hardware store and start hanging decorations where ever we can. The mantle is draped with stockings and piled high with Christmas nick-knacks. The walls are plastered with Lorien's home-made decorations and sugar is all over the kitchen. Tip-toeing in right behind the holiday decor is always the bribe of presents from Santa in return for good behavior. (I love this holiday tradition...) Last year we had to make a chart for the kids. Their names were on the top with two columns below labeled: "Naughty" and "Nice". Every time the kids were nice, they got a check in the "Nice" column...you can see where I am going with this... We were forced into a visual reminder of Santa's All-Seeing-Eye to keep the kids in line leading up to Christmas. Seriously, we told Lorien and Wyatt a thousand times "If you have more naughty checks than nice checks Santa is not going to bring you any presents." The kids counted their check-marks all the time trying to keep edging the naughty out with the nice. There were more than a few tears when the naught inevitably out numbered the nice. Really folks, we are those kinds of parents. Sad, but true. This year however, we've only had to threaten to put the chart up. Nothing like dishonesty to keep your kids well behaved.

Last weekend we kicked off the holidays with the ward Christmas party. The primary kids sang a few songs as part of the evenings entertainment. The kids were great! Check out their "choir" outfits. Each child got also got to wait in line to sit on Santa's lap. This was the first year we didn't have a child melt down at the idea of sitting on the lap of a white-bearded stranger.




Oh--it is also time for the most stressful holiday tradition of all--Christmas cards. I will probably send mine out on Christmas Eve again this year. I am breaking out in hives just thinking about it...

I am an orphan. (Please don't tell my Mother)

My little orphans...dirty faces, dirty clothes and shaggy hair, gathering fire wood.

Really the picture was taken on a family hike after dinner...
Why is it that every child imagines they were adopted or orphaned? I remember thinking I had to be adopted when I was little. No such "luck". I was cut directly from the Damon-Davis cloth and the proof is all over my face and body--stamped into my genetic material. So, why did I wish I was an orphan? My childhood was fine and my family was waaaaay better than Miss Hannigan. (Daddy Warbucks, however, might have had a million or so legs up on my family.) Needless to say, I fantasized about being adopted and finding my "real" parents. I think it is something most kids do. As proof (or payback?) last night Wyatt asked me: "Can we play 'Baby Bus Stop'?" Not knowing what exactly this game was all about I went along. I started to pretend to be a bus driver picking up babies for school. "No, Mom. You are just a lady waiting at a bus stop. " Lorien began to clarify "And your bus is not coming. So you start to look around for your bus and you see two little babies without a Mom or a Dad across the street. You come over to us and decide to take us home." She concluded. "Yhea, because we" (Wyatt makes a waving gesture between he and Lorien.) "are orphans."



So I played along--all the while remembering similar games I used to play as a kid. Why do we do this? Does any one know?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Will and I are all cozied up on the couch enjoying the quiet now that the kids are in bed and the left-overs are put away. He and I were just talking about Thanksgivings past and how this one stacked up for us. We both agreed, this years feast was one of the best we'd ever had. Usually, we have company or go to some one's house. We split food prep with company and sit down surrounded by friends and family. This year we didn't make arrangements in time to have friends over and our nearest relatives were driving to Montana for the holidays. So, for the first time ever, we had Thanksgiving all to ourselves. After weeks of working long-late hours Will decided to take Wednesday and Thursday off for Thanksgiving. It was such a treat to have all of his undivided attention. On Wednesday morning we all went out grocery shopping as a family. I loved the sail's pace we took on each errand. Normally, I go shopping with the kids and just try to make it out of the store alive. Both Will and I kept laughing at the funny things the kids were talking about. At one point Lorien and Wyatt were carrying on a conversation in earnest regarding the origin of certain words. Lorien responded to one of Wyatt's questions: "Ummmmm, that is Latin--from Latta." When we got home Will took the kids with him to wrestling practice so I could do some prep work for the next days feast. When they got home it was time for dinner and like most Americans, we ordered Chinese food. Will went out to pick up the ordered food and convincing Wyatt to come along said: "Come on Bud. We are the men and we have to go out and hunt the food...that's what the men do." At home we watched WALL-E while eating on a big blanket spread over the living room floor.

Lorien and Wyatt outside the movie theater after watching "Bolt" Clare, Daddy and Momma after the movie.
Thanksgiving morning brought a new Anderson family tradition: donuts for breakfast. The kids had been excited for this tradition and broke into the donuts before Will and I got out of bed. We spent the morning working on puzzles and doing a little meal prep. At 11:00 a friend of Will's from wrestling called. He works at the downtown movie theater and asked if our family wanted to come and see a movie, on the house! We couldn't say "no" and in fact were excited to take the kids to "Bolt" a move they had been clamoring to see for weeks. After the movie we started meal prep in earnest. Wyatt mashed the potatoes, Clare loaded vegetables onto their trays and Lorien worked on a mountain of Thanksgiving decorations. At about 5:30 we sat down to our modest table and tucked into the food we'd all been salivating over. It was such a relaxing meal and quiet day. Both Will and I are thankful for our spunky children and the time to slow down and really enjoy some quality family time. Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Lorien's decorations Wyatt and Daddy in the kitchen Momma, Clare, Lorien and Wyatt at the table

Pomegranates...

"You're going to blog about pomegranates?" Will asks, reading over my shoulder. Sounds lame, I know but really the post is more about tradition than pomegranates, so, bear with me for a minute. Growing up, it was such a treat to get a pomegranate around the holidays. I remember thinking they had to be the weirdest fruit on the planet; leather-like skin wrapped around a maze of the most beautifully edible rubies nature could dream up. Pomegranates were cool to look at, fun to take apart and yummy to eat.

Last winter I cut open a pomegranate, eager to share this nifty treat with my kids. No dice, they wouldn't even taste it! Lorien examined one tiny seed between her fingers with her nose wrinkled. It did not help that I compared a pomegranates taste to cranberries--a fruit they never eat--not even in jelly form. I should have said "Oh, it tastes like ice cream!" and sat back while they gobbled up the fruit. Not a chance, they were not interested and I was disappointed.

Last week as I perused the produce isle I noted the bin of pomegranates and sighed for my loss. The store had the fruit on sale so at the last minute I decided to grab one, just for myself. At home, I peeled open my pomegranate and settled in for a personal walk down memory lane. All three kids were at the table with me and to my surprise, wanted to try some. "You guys already tried this and you do not like it." I replied. Undeterred, each grabbed a handful of plucked fruit and popped them in their mouths. Wonders of wonders, the kids thought the pomegranate was good--delicious even! So we sat at the table, passing around chunks of fruit and I told them about eating pomegranates as a kid. I don't know if pomegranates will be come a part of their annual holiday memories yet, but I am hopeful.