I'm back

...and not before time. We've had a lovely Christmas, with loads of family, music etc etc, including an amazing visit from our lovely Canadian cousin, Kerry, for Christmas itself.

Then there was lots of snow. Lots. More than Vancouver has been getting lately, certainly!

And, of course, the none-to-small matter of number one son's seventh birthday. Seven! I found myself really reminiscing about when he was first born, more than I usually do around birthdays, certainly. He's such a sophisticated little thing now - so different from the scrawny, anti-sleeping pink thing that we brought home from hospital seven years ago.
A trip was made to Think Tank in Birmingham, followed by a family tea. A good day.

So a cold but good winter so far. Really looking forward to some warmer weather and getting in to the garden, which is desperate for some attention. Roll on spring and enough of the cold stuff!!

Great Christmas presents

1. A bike - every child needs a bike at least one Christmas.

2. Books - you can never have too many books.

3. DVDs - especially for the children, who will have watched all the existing ones far too many times this year.

4. Clothes - I love clothes and, by extension, jewellery for Christmas. Always like the fact that someone has picked something out, thinking about what will suit me.

5. Games/toys - in our house, you can never get enough.

The list goes on and on.

It doesn't (or at least shouldn't, in my book) include a loud toy trumpet.

Guess what the little one's favourite Christmas present is this year? Yep - you guessed right.

All I can say is that my brother and his partner better make sure that they buy some ear plugs when they have children because they'll get this back in spades....

Love is....

...watching small boys' eyes dancing as they see all the presents that "Santa" left them and feeling your heart leap.
...getting the oldest one to switch the lights on on the increasingly tired-looking Christmas tree and hearing the little one say how "bootiful" it is. Again.
...chilling out on Christmas night, in front of Wallace and Gromit with my sister-in-law and her boyfriend and not having to worry about the fact you can only just cut a path through the presents on the living room floor, long after the boys have gone to bed.
...all being with my lovely mum and dad, Grandma, brothers and sisters in and out law on Boxing Day for a second, Arnold Christmas.
...watching my little brother and his wife proudly hosting this celebration in their newly-bought but long-longed for house.
...being with the extended family to help meet and welcome the newest recruit to my clan, a seven-week old little girl who has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. And the loudest burps.
...worrying slightly about my Grandma but watching her eyes light up with her whole family around her.
...knowing that we are seeing the extended Rhodes/Wainwright clan today and looking forward to next Christmas when there'll be a new recruit on this side too. Expecting a good line in burping from this one too. It will have genetics on its side on this front.
...wondering how to teach the oldest how to ride a bike without stabilisers in the next week.
...looking forward to seeing most of my unofficial family on 4th Jan.
...my husband telling me how lovely I look and how well I have done, as I groan about the weight I will have put on over Christmas.

...knowing that this is the kind of Christmas that will long be repeated, as long as the current personnel are in place.

...knowing that I've gone all schmalzy and not actually caring.

...my big family Christmas.

While Shepherds Watched

Our ever-valiant and game-for-anything kindergarten put on a lovely little play about "Whoops-a-daisy" Angel today. We've been going a few years now and I reckon that it was the best one so far. I always have huge admiration for (and, I have to be honest, wonder about the sanity of) the staff in there, who seem to be able to get very, very small children to do what they want them to, without the aid of bribery or threats. Must ask them for a few tips....

It's the first time that the little one has been involved and he just about coped with the fact that we were in the room but he couldn't get to us. Thank goodness for his favourite nursery teacher, who kept him going for the half hour they needed him to be still and not sad. They even got him to move to the manger, as he was a shepherd. And move back again.

So, number two son has trodden the boards (or carpet, actually) for the first time. I wonder if he'll catch the bug in the same way as his big brother has? Don't know if their dad could handle 3 temperamental thespians in the house.....

Is this the way to Bethlehem?

Chris and Mark created this brilliant film for this morning's service and I just thought it was worth everyone taking a look! Made me laugh a lot and ultimate respect to Jim and Esther for leaving dignity behind in the cause of a nativity scene!

Growing up fast

Last night, number one son declared that he knew that Santa Claus wasn't real because he was just "Mummy and Daddy". Not entirely sure how to handle that one as, well (cover your ears, kids), he's right and I don't want to lie to him but equally there's something rather lovely about maintaining the myth a bit longer, particularly while number 2 is only just starting to enjoy the whole thing. I fudged it, I have to be honest, by asking him who he thought delivered the presents, at which point he got bored and wandered off. Result. For now.

Then, as if I needed a reminder that he's not really my baby any more, his choice of party clothing to take to school for his Christmas celebration was a smart shirt, bow tie and braces. You can just imagine the scene, can't you? All the other boys, too cool for words in their dude-ish Tshirts and trousers and there's my boy, looking like a mini version of the nutty professor. Whatever he looked like, it clearly worked, as he was full of stories of one little girl only wanting to dance with him because he looked smart. She's clearly a young woman of discernment. He, of course, relayed all this in the embarrassed, albeit slightly chuffed, tone that only a nearly 6 year old can manage.

Fortunately the little one is still quite happy to be little most of the time although he did tell me tonight that he's "not baby, I big boy" when I said that he needed to put his bedtime nappy on. Before I know it, he'll be as gap-toothed as his brother and off pulling girls at the Christmas party as well....