A New Year. Let’s Blog! What?

Hello. My name is Charity Mack. I am a blogger…

Say what?! I have for years said to my husband’s silly suggestion “You should blog these updates.” with great gusto and leveled tone, “No.” But let’s face it, marriage brings out the best of “I love you. I told-ya-so.” So without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, you let me know if my husband (and many friends) were right in encouraging this blog or if I should have just held firm with my, “No.”

Here goes nothing…

December was a beautiful month. A month filled with all things Hallmark and Thomas Kincaid. A month of wonder, magic, and even a bit of hay to remind us all why December is truly a month of joyous celebration.

My sweet Aurora was requested to be baby Jesus in our church’s Night in Bethlehem live and interactive tour of what it was like when Jesus was born. Through various bustling shops, filled inns, and irritable crowds gathering for the town census, Joseph, Mary, and nearly born baby Jesus were following the quiet whisperings of God’s plan for all of our salvation. And many locals from today were encouraged to travel along with them; to experience the wonder of what God can do even when the chaos of life (hello holidays!) can do to distract us from an even greater purpose.

Aurora was a diamond in the rough. She cooed and yabbered to the various groups that would come visit the manger. She interacted with Joseph as if they had been life-long pals and even raised her hands to the Heavens with humbled adoration to Him be all the glory. I stood there as Mary and was completely honored with being upstaged by an eight-month old. I dare say this wee-little gal knew exactly what she was doing the whole time. Never. Ever. Underestimate the ability of a child to know the voice of God. I dare say they know it better than most of us.

Along with live nativity scenes, there was the wonderful typical holiday scene at home. A Christmas tree being erected in the living room, adventures to Busch Gardens’ Christmas Town, and preparations for Christmas to come. Ryder’s absolute favorite activity was a handmade advent calendar his Grandma sent. Every day he was allowed to pull an ornament out of the numbered pocket and hang it on the beaded wreath above. After three days of discussing why he could not pull more than one ornament a day we had to find another way to get the point across.

When we bought our current home we were left with some items that belonged to my Nannie. One of which is a fantastically ugly industrial clock that has an analog face and beside it the month, date, and day of the week that flips via the oldest dinosaur motor one can find. You can hear this monster flip to its next date with the volume of fifteen ice makers, four dryers with tennis-shoes included (on high spin of course), and seven early morning trash trucks dumping can after can into their abyss-full bellies. Regardless, the clock was at the right place at the right time in order to help explain the ordered advent calendar rules. Ryder quickly understood when the clock said the numbered day he could pull the corresponding pocket. What I didn’t know, however, is that he was also studying the analog clock beside the date information. A few days into pocket-pulling Ryder asked about the hands on the clock. I explained, “This is the big hand….little hand…count by fives…quarter past…extremely confusing….quarters are 25 cents, but with clocks its 15…why? darned if I know…go ask your father.” And as a few more days progressed Ryder was then telling me what time it was.

“Mom. Its 2 o’clock.”
“Yes baby it sure…wait, how did you know that?”
“The clock says so. See!”
“Yep, you’re right!”
“Thank you.”

Uh huh. Ooook. Homeschooling is looking more and more appropriate for this kid. Good grief.

But don’t you worry. I did not make my kid study clocks all of December. There were many an opportunity to shop for family and friends, watch holiday movies, and even have our first annual Christmas cookie bake with Grandma. Let me describe how a cookie bake goes with a two year old, eight month old, and cousin Savannah who is four:

You have approximately seven minutes per recipe to roll, cut, shape and get on a pan before said children disperse faster than Santa’s reindeer being called for 2 a.m. chow. It is quite possible that you and any other adult within arm’s reach will be forced to finish said recipe in order to keep the magic alive. Do expect the children to return, but expect sprinkles (the ones that dye their teeth, hands, tongues, shirts, shoes, and if you are really lucky their faces and if you are very lucky, all the stains will stay for days) to entice them there.

Eight month-olds do have a lot to contribute to the experience: slobbering on icing caps, reaching at the most inopportune time, smiling at the slew of goodies that makes you say, “This was so worth it. I am exhausted. But this was worth every minute…ok, most minutes. Three dirty diapers that even overwhelm the smell of dozens of Christmas cookies…well eat your heart out Martha Stewart, this is truly A Good Thing.”

Christmas did not disappoint. Gifts at Oma & Papa’s and at Grandma & Grandpa’s were full of fun and laughter. Exhausted pajama-ed babies slept in for days after. Jellybeans, basketball hoops and tissue paper were highlights in the gift department. And Ryder eventually found clarity in the confusion of celebrating Jesus’ birth and that Rory was pretending to be Jesus – not the reverse. For days, our miniature nativity set would have traveling parts that would make their way to the breakfast table, toy box, mailbox, dog food bowl and even the bathtub. Sweet baby Jesus, engulfed in his metal hay manger, clocked many frequent flyer miles around our home with the squeals of a joyful redhead exclaiming to his baby sister, “Jesus saves! Vroom! Weee! See Rory-girl he’s flying, coming to save you! Jesus will save you!”

You got it buddy. Only time will tell what other wonderful Christmases we will experience next.