A Boy Learns A Lesson

Thomas S. Monson

In about my tenth year, as Christmas approached, I longed for an electric train. The times were those of economic depression, yet Mother and Dad purchased for me a lovely electric train.

Christmas morning bright and early I thrilled when I noticed my train. The next few hours were devoted to operating the transformer and watching the engine pull its cars forward -- then backward around the track.

Mother said that she had purchased the windup train for Widow Hansen's boy, Mark, who lived down the lane at Gale Street. As I looked at his train, I noted a tanker car which I so much admired. I put up such a fuss that my Mother succumbed to my pleading and gave me the tanker car. I put it with my train set and felt pleased.

Mother and I took the remaining cars and the engine down to Mark Hansen. The young boy was a year or two older than I. He had never anticipated such a gift. He was thrilled beyond words. He wound the key in his engine, it not being electric nor expensive like mine, and was overjoyed as the engine and three cars, plus a caboose, went around the track.

I felt a horrible sense of guilt as I returned home. The tanker car no longer appealed to me. Suddenly, I took the tank car in my hand, plus an additional car of my own, and an all the way down to Gale Street an proudly announced to Mark, "We forgot to bring two cars which belong to your train."

I don't know when a deed has made me feel any better than that experience as a ten-year-old boy.

A Visit with St. Nick

Our town puts on an awesome (free!) display called Winter Wonderland two weeks prior to Christmas each year. The electric train display is phenomenal. It is complete with signs and lettering on the little buildings that state the name of the sponsors that participate. A twenty foot bridge passes over the trains and leads you to the big man himself.

Mallory was certainly a big talker, as I knew she would be, about going to see Santa and sit on his lap. For weeks she's been talking about sitting on his lap and asking him to bring her a baby doll. The closer she got to him, the closer she got to my mom as well. Here she is telling my parents about him. She couldn't take her eyes off him.

Ross, thankfully, is still a believer, but he knows Santa has helpers. He is aware that Grandad is one of Santa's helpers as well, and he thinks that is pretty cool. Due to his busy schedule however, my dad was unable to help out this year. We hope he can do it again next year because his is a remarkable Santa.

The same goes for Elizabeth.

Drew hasn't figured out about Santa's helpers yet, so he was a little nervous about visiting with him. He was funny because he told me he was pretty scared to go, but he knew he had to be brave so he could tell Santa what he wanted. The two items at the top of his list this year: a Sonic video game and underwear (I kid you not!)

And then it was our dear Mallory's turn. Here she is in all her glory.

Get! Me! Outta! Here!!!!!!

After she was safe in Mommy's arms, she still felt she needed to know his whereabouts at all times.

Christmas Day in the Morning

By: Pearl S. Buck

He woke suddenly and completely. It was four o'clock, the hour at which his father had always called him to get up and help with the milking. Strange how the habits of his youth clung to him still! Fifty years ago, and his father had been dead for thirty years, and yet he waked at four o'clock in the morning. He had trained himself to turn over and go to sleep, but this morning it was Christmas, he did not try to sleep.

Why did he feel so awake tonight? He slipped back in time, as he did so easily nowadays. He was fifteen years old and still on his father's farm. He loved his father. He had not known it until one day a few days before Christmas, when he had overheard what his father was saying to his mother.

"Mary, I hate to call Rob in the mornings. He's growing so fast and he needs his sleep. If you could see how he sleeps when I go in to wake him up! I wish I could manage alone."

"Well, you can't Adam." His mother's voice as brisk, "Besides, he isn't a child anymore. It's time he took his turn."

"Yes," his father said slowly. "But I sure do hate to wake him."

When he heard these words, something in him spoke: his father loved him! He had never thought of that before, taking for granted the tie of their blood. Neither his father nor his mother talked about loving their children--they had no time for such things. There was always so much to do on the farm.

Now that he knew his father loved him, there would be no loitering in the mornings and having to be called again. He got up after that, stumbling blindly in his sleep, and pulled on his clothes, his eyes shut, but he got up.

And then on the night before Christmas, that year when he was fifteen, he lay for a few minutes thinking about the next day. They were poor, and most of the excitement was in the turkey they had raised themselves and mince pies his mother made. His sisters sewed presents and his mother and father always bought something he needed, not only a warm jacket, maybe, but something more, such as a book. And he saved and bought them each something, too.

He wished, that Christmas when he was fifteen, he had a better present for his father. As usual he had gone to the ten-cent store and bought a tie. It had seemed nice enough until he lay thinking the night before Christmas. He looked out of his attic window, the stars were bright.

"Dad," he had once asked when he was a little boy, "What is a stable?"

"It's just a barn," his father had replied, "like ours."Then Jesus had been born in a barn, and to a barn the shepherds had come...

The thought struck him like a silver dagger. Why should he not give his father a special gift too, out there in the barn? He could get up early, earlier than four o'clock, and he could creep into the barn and get all the milking done. He'd do it alone, milk and clean up, and then when his father went in to start the milking he'd see it all done. And he would know who had done it. He laughed to himself as he gazed at the stars. It was what he would do, and he musn't sleep too sound.

He must have waked twenty times, scratching a match each time to look at his old watch-midnight, and half past one, and then two o'clock.

At a quarter to three he got up and put on his clothes. He crept downstairs, careful of the creaky boards, and let himself out. The cows looked at him, sleepy and surprised. It was early for them too.

He had never milked all alone before, but it seemed almost easy. He kept thinking about his father's surprise. His father would come in and get him, saying that he would get things started while Rob was getting dressed. He'd go to the barn, open the door, and then he'd go get the two big empty milk cans. But they wouldn't be waiting or empty, they'd be standing in the milk-house, filled.

"What the--," he could hear his father exclaiming.

He smiled and milked steadily, two strong streams rushing into the pail, frothing and fragrant.

The task went more easily than he had ever known it to go before. Milking for once was not a chore. It was something else, a gift to his father who loved him. He finished, the two milk cans were full, and he covered them and closed the milk-house door carefully, making sure of the latch.

Back in his room he had only a minute to pull off his clothes in the darkness and jump into bed, for he heard his father up. He put the covers over his head to silence his quick breathing. The door opened."Rob!" His father called. "We have to get up, son, even if it is Christmas.""Aw-right," he said sleepily.

The door closed and he lay still, laughing to himself. In just a few minutes his father would know. His dancing heart was ready to jump from his body.

The minutes were endless--ten, fifteen, he did not know how many--and he heard his father's footsteps again. The door opened and he lay still."Rob!"

"Yes, Dad--"His father was laughing, a queer sobbing sort of laugh.

"Thought you'd

fool me, did you?" His father was standing by his bed, feeling for him, pulling away the cover."It's for Christmas, Dad!"

He found his father and clutched him in a great hug. He felt his father's arms go around him. It was dark and they could not see each other's faces.

"Son, I thank you. Nobody ever did a nicer thing--""Oh, Dad, I want you to know--I do want to be good!" The words broke from him of their own will.

He did not know what to say. His heart was bursting with love.He got up and pulled on his clothes again and they went down to the Christmas tree. Oh what a Christmas, and how his heart had nearly burst again with shyness and pride as his father told his mother and made the younger children listen about how he, Rob, had got up all by himself.

"The best Christmas gift I ever had, and I'll remember it, son every year on Christmas morning, so long as I live.

"They had both remembered it, and now that his father was dead, he remembered it alone: that blessed Christmas dawn when, alone with the cows in the barn, he had made his first gift of true love.

This Christmas he wanted to write a card to his wife and tell her how much he loved her, it had been a long time since he had really told her, although he loved her in a very special way, much more than he ever had when they were young. He had been fortunate that she had loved him. Ah, that was the true joy of life, the ability to love. Love was still alive in him, it still was.

It occurred to him suddenly that it was alive because long ago it had been born in him when he knew his father loved him. That was it: Love alone could awaken love. And he could give the gift again and again. This morning, this blessed Christmas morning, he would give it to his beloved wife. He could write it down in a letter for her to read and keep forever. He went to his desk and began his love letter to his wife: My dearest love...Such a happy, happy, Christmas!

The Christmas We Gave Away

By Marilyn Ellsworth Swinyard

The Christmas I remember best began with tragedy. It happened at 6 a.m. on one of those crisp Idaho Falls mornings the day before Christmas. Our neighbors, the Jesse Smith family, slept peacefully in their two-story home. The baby, barely six months old, was in a crib next to her parents' room, and the three older children were upstairs.

Suddenly something jarred Jesse from his sleep. He thought he smelled smoke. Could a spark from the torch he'd defrosted the frozen water pipes with the day before have started a fire in the basement? Still half asleep, he stumbled to the bedroom door and flung it open. Clouds of black smoke poured into the room. "Lorraine!" he yelled. "Get the baby!" He ran toward the stairs and his sleeping children. The smoke was thicker as he gasped for breath. "Rick! Tom! Wake up!" The boys scrambled out of their beds. "Run, boys!" Tom grabbed his younger brother's hand, and they raced down the smoke-filled stairway to safety. His daughter's room was next. As Jesse groped through the heavy shroud of gray, he called, "Cindy! Cindy! Where are you?"

"Here, Daddy, here!" He followed the frightened cries, scooped up his daughter in his arms, and with his hand over her face, felt his way out the room and down through a narrow path of searing flames. They coughed, choked, gasped for breath, until they at last stumbled out the door where a relieved wife and three children stood shivering in the snow.

Now the family looked to the smoke and flames pouring out the roof of their home, the home that the night before had held all their earthly treasures. It had also held a promise of Christmas, mulled cider, homemade candy, and stockings waiting to be filled. They stood huddled in their nightclothes, barefoot in the biting cold, and watched their Christmas burn up along with their house.

The spell was broken by the sound of sirens piercing the icy air. Firemen leaped from the huge red trucks and turned their powerful hoses on the blaze. Seconds later, the bishop of the Smiths' ward drove up, bundled the family into his car, and took them to a home the ward elders quorum had just completed as a fund-raising project. They were not to witness the firemen's hopeless battle with the flames. For when the trucks finally pulled away, this time in silence, nothing stood of their house but its charred skeleton outlined against the sky.

And tomorrow was Christmas. At our house we were putting the last secret wrappings on the presents, making the last batch of popcorn for popcorn balls to go in our Christmas stockings. We three children were attempting dubious harmony with our favorite carols and breaking into giggles at the results.

Then Dad came in with the news. We sat with serious faces listening to him tell of the fire, the narrow escape, the house where the Smiths were spending Christmas Eve.

Why? Mother said. Why did this happen, just at Christmas? It isn't fair. They had children, just the same ages as ours, she said. Jesse and Dad were the closest friends; they even joked that they were so close they wore the same size shirt. The same size shirt! "Bill," Mother began hesitantly, "would you mind terribly if we gave Jesse one of the shirts I bought you for Christmas? You wear the same size ..." A hush fell on us all. We all seemed to be thinking the exact same thing. "I've got it!" my ten-year-old brother shouted. "We'll give the Smiths a Christmas! A Christmas for Christmas!" "Where could we get one?" my inquisitive little sister asked. "We'll give them ours," the others chorused in.

"Of course! We'll give them ours!" The house rang with excited voices, until Dad's stern command silenced us. "Hold it! Let's make sure we all want to do this. Let's take a vote. All in favor say aye."

"AYE!" chorused back at him. "All opposed?" was met with silence.

The hours that followed are ones we will never forget. First we sat around the tree and handed out presents. Instead of opening them, the giver would divulge their contents so the label could be changed to the appropriate Smith family member. My heart fell when Dad handed Kevin a box wrapped in gold foil and green ribbon. "It's a baseball glove, son," Dad told him, and a flash of disappointment crossed Kevin's face. I knew how he'd longed for that glove, and Dad wanted to say, "You keep it, son," but Kevin smiled as if he'd read our thoughts. "Thanks, Dad. It's just what Stan wanted, too," he re-plied.

"Look, here's the recipe holder I made for you, that is, for Sister Smith." We signed all the tags "From Santa," and the activity that followed would have put his workshop elves to shame.

They had presents, but what about a Christmas dinner? The turkey was cooked, pies baked, the carrots and celery prepared, and then all packed in a box. The Christmas stockings must be stuffed. Dad got a length of clothesline and some clothespins to hang the stockings with, but what about a tree? We looked at ours. Could we really part with it? "I know," Dad volunteered. "Let's decorate it with things they'll need." And so more things were added to the tree: a tube of toothpaste tied with red ribbon, a razor, comb, bars of soap nestled in the branches. Finally it was all ready.

It was a strange procession that silently paraded through the dark streets of Idaho Falls that night. Father led the way carrying a fully deco-rated tree. Mother followed with a complete Christmas dinner, down to the last dish of cranberry sauce. The three of us children pulled wagons and a sled piled with boxes of gifts. We waited until the last light was out in the Smiths' borrowed home, and then Mom and Dad stealthily carried each item in the door. When the last stocking had been hung, we turned again toward home.

All the way home I worried about what waited for my family at our home. What if the others were disappointed? All that was left were a few pine needles and paper scraps. I couldn't have been more wrong. The minute we were back inside we were more excited than ever. Every pine needle and paper scrap was a reminder of the magic of the evening, and we hadn't taken that to the Smiths. It was in our home as real as if you could see it. A happier family never went to bed on a Christmas Eve, and the next morning the magic was still there. For our celebration we wrote a promise to each person on a card and presented it around a spruce branch tied in a red ribbon.

"One shoe shine. To Father. Love Kevin." "This is good for two turns doing the evening dishes. Love, your husband Bill." And so it went.

Our Christmas dinner consisted of scrambled eggs and bacon, toast and sliced oranges. Somehow, I don't remember a better one. And I know we sang our carols that night with the same unconventional harmony, but it sounded sweeter than angels to me.

"Oh, Mommy," said my small sister as she snuggled up for her bedtime Christmas story, "I like to give Christmases away." Tears blurred the book in my mother's hands, because she knew that none of us would ever forget this Christmas, the one when we gave our best gift. And as she read the story of the Baby born in a manger, it seemed our gift was but a small tribute to him who gave his best gift, his Son to us.

Here They Go Again!

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My Little Elves

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Wally's Christmas Pageant

For years now whenever Christmas pageants are talked about in a certain little town in the Midwest, someone is sure to mention the name of Wallace Purling better known as little Wally. It was Wally’s performance in one annual production of the Nativity play that has slipped into the realm of legend. But the old-timers who were in the audience that night never tire of recalling exactly what happened.

Wally was nine that year and in the second grade, though he should have been in the fourth. Most people in town knew that he had difficulty in keeping up. He was big and clumsy, slow in movement and mind.Wally fancied the idea of being a shepherd in the Christmas pageant that year, but the play’s director, Miss Lumbard, knew that there were too many lines for Wally to memorize. So she assigned him the role of the Innkeeper who only had a couple of lines. For weeks he practiced his part and his lines.

Miss Lumbard's biggest concern for the play that year was that Wally didn’t mess his part up and therefore embarrass himself.It just so happened that the whole town had turned out the night of the big production. No one on stage or off was more caught up in the magic of the night than little Wallace Purling.

Then the time came when Joseph appeared, slowly, tenderly guiding Mary to the door of the inn. Joseph knocked hard on the wooden door set into the painted backdrop.

Wally the Innkeeper was there, waiting.“What do you want?” Wally said, swinging the door open with a gruff gesture.

“We seek lodging.”

“Seek it elsewhere.” Wally looked straight ahead but spoke vigorously. “The inn is filled.”

“Sir, we have asked everywhere in vain. We have traveled far and are very weary.”“There is no room in the inn for you.” Wally looked properly stern.

“Please, good innkeeper, this is my wife, Mary. She is heavy with child and needs a place to rest. Surely you must have some small corner for her. She is so tired.”

Now, for the first time, the Innkeeper relaxed his stiff stance and looked down at Mary. With that, there was a long pause, long enough to make the audience a bit tense with embarrassment.
“No! Begone!” the prompter whispered from behind the curtain.“No!" Wally repeated automatically. “Begone!”

Joseph sadly placed his arm around Mary and Mary laid her head upon her husband’s shoulder and the two of them started to move away. The Innkeeper did not return inside his inn, however. Wally stood there in the doorway, watching the desperate couple. His mouth was open, his brow creased with concern, his eyes filling unmistakably with tears.And suddenly this Christmas pageant became different from all the others.“Don’t go, Joseph,” Wally cried out. “Bring Mary back.” And Wallace Purling’s face grew into a bright smile. “You can have my room.”

A few old grouches in tiny town thought that the pageant had been ruined. Yet most attending that night considered it the best Christmas pageant they had ever seen.

A Brother Like That

I love Christmas stories. I want to share one of my favorites every day until Christmas. This is one of my very favorites. It reminds me of two things: 1.) It is so important to think of others more than yourself and 2.) The Savior did for us what we couldn't do for ourselves. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do!

A Brother Like That

Paul received an automobile from his brother as a Christmas present. On Christmas Eve when Paul came out of his office, a street urchin was walking around the shiny new car, admiring it.

"Is this your car, Mister?" he asked.

Paul nodded. "My brother gave it to me for Christmas."

The boy was astounded. "You mean your brother gave it to you and it didn't cost you nothing? Boy, I wish..." He hesitated. Of course Paul knew what he was going to wish for. He was going to wish he had a brother like that. But what the lad said jarred Paul all the way down to his heels.
"I wish," the boy went on, "that I could be a brother like that."

Paul looked at the boy in astonishment, then impulsively he added, "Would you like to take a ride in my automobile?"

"Oh yes, I'd love that."

After a short ride, the boy turned and with his eyes aglow, said, "Mister, would you mind driving in front of my house?" Paul smiled a little. He thought he knew what the lad wanted. He wanted to show his neighbors that he could ride home in a big automobile. But Paul was wrong again.

"Will you stop where those two steps are?" the boy asked. He ran up the steps. Then in a little while Paul heard him coming back, but he was not coming fast. He was carrying his little crippled brother. He sat him down on the bottom step, then sort of squeezed up against him and pointed to the car. "There she is, Buddy, just like I told you upstairs. His brother gave it to him for Christmas and it didn't cost him a cent. And some day I'm gonna give you one just like it...then you can see for yourself all the pretty things in the Christmas windows that I've been trying to tell you about."

Paul got out and lifted the lad to the front seat of his car. The shining-eyed older brother climbed in beside him and the three of them began a memorable holiday ride.

That Christmas Eve, Paul learned what Jesus meant when he had said: "It is more blessed to give..."

Snow Day

School was cancelled today. See why?

Actually, I'm being sarcastic. We had freezing rain and sleet for several hours last night, so the roads are pretty slick (Or so I hear. I'm still sitting here in my jammies!). And we're suppose to get more of the same later today and tonight with some snow. The kids did a Snow Dance last night to channel a little luck from the Snow Gods. Apparently it worked!

Also, Drew's eye started getting puffy and red last night, so I knew pink eye was coming. When he came down the stairs, OH. MY. BARF-O-RAMA. You cannot even imagine the nastiness. I took a picture to email Edward at work, but I will definitely spare you the certain retching that would accompany your viewing of the photo. Ross, Elizabeth, and I all gagged upon viewing his eye. Mallory had this horrified look and kept repeating, "eye, eye, eye." When Drew looked at himself in the mirror, he immediately turned away because it scared him so badly.

Good intentions

I'm up to my eyeballs in projects. I have all of these great ideas in my head, but I keep procrastinating their completion. I have or see an idea, buy the proper supplies, and then they just sit in my laundry room/junk room FOREVER.

Here is what I envision in my dream world that I will complete before Christmas:

*Paint Edward's childhood toy box to corral all of the new toys that will soon be bombarding us
*Recover a wing back chair - two if I'm feeling adventurous.
*Sew a different stocking for Ross
*Sew the girls' Christmas dresses
*Sew two play dresses for Mallory with cute Christmas fabric
*Sew cloth napkins
*Bake goodies to share with friends and kids' teachers
*Rearrange some furniture
*Make some more hair bows

Yeah, I don't know how much of this will happen. I did attempt to make Elizabeth's Christmas dress last night. I was given one of my old velvet dresses, and while it is definitely an 80's style, I knew I could repurpose it to make a suitable one for her. I had the idea of adding a little bubble skirt to it. I hoped to get it done so she could wear it to church today. I worked on it for about three hours last night, putting the final stitches in at midnight. I was satisfied with it until I sewed on the sash around the middle. I really don't like it and knew she would hate it. I've mentioned before about our battles regarding what she thinks is stylish and what I think is cute and good for our budget. I told her this morning that I finished it, but I didn't like how it turned out so I would be doing some other things to it before it would be done. She took one look at it and immediately gave me a disgusted look. She said flatly, "It looks like you made it for a fat child." I cracked up because it was true.

I feel some late nights coming on.

Gator Boy

Ross has had an obsession with the University of Florida for sometime now. It has really come to a head this fall because of their successful football season. He takes after his dad in his love for college football. Edward has always been a Nebraska Cornhuskers fan, and Ross has chosen the Gators as his team. He talks about them constantly. He even ribs his Mizzou and Kansas State friends (and teachers) at school. While he likes Mizzou (He HAS to! Mom and Dad graduated from there.), the Gators are his obsession.

This is an exciting week for the Gators, ranked #1 in one poll and #2 in another. Alabama is also ranked #1 in one poll and #2 in another. Florida and Alabama play each other Saturday. Ross has declared this Florida Gator Week. And in honor of this celebratory week, Ross has decided to only wear his Florida Gators shirts this week. Well, he owns three. He wore them Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Last night as he was laying out his clothes for school today, he laid out the shirt he had worn the day before. After a little protesting from me, I relented. What's the big deal in wearing the same shirts to school in the same week? I washed all three last night, so my concern was only in what others would think. We tell the kids all the time not to be concerned with what their peers think, so I kind of shot myself in the foot with that argument!

And Ross is my non-craft boy. Elizabeth and Drew craft and draw all the time, but Ross has never been one of those kids. But for his beloved Florida Gators, anything is possible! He snuck off before dinner on Tuesday to create this beautiful poster. He came out into the living room asking where he should put it, meaning where in the living room should he put it. I told him he should hang it in his room. He was a little disappointed that I wouldn't allow it to hang with the rest of the main living room decor.

UPDATE: I didn't check the facts before posting this. Oops. Ross let me know the Florida/Alabama game was last Saturday, and his beloved Gators were victorious. Now we wait for the bowl games to start. This is a long season!

Big Ed and Little Ed

I forgot about some pictures we took last week when we were with family. We were able to have a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner (thanks so much Sarah, Jessica, and Colton!) at my BIL and SIL's home in between shift changes at the hospital with Edward's mom. By the way, she came home from the hospital last night, which we are all so thankful for! Anyway, our brother-in-law, Jud tried to get his oldest son, Judson to challenge Edward to a pie eating contest. Judson didn't think he was up to the challenge, but his 7 year-old brother, also named Edward, showed him up. He is such a sweet, quiet, mild little guy, but he was SO serious about the task at hand. He kept his eyes on my Edward the entire time he was shoveling the chocolate pie into his mouth.

Thank goodness for brothers! Judson had little Edward's back as he snuck up behind Uncle Edward to give him a big Wet Willy as a form of distraction. And it definitely worked.

And here are three princesses that were in attendance: Katrina a.k.a. Little Belly Button Girl, Audrey a.k.a. Dorothy, and Kayley a.k.a. Snow White.

Funny little Ellie sat reading her book while wearing Mr. Potato Head glasses for a long time.

Burnin' Down The House!

In all the chaos of last week, I forgot to post about how we nearly burned down the neighborhood!!! Earlier last week I posted about the gazillion leaves we had to get rid of. Edward came home from work early and started burning them at 4:00. It gets dark here by 5:00, and the city doesn't allow you to burn after dark. We thought the leaves would go up in flames very quickly, but that wasn't the case. It had rained several days before, so all that really happened was we just created a giant ball of stinking smoke. P. U. I was really embarrassed by the smell. At about 5:30 I convinced Edward that he really needed to put the fire/smoke out before we got a fine for burning after dark. I went in the house to fix dinner. Edward came in about 15 minutes later, so I figured everything was put out. Fast forward to about 8:30. I went to run an errand. When I pulled into our neighborhood (four streets away from ours) about 15 minutes later, smoke was everywhere!!!! At first I thought, "Wow. It's a really foggy night." As I pulled into our drive way, I saw the leaf pile glowing at the end or our property! I was in a panic. You can't even imagine the amount of smoke that consumed as far as I could see. I ran down to the pile and started dousing it with the water hose. I called Edward on my cell phone and told him to get out there. He told me he would finish putting the kids to bed. Apparently he wasn't as concerned as I was! At about that I heard fire engines in the distance. I started saying out loud, "Oh, PLEASE don't let that be for us?!" Thankfully it wasn't. Edward finally came out, and said, "Whoa." He didn't think it was such a big deal. He said everything was soaked by now so it would be fine. I on the other hand was so paranoid for the rest of the night. I kept going out to check on it every twenty minutes or so, and I certainly didn't sleep well that night.

Now, I'm thinking the neighbors are probably not so annoyed at Mr.-Blow-My-Leaves-In-Everyone-Else's-Yard anymore. I'm sure WE'RE the tacky neighbors now.

P.S. The pile that we started to burn isn't even 1/3 of the leaves that we have. Edward said he would burn the others while I am Christmas shopping on Saturday. I think I'm going to try to bag them while he's at work this week so I can save myself the embarrassment!

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

Whew! We're home. Edward's mom is doing MUCH better!!! She was moved out of ICU yesterday and is now in a more comfortable private room. She'll remain there until she is able to gain back more of her strength. Her body is very weak from all that she's been through and just from laying in a bed for the last week and a half, but her mind is very sharp. She has no memory of the last week, and believe me, that's a good thing. She had a very rough time.

We were so glad to get back to our kids. Between all the kids filling us in on every minute of our absence, we didn't get a word in for about the first hour we were home. We learned all about the fun stuff they did, the restaurants they got to eat at, the games they played, and the fact that Drew conned my parents and ended up wearing his sweat suit to church. Yep, they were living it up with Grammy and Grandad.

And absence really does make the heart grow fonder. I just wanted to hold each one on my lap yesterday. It was nice that Edward and I had some time together, but boy did we miss those little monkeys.

A Thankful Heart

Just like all of you, I have so much to be thankful for (too much to list here). After spending a nontraditional Thanksgiving separated from our children (they are living it up with my parents), we are so grateful for family and what they mean to us. Without going into too much detail because I don't really feel like this is the place, Edward's mom has been in the Nuero ICU since Monday due to some very serious complications from brain surgery last week. She seems to be doing a bit better this morning, but this is going to be a long road.

I'm thankful for families that lift each other up, sustain each other, help each other, laugh together, cry together, act goofy together. Where would we be without families? Hug yours today.

Overwhelming

We love our humongous yard. However, we'd gladly trade it in about this time each year because of the million bazillion gajillion leaves. After two Saturdays of making leaf piles, we were all geared up to burn these. We called our fire department to let them know what we were doing, but they said they couldn't give us permission because it was suppose to be windy. We were quite bummed because there was no breeze whatsoever. We're going to try again this afternoon, and the kids are looking forward to it.

We could do what our tacky neighbor did Sunday. We watched in utter disbelief as he blew his yard full of leaves away from his house, out into the street, and INTO HIS TWO NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBORS' YARDS! He did it last year too, but at that time both houses were vacant. That takes a lot of nerve!

Faster Than A Speeding Bullet.... It's Daddy!

One of the kids unearthed this forgotten Superman action hero recently. Every time Mallory sees it, she picks it up and shrieks, "DADDY!!!! DADDY!!!" I studied it closely and realized it did in fact look a lot like Daddy....

A LOT like Daddy!
These crazy pictures were taken last Christmas at our Felker gathering. Edward's sister Katie found this costume for a couple of dollars at an after Halloween sale and brought it to the reunion to see if anyone wanted it. We talked Edward into trying it on for us, and then his brother Andrew thought Edward shouldn't be the only one to have so much fun.

Then little sister Mary went to retrieve her Supergirl costume and lots of silliness ensued.

Those wild and crazy Felkers! You never know what to expect at one of our get togethers!

Misery Loves Company

These two are buddies.

Amigos, com padres, friends, companions.

One day this week, Drew did something naughty enough (kind of rare for him) to warrant him a time-out. I use the naughty mat (thanks for the idea, Super Nanny!) in the kitchen. I was preparing supper at the time. He was sitting quietly while serving his four minute sentence. I happened to peek over at him, and I found Mallory sitting just as quietly right there next to him. She was not moving, just like him. She normally is saying something and moving every waking minute. It cracked me up!

Open Season

You know it's deer huntin' season when you drive down the highway and see this:

Scott, was this you? ;) We were very near the exit to your little town.

Prizes and Teeth

I got a phone call from our dentist's office this morning telling me Drew's name had been drawn, and he'd won a stuffed animal. Every time we go the dentist's office, Elizabeth stuffs the box with our family's names. I figured we had a pretty good shot at winning a stuffed animal at one time or another. This was his lucky day. I know Elizabeth is going to be very disappointed it wasn't her, but Drew was sweet and said he would share it with all the kids. He had his choice between an elephant and a lion, and he chose this very cute, very soft, very GINORMOUS lion. Drew has named him "Tigey."

Mallory has been trying to carry it around since we brought it home. She's even been trying to make it slide but keeps getting very frustrated at its bulkiness.
This brings me to the fact that, while I'm very excited for Drew, I appreciate the dental office's generosity, and it is awfully cute, I'm wondering where in the world we're going to keep this. I just took three garbage bags full of junky, broken, or unplayed with toys out to the trash to make room for the plethora of Christmas toys that are about to invade our home. This big boy easily replaces the volume I just decreased.

And now on to a funny story about a tooth. Ross told me yesterday while I was making supper that he'd just gotten his tooth really loose. It was one of his back teeth that I had no idea was loose. He worked on it all evening, and by bedtime, one side was completely separated from his gums. I told him I could give it one hard yank, to which he replied, "NO! I can still feel it attached to the vein!" He went into the bathroom where he was looking in the mirror and messing with it more. About that time, I heard a sheepish, "Mom? I think I just swallowed my tooth." Sure enough there was a big space where his tooth had been. He said, "I was moving it around, and I looked down. I felt something in my mouth, and I must have swallowed. When I looked back, I looked at the wrong tooth. I guess I accidentally swallowed it." He seemed a bit worried, and Elizabeth and I began laughing hysterically. Why? It wasn't a tiny front baby tooth he swallowed. He swallowed a big honkin' molar! Funny! I had trouble swallowing a tiny pill the other day without gagging, and he didn't realize he'd swallowed his molar! He hoped the tooth fairy would come anyway, and I assured him that she probably has these things happen from time to time.

After he was put back to bed, Elizabeth said, "I want to lose another tooth!" Oh, that girl is very motivated by money.