A Legacy of Love

A couple of weeks ago I was driving when my car shifted strangely.  I reached for my phone to call my dad like I have so many times before.  It wasn't until I grabbed my phone that it hit me--I will never speak to my dad again.  I drove for miles with tears streaming down my face.  Loss is hard.  Loss hurts so much and the pain of loss will always be there in some corner of my heart.  At times, that corner feels like half my heart.  And that's okay, because what I lost was so precious.  I lost a great listener. I lost a comforter.  I lost a protector.  I lost a problem-solver.  I lost my son's big buddy.  I lost a Godly example.  What I have left, however, is a legacy, full of memories of a humble, gentle, strong, compassionate, caring man that put so much of himself and his time into everyone he met, and especially his family.

I was not an easy child to raise.  I was the "strong-willed child" for which books are written to help parents.  Yes, my parents bought the book (but I'm not sure if they ever read it--they were a little distracted by three kiddos).  I remember being disciplined by my dad when I chose to exert my strong will.  I always thought I was so clever when my dad would send us to choose the belt for a spanking and I would choose the skinny one.  I mean, smaller hurts less, right?  I would put on extra pairs of underwear and would occasionally stuff a small pillow down the back of my pants to protect my soon-to-be-swatted bottom.  I always thought it so amazing that my dad would miss my bottom and the belt would land somewhere else.  But the part I remember most, even as I grew older and the punishment turned to being sent to my room or grounded, that when the punishment was over or the sentence given, my dad would calmly sit me down, make sure I knew why I was being punished, and then let me know he loved me.  

Love.  That was something I could always count on my dad to give.  If anything, my dad was consistent and he consistently and constantly loved.  My dad would not only tell us he loved us, but would show it.  He would come home from work at the end of the day tired, but I remember evenings and nights filled with playing outside with my dad. He would read to us every night, instilling a love of books into us...well, his girls at least.  He drove the oldest car, often without luxuries such as air conditioning, so that we could have the nicer cars.  I remember him sitting with me in the middle of the night when I had ear infections, or holding my hair while I lost my lunch only to clean it all up after I was done.  He did this not only for his kids who were sick because he loved them, but also for my mom so she wouldn't always have to be the one to care for a sick child.  

When my dad was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I knew his chances of living more than five years were slim to non-existent.  But I prayed and believed he would be cured.  And he was for a few months before it came back and spread through his body.  He fought hard, but we knew his time was coming to an end.  

I will never forget the day we lost my dad.  My siblings and I had planned to throw my parents an anniversary celebration on January 31 for their 40th anniversary the next day, February 1.  Travis, the kids, and I drove into town that morning and we were dropping the kids off at my in-law's house when my sister called.  She was rather distraught and could only get out, "You need to come.  The EMS is here to get Dad."  Travis and I raced, rather unsafely, to my parents' house.  The sight that greeted me as we turned onto the street literally took my breath away and started the tears running.  

Ambulances, fire trucks, and first-responders filled the cul-de-sac in front of their home to where we had to park several houses away and walk up the hill to reach the house.  When we walked in, my aunts and uncles were in the living room.  No one was talking much.  My sister was in the hallway and we just hugged and cried.  We waited at the bottom of the stairs until my mom called us up to where she and a paramedic were standing in the hallway upstairs.  We were told my dad was gone.  

Grief is powerful.  I had never felt to the fullest extent what it meant when someone, myself included, would say, "My heart is heavy with grief."  I physically felt as if my insides were being pulled down to the deepest places of my body.  For several days, much of me was stunned.  But something stronger began to take root in grow in my heart, lifting it back to where it belonged.  As the day went on and the visitors came, we talked about how freeing death was for my dad, how he is no longer in pain, how as much as he loved us he would not now choose to come back. 

We could only imagine what it was like for him to close his eyes on this earth only to open them in heaven.  To be in awe of what he beheld.  To meet Jesus.  To hear, "Well done thou good and faithful servant."  God did not callously take my dad away and leave us alone.  God was, and is, with us every moment.  And He loves and cares for us.  

We knew what kind of man my dad was, but I don't think we truly understood how many people this quiet man impacted until the night of his viewing.  The viewing was to be only an hour and a half, but the line was so long that we were there almost four hours.  I met people that my dad worked with over thirty years ago to people my dad worked with until the cancer forced him to retire early.  I spoke with people who knew my dad for several decades to those who knew him only a short time.  They all described the man we knew.  His kindness and love and compassion for others extended beyond his family and was deeply felt by all.  His co-workers probably made up a third of the line, many deeply felt the loss of my father.  We also were told many times of how my dad would tell others of his loving Lord, even the nurses caring for him.  

I am so thankful for God blessing me with the father He gave me.  Many people say children are a blessing from the Lord, but often times, I believe we the children are the ones who are blessed with the gift of loving and godly parents.

My parents were not able to share the day of their 4oth anniversary together, but the love they shared was evident to everyone who met them.  On February 1, we celebrated their anniversary without my dad's presence.  It was bittersweet, but it was a celebration of love.

I had mentioned to my sister about having my parents' wedding cake recreated for the anniversary party we were going to have.  She did an amazing job finding the picture and having the cake recreated as well as planning a party that was never to be.  We feasted on cake and reminisced about about the husband, father, and grandfather we loved.  

Love.  That seemed to be the theme of my dad's life.  Not how much love he could get, but how much he could give.  With Easter having just passed, we are reminded of the greatest act of love ever bestowed. God sent His Son to this earth to willingly suffer and die for us so that we could one day spend eternity with Him.  Christ rose from the dead.  Death has lost its sting and Christ has won the victory.  For those who have believed that Christ died for them and rose from the dead, death will never separate us from the love of God.

For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:35-39)

Photo Credit: Galleryhip.com

I never was able to to officially tell my dad goodbye.  And that's okay, because in reality, it really is, "See ya later."  I will see my dad again one day in heaven.  I pray I will pass on to my children the love my dad gave to me and my siblings, and exemplify Christ the way my dad did through his actions.   

Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails...

(I Cor 13:4-8a)

Photo Credit: Phil Hyman Photography

Through the Valley

It has been awhile since I last posted.  There has been so much going on, mostly stressful, so finding time to update has been difficult.  We moved to a new home in June (yay!).  However, we should have moved end of May.  I can't even use the words my realtor chose to describe the situation, but suffice it to say he said it was the worst closing he's seen in twenty years and, unfortunately, completely out of our control.  Not exactly an achievement I wanted.  But that's another (long) story for another day.

Right before that, we found out some other news.  My dad celebrated his 64th birthday in March.  His birthday was also the day he was told his cancer had returned.  Even now, I cannot begin to describe the burst of emotions when my mom told me the news.  He officially has stage 4 pancreatic cancer; this time the cancer had spread to his liver.  It wasn't so much that the cancer had returned.  The hardest part was the doctors essentially telling him to enjoy his remaining time here on earth.

I'm not going to lie.  After the initial shock had warn off and the heartache had set in, my next reaction was one of anger.  Not so much outright anger at God, but anger at the situation.  I mean, aren't there worse people in the world who deserve this cancer?  Why should they be able to live when their actions cause others so much misery?  Why MY dad?  Then it hit me.  Why NOT my dad?  Why not my family?  If maybe by my dad having cancer someone else was being spared so that they too could come to know the Lord that I love.  That also hit home.  Even though I was angry at the situation, wasn't the "situation" placed there by God?  Ouch.  How easily I forget the goodness of God.

Photo Credit: Pinterest

If the last few years of my life have taught me anything about trials, it is that God is good.  Over the last few months in church, my pastor has been preaching a series of messages that seem as if they were written for me.  One of them, a series on Psalm 23, spoke especially to my heart.  There are so many aspects of this psalm that I would love to share, but you can listen to the series here.  I have read this psalm many times and heard many messaged preached on it over the years.  After this series by my pastor, I will never be able to read Psalm 23 the same way again.

Photo credit: Pinterest

Verse four is the one that really grabbed my attention.  "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me."  

I never paid much attention to the word "through" before.  When we walk in the valleys of life, the verse states that we walk through them, we don't dwell in them.  The valley is not a cave or dead-end with no exit.  Wow, what an encouragement!  

I cannot say that I have complete peace about my dad's prognosis, but that peace is growing the more I learn to trust in God.  It saddens me that without a miracle my dad will not be here much longer, but the part that hurts the most is my kids growing up not knowing their grandpa.  Owen may have a few memories, but I don't feel Addyson is old enough to have created those memories with her grandpa.

There are a lot of thoughts that run through my head and I still occasionally find myself crying at random times.  One of the hardest things I have had to do since finding out my dad's prognosis was trying to pick out what might be the last Father's Day card I ever give to my dad.  How do you sum up everything you think and feel for someone over the span of your life and put it into a card?  I found myself crying in the middle of the card aisle in the grocery store while my two kids looked at me like I was nuts.

I sometimes feel so selfish thinking at times more about how it affects me than how this cancer affects my dad.  My dad has been amazing through it all and praises God still.  The Lord has been gracious enough to allow my dad to feel fairly well through the process this time.  He had another round of chemo, which unfortunately did nothing.  He just recently had a procedure done to hopefully slow the growth of the tumor.

We were able to go to the beach with my family in June.  My dad says it was one of the best vacations he's ever had.  If you see the picture below, you can see probably why.  Every single one of those grandkids has their grandpa wrapped around their little fingers--and he wouldn't have it any other way.  And each one of those grandkids is a reminder of how good God is and how God has us in the palm of His loving hand.

Grandpa, Oma, and the grandkids
Photo credit: Kelley Collins

Going it Alone

After having my husband gone for eleven days for a mission trip to Mexico, I have a much greater appreciation for single parents, whether permanently or temporarily so.  I also have a better understanding of just how much emotionally I depend on my husband for support when it comes to raising our children.  

When Travis first told me he wanted to go on this mission trip, I was all for it.  However, after thinking about it--me...alone with two kids...for over a week--yeah, I got a little nervous; but hey, I've done it for a few days before so no problem!  I've got this!  That thought lasted for only the first couple of days...

Travis left on a Saturday before the kids woke up.  I was thankful that Owen had a birthday party to attend for a school friend and Addyson had kindly been invited as well.  I figured this would take the kids' minds off of missing their daddy.

I spent a couple of hours chasing kids, trying to keep them relatively clean and out of trouble.  They had a blast and came home with some great works of art.

*Apparently, painting your hand is part of the process*

We made it through the first day without the kids melting because daddy was gone.  They asked a few times that first day where he was.  I only had to tell them a few times that he was in Mexico, which is very far away, before they remembered.  Addy then liked to share her daddy's location with random strangers, telling them in a store as they walked by, "My daddy's in Messico!"  We had to nip that in the bud pretty quickly.

By day three it was getting a little harder to do this parenting thing by myself as the kids were using it to their advantage.  They both fought me more on things like getting ready, getting in the car, going to bed, etc.  I found bribery worked best during this time.  The kids earned a lot more treats and television time that week and a half than they have in a long time.

I think the mornings were the times I missed Travis the most, as far as needing help.  He always gets a shower before I wake up and then goes downstairs to start the coffee brewing.  While I'm getting ready, he makes the kids' breakfast, makes Owen's lunch and packs his bag, and watches the kids.  When Travis was gone, I had to wake up earlier so that the kids would not be left to run around the house by themselves.  Travis also takes Owen to school in the morning so that Addy and I are not in the car half the day.  Mornings were rough, to say the least.

We still managed to squeeze in some fun while daddy was gone and keep to our schedules--Owen still had school and I still had to work my job and do some of Travis' job.  Addy and I went on a couple of donut and coffee dates while Owen was in school, and we all went to the airport for a couple of hours to watch the planes take off and land.

*Donuts!*

*At the airport watching the planes*

*Love this kid!*

Bedtime was interesting, too.  The kiddos had some sweet moments, like when Owen wanted to read Addy her bedtime story, and some, uh, "challenging" moments, like when Owen locked us in Addy's room at bedtime.  We have the doorknob turned around on Addy's door to lock it from the outside instead of using child-lock devices.  Owen turned the lock on the door and then closed it after we were inside the room. 

When he first told me we were locked in, I just laughed.  I didn't think he was serious.  When he reassured me he was not kidding was when I started trying to channel my inner McGyver to get us out of the room.  Being a toddler's room, there was nothing sharp or pointy to use.  The only thing I had on me was my phone, which I seriously considered calling a locksmith to pick the lock on the front door so he could come upstairs to let us out of a room instead of get us into somewhere.

I ended up bending the lampshade to pick the lock on the door.  I worked for over forty-five minutes to get us out of that room.  Meanwhile, both kids were just playing with toys, completely oblivious to the fact that we could all be sleeping in the same bed that night and they would be wearing Addy's diapers until we could get out.  I even contemplated jumping out the window to get in the house through the front door, but I still would have to get through a locked door.  It was starting to get a little crazy in my head there for a bit.  Luckily, my lampshade break-out worked!

Travis was supposed to come back on Monday, but due to bad weather through a connecting flight, their flight was cancelled.  They couldn't get back until the next day.  Of course.  However, we all made it alive and mostly unscathed. 

Did I mention that a few days before Travis left we put our house on the market?  And I decided to potty train Addy while Travis was away.  Yeah, I'm crazy.  Thankfully, my parents were able to come for a few days to help me out.  While they were here, we had six showings on the house.  It is hard enough to keep a house clean on a normal day, but to keep one clean, ready to show...phew!  

After my parents left, we had two more showings.  Owen is actually pretty excited to move somewhere new.  He often will see a house when we're driving somewhere and will ask if we can buy it, whether it's for sale or not.  He is four now and this next house will be his fifth house to live in since he was born.  I am done with this moving thing.  We plan to stay put for a long time at the next house.  Hopefully.

I had some wonderful friends who thought of us while Travis was away.  At the beginning of the week a sweet friend sent me a gift card for Starbucks.  Coffee was a must that week and the gesture was such a lift to my spirits and an encouragement.  Another friend met me for coffee one morning after I dropped Owen off at school.  Another friend dropped off dinner one night before Travis came home.  I was having a rough day, and without knowing how rough, she brought food so that I didn't have to cook that night.  

Owen did develop some separation anxiety while Travis was gone.  He had a harder time being dropped off at school or church, struggled in school a bit that week with paying attention and obeying, and started coming to my room in the middle of the night to crawl in bed with me.  He is still coming to our room almost every night now, but other than that he is pretty much getting over his separation anxiety. 

While those eleven days were not easy, and actually extremely difficult at times, God knew what I would need that week of going it alone with the kids.  He sent friends, parents, and words and actions of encouragement and support.  Of course, I realize now I was never alone.  

*Proof-of-life picture we sent to daddy.
Just a typical drive on our way to school*

*Little girl spent a lot of time in the car this week.
She actually fell asleep one day--she hasn't done this
since she was a baby*

Second Home

Many people dream of having a second home, somewhere they look forward to spending time away from home.  We have a "second home," but I do not enjoy being there.  We have met many wonderful people, some of whom have changed our lives for the better.  Our second home is the hospital and we almost made it a year this time since our last visit.  

This last weekend, Owen was admitted to the hospital for the eleventh time, not including NICU.  We started out on Friday the 10th with a few sniffles and a cough. Saturday, knowing he wasn't feeling well and had not eaten supper the night before, we gave him the choice of where to eat for breakfast, hoping to encourage him to eat something.  When we were seated at the restaurant, all he wanted to do was to lie in Travis' lap--not a very Owen thing to do.  We took him home where he started to become a little more tired and lethargic.  By approximately 6:00 that evening, I could see he was beginning to retract, was looking pale, and just the slightest hint of blue was beginning to appear around his lips.  I took him to the children's urgent care nearby, feeling pretty confident already this was going to be an admission.

The urgent care is only five to seven minutes away (compared to 25+ for the ER) and has fewer germs with which he could come in contact.  That is the positive side to going to the urgent care instead of the ER.  The negative is that if he needs admitted, then that means an ambulance.  While he actually somewhat enjoys the ride, I already start adding up the bills in my head.  The ambulance is necessary for transport since I am not authorized to have an oxygen tank in my car.  Much to Owen's dismay we do not speed through the streets of town, lights and siren blazing.

While waiting for the ambulance, we heard a firetruck in the parking lot.  Next thing I know, three firemen come in the door and start to check Owen's vitals and such.  The medics came along a few minutes later.  Owen was a little overwhelmed with all the people in the room, but was more concerned the firemen were there to give him a shot.  Yep, the boy who cannot breathe that well and does not feel well is more concerned over a little shot.  In fact, he asked every person that came in his room while we were there if they were going to give him a shot.

{The firetruck and ambulance that came for Owen--he loved all the lights}

He was loaded up into the ambulance and I hopped in beside him.  About every two minutes he would ask if we were there yet...and every time we slowed down...and every time we stopped.  The medic, whose name was Megan, was great with him and answered him every time.  She tried her best to entertain him with balloon gloves and drawing things for him and getting the other medic to talk over the speaker to Owen.

As we were about to leave the urgent care for the hospital, the nurse practitioner turned to Owen and said, "Well, you are going to your second home."  At this point, hospital stays are somewhat routine, one which we hope will change a little more as he gets older.  Even though it is routine, I would not say it becomes easier.  Part of it is a little bit of frustration in knowing I can care for him most times at home, but do not have access to certain medicines and to oxygen.  It is not easy to watch your child struggling to breathe.  It's not easy sitting in a hospital away from your other child and your husband, knowing the other child wants you just as much as the one you are with.  It's not easy trying to keep a baby/toddler/preschooler in bed and to get them to not touch whatever is attached to them to try to rip everything off.  It's not easy keeping that child occupied and distracted when they are not allowed out of bed.  It's not easy sitting there in a building full of people and feeling alone.

We are very fortunate, however, to have a large group of friends and family whose messages and prayers uplift us, probably more than they will ever know.  We are still blown away by how many people still pray for Owen, which is the best medicine of all.  

One of Owen's favorite toys is a stuffed giraffe given to him during one of his first hospital admissions here after after we moved two hours away.  That small token on the giver's part was received so gratefully by Owen and was very uplifting to us, the parents, as well.  The small things really do matter.

{Getting settled at the hospital with James the giraffe and Sammy the seahorse}

Everyone complains about the sleeping arrangements at a hospital, so I'll spare you that diatribe--with enough lack of sleep, even the uncomfortable arrangements cannot hinder my sleep from coming.  What's hard at night is the constant barrage of people coming in and out of the room all night.  I have learned that I can usually request the nursing assistant to not come in to check blood pressure and temperature through the night.  When I figured that out several admissions ago, I was beyond thrilled and we both sleep much better.  

If Owen is not on continuous nebulizer medicine then that means the respiratory therapist is coming in every two hours during the night.  As he becomes better, the medicine is spaced out to every three hours and eventually to four which is usually when I get to take him home.  Sometimes he is able to sleep through the treatments, but other times he becomes very aggravated.  I would be too if I woke in the middle of the night to some stranger standing over my bed blowing something in my face.  

Thankfully, this stay was a short one.  The doctor teams make their rounds in the mornings.  When the team came in Sunday morning to see him, they told us that he would be going home probably on Monday morning since he was still on oxygen and his treatments weren't every four hours yet.  The attending doctor said unless by some miracle we would not be heading home that day.  Well, we got our miracle thanks to all those prayers.  

Although Owen gets sick quickly, he also heals relatively quickly. Also, with his history of numerous admissions and respiratory illnesses, the medical staff feels comfortable sending him home with me when they would normally keep other children who haven't been hospitalized as many times.  Although even we have referred to the hospital as his second home, it obviously is not and never will feel like home.  We were able to go home about 6:30 in the evening, fewer than twenty-four hours after being admitted.  There truly is no place like home and we are so happy to be here.  

{He was so happy to be able to Skype with his daddy and sister}

{A Child Life volunteer brought him some new toys that had been donated to the hospital--the first big grin on his face in a few days!

{No more oxygen AND he's eating!}

A "Happy" Anniversary

Usually when I think of an anniversary, I think of a time to celebrate an important, joyous event in one's life.  However, not all anniversaries celebrate the original event.  Sometimes the anniversary itself is a time of joy when thinking about the events and circumstances that have followed the original event.

Today is the one-year anniversary of my dad being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.  This anniversary we do not celebrate the diagnosis, but we do celebrate the remission of the cancer.  It was not an easy journey, but it was one that showed how abundantly God loves us and allowed others to show their love for and to my parents.

A year ago was shocking and overwhelming to hear the diagnosis.  I knew before my dad was diagnosed that the survival rate for a person with pancreatic cancer was extremely low, so when the diagnosis came to say I teared up would be an understatement.  I bawled.  I mean, how could my dad have cancer?  Why him?  While I was growing up it was always my dad who put others first.  He drove the oldest car (usually without air conditioning).  Even though he was exhausted from his day at work, he would play with us as soon as he got home.  He read books to us nightly.  He taught us about God and showed us what a godly father is.  He took the time to let us know we were important and loved.  If anyone did not deserve to have cancer it was my dad.   

Then I remembered that no matter what, God was in control.  For someone who likes to control things down to the tiniest detail like I do, you would think this would have been hard for me.  However, once I decided to hand over my fears and desire for control to God, He granted peace to me and a weight was lifted off my shoulders.

A year ago we would not have imagined that less than a year later my dad would be cancer free.  So though this anniversary does not bring joyous memories of the event itself, it is a happy anniversary since today he can celebrate his being cancer free.  Now my children will get to know this selfless, godly man I do.  So, Happy Anniversary to my dad.  You are loved beyond words!

{My parents in October 2012, pre-diagnosis}
{photo credit: Phil Hyman Photography}

{At the beach, June 2013, after months of chemotherapy}

{At my nephews' first birthday, November 2013}

For more information on pancreatic cancer, please visit the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network's website.

'Tis the Season

I can hardly believe it is a new year.  I feel as if I'm still playing catch-up from before Thanksgiving.  I absolutely love this time of year though.  Thanksgiving brings feasts, family, and Fall.  Christmas brings feelings of joy, gatherings of family and friends, and gifts, whether they take physical form or they are actions, with the biggest gift being that of Jesus Christ's love--His coming to the earth as a baby to be the Savior of the world.  New Year is a time to reflect on the past and plan for the future.  This whole season of celebrating is memory-making at it's finest.  

Of course, all this merry-making means I play a lot of catch-up this time of year.  Add to that one or both of the kids being sick for over three months and I felt at times as if I would never get ahead (I think this may be the year I finally buy stock in facial tissue brands so I can hopefully recoup some of my money one day).  Now, time for some catch-up:

Thanksgiving

Owen's classroom made Indian outfits out of pillow cases.  One of the teachers dyed all of the cases and each child was able to stamp shapes all over it.  The hat he is wearing has a blue feather in the back with his Indian name, Prowling Panther, on the front.  Yeah, he likes the Carolina Panthers.  They also made colored pasta necklaces.  When he brought the outfit home, he wanted to wear the costume everywhere.  He wore it to Target, the grocery store, and every place in between.  He tried to wear it to bed, but I stopped him there.

We went a couple of hours away where most of our family and friends live and stayed with my parents for Thanksgiving.  Owen wore his costume to a few of those feasts as well.  We met for breakfast with friends and enjoyed watching the first "snow" of the season.  Here in the south, snow is not very common during Winter so many people get excited about even the tiniest of flakes.  My husband is from Iowa and laughs at our snow saying we haven't really seen snow until you go up north.

{My little Indian at school}

   

{First taste of snow}

{My silly girl at Grandpa and Oma's house for Thanksgiving}

While at Grandpa and Oma's house for Thanksgiving, I looked all over the house in the afternoon for these two.  I found them out in the garage eating leftover turkey out of the fridge.  Busted!

Christmas

We always get a fresh Christmas tree each year.  You cannot beat the smell of a real tree, and the look of a real one is, in my opinion, far better and more unique than an artificial tree.   We always get our tree the day after Thanksgiving.  Our favorite place to go is a tree farm near my parents.  You can cut your own or purchase freshly cut trees.

{Shopping for a Christmas tree at the tree farm}

{Watching a Christmas movie}

I volunteered to help out at my son's class Christmas party.  If you bring food for the class, it must be store-bought food due to allergy issues of other students.  Last year, I did some fruit juice boxes I made to look like snowmen as well as some other snacks.  This year I only needed to bring the drinks, so I did the snowmen juice boxes again since the kids liked them so much last year.  They loved drinking from a snowman!  

{Class Christmas party}

{Drinks for the class party}

 This was Owen's first year to send a letter to Santa.  I made up the stationery and wrote what he said since he can't yet write.

{About to mail his first letter to Santa}

{Mailing his letter to Santa}

    With school being out, we had to figure out some more activities to stay busy.  We made pipe cleaner crowns one day.  They were really fun to make (okay, so I made them while they created hair bow pipe cleaners for me) and the kiddos got a few days out of them before they were destroyed.

{Pipe cleaner crown fun

We let Owen have a miniature tree in his room this year and he helped me decorate it.  He went to sleep every night with it lit.

{Decorating the tree in his room}

{One of many cups of hot cocoa}

 For his last day at school, I put the teachers' gifts together and made a little card to go with it.

With "Running Behind" being the theme of the season, I failed to get pictures and order Christmas cards until about two weeks before Christmas.  My husband set up the tripod, snapped a few pictures, and voila!

{I love this picture!  Such a ham with the camera}

{Date with Mommy to see Frozen}

 We started a new tradition this year of getting a new pair of pajamas on Christmas Eve and watching a Christmas movie.  We added that to the current tradition of driving around looking at Christmas lights on Christmas Eve.  So this year, the kiddos took early baths, opened their new pajamas, and then we hopped in the car to look at lights.  When we came home, we watched 'Twas the Night Before Christmas.  The kiddos put out some cookies they had decorated and milk for Santa and then went to bed.

{Eating her Christmas morning sausage bread}

On Christmas day, we opened up presents in the morning, packed our bags, and drove to my sister's house where we had my more immediate family's Christmas party.  The next day we had the Christmas get-together with my husband's family, and the day after that was a Christmas party with my extended family.  The kids probably think now that every time we stay with my sister and her family then they will receive a lot of presents.

{"Playing" piano with the cousins}

{Having some fun with their cousin}

{This is what really happens to your new Christmas present.  Yeah, Travis isn't getting that one back}

As chaotic as this time feels, I would not trade it for the world.  The memories made this year are numerous and precious.  It was the first Christmas where both kids really got into all the festivities and where Owen really understood the reason for Christmas.  Sometimes, it pays to be running behind because the reason you are behind may be that you are busy making memories with your family.  Now that's priceless.