The Holidays update contd.

 Loch Lolly, our favorite little Christmas tree farm, was calling our name for a third year in a row.  I think we may have a tradition on our hands.  They meet one of our most significant qualifications, the Santa here doesn't scare Robby.  Although you can see in the picture the eyes wandering, a little desperately, toward mom.  Robby told Santa he wanted a pen-grenade like James Bond and super-hero vitamins.  Neither of these things had been discussed beforehand, and I'm not sure that Santa grants wishes for weapons, at least he didn't for us.  Pen-grenade was not delivered, but our little guy is looking more and more like a super-hero everyday thanks to those vitamins.

After a long day of tree-chopping and decorating, the girl was out.  Robby was, of course, still up "waiting for Santa."

 Ryan made us all the happiest people on earth when he prepared Beef Wellington for Christmas dinner.  This dish's name must be capitalized to at least pay a small bit of homage to it's excellence.  The man can cook like a master.  When  a dish's preparation requires purchasing a new pot from Le Creuset on Chrismtas Eve, you know it's going to be good (you can see my new red pot below :)  Now Kate is telling people that her favorite food is Beef Wellington, but mac and cheese is a close second.

 There he is, the vitamins are working!

 Cousins love Christmas. It's 12:45 am, that's the best caption I can muster right now:)

 Christmas morning stockings, yahoo! 

 Getting stronger . . . 

 And wiser.

 The little angel.  

   Our great friends who were abroad for two years are back to host our favorite new years party.  Here are the cutest little ladies ringing in the new year.

 The Family. 

 Later that  night. . . 

Happy 2013

When you think about Seuss! (the Reader's Digest version, a continuation of an update on our lives)

Here's more of what we were up to in November.

 Kate played the part of "the elephant bird" and jungle animal, and circus animal, and fish in Seussical the Musical. If it were possible to fill someone's cup past full, this is what Seussical did for Kate.  She drank this experience up, no, that's not accurate, she soaked it up, ate it up, lived it up . . . you get the picture.  If there ever was a more fulfilled girl, I'd be surprised.  This was quite a time-consuming and demanding commitment for a 5-year-old (and her mom), two 3-hour rehearsals a week, plus all the dress rehearsals  But she loved every moment.  We were very excited for Kate!

 Here she is right after she "hatched."  Her mom and Dad are Horton the Elephant (a doctoral opera student) and Mayzie (a professional actress, she was sooo funny).

Kate and the Cat, Russ, who carried the show like a champ.  Isn't she cute?

The Firsts and the Lasts - An Update

I am waaay behind.  Here's a quick little update.  

 First day of the Kindergarten life.  She rides the bus, has homework, and goes to recess.  I can't believe any of it.

 He goes to preschool with his buddies, loves the tricycles the most, misses his "grumpy, old, preschool friends" when he comes home, and takes snack time very seriously.

Finished my last class to finish my degree in Exercise Science.  It only took three years, but I finished the one class I had left to get that official piece of paper.  Now my walk in cap and gown is legit, go me and all the supporters who made it happen!

Birthday 3x

On turning 5 . . . 

It all began with a girl.  She turned 5. Actually turned 5 years old.  This particular age holds significant meaning: kindergarten, cooties, reading, tag at recess, school buses  etc.

But, since this post is about the birthday I guess will define what 5 years old means in this regard.  5 years old for Kate means that as soon as all guests were present, every little female immediately filed upstairs, raided Kate's closet, and changed clothes.

5 years old means that Ryan and I had to wax eloquent on the singularity of celebrating your birthday in the same month as the commencement of the Olympic Games, and therefore, convince her that her birthday should be themed accordingly.  "Don't worry," we said, "there would be plenty of opportunities to "princessify" subsequent birthdays."  She was only marginally convinced.  

Mix the aforementioned desires of the 5 year old, with those of the parents and you get little girls running foot races in princess dresses.  

Robby, however, was not turning 5. The only changing he wanted to do was into Superman.  He relished the Olympic Theme and charged through the races and games with masculine ferocity.  Way to go Rob!

On turning 30 . . . .  

Although I don't recall clearly, I'm almost certain Ryan flew home from a trip at about midnight the night before his call came to enter the new decade.  The passing of time doesn't wait for the business trip to wind down.  Time marches right on with the traveler's slightly fuzzy body (particularly the face) and mind in tow.  And, whether he liked it or not, Ryan came home to meet his new age. 

Fortunately his 30 years have been good ones and each of the 30 balloons hanging above his bed contained notes that reminded him of the particulars of those years.  Kate wrote some, I wrote some for Rob, and I wrote some for me.  Without giving Ryan away, his reaction was priceless, and led me to believe this birthday idea struck gold. Added bonus: I won serious sneaky points when I maneuvered a ladder and two snickering little kids into our bedroom and taped 30 balloons to the ceiling without rousing the man.

There, see that face, that is Ryan beaming.  It's a little shrouded by jet lag, Ryan's own awareness of a camera, and the fact that it is a photograph.  But he is beaming.  Ahhhh, it feels good to see someone you love feel good.

Plus, each little note could not come out until a balloon was popped.  Everyone loved that.

This is one of my favorite pictures from the day.  Capture the moment.  

Oh, and just after this picture was taken, we got blinds.  Glorious.  Now I don't have to crawl on the floor to get from the shower to the closet.  

On the Olympics . . .

Not a birthday, but so celebratory none-the-less.

Two facts:  we don't own a TV, and the Olympics aired this summer.  This was a dilemma, so we rented a TV for the time of the Olympics and now we don't own a TV anymore. I am fully aware of how weird all of that is.  Weirdness aside, I think the Olympics are one of the only justifiable television events out there.  So amazing, moving, and inspiring.  We loved every minute of our rented Olympic TV time. And we celebrated with our friends at a fun party they hosted.

On turning 3 . . .

Every year from ages 0-5 a child experiences change and growth of mammoth proportions. 3 unlocks the door to preschool, swimming lessons, and primary classes at church.  Age 3 may seem quite juvenile to some, but Robby is taking his steps toward adulthood quite seriously.  He is contemplating his career options frequently, with monster truck driver topping the list at almost every evaluation.  

This face spontaneously appeared the day before Robby turned three, stuck around for about one month, and has since gone.  Don't know what inspired it, don't know why it left.  (Maybe it has something to do with wanting to drive a monster truck)  This is often how I feel when I try to logic through the behavior of a three year old.  It did make me smile though.  

After enjoying a lovely breakfast in bed (crib) with Kate, Robby got to bust through his door in rare, NFL-celebratory fashion, through the crepe paper.  

After a energy zapping morning Robby needed to refuel and replenish those electrolytes. Following the footsteps of many great athletes, Robby prefers to hydrate with pickle juice.  

Happy day for a little man, 3 years of age.