A most unexpected, perfect day

Well, no sense denying it any longer. Winter is here. In all her white, windy, wind-chill glory. Got the call from the school district late last night that the impending storm would be enough to close school for the day. (I tried not to laugh as I thought of my youth spent in Utah without a single snow day. Like ever.)

But I promptly ran through the house and turned off all the little people's alarm clocks. Left a note on the banister informing them of the good news (and included a warning for them to not wake the mama in the morning). I slept in until almost nine and woke up with a smile on my face and a deep sense of satisfaction in my soul.

There's nothing I like more than sleeping in.

Well, maybe I can think of a few things, but it's definitely in the top five.

After a late breakfast, a family workout, and a round of showers, we headed out the door. We have some fabulous friends who just so happened to buy a house around the corner, and we joined them to break in their new backyard.

Clearly, it was a chore for some of us:

They've got a pond in their backyard that is nestled so nicely between two large hills - the perfect combination for skating and sledding on a wintry day.

And thanks to the arctic clippers that keep making their way through St. Louis, the sub-freezing temperatures have worked their magic on the pond - rendering it frozen solid. This is pretty unusual around these parts - we tend to get much more reasonable temperatures in the wintertime.

The day was full of smiles, sleds, and snow boots.

Not even a few crashes on the way down could dampen the fun. It was kid heaven.

And the pristine, perfect day was topped off by rounds of hot chocolate and grilled cheese sandwiches. I watched it all - the laughter in the beautiful kitchen. The smiles all around the table. Their rosy, red cheeks. The piles of soggy gloves and boots.

And I said a silent prayer of thanks for this unexpected gift of a day.

My only fear is that their hearts will break when they have to get on the bus and head back to school tomorrow.

Putting the trash out (a.k.a: Keeping it real)

Travelin' Oma wrote a very thought-provoking post yesterday. She talked about assessing whether the posts we write are real reflections of our true selves or if they are merely the best of us put on display. (She really says it much more eloquently than that. Click over and read her post. You won't be sorry).

But it got me thinking about my own blog and the part of my life that I choose to reveal here.

Do I often intentionally put my best foot forward, ignoring my many faults and failings?

You bet I do.

I don't want to look back years from now at this silly record of our everyday lives and wonder if all I did was complain about how annoying my kids are.

But I also don't want to look back and know that the sugary sweetness I posted about was not how I really felt every second of every day.

It's a tricky balance - sorting between the reality of our lives and the way we'd like them to be.

In hopes of striking a more symmetrical record, I am going to treat you to a little bit of my trash today. It is with much trepidation that I give you a taste of the real Stie, in all her grainy, un-photoshoppped, un-made up, bags-under-the-eyes glory:

Yikes.

This is the sight the Husband gets has to see first thing every morning. Poor guy.

And for your judging pleasure, here are a few real things about me that you may or may not have known:

I am a clean freak, but that does not mean there are not scary closets and drawers in my house. I have a storage room in my basement, as we speak, that would cause anyone great physical injury if they tried to walk through it, so mountainous are the massive piles of stuff.

I am very vain. I spend a lot of time worrying about what I look like. I will not go to the store without my hair done and my face fully made up. I absolutely think sweats should never be seen in public. And, yes, I judge those who do.

I am also highly self-critical. You would think with all that time spent primping that I would be more happy with what I see in the mirror. I'm not. I constantly second guess every single thing I do and say. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be good enough for myself.

I am not good with confrontation. If I have an issue to work out with someone, I am of the, "let's bury it deep and never speak of it again" variety. Passive aggressive, much? I wrote the book on it.

Lastly, I sometimes dread the hours between three and five p.m. every day. While I am excited to see my kids come home, I really dislike helping them with homework. They're all tired, cranky, talking a mile a minute, and seem to need something from me at the exact same minute. I've also usually procrastinated and am trying to get dinner ready during that time, as well. I feel pulled in so many different directions that some days I think my head will explode. It's my least favorite time of the day.

So there you have it. A little bit of reality - for better or for worse.

What I'd really like to see now is YOUR reality. Post a picture of yourself sans make-up, and put a little bit of the trash out for the rest of us to see. That way, years from now when we think we were nothing but perfect, we'll know the real truth.

And we'll like each other all the more for it.

Just trying to obey my president

I feel proud in admitting that my life is anything but glamorous. Our daily routine is about as far as you can get from the paparazzo-stalked lives of those I see on the covers of my favorite smut mags at the grocery store.

Unlike a lot of the celebrities on those covers, I am not thin and starving. Vera Wang does not dress me. I have the unfortunate privilege of having to style my own hair every morning. And nobody is standing out on my front lawn hoping to catch a glimpse of me in juicy sweatpants, wearing no make-up.

Lord help us, that would be quite a fright for the paparazzos now, wouldn't it?

But what my life lacks in spontaneous excitement, it definitely makes up for in predictability.

And being the OCD freak that I am, I like me some predictability. It's reassuring and familiar. A warm blanket of routine and order. You can count on it to be there, come rain or come shine.

For instance, I can predict, with almost one hundred percent certainty, which of my three children will not like dinner on any given night.

I can predict who will be bored at which movie. And who will whine the most when dragged through which store. There is a certain comfort in the familiar and habitual behaviors that we all have.

Take this girl, for example. I know that my mini-me she will not willingly utter a word in the morning to anyone until after she's been fed:

[Sadly, I know that because she gets it from me. I feel you, girlfriend!]

I can also predict that each week, one of the little people in this house (whose name just happens to rhyme with 'Base') will always have a larger pile of laundry than the others. There's the same number of days between washings, but magically he seems to dirty more clothes.

(I'm pretty sure that he's just adverse to actually hanging the clean clothes up.)

And I feel confident in predicting that this little fashionista will never stop raiding my closet. Doesn't seem to bother her that our shoe sizes are not remotely the same either.

Who am I to deny the diva her most critical knee-high boots for afternoon playtime?

But in all the predictability, there is one area which is a source of constant scrutiny for me. It is my eternal struggle between what I want to do and what I know I should do.

Help me, dear friends.

Why is it that when I know I should be eating this:

All I really want to be eating is this?

I think Woodrow Wilson said it best when he said, "If you want to make enemies, try to change something."

Well, Mr. President, I definitely don't want to be making any enemies.

Warm bread and jam it is. If you insist.

Fare thee well, 2009

I am breaking radio silence here at Casa de Stie. (I know. Try to contain yourselves.)

We have had a lovely holiday break, and plan on making the most of the few days we have left. It has been just a fantastic week - lots of movies, books, games, naps, and food. The Husband has been TOTALLY off the grid. We have only ventured out of the house for movies, absolutely necessary grocery store runs, and church. It's been positively heaven. I could stand this life all year long.

Of course, my house would be a wreck.

But it'd be nice to live like this a little more often.

Today I have been pouring over my photo archives -- reminiscing and laughing, cringing and critiquing. And what I decided was this: 2009 was very kind to us. So much so that I find myself on my knees in gratitude and sheer wonder at our good fortune. We've had our challenges, as every family does, but we successfully wound our way through another year -- learning, laughing, crying, and loving.

Here, to ring in the new year, are the highlights from our family. In photo form.

Happy new year, indeed.

Merry Christmas!

Today it begins.

Two glorious weeks with the Husband here, at home, with us. We almost don't know what to say or do, so strange is the sight of each other across the breakfast table.

In light of that happy development, I'm here to tell you that I am taking these two weeks off. I am not putting the pressure on myself of taking time away from him and the kidlings to find things to post about. I may (for my own sanity) sneak away and read a post or two of yours, but it is adios from this blog for a while.

I know. Try to console yourselves.

Before I leave, I wanted to wish you a merry merry via our Christmas card this year. I designed it myself and am quite pleased with how it turned out.

We opted for the trifold this year:

The front looks like this:

Using the lyrics from my absolute, all-time favorite Christmas song, we added photos that matched the words:

(Because they are still TOTALLY wild)

(And because she is definitely more sweet than wild)

(And the gratuitous family shot - practically the only photographic proof of my existence this year. Have got to get better about getting in FRONT of the camera)

And last, but not least, is our top ten list from this year. Every year I think we will run out of things for the list, and every year the kids keep spewing forth their unintended genius. I keep a journal all year long of funny, random things the kids say (and have done so since they were babies). It's become our tradition, and makes us laugh every year.

Merry Christmas, peeps! And a Merry ChristmaHanaKwanzica, too. See you next year!

Lord help me, I love them something fierce

Today there was a shift in the universe. Did you feel it?

It happened about 6:30 tonight. I was driving home after taking one child to tae kwan do, and had carpool duty for the little ballerina and her friends at the same time. Both boys were in the car, begging to be let out as soon as we were within running distance of our neighborhood.

Apparently the soundtrack from Glee, combined with the high-pitched chatter of three little girls, was causing their heads to explode off their bodies.

I gave in today, as I was just too tired to fight them on it.

After dropping off the noisy ballerinas, I headed home, fervently wracking my brain for a dinner plan that did not include the words "Subway" or "Mc" anything. Unfortunately, the brain wracking was not netting me any brilliant ideas.

Tired, with feet hurting, I opened the door to the house and was met by a light, sweet scent. I set my purse and keys by the door and walked through the mudroom towards the kitchen. And then I stopped, a lump caught in my throat.

There were my boys. Cooking dinner. All by themselves.

This was a real first. And my mind could not help but flash back to a time when I'd walk in the door and frequently find my boys doing this instead:

They were an energetic pair, these two, that is for sure. Sometimes so bent on their loud and wild play that a wake of broken things was often left behind them. They destroyed a historic landmark and nearly caused me death by embarrassment in the process. Not to mention became walking birth control advertisements for more than a few younger siblings.

But here today, these once-terrors grew up just little a bit, right before my eyes. As I watched McKay confidently flipping the pancakes, and Chase at the stove scrambling some eggs, I got a little teary eyed. I thought back to those hard nights where it was all I could do to not fall down in a puddle of tears before bedtime rolled around. Days spent wrestling them in store checkout lines and then fearfully chasing after them in crowded parking lots. Wondering if they'd be this way forever.

Wondering how I would survive if they were.

But tonight they looked older to me than they ever have before. Chatting pleasantly with each other, they worked together doing such a grown up task. Taking it upon themselves to do something they knew would make my life just a little bit easier. It was a brief window into the men they are becoming. Men who have good hearts. Hearts at home in their sweet, pure souls. I stood there in the shadows, soaking it all in. A tear spilled out, and I caught it before it trickled down my cheek and betrayed my sudden rush of emotions.

Then all at once, Hannah brushed by me, threw off her coat and scrambled up to the bar.

"Yay! Pancakes!"

Yay pancakes, indeed.