january seems different now

Winter came back again as we wrapped and unwrapped Christmas. Sometimes the world transformed in white feels sparkling, magical, and filled with new activities and creative possibilities... and other times it feels like something is lost, as everything that was warm, comfortable, familiar, and accessible becomes frozen, and buried, and changed.  The big boys took the little boys out sledding several afternoons, until the temperatures dropped so far below freezing that the snow on our little hill at the park turned to thick, icy sheets, and  just a few minutes outside caused their hands and noses to turn bright red, and burn. 

 It's true that my two year-old still loves her "baba milk"...don't judge.

The big boys and I started to marvel that we had been three Christmases in Utah now, my third year as a single parent. And I started to appreciate, that for the first time in three years, as the last of the presents were opened,  I began to feel wistful about the end of the year's Santa duties.  I had spent a week of midnights and early mornings cutting, taping, wrapping, and watching The Holiday over and over, until Christmas morning I felt a kind of sadness that I would no longer need my movie friends, as I took them from the DVD player and tucked them back into the closet.

Christmas day, as the evening came, Sam, Bethany, and I trudged in our boots through the snow, buried in our warmest coats, to the movie theater nearby, for the opening of  Les Miserables.  It was Sam's birthday gift to Bethany, and Christmas gift to me, and will always be one of my favorite Christmas memories. Thank you, Sam. 

Rob arrived in the states a few days later, and I was blessed with some time to spend with friends and food.  Judith called it my gastronomical tour; Indian with Cami, Japanese with Grandma Martha, and Vietnamese with Angela.  Angela introduced me to Rice King Noodle, on University in downtown Provo. I haven't had such delicious Asian food since we left China.

I think my beautiful friend Angela should make a career out of this.

This was absolutely as delicious as it looks, with crispy, fresh lettuce and cucumbers, and enormous shrimp, served with the most addicting sweet and tangy peanut sauce.

Our wonderful Aunt Courtney, Uncle Joe, and the cousins came down for a visit, and surprised the kids with a sushi making lesson.

And there were other things that passed by in an icy blur as Christmas lights came down, and Rob went back to Pakistan, and the kids returned to school. 

 January seems different to me now.  Last year was unseasonably warm and it came and went like a month in Spring, but this year could be the coldest January I have experienced since our years in Maine, and I have braced myself for that familiar January feeling akin to clinical apathy. The snow has not budged, except to become even more packed into the ground as we've made little trails, like concrete, from the steps, passed the trees, proof that we've continued to venture out and resume normal activity, in spite of what should be a natural inclination to hibernate. But every year the pain of winter passes more quickly, and I see a little more beauty in its purpose.

Mid-January brought our third annual Oscar nominations breakfast, where Sam proved that no hour of the morning is too ungodly to awake for the love of cinematography, and Olivia, first one down to the kitchen, proved once again, that she is always up for anything.

  

 I had to throw this in.

christmas day 2012

here comes pshantvah

 Kids these days have no respect for you'd better watch out, you'd better not cry...words that used to inspire fear and compliance.  Christmas eve at the Raines home saw an even higher than usual degree of bickering and contention, probably because I was trying to force everyone to clean. 

But first this...

Along with Bethany in the Grinch hat, these pictures of Kyle (or so we suspect) and Sophie iconisize the Raines family 2012 Christmas season. I had mentioned before that I had these still packaged Santa costumes left over from Guangzhou, and I was ready for them to take life...well Kyle (or so we suspect) ran with that.  Throughout the month of December we had repeated visits from a character who called himself Pshantvah Klausen and claimed to be the Santa of the Oceanic. Sophie was quite taken by him, as you can see.

And back to Wednesday, December 19, in the evening we enjoyed Grant and William's Christmas presentation at the preschool.

 We celebrated the beginning of Christmas break at one of our favorite places, Pizza Pie Cafe.Then we drove down to the kids banjo, violin, guitar, and cello Christmas performances.  Their teacher, Jessica Knight, held the recital at The Barn in Mapleton, right up against the mountains.  We stepped out of the van and were immediately in awe at the myriad of bright stars we could count above the foothills--glowing white against the blue-black night sky.  The Barn was a wonderful venue-- cozy,comfortable, child friendly, and festive with the fire in the hearth. 

Thursday we were on to Christnas shopping. Bethany had her own agenda for me at Build-a-Bear Workshop.

Friday more shopping--this time Olivia was my partner. It was wonderful to spend time together. The kids were extremely helpful, giving me great ideas about what to get for their siblings.

Sunday morning and Christmas dress.

Sunday afternoon Grandma Martha came over to help us make crafts and decorate gingerbread men and houses. We were grateful to have a visit from Aunt Miriam, Uncle Bryan, and the cousins.

This was Christmas eve. We are blessed with generous neighbors. Christmastime brings a lot of yummy surprises to our door. Monday was last minute stops and blizzard conditions. Grandma Martha invited the little kids over and we got the house ready for Christmas day.  In the evening we all went to the dollar store together to pick out sibling exchange gifts...a great source of humor as hair extentions were in this year for the sisters and brothers.  

I hope you have a wonderful, Merry Christmas too.

love-loss-festivity-and ordinary days

And just when I think I might have opened a chapter called moving forward--I arrive again at Christmastime. The children's intense anticipation, the familiar music, the lights--blue and white against deep, dark, snowy nights, are at one moment a completely wonderful source of joy, and the next an almost unbearable source of melancholy. Here I am balancing and managing the magic with the to-do's as a single parent for the third year, hoping that I can keep that childlike love for this time of year alive in them, in spite of my inadequacies and exhaustion. 

Have you ever prayed so earnestly just to ask God, "If I can't have what I want now, could you please just let me know what You want."  

"And if that is too much to ask could you just please let me know that You are there?"

 Friday December 14, I took the little ones to preschool and started my Christmas shopping. By noon I had picked them up, returned home, and heard the first of the tragic news from Connecticut.  Prayer is long distance compassion, charity in thought and deed, opening up your heart in an attempt to share the burden of another person's pain that would be otherwise unbearable.  I saw the flags in mourning around town by evening, and they reminded me to pray.

 Saturday morning the children and I walked over to the church for the ward Christmas breakfast.

Little pumpkin.

 The primary children performed a few Christmas carols. Not hard to pick out Bethany.

Saturday was a busy day, so I was grateful that our friends from the ward brought over a mountainous pan of pancakes, and filled our kitchen counter with trays of leftover fruit and ham--which kept the kids fed all day as I shuttled the girls back and forth, through the snow--which I was grateful was atmospheric but light, to their dance dress rehearsals.  

In the evening...the long awaited performance. The girls were in several numbers. Bethany's ballet class danced to Ave Maria.

Saturday I went to bed with a great sense of accomplishment, having survived the dance recital super Saturday.  I am sure the girls did as well. I don't know why that mood has to be so fleeting...might have had something to do with the Sunday morning rush to church, for which I was no match that day. William and I arrived after my Sunday school class was due to start and the kids had already been separated in to other classes, and I remembered that prayer.

"Are You there?"

"Are You watching this?"

"Could You please give me a little insight into just where this is headed?"

Sunday evening I was playing Christmas carols on the piano and the bishop stopped by with an envelope. Said someone had given it to him to pass to me.  I remembered that prayer again.

"Just let me know that You are there."

We have been blessed every Christmas of our life as parents by huge generosity from others. One year, when we were just students with two little boys, a whole clan adopted us and filled our home with decorations, and food, and gifts. I was pregnant that Christmas, but in January I miscarried.  I was devastated, but one thing stayed in the back of my mind. It was the love that I knew God had for us, because he had sent that family to us in December. I knew that He was there.  Sunday I was overwhelmed again. And humbled that I had wondered to begin with.

 It snowed again last week. 

 Grant was proud of his work, as he should be. I was too weather wimpy to go out and help.

Wednesday was the last day of school for the week, a half day.  I went to the elementary school in the morning to help out with the Christmas festivities in Caitlin's class.  Ava's mom brought Rudolph Sandwiches. I passed out pretzels, and wiped up peanut butter, and snitched M&Ms. As I walked through the halls I could hear the buzz of excitement from the classrooms, and felt humbled by a huge sense of gratitude for peace and safety in our school that morning.  For some reason, it brought to mind my this clip of concentration camp survivor Gerda Weissmann Klein...and her words 

"I am no better... than those who never lived to know the magic of a boring evening at home," 

and I thought what a blessing it is to have another day to celebrate... holidays and ordinary days. 

monday and snow

The snow we anticipated Saturday afternoon really didn't arrive until Sunday, December 9th. It was an odd snow. I noticed as soon as I opened the windows in the morning that it had accumulated on the roads but not the grass.  Little John John remarked about it during Sunday school class, and said he thought it was due to recent "strange weather patterns." Far be it for me to be discussing something as controversial as climate change with the nine year-olds at church. It just kind of came up.

Monday morning I had to wake up the unwilling.  Sam didn't make it to the bus and Bethany was late enough to give up the effort.  I decided it would be more convenient for me to drive her and my eleventh dependent--her cello, in one trip. I pulled up to the elementary school to let Bethany out, and couldn't resist nudging Sam, whose legs were sprawled out across the dash to the point of sure discomfort, in attempt at feigned sleep, and protest against the cruelty of high school related sleep deprivation torture.

  I was pleased that, in spite of Sam's suffering, he was able to enjoy watching Bethany walk up to the front door, confidently carrying her cello, more than half her size, dressed in a mini skirt, bright colored leggings, a green Alpaca coat from Ecuador, and the enormous Grinch hat that Ben wore in the middle school musical.

"She's taking the Wes Anderson thing to an extreme." He said. 

I do worry at times that she connected with Moon Rise Kingdom disturbing well for a ten year-old.  But where is my Bruce Willis?

Monday morning the snow came in earnest.  The roads were slippery, but I felt more confident than I have in years past.  I drove the boys to preschool next, then Sophie to Grandma's, then went back to Lindon Nursery,  for irises, in honor of my Bethany...who at one point insisted she would change her name to Iris, as soon as legally possible.  She will always remember the beautiful field of irises that we used to wait to see in full bloom every spring in Beijing.  

I bought a couple of cups of hot chocolate for the boys at the 7/11 after preschool.  As they sipped, and I drove towards Grandma's slowly through the snow, the classical station played a gorgeous choral rendition of  Good King Wenceslas, and Granty said,

 "This is a wonderful day!"

 I do love Mondays.  It usually means lunch at Grandma Martha's house then I get to go to Caitlin's classroom to help out the teacher for an hour.  This often means I get to cut and staple, even use crayons and gluestick if I am lucky, and help the kids with their writing and math.  It is highly therapeutic, and no psychoanalysis is involved. 

Monday afternoons I pick up the girls from school, and we stop for a treat on the way to dance.  There is the hat again.  In the evenings Jessica comes to our house for music lessons.  Having her come to us has been a huge blessing. 

It has been a busy two weeks, filled with concerts and recitals and not without emotion.  This was the Wednesday morning sky.  I was back at the school for the Christmas orchestra, band, and choral concert that we had tried to go to the week before, but had arrived ten minutes late and missed the orchestra all together.  It was a classic moment of parental failure.  Wednesday Grandma Martha and I went to great lengths to arrive at the daytime performance an hour early. It's all about redemption.