Friends, I have HUGE HUGE family news. It is a shock. In some ways it is bittersweet, and in some ways very exciting. We are MOVING AGAIN!
Today the Hubs was officially offered a research fellowship at Harvard University, full time, for one year. My heart is completely, selflessly happy for him. When he applied, he did not think he would be selected. He was wrong. He called me from work to tell me, and I wanted to jump through the phone I was so happy for him. Harvard suggests that he arrive mid-July. We will drive across country, so for now the plan is to leave in June.
So, are you as shocked as we are?!?
Friday, January 15, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
San Diego Winter
It really is Winter here in San Diego, even if it has been in the mid 70s all week, which is only a teeny unusual. This time of year the high winter temperatures average in the 60s to low 70s. I cannot figure out how our trees lose so many leaves with warmer temperatures, though. I took my kids to a park a handful of miles away out in the 'burbs, where we live. This park wraps around part of a golf course, so it is huge with different trees on different sides.
At the same park on the same day, we saw these palm trees.
The boys and I were GOING to ride the train. See the train tracks? We missed the last train and I nearly broke their little hearts. The hours of operation on the web were not accurate. Sniff. Needless to say, folks in San Diego do not put away shorts for the winter, like in other parts of the country. We have only two seasons, a wet season and a dry season. It was 77 degrees on Sunday when I took this picture, in January, at nearly three in the afternoon.
This picture was taken by my Hubs yesterday, so I am "sharing" with him. The sun was setting over the harbor between the Embarcadero and Coronado. Another mid 70s winter day in San Diego, but with very cool water temperature, of about 60 degrees.
At the same park on the same day, we saw these palm trees.
The boys and I were GOING to ride the train. See the train tracks? We missed the last train and I nearly broke their little hearts. The hours of operation on the web were not accurate. Sniff. Needless to say, folks in San Diego do not put away shorts for the winter, like in other parts of the country. We have only two seasons, a wet season and a dry season. It was 77 degrees on Sunday when I took this picture, in January, at nearly three in the afternoon.
This picture was taken by my Hubs yesterday, so I am "sharing" with him. The sun was setting over the harbor between the Embarcadero and Coronado. Another mid 70s winter day in San Diego, but with very cool water temperature, of about 60 degrees.
You Capture is hosted by Beth at I Should Be Folding Laundry
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Día De Reyes: A La Farmer
And you thought Christmas was over December 25! Not when you are Mexican. We still have more days to go. On January 6 el Día de Reyes is celebrated. This translates to Day of the Kings. It is what many other parts of the world celebrate as Epiphany, the day the Wise Men arrived to bring Baby Jesus gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Many Mexican families do not add the Wise Men to their nativity scenes until the evening of January 5 for Día de Reyes.
I cannot believe I fell for this holiday as a kid, but I did. At least Santa went to everyone's houses regardless of ethnic background, so no wonder he seemed possible. But the Wise Men only came to my house and anyone else that was of Mexican heritage. Why I did not think that was strange as a child I do not know. No one ever spoiled it and told me the truth. I believed the Wise Men actually came while I was asleep to deliver gifts. Our stockings hung by the chimney with care, but were never filled until January 6. This is not part of the Día de Reyes tradition I will pass to my children. I like Christmas morning stockings too much.
The evening of January 6, Mexican families gather for Merienda de Reyes, an early dinner celebration with friends and family. Typically Mexican food is served. We celebrated Día de Reyes the weekend before January 6 since my sister was in town. My mom and I shared the responsibility for pork tostadas. For dessert we served the traditional Rosca de Reyes.
Our Costco offerered these special breads by the truckloads. This is California, and San Diego no less. Many families of Mexican heritage celebrate with a Rosca. The Rosca is a very, very sweet bread baked in an oval shape. The Rosca is a tradition that was brought to Mexico from Spain. (Here is a quick history lesson...the Spaniards colonized Mexico, hence the Spanish influence.) The oval shape represents the Wise Men's crowns, and the dried fruit represents the jewels in the crown. In the picture you see the Rosca with a Baby Jesus figurine.
This bread was vacuum packed and sealed for freshness. Three little figurines of Baby Jesus came with the Rosca. The party host turns the Rosca upside down and pushes in these little figurines into the bottom of the bread. The hidden figurines remind us of how Baby Jesus needed to be hidden and protected from King Herod. The knife that cuts the bread reminds us of how Baby Jesus was in danger of being killed after his birth. But the Rosca de Reyes is actually a game. The person that finds a Baby Jesus in their bread must host a party on February 2 for all of those in attendance for the Rosca de Reyes. See, I told you it was a long Christmas season for Mexicans! I will tell you all about the February 2 celebration closer to that date. My extended family will host a party on that date. They had another Rosca party on January 6 I did not attend. Since it was just my family, my parents, my sister, and nephew attending our Farmer Rosca de Reyes, finding the hidden figurines were just for fun.
Later in the evening, the adults went outside and helped the kids roast marshmallows around our fire pit. We made s'mores. Día de Reyes is not complete without chocolate. Chocolate was a gift from the natives of Mexico to the people from the New World, or Spain.
I cannot believe I fell for this holiday as a kid, but I did. At least Santa went to everyone's houses regardless of ethnic background, so no wonder he seemed possible. But the Wise Men only came to my house and anyone else that was of Mexican heritage. Why I did not think that was strange as a child I do not know. No one ever spoiled it and told me the truth. I believed the Wise Men actually came while I was asleep to deliver gifts. Our stockings hung by the chimney with care, but were never filled until January 6. This is not part of the Día de Reyes tradition I will pass to my children. I like Christmas morning stockings too much.
The evening of January 6, Mexican families gather for Merienda de Reyes, an early dinner celebration with friends and family. Typically Mexican food is served. We celebrated Día de Reyes the weekend before January 6 since my sister was in town. My mom and I shared the responsibility for pork tostadas. For dessert we served the traditional Rosca de Reyes.
Our Costco offerered these special breads by the truckloads. This is California, and San Diego no less. Many families of Mexican heritage celebrate with a Rosca. The Rosca is a very, very sweet bread baked in an oval shape. The Rosca is a tradition that was brought to Mexico from Spain. (Here is a quick history lesson...the Spaniards colonized Mexico, hence the Spanish influence.) The oval shape represents the Wise Men's crowns, and the dried fruit represents the jewels in the crown. In the picture you see the Rosca with a Baby Jesus figurine.
This bread was vacuum packed and sealed for freshness. Three little figurines of Baby Jesus came with the Rosca. The party host turns the Rosca upside down and pushes in these little figurines into the bottom of the bread. The hidden figurines remind us of how Baby Jesus needed to be hidden and protected from King Herod. The knife that cuts the bread reminds us of how Baby Jesus was in danger of being killed after his birth. But the Rosca de Reyes is actually a game. The person that finds a Baby Jesus in their bread must host a party on February 2 for all of those in attendance for the Rosca de Reyes. See, I told you it was a long Christmas season for Mexicans! I will tell you all about the February 2 celebration closer to that date. My extended family will host a party on that date. They had another Rosca party on January 6 I did not attend. Since it was just my family, my parents, my sister, and nephew attending our Farmer Rosca de Reyes, finding the hidden figurines were just for fun.Later in the evening, the adults went outside and helped the kids roast marshmallows around our fire pit. We made s'mores. Día de Reyes is not complete without chocolate. Chocolate was a gift from the natives of Mexico to the people from the New World, or Spain.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
One Year Ago on the Sixth of January
One year ago we lived on Oahu, preparing for our big move to the Big Rock. Our boys sensed excitement and anticipation.
But there was more to come than just a new city and a new house. One year ago in Honolulu, our doctor announced that a new life was indeed growing inside of me. She pointed to a flashing heartbeat of our exactly 6 week old baby, just 8 millimeters long, on an ultrasound screen. She let us linger in silence, in amazement, and in love. She knew we were moving. She knew it might take me awhile to find a new doctor. And she knew how very important this appointment was for us to see this precious baby right then.
Months passed. The baby grew, and we grew, too. We grew eager to meet this precious one. My family all wanted to touch my belly, and they asked questions about all I felt from the inside out. He rolled, he tumbled, and kicked every which way.
But as the weeks surrounding his arrival neared, I became anxious around bedtime. I would start to doze off, and be startled into alertness. I often reached for Hubby's hand and asked him to pray RIGHT THEN. For the first time ever I was nervous about the delivery of our baby. I asked our church to pray. I asked others to pray, too.
I recalled a child I knew thirteen years before. She was a first grader at a school where I volunteered. She was wheel chair bound, unable to communicate with spoken language. Her story was that a faulty monitor during labor prevented the doctors from detecting loss of oxygen and a decelerated heart rate, resulting in her permanent state. Her story haunted me at night during my last trimester. So we prayed for peace and God's protection during delivery.
September 3, 2009, I laid in the hospital awaiting the birth of my son. A nurse was monitoring my contractions. She checked the monitor tape and frowned. It was just a momentary decelerated heart rate. Nothing prolonged. Nothing to worry about, she said. A prolonged deceleration might indicate infant stress, a wrapped cord, or other danger. But no, my contractions were normal.
Son3 was born shortly thereafter. He was born with a double chord around his neck, and around his body. But he was absolutely well, with no signs of distress. What an experience, to know I had prayed for the Lord's protection for this baby, and despite his chord experience, the Lord indeed protected him.
He is healthy. He is beautiful. He is one year bigger than when I first saw his heart beat on that screen. Except he has grown into a 4 month social yet easy going baby. He is so loved by our family.
A few times last week I was asked what I will remember most about 2009, or for what I was most grateful. Without a doubt I will remember how the Lord chose to bless us with a third beautiful, healthy, and happy baby.
But there was more to come than just a new city and a new house. One year ago in Honolulu, our doctor announced that a new life was indeed growing inside of me. She pointed to a flashing heartbeat of our exactly 6 week old baby, just 8 millimeters long, on an ultrasound screen. She let us linger in silence, in amazement, and in love. She knew we were moving. She knew it might take me awhile to find a new doctor. And she knew how very important this appointment was for us to see this precious baby right then.Months passed. The baby grew, and we grew, too. We grew eager to meet this precious one. My family all wanted to touch my belly, and they asked questions about all I felt from the inside out. He rolled, he tumbled, and kicked every which way.
But as the weeks surrounding his arrival neared, I became anxious around bedtime. I would start to doze off, and be startled into alertness. I often reached for Hubby's hand and asked him to pray RIGHT THEN. For the first time ever I was nervous about the delivery of our baby. I asked our church to pray. I asked others to pray, too.
I recalled a child I knew thirteen years before. She was a first grader at a school where I volunteered. She was wheel chair bound, unable to communicate with spoken language. Her story was that a faulty monitor during labor prevented the doctors from detecting loss of oxygen and a decelerated heart rate, resulting in her permanent state. Her story haunted me at night during my last trimester. So we prayed for peace and God's protection during delivery.
September 3, 2009, I laid in the hospital awaiting the birth of my son. A nurse was monitoring my contractions. She checked the monitor tape and frowned. It was just a momentary decelerated heart rate. Nothing prolonged. Nothing to worry about, she said. A prolonged deceleration might indicate infant stress, a wrapped cord, or other danger. But no, my contractions were normal.
Son3 was born shortly thereafter. He was born with a double chord around his neck, and around his body. But he was absolutely well, with no signs of distress. What an experience, to know I had prayed for the Lord's protection for this baby, and despite his chord experience, the Lord indeed protected him.
He is healthy. He is beautiful. He is one year bigger than when I first saw his heart beat on that screen. Except he has grown into a 4 month social yet easy going baby. He is so loved by our family.
A few times last week I was asked what I will remember most about 2009, or for what I was most grateful. Without a doubt I will remember how the Lord chose to bless us with a third beautiful, healthy, and happy baby.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
This New Year With Three Boys
I was coming back here anyway. Regular blogging in 2010 is one of my three resolutions. But Rachel nearly sent me an S.O.S. email. I kindly responded with no answers and told her to read my blog, because I am sensitive like that.
She asked if Son1 is back in school. I am sure she genuinely wanted to know. Everyone asks me that these days. But they don't just ask me. They ask me with a hopefulness, like that should bring me some relief from three boys at home. Nope, he is home until mid January, and I am thrilled. This house is rockin' like a jack hammer hit it. The walls are shaking, the floor is pounding, and my head is spinning. Not always. But a lot of the time it is loud. That is OK with me. Contentment is a choice. I am drinking life in, because for now, I have two little boys that still call me Mommy, and I am just not ready to give it up. When it is gone, a season will have passed, and I am not ready to be Just Mom yet. For now, I get saluted and called Captain by my pirates with wild imaginations. But the start of a new year reminds me that time is passing.
The other day we dined at a lunch buffet kind of place. On the price list kids 3 and under were free, kids 3 to 5 were a certain price, and then kids 6 to 12 were another price. Perfect. Hubs and I plus our five year old made for a cheap lunch. The cashier tried to correct us. She asked us how old Son2 was, though we told her he was free. Then she tried to correct us about Son1's age. Yup, he is five until August. She was not convinced. I finally apologized, noting that Hubs and I are short, and somehow we are blessed with tall children but we really were not lying. No one believes us ever. They are big kids. And because they are physically big, I wonder often if that will speed up their emotional maturity beyond their years. I truly hope not. I want them to be 5 and 2 just because they are only that old!!
So these winter days (it is in the mid 70s here) have been flanked by evenings around our fire pit, roasting marshmallows over an open fire, and squishing them into s'mores. We have had two children fall in the pool since New Year's on two different nights. Yes, both were boys, and no, neither were mine. That is no surprise; life around this house is active, with scooter riding and hide and go seek in the dark.
Son3 is just a gem so far. He seems to wonder when it gets too quiet, unless he is in his crib. He wants in on the action. He starts to squawk if he can hear us but cannot see us. He is happiest when his brothers are around and does not yet mind the chaos. The big boys are perfectly at ease when I am occupied with the baby to drum up some turbulence around the house. They have that "when the cat is away the mice will play" syndrome. I am grateful for their bond, though.
Life here is busy and exhausting. Feeding an infant, popping the toddler on and off the potty, and working on Kinder skills with the eldest is just a fraction of all that needs to be accomplished in a day. I fall in bed ready for the day to be over. In that moment, I choose contentment over worry, over frustration, and over life's curve balls. My life is full.
But that choice to be content can be so hard some days. Raising our boys is a two person gig. My Hubs steps up to the plate so often. He reminds me to be gentle, to be patient, to find joy in the moments that are not so joyous, because they are just moments. So it is with these fruits of the spirit that we have ventured out so much since Son3 has been born. Here we are, just before our little man's third trip to the zoo, just before Christmas.
LL recently wrote this post about THIS DAY.
I read it and I just kept thinking of this song.
She asked if Son1 is back in school. I am sure she genuinely wanted to know. Everyone asks me that these days. But they don't just ask me. They ask me with a hopefulness, like that should bring me some relief from three boys at home. Nope, he is home until mid January, and I am thrilled. This house is rockin' like a jack hammer hit it. The walls are shaking, the floor is pounding, and my head is spinning. Not always. But a lot of the time it is loud. That is OK with me. Contentment is a choice. I am drinking life in, because for now, I have two little boys that still call me Mommy, and I am just not ready to give it up. When it is gone, a season will have passed, and I am not ready to be Just Mom yet. For now, I get saluted and called Captain by my pirates with wild imaginations. But the start of a new year reminds me that time is passing.
The other day we dined at a lunch buffet kind of place. On the price list kids 3 and under were free, kids 3 to 5 were a certain price, and then kids 6 to 12 were another price. Perfect. Hubs and I plus our five year old made for a cheap lunch. The cashier tried to correct us. She asked us how old Son2 was, though we told her he was free. Then she tried to correct us about Son1's age. Yup, he is five until August. She was not convinced. I finally apologized, noting that Hubs and I are short, and somehow we are blessed with tall children but we really were not lying. No one believes us ever. They are big kids. And because they are physically big, I wonder often if that will speed up their emotional maturity beyond their years. I truly hope not. I want them to be 5 and 2 just because they are only that old!!
So these winter days (it is in the mid 70s here) have been flanked by evenings around our fire pit, roasting marshmallows over an open fire, and squishing them into s'mores. We have had two children fall in the pool since New Year's on two different nights. Yes, both were boys, and no, neither were mine. That is no surprise; life around this house is active, with scooter riding and hide and go seek in the dark.
Son3 is just a gem so far. He seems to wonder when it gets too quiet, unless he is in his crib. He wants in on the action. He starts to squawk if he can hear us but cannot see us. He is happiest when his brothers are around and does not yet mind the chaos. The big boys are perfectly at ease when I am occupied with the baby to drum up some turbulence around the house. They have that "when the cat is away the mice will play" syndrome. I am grateful for their bond, though.
Life here is busy and exhausting. Feeding an infant, popping the toddler on and off the potty, and working on Kinder skills with the eldest is just a fraction of all that needs to be accomplished in a day. I fall in bed ready for the day to be over. In that moment, I choose contentment over worry, over frustration, and over life's curve balls. My life is full.
But that choice to be content can be so hard some days. Raising our boys is a two person gig. My Hubs steps up to the plate so often. He reminds me to be gentle, to be patient, to find joy in the moments that are not so joyous, because they are just moments. So it is with these fruits of the spirit that we have ventured out so much since Son3 has been born. Here we are, just before our little man's third trip to the zoo, just before Christmas.
LL recently wrote this post about THIS DAY.
I read it and I just kept thinking of this song.
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