Mornings - They Aren't For Everyone

It’s no secret that I’m not a gracious morning person.  There are exceptions – when I’m with my grandchildren or when I’m on vacation and can awake naturally without need of an alarm clock – but most days I need my quiet alone time before I’m good company.  My boss learned this years ago and in the past was known to toss a shoe into my office before he entered.  If it came back at him, he’d wait.

My husband knows this of course, but he has the most unusual approach to it.  He wakes up each morning like a dog, ready to go and excited about whatever the day will bring.  He has this notion that one morning things will be different, that I will wake up and be just like him.  Ain’t happening.

My non-morningness is one reason I don’t like to duck hunt.   Getting up at 4 a.m. to go sit outside in the cold or freezing rain isn’t my thing.  It is definitely my husband’s thing.  He’ll go duck hunting at the drop of a hat, he and #1 Duck Dog Duke.  I’ve learned how to get him packed up quickly so that on those mornings when he leaves our house at 3:30 a.m. I don’t have to get up and help him find things.  That’s the theory anyway.

Last Friday night we were packing for the hunt.  His plan was to leave between 3 and 3:30, and I sure didn’t want to have to get up and hunt for clothes/guns/ammo on a Saturday, my only day to sleep in.  I filled a small canvas bag with thick hunting socks, thermal underwear, cammo pants and shirt, a sweatshirt, and a clean pair of underwear.  He retrieved his heavy coat from the closet, his shotgun and .22 from the gun safe, and loaded them into the truck along with Sir Duke’s life vest.  Ammo?  At the Ranch, check.  Clothes laid out for him to jump into when the alarm went off in the morning?  Grubby jeans and hunting boots on the dresser, check.  I asked him a couple of times if there was any special clothing he wanted me to pack for him.  Nope, everything he wanted was ready.  He assured me he wouldn’t need to wake me the next morning.  Ha.

At 3:00 a.m. the alarm went off.  I woke briefly to wish him a safe trip then turned over under the warm covers.  After a few minutes it became clear to me that he was still here, in the closet messing around amongst his shirts.  He came out into the bedroom and in the light of the closet door held up his best, flannel shirt.  “Should I wear this?”  “No!” I said, annoyed at this last minute clothing issue.  I thought he had learned there are hunting clothes and there are other clothes so I don’t have the Great Laundry Challenge when he gets home.  I’d made sure to put out his hunting jeans the night before, but made the mistake of assuming he’d just grab a shirt out of the laundry hamper and go.  But No, he decides to stroll through the nicely laundered shirts hanging in his closet for a trip that will involve dirt, grime, mud, and blood.  Seriously?

Grouchily, I threw back the covers and put my feet on the floor, grumbling about having to get up and help him, how inconsiderate he was and a few other things I’m not proud of saying.  Then he decided he wanted a different sweatshirt than the one I packed.  At that, I launched into my spiel about how I hated last minute changes when we had decided on everything the night before.  Poor Paul  - I helped him alright, but he paid a 3 a.m. nagging price for it. 

At last he seemed to have everything he wanted and I headed back to bead, wishing him a safe trip and asking him to please turn off all the lights so I could go back to sleep.  I heard the clomp, clomp, clomp as he went downstairs, heard the door to the garage open and close several times as he and Duke did whatever it is they do to get ready to leave the house.  Snug under the covers I listened until I heard it.  Silence.  Beautiful, peaceful, undisturbed quiet.  Time to get back to dreamland.  Except that darn stairwell light was putting off just enough light into the bedroom doorway I couldn’t sleep. 

One more time out from under the warm covers, flip the light off, and back into warmth.  I said a prayer for safe travel, then thanked the Lord that I have a good husband, that I ‘m able to be his helpmate, that he puts up with my grumbling, that we have a lovely home and he is a good provider, and that the Lord forgives our bad attitudes and harsh words when we humbly ask.  Besides, I knew that after a couple of days of beautiful, peaceful, undisturbed quiet I’d be ready for the sound of that truck pulling into the driveway, ready to hear about the hunt, ready for a break from the quiet – something that comes naturally to the Hunter and Sir Duke.

Christmas Blessings

Unlike my dear friend Allison who is a faithful regular blogger, I go for months without blogging.  But it’s January 1, and my heart and head are so full I need to write it out.

Christmas at my sister’s with my family.  Love and laughter, stockings and presents, good food and good fun.  Nieces and nephews striving to be good people and good parents.  I am so blessed in my family.

Christmas Eve service at our church.   Simple worship, special music, the story of our Savior read from Old Testament prophecies to New Testament Nativity, interspersed between the harp, violin, piano, and voices lifted in praise and thanks.  Neighboring strangers welcomed, needing to hear the greatest story ever told and wanting to feel the love of God.

Christmas Day brunch with fellows from church who would otherwise not have anything to look forward to on that special day.  Threadgills was packed.  I never knew how many people eat out on Christmas Day; I thought everyone would be with family having coffee and a Christmas cookie - like me.

The Five Days of Christmas

Emily and Molly arrived with parents in tow Christmas afternoon.  The thrill of their coming to Grandma’s house never, ever gets old.  Unlike grandchildren, who get older way too fast. 
Molly’s hug is genuine but brief – she is off to check out the tree, the Christmas decorations and the grandkids room.  She finds all the children’s names spelled in alphabet blocks upstairs and shouts down, “M-O-L-L-Y  -  that spells ME!”  Emily’s hug is matched by my own, infused with love and deep connection.  She is ready to show me her new horse and stable, fresh from Granna and Papa’s house the night before.  Little does she know there is a large, soft stuffed horse under the tree for her here.  Craig and Laura are tired from the grueling I-35 drive but safe and sound.  Let the mayhem and chaos begin!

Playing with the girls in the grandkids room.  Paul and Craig unloading their car – amazing what you can pack into a little Nissan.  Laura and I sitting down for a visit, one of the many pockets of talk-time we’ll have while they are here.  It’s one of the things I love the most.  Butterscotch getting re-acquainted with Duke in their doggie way.

Grandma’s beef vegetable soup for supper, devoured by two hungry girls.  Bathtime, always with lots of bubbles.  Stories at bedtime, this year’s favorite the The Wild Christmas Reindeer by Jan Brett.  Then downstairs for the movie The Santa Claus, the first one, a tradition Laura and I have had for several years.  We are all so tired none of us can stay awake through the end. 

My nightly Kitchen Angel came every night they were here.  Dishes loaded in the dishwasher to be cleaned while we all sleep, food put away, counter cleared.  During the day the Angel is my wonderful son-in-law, but at night he uses his nightowlness to my benefit.  What a welcome gift.

Day 2
Laura and I once again get up early while all others are sleeping for our annual Day After Christmas shopping.  We go to 3 stores, specialty shops - NO mall.  After stopping for a Starbucks we spend the next 1 ½ hours sharing what’s on our minds and shopping.  A few perfect on sale purchases.  I love this time with my girl.

Walter, Eryn, Kaelyn and baby Liam join us later for Christmas morning.  Craig makes his wonderful coffee (that barista training in a past life is put to good use!)  Christmas music playing on the stereo, fire in the fireplace, a beautiful tree filled to capacity underneath with gifts.  We take our time, enjoy watching the children open gifts and relax as we leisurely exchange ours.  Emily and Molly want to set up their wooden nativity set immediately .  They have always loved playing with the nativity sets around our house, providing the chance to once again share about God’s love and what He did for us in sending His Son to earth. 

Emily’s new horse is a big hit; she and Gingerbread are constant companions now.  Molly looks adorable in her hello kitty pink hat, which is soon set aside in favor of the pink dressup costume complete with large butterfly wings and pink shoes with butterfly toppers.  In an eyeblink she strips off her pj’s and dons the costume – “Boys, turn your head while Molly is changing,” Emily announces.  Kaelyn is excited about her crystals mining kit and her new bracelet.  Liam is happy to sit in Uncle Craig’s lap and watch people try to get him to play with his toys.

The day unfolds leisurely, gifts slowly unwrapped, coffee maker going constantly.  “Thank you!”  “Oh I LOVE this!”  “How did you know, this is perfect!”  “We really needed one of these.”  “Hey, can I have that, that’s cool!”

Visit. Eat. Play. Relax. Build a fire.  Visit.  Eat.  Play.  Relax.  Bedtime.  Another wonderful day has passed.

Day 3

It’s just me and Molly this morning.  Emily went home with cousin Kaelyn to spend the night.  I had lots of one-on-one with Emily, but don’t get the chance with this one.  Molly and I read lots of books, play with the Noah’s ark figures and a princess carriage.  She is very creative and fun as an “only child”.

In the afternoon it’s total grandkid time.  We have all four.  For the most part the 3 girls do well.  They play upstairs outside with bubbles, inside with Legos, and other games not easily named.  They make a clay dish with Emily’s new pottery wheel; Kaelyn patiently works the clay to shape it while Emily uses the power pedal to turn the wheel.   Laura and I get to play with Liam.  Nothing better than a 10 month old sweet cuddly boy.  He plays in his bath, then with his fresh clean baby-smell we sit him between us in the living room and explore his toys.  He likes the truck and blocks from Aunt Lolly and the animal noise toy from Grandma.  He cruises around the couch.  Red hair, big blue eyes.  Grandma Heaven.

Day 4

We take the girls to visit their new twin cousins, less than 2 weeks old.  What tiny precious bundles, a boy and a girl.  I never had a baby that small, but they are almost 6 lbs. now.  Newborn blessings.

Tonight is our big family Christmas Dinner.  In addition to Paul and I, Laura and Walt and their families, we’ll have my “second daughter” Lena and her family plus Tracy.  Laura and I kick it into gear planning the table setting, centerpieces, napkin folds and place cards.  I love a beautiful table, using all the Spode Christmas china – SO glad Laura loves this pattern, it’s all going to be hers!

We thank God for all of this.  Table is ready, all are seated.  It’s my own little sweet-spot, all the work preparing the food, desserts and dining room is so worth it for this time of gathering.  Steak cooked to perfection, homemade mac and cheese.  Icecream dessert, Christmas cookies, homemade fudge.  Yum.

The Kitchen Angel had a real challenge that night but he came through beautifully.  Storytime for the children, bedtime to calm and wind down.  Sleep.

Day 5

It’s Sunday and I’m subbing in the 3yr old class at church so Molly will be one of my students.  Works out well - she leads the class in an impromptu singing of “Jesus Loves Me” during snack time.   Emily visits Teamkids and learns about the Jewish names for God.  During worship I adore hearing Emily singing beside me, her voice is that of a child-angel.  I hope she keeps on singing.

Fried chicken for lunch, with Grandpa’s special mashed potatoes.  I think I may turn into a chicken leg covered in potatoes, I’ve eaten so much.

Emily has the idea for a roadside cookie stand.  She and her dad set up the little table and chair, we arrange Grandma’s Christmas cookies in a lovely red felt-lined gold Christmas tray and she sets up shop.  Molly helps at firsts, standing on our sidewalk in her ultimate cuteage waving to cars driving by.  We are amazed at the people who stop to buy Emily’s cookies on this cold Sunday afternoon.  Some even make a U-turn.  Our entrepreneur ends up making a little over $18.00 in an hour.  Off to a good start in life.

Their visit is coming to a close.  I don’t like to think about it.  We spend the last afternoon/evening quietly together, and after supper we have a snuggle party in Grandma’s big bed watching Molly’s new Barbie movie about a horse riding camp.   More Grandma Heaven.

This year Emily said, “Grandma, I think I can leave without crying this time.”  I replied, “I think I can too.  If you can, I can.”  She is growing up, able to recognize that we will see each other again before too long.  I am growing older, realizing that every moment is precious and not wanting it to end.  As Grandpa and I wave to them, our treasures pulling out of the driveway, I wonder who is trying hardest not to cry, Emily or me.  I think it’s me.  Prayers of thanks and gratitude trump my tears.  Another blessed Christmas.