Just so you know, there will be no pictures

Well, helllllllllllo, nobody.

I am typing this from the computer located in the drum room. This room also houses my crafty equipment and Kris' audio whateverwhatever but that's beside the point. The window in this room looks out into our backyard containing a lovely deck, an empty garden bed, and an unbelievably overgrown-with-too-spicy-too-eat-lettuce garden bed. But the lettuce is pretty and green and seems to not really care that it froze last night. I suppose spicy lettuce is the best kind to be--resilient and unpalatable. No wonder it grew so well here.

But the drums. I don't actually mind them. With the door closed, it really isn't as grating as one might think. And they are usually trying to play a certain rhythm so even though they are beginners, they are at least thoughtful beginners. That is the best kind to be. Little Simeon (Simmy Shake, Sim-sam, simarooboo, Simmy Jimmy) is not quite as intentional but I can only hope that starting at 18 months will work in my favor. Eventually.

The Brothers Rives are doing well. Asher is ALMOST FIVE. If you have talked to him at all, you no doubt have been informed of this. He is the child whom, at present, challenges me the most. His natural tendencies are almost always not mine so I am frequently presented with an opportunity to lay aside how I think he should do/handle/process/embrace/respond to any given situation and really think about what he needs. He is sensitive and slow to decide and thoughtful. So I am learning to approach him as he is. Not leave him at the mercy of his sin, but not expect him to be someone he isn't. Namely, Jamie Rives.

He has developed quite the vocabulary now that he is reading. He uses words well, but now the challenge is to introduce the concept of a filter. At the park a few weeks ago he asked a little boy, "How smart do you think you are?" The boy replied, "very smart!." Asher said, "Well, I think you are baby-smart because you are not playing very wisely." He recounted this conversation to me later and I told him that, while I admired his word choice, it probably was not his place to comment on the choices of a total stranger.

Jude. For starters, he has considerably less hair now thanks to an unfortunate incident involving a misunderstanding between me and the clippers. He has taken it all in stride and he still looks adorable, but I miss that beautiful, long, thick sandy brown hair with gorgeous blond highlights. Thank God I have all boys because between their hair and my own, I have all that I can handle in the hair care department.

He is his own man. He knows what he wants. He's not much of a cuddler. Doesn't really give a rip. THIS I can relate to. Don't get me wrong, he can send my head spinning as much as Asher, but usually for the opposite reason.

And Simmy. First of all, any thoughts I had about cutting his hair have disappeared completely. Those precious curls are not going anywhere anytime soon. He is talking so much more--well, communicating so much more, let's say. My favorites are "Asha" and "Tude." Mama, Daddy, Pa (Poppy), Maw (Mamaw), car, ball, kie (cookie), cacka, muh (catchall word for drink. Includes but not limited to milk, water, juice.) his favorite word is of course, "no." He is learning, in a rather slow and painful way, that saying to his parents is not acceptable and not the proper response to "obey quickly."

2012 has been nice so far. We have eliminated most of the TV watching that went on here and the effects have been very pleasing. They play more, they read more, I read more, I get more done. I feel like I use the TV now instead of it using us. They watch one show a day now, sometimes two if I need the time to do something, but it is no longer our default entertainment choice or babysitter. So we dropped cable and resubscribed to Netflix and it seems to have been the right time for that change. I really resisted the idea for a long time, but now that we have all adjusted, I'm glad we just did it.

My new year's resolution...

will NOT be to blog more. That would be so 2009 of me. But life is going so fast now that I am in my late early thirties. I'm going to try to capture just a bit of our life and make it stand still in this blog. I mean, my newborn is 2 1/2. THAT is absurd.

I also want to blog more about issues that matter to me during December. I have a few posts rolling around in my head tentatively titled "My Santa Manifesta: You Do Know Where Liars Go, Right?" and "Every Day is Christmas If You Live in America, You Fat, Ungrateful Slob." I'd hate for you all to think I've gone completely holly jolly. I have my limits.

My shopping is almost done. We have found the four gift model of "something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read" to be a great fit for us, so all of four my guys have a little something from each category ready to go under the tree. I would place them under the tree now, but hello--Simeon.

I'm wrapping up a great first season with Noonday Collection. I have learned a lot! I'm looking forward to starting the spring season with a better grasp on everything but I'm really pleased with and grateful for how things have gone. (By the way, delivery by Christmas is guaranteed until the 16th if you need a few AMAZING gifts for loved ones. Or yourself. No judgement here.)

Asher threw up last night. No fever, no chills, just puke. So I drug out the "sick mattress" (a baby bed mattress we keep under the bunk beds for the ill among us to lay on. It's vinyl.) I was just waiting for the next wave to hit. Jude was still awake for some unknown reason (it was about 10:30.) He was wired and kept commenting on how he always manages to make it to the toilet when he needs to throw up and how Asher is kind of a baby in that regard. I had to agree. One of the best things about Jude is that boy holds it until he is standing over the potty. That in itself covers a multitude of sins.

So Asher is awake, Jude is awake, and I'm incredibly sleepy because I had just taken a benedryl for my horrific allergy attack. We all finally dozed off in the living room and then sometime in the middle of the night, Simeon wakes me up. Not for any good reason. Just because. I'm so groggy at this point, I don't recall what happened after that. All I know is that Kris woke me up around 6 and told me to go get in bed and all 3 boys were laying on the floor near me. Around 8, I woke up with the eldest and the youngest in bed next to me. Sleep in heavenly peace, we did not. But no one has thrown up again at the time of this writing. That, my friends, is a Christmas miracle.