A little merriment for the New Year

Morgan came into my room this morning while I was still in bed and half asleep.

Morgan: "Mom?"

Emily: "Hmm?"

Morgan: "Gingerbread houses are for eating."

pause

Emily: "Morgan, did you eat our Christmas gingerbread house decoration?"

Morgan: "Can I?"

Emily: (Trying not to laugh)- "You can have a part of it after lunch."

BUT WAIT... the story continues downstairs with Daddy.

Morgan: "Dad?"

Dan: "Yes, Morgan?"

Morgan: "Mommy said I could have this gingerbread cookie after lunch."

Dan: "Okay."

Morgan: "I want breakfast to be my lunch."

Dan and I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

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Dan was busy in the basement. Morgan yelled downstairs to him.

Morgan: "DADDDD!"

Dan: "What is it, Morgan?"

Morgan: "Smell my feet!"

And would you believe it? The big guy came upstairs and did as he was told. Giggling ensued.

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Morgan: "Mom!!! Mom!!!"

Emily: "What's going on?"

Morgan: "Is this an '8'?" (She puts her thumbs and forefingers of her two hands together to make two adjacent circles.)

Emily: "Why yes! It is an '8'."

Morgan: "Yea! I made an '8'! I made an '8'!"

The child was more happy than Christmas day. Go figure.

Top 12 Lessons Learned

This is the kind of topic that doesn't fit neatly in Christmas card well wishes. I specifically avoided the Christmas letter this year for this very reason. Doesn't make for good dinner conversation. You understand.

My fertility struggles over the past year and a half have been immensely spiritual and time consuming. Like most trials, we never desire the pain, but are changed forever by the lessons learned.

Here are My Top 12 Lessons Learned from Fertility Issues

or

Top 12 Reasons Why I Won't Give Up

1. Because no matter how many losses I experience, no amount of grief can water down the pull to raise more children. I will keep getting up so long as God allows.

2. There is no magical prayer, diet, pill or exercise that can make God change our situation. He hears every prayer, no matter how simple.

3. Because I've never been a particularly patient person, but now, every time I dust the dirt from my fall, I become more resolved to see the ending to my fertility journey in the way that God wants.

4. Because I'm not dead.

5. Because I've "threatened" God that if he does not grant us more children, I will buy all Morgan's clothes from Nordstrom and they will not be on sale. (Oh, c'mon. Laugh.)

6. Because God told Hosea to stay married to a woman who would leave him again and again. Sometimes God allows failure to show us a deeper truth.

7. Because God loves children. Especially my babies... they're really cute.

8. Because God Himself gave and hoped repeatedly for His own children to appear.

9. Because the whole Judeo-Christian faith is steeped in infertility. Plus, I'm only 1/3 of the way to being 100 yrs. old like Sarah. :)

10. Because people like Anna and Simeon dedicated their whole life to waiting for a special child. "Waiting on God" does not mean "forgotten by God".

11. By jove, His grace is sufficient in my weakness.

12. I love God.

Theology 101

Theology 101: Morgan Style
or

What Happens When You Jump From the Christmas Story to Other Biblical Stories and Don't Hear About Jesus Growing Up

Morgan: "Mom, is Jesus a baby now or a big boy?"

What I could have said: "Neither and both."
What I said instead: "Um... a big boy."

Morgan: "What about God? Is he a baby or a big boy?"

What I could have said: "Neither and both. By the way... God and Jesus are the same. And separate."
What I said instead: "Um... a big boy."

Morgan: "But only kids can say 'Jesus' and only big people can say 'God'?"

What I could have said: "For the love of Pete, will you stop bringing that up?"
What I said instead: "Righto."

Slippers

Ah, the joys of winter. Being a pent-up, home-bound, cabin-fevered child of four requires a mother to be creative.

Crafts.

Painting.

1 hour of Sesame Street

Tea parties.

Dance parties.

*sigh* And, invetibly, the childhood game of tag.

I try to avoid the game of tag whenever possible. It involves exertion which is something I don't feel like doing, even if it will take the edge off my high-strung, hepped-up-on-fruit-snacks daughter. It's work.

The game of tag in our house goes something like this:
1. Morgan yells "Tag! You're it."
2. I run after her at a steady enough clip where she thinks I'm really trying. She giggles incessantly.
3. We both forget we have stocking feet and Morgan slips on the hardwood floor.
4. Crying ensues.
5. The wounded is comforted.
6. Repeat steps 1-5 about 10 times.

Last night I wised up. "Dan," I said, "Let's go out and buy our daughter some slippers with grips on the bottom. Her feet will stay warm and she won't slip on the hardwoods." Good idea, self. Good idea.

Well apparently some major gift giving holiday just passed because Target had a selection of only two slippers that would fit Morgan. I was gunning for the little ducky slippers, but Morgan found the Dora ones. I tried to sell her on the idea of the duckies, but I'm no match for Nickelodeon's marketing tentacles. Dora it was.

Let me describe these slippers to you: They are everything a little girl would want in a slipper. They're pink and purple. They have all manner of glossy, irritating graphics on them. Most importantly, they have a Dora bust mounted on the front. Let me rephrase: These overly stuffed foot gear looked like two miniature cruise ships with Dora figureheads on them. My daughter looks like she's about to set sail for the port of "Gawdy". Her delicate feet were transformed into two vessels of shameless Nickelodeon marketing.

What's more- they have a little miniature backpack (important feature to ANY Dora marketing) mounted towards the back of the shoe. Now, what in name of all things purple she's going to do with a backpack that small is a mystery to me. But it's there. Big enough to hold a quarter.

To be fair, the slippers had the grippies on the bottom which was my only technical stipulation for these puppies. Note to self: add more stipulations to future purchases.

And this morning, Morgan eagerly donned her new slippers for the breakfast table. It was a success.

In the end, I learned something that I already knew: I love my daugther so much that I'm willing to go against every sensible design fiber in my being to make her day a little happier. Oh, for the love of Morgan.

Dan Dykstra: MIA

Oh where, oh where is my husband Dan?

I'll tell you where: the basement. Dan is preparing a place for a home brew station. You heard correctly: home brew.

Banish thoughts of wood grain alcohol and blindness. And while you're at it, toss out conceptions of abolitionists and raids. It's perfectly legal and, from what I understand, pretty durn fun.

Dan got the notion to brew his own beverage from Jason Short, a friend in Michigan. On our visit in September, Jason offered Dan a superb beer which I can only describe as sophisticated. Fantastic. Unforgettable. Dan's been dropping hints like B-52s, so it wasn't too hard to figure out what the big guy would like for Christmas. Check out his blog later. I'm sure he'll mention it.

Meanwhile, Dan is currently taking suggestions for the name of his beer. "Brain Boy's Brewsky" was mine.

Christmas Fun

It's the evening of December 26th and the Dykstras have all arrived safely home. The last minute gift wrapping and buying frenzy of December 24th was soon followed by 5 adults enjoying the evening of Christmas with one nightcap each. And then, not 24 hours later, we're home. Safely.

We celebrated our homecoming in a way befitting the travel-worn: Potbelly's subs and a cheap Merlot I had on hand. The fridge didn't offer two scraps of food for dinner. More correctly, the fridge didn't offer two scraps of food that made sense together: ranch dressing and olives, for instance. We had clearly raided and purged the appliance before we left. Sub sandwiches hit the spot.

The holiday was a little difficult for my husband; I'll be honest. This may have been the last Iowa Christmas we spent in the house in which he was raised. There is a lot of sentimentality about it for him. I can understand. His parents are making plans to sell the house in order to move to a more maintenance-friendly establishment. Understandable, certainly. But it is no less difficult for Dan.

This was the first Christmas that Morgan will probably remember. We arrived in Iowa on Friday. It is the habit of the Dykstra family to put gifts under the tree before Christmas. Morgan thought is was time to open presents when we arrived. We had to firmly implant the days of the week in her head. Christmas was on Tuesday. We had to wait for Saturday, Sunday and Monday to pass. We must have been fairly effective in our lessons, however. Morgan woke up Christmas morning with the announcement: "IT'S TUESDAY!!! IT'S TUESDAY!!!" So much for "Merry Christmas" greetings. Years from now, Dan and I will be rocking in our chairs at the nursing home bickering about memories and dates but we will both remember that this year, Christmas fell on a Tuesday.

It's safe to say that we ate too much, slept too much and drank too much for Christmas. But it's the holidays and I, for one, have a firm policy of celebrating irresponsibly when it comes to calorie-counting. My sister-in-law introduced me to an unforgettable drink called "White Christmas". It calls for a low-ball of nog with a shot each of Southern Comfort and White Chocolate Liquor. Heavenly.

I was a bit of a hypocrite, however, when it came to my daughter's eatings. Morgan has a chronic constipation problem so I monitored her food intake like a hawk. No corn. Less bread. And no sweets unless she had adequate fruits, veggies and constipation medicine. By the end of the trip, she kept touting her menu of "helfy" foods in order to earn a piece of chocolate. Earn is an apt word, by the way. There was no way I was going to go through a 17 hour bout of constipation with my daughter again if I could avoid it.

But now we're home. Morgan has unpacked her loot and is particularly enjoying the baby doll high chair. In fact, she invited me to a homespun tea party tonight in which the high chair played center stage. Boy, that was fun.

There's more unpacking to do, but it can wait, now, can't it? Technically, it's still vacation.

Morganisms

Morgan: "Mom, when people die do they have x's on their eyes?"

Too much TV?

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Morgan: "Daddy, does you arm feel better?" (Dan got blood drawn from Red Cross the other day.)

Dan: "Yes, Punkin'. It feels a lot better."

Morgan: "Why did you get a shot?"

Dan: "Well, some other people needed blood, so I had plenty and I shared some."

Morgan: (Recalling her flu vaccine the other day- she hated it.) "Well, I share toys. I do NOT like shots."