Two Years a Home

Today marks two years since we moved to Colorado and started our new life.

March 10th, 2012

Two years ago, we were freed from the constraints of the Army telling us where we had to live, how long we could stay, and where we had to go next...we finally had a choice in the matter, and the world was our oyster. In the years leading up to our "freedom," we'd toyed with many different possibilities for our future; at one point we even dreamed up adventures like going on a two-year mission with FIDESCO (which my dearest friend and her husband started last year, so we can live vicariously through them!), or taking a WHO job in Geneva where we could raise little Swiss/French babes. Ultimately, we decided that the most prudent family decision would be for Peter to start on grad school immediately while I made the transition to caring for our kids full-time. As our time in the Army wound down, the final two choices in the grad school pool were Dartmouth and Denver University.

Though living in Denver seemed like a better choice for our family, I wasn't exactly jumping for joy at the prospect. You see, two years ago, I wasn't ready to call this place home. And I certainly wasn't okay with planning a forever here. Everyone talked about how beautiful and wonderful it was for all sorts of reasons, but my previous visits to my husband's hometown revealed stretches of brown, barren landscape, houses packed together, and mountains that looked grand indeed, but I couldn't concede that they were beautiful. Striking, maybe. But not beautiful.

View from the aptly-named Mountain Vista High School:
March 10th, 2012, and March 9th, 2014.

Colorado was lacking the lush green of the east coast I was so used to, and most importantly it was lacking in proximity to the most important thing I could think of next to my husband and kids--my family in Pennsylvania. Peter spoke very highly of Denver of course, but I figured he was just a biased native, and I wasn't buying it. So when we moved here just in time for his first course, I tagged along hesitantly and laid out some stipulations: he needed to agree that it would not be a permanent move, and as soon as he finished grad school he had to promise to seriously consider employment elsewhere. Specifically in the north/east quadrant of the country...preferably within a single day's drive of my family, and near the coast so I could access a beach. Priorities.

On the day we moved into our Colorado home, though, something changed.

Maybe it was the abundant sunshine and mountain views from our backyard. Maybe it was living so close to my in-laws. Maybe it was never wanting to move across the country with kids or see another moving box again in my life. Or maybe it was the combination of those things and so much more that convinced me: an elementary school tucked into every neighborhood, a community literally planned for the ease of family living,  a multitude of young professionals with kids in the same stage of life as us. Whatever it was, within a week I was overwhelmingly happy with our new location and situation. So content, in fact, that I never wanted to move out of the neighborhood. Or even out of our house. Ever. Until it was time to start searching for a retirement community a few blocks away, of course.

Two years later, I am still falling in love with this state and our little slice of suburbia. I'm seriously spoiled by having everything I could ever need here--help from Peter's family, grocery stores, school, church, library, the doctor and dentist, four free rec centers, our gymnastics gym, outdoor trails, playgrounds--all within a few mile radius. And our house is such a blessing. We had rented it sight unseen--my in-laws went over to check it out the month before we moved here and proclaimed it fit for a family of five--and although many days I get fed up staring at the linoleum or popcorn ceilings, and I wish it were ours in name so I could go crazy on it with some HGTV therapy, the fact is that it is everything we need and more. We have space for all of our kids and then some, a great floor plan, a spacious master, a full basement, and a great yard for Samson and the kids (with those mountain views!). Every morning after I lift Ethan out of his crib, we go over to the window, open his shades, and say "Good morning, mountains!"

View from Ethan's room.

Our time with my in-laws around has been wonderful. We get to share in so many celebrations and milestones. Birthdays, school concerts, holidays, and graduations. We've taken fun trips to the museum and playground, met for lunch, and enjoyed community events together. They've helped us multiple times when we've been in a pinch, and have watched the kids for everything from ski trips to doctor's appointments. This past year my mother-in-law has even been gracious enough to watch Ethan once a week so I can go into Marie's classroom and volunteer. It's fun for me and a huge help for Marie. When the summer rolls around, we also usually meet up for free concerts in the park and a dinner picnic together. I love their support, their company, and the luxury of our kids getting to spend so much time with their grandparents. It couldn't be a more perfect setup!

Then there's the proximity to God's playground. Not only do we get to say good morning to the mountains every day, but many days we go hang out with them in person! In under two hours we can be on the slopes enjoying world-class skiing, whether it's a weekend in Vail or a day trip to a closer ski resort. The chance to ski together as a family this year (and pass the gift of skiing on to our kids) has been beyond awesome!

Mass in Beaver Creek!

We've driven through Rocky Mountain National Park twice, which is one place I must entreat you non-residents to visit if you ever come to Colorado.

I also loved discovering western Colorado during our vacation last summer; I was seriously amazed by tons of natural wonders--waterfalls and caves, Hanging Lake, a Grand Canyon-esque state park--some of which I'd never even heard about prior to our trip.

But it was standing on the main peak at Keystone Ski Resort during a ski trip last month that really brought it all together for me: from the top we could look down to the left and see the lake where we went camping this past summer...

...and then we could look up to the right and see the mountains we climbed this past fall.

And then we could drop down into the trees and treat ourselves to some champagne powder.

Not.too.shabby.

I could always wish for more, of course. I could wish for that beach, or at least a little more water (like real lakes and rivers instead of pretend reservoir lakes and dry creek beds). I could wish a million times over that Colorado was next to Pennsylvania or that we could travel at the speed of light without paying astronomical fares...and I do, because I love my family dearly. It's achingly hard to know that visiting each other will set us back by a paycheck, that I can't just have lunch with my mom or be around for things like my sister's solo in her musical like I want. That's something I'll always wish could be different. But phone calls and Skype and technology help, and even if I could, I'd want to change nothing else about our life here.

Especially when I think of where we could be now. Peter could've chosen the prestige of a full-time MBA at Dartmouth over a professional MBA at DU; right now we could be living off of loans in a tiny town home in the back hills of New Hampshire, with no income, no family support around, no chance to put the kids in sports or preschool, and no certainty of employment following graduation. And afterwards, we'd still have to figure out where our forever home would be, we would likely be forcing the kids to move schools, and we'd have to go through transition again with no support.

Instead, I am outside soaking in the sunshine as I type this, watching Ethan play happily on the driveway in 70-degree weather (even though we had six inches of snow just two days ago--because crazy Colorado), basking in the beauty that somehow escaped me before this day two years ago.I really must've been blind, because beauty is definitely only word I could use to describe my home now. I still find myself stopping to take pictures of the mountains and the sunsets just as often as I did two years ago when we moved here and it was still new.

Backyard sunsets.

And after Peter's graduation last Friday, we have the privilege of continuing life as usual and relaxing in the security of his steady job, instead of having to figure out what our next move should be (like we would if he was in a full-time program at a place like Dartmouth). We have the option of living in this home as long as we wish, and we have the incredibly happy fortune of knowing that we don't ever have to leave the community we've been building for the past two years unless we choose to (and I'm pretty positive we won't!). We can continue to appreciate our good neighbors and fun sports teams. The schools we drive past every day are the ones where I'll get to see my kids grow up.  The friendships we've formed in the community and through our church family can keep developing. We have access to the best care available for our kids and their challenges, as well as access to some great venues where we can go to the symphony or hit up family night at the hockey game. And as much as it pains me to admit it, in the past two years I've even developed a soft spot for the Broncos and the Avs...just as long as they're not playing the Eagles or Flyers.

March 10th, 2014
(Ethan was napping and Daddy
was at one last study session! And
Samson was barking through the window.)

I know without a doubt that we truly are where we're supposed to be.
We're really lucky.
I'm really happy.
And two years ago today, I arrived home.

That's a really good feeling to have.

Em Be, Eh?

Nearly two years ago (and merely a week after we'd moved here), I sat in our big, empty house, surrounded by boxes as I watched Peter get ready for his first night of grad school.

Tonight, we got to sit  in the Daniels Great Hall at Denver University with all the other haggard yet joyful families of Daniels Business School students, as we braved the rain/snow/slush to celebrate our loved ones' Happily MBA After.

I promise I didn't cry as they draped that nice snazzy "hood" across my amazing husband's shoulders, officially awarding him with his hard-earned Master's Degree in Business. At least not too much, because I had to see clearly enough to take a million pictures.

It's been a long ride. A lot has happened in two years, the most significant of which can be seen when we look at our 5,4, and 2-year old kiddos, who were 3, 2, and 4 months respectively when Peter set out on this goal. It's been challenging for all of us in different ways, but I maintain that Peter has had the toughest end of the deal. Two nights a week for two years straight--summers included--he's gone straight from his full-time job to class in the evenings. Most of those nights I'd wave to him in passing as he got home around 11pm, often with hours of homework still to do, while I made a beeline for our nice cozy bed. He's spent countless off-days and weekends working on group projects and doing research. He poured himself into a consultation for a local non-profit organization, who ultimately based a significant business move on his recommendation--and following the consultation they even asked him to sit on the board as a member because they were so impressed with his analysis.

His class took different tracks following the
core curriculum semesters, so it was cool to
see him graduate with two of his
best buddies from their cohort.

I don't think he's slowed down once in the past two years because of his unreal work ethic. (And technically, even though he got his shiny hoodie tonight, he still has two final classes to attend next week, complete with a final exam that he continues to study for). The kids ask every night if Daddy is going to be home for dinner or if he has school, which is hard enough for any father to hear, and he's outdone himself trying to be the perfect dad when he's home, along with being the top student and pouring himself into his day job, too. It's a lot of pressure for a perfectionist like him. But his hard work and sleepless nights have definitely paid off, and I can see how much he's grown both personally and professionally through it. And, as the keynote speaker touched on, gained some real-world leadership experience that even the army couldn't give him.

And I'll stop now before I get all sappy or harken back to some dreaded reference like the Pillars of Officership. But I am such a proud wife, and I'm SO incredibly excited for this next phase of our lives where we will get to see each more than once a week for dinner. Also, celebrating with that little getaway won't hurt, either.

Well done, Love. YOU DID IT, and we are so proud of you!!!

Though it's hard to tell, (because pictures are super tough for some kids),
Marie is absolutely elated that her daddy has graduated and gets
to spend more time with her than his coursework!!!

Sorry, Kid, You're Stuck With It

Another mom blogger recently wrote about the reasons behind her kids' names...and asked for suggestions for their pool since they're nearing the arrival of another sweet babe and are self-proclaimed 'last-minute namers.'

Her post made me realize that I've never really written about the inspiration (or lack thereof) behind the names we chose for our children. Reflecting back also made me giggle as I recalled some of the names that were in the running at different points but didn't make the final cut. So here's the official behind-the-scenes!

"Style:"
We were both drawn to more traditional names from the start--that is, names that most people have heard of before. But during deliberation we've both suggested our fair share of unique names too. Our name choices have been influenced by different things; our faith, family names and lineage, and cultural preferences. Our last name also made a difference in selecting names. We have a doozy of a Norwegian last name, what with its silent 'j' and ability to stump the most eloquent of linguists. So it was important for us to choose first names that visually and aurally balanced out the craziness of our last name. We also wanted names that couldn't be shortened into nicknames we disliked, and names that weren't all the rage (I ended up being one of seven Megans in a single high school class at one point, and we wanted our kids to avoid that fate if possible).

Philosophy on the peanut gallery:
We never shared any of our kids' names with anyone--family, friends, or strangers who asked--while we were in the decision-making process. We knew everyone would have an opinion and the decision needed to be a personal one between the two of us. We didn't know the gender of our first two children before they were born, so it was easy enough to keep it a secret and then introduce them with their full name that was actually on the birth certificate. With our youngest, when we found out his gender at the 20 week ultrasound, we shared it by introducing him by name to everyone so they would know that we had already finalized it and wouldn't need any suggestions.

And now for all the fun facts!

My name: My parents named me Megan Christina, but Shannon was the front-runner until a neighbor down the street gave the name to her daughter. So I could've been a Shannon, y'all! And for awhile when I was little, I did like to pretend that it was my name. Thankfully, that phase passed.

My husband's name: Peter Christian. His older brother is Andrew, so they're Peter and Andrew after two of Jesus's apostles who were brothers. His parents considered using the Norwegian spelling of Peder, but decided to Americanize it. I think they made the right call!

Our Kiddos

First Pregnancy

Contenders: Dashiell, Zack, Eliana
Final cut: Jack, Marie Jaqueline

Technically Zack and Eliana were never real contenders. But I distinctly remember discussing hypothetical names during a beach vacation with my family when I was engaged and writing favorite names in the sand while gushing about it with my mom and sister. I had always wanted to name a girl named Eliana, for no other reason than thinking it was pretty and unique when a friend of a friend chose the name for their daughter--at the time I had never heard it before. Of course I know dozens of Elianas now.  I also remember saying that I liked the name Zack. Peter nixed Eliana on first mention because it 'sounded Italian' and 'totally didn't go with Hjelmstad,' and he just didn't like Zack.

When newly married a few years later during the long drive home to see family for Thanksgiving, we discussed names again jokingly as a way to pass the time. We were coming up with the most comical and outlandish names possible at first, but by the end of our drive we'd inadvertently decided on two boy names and two girl names. And by the time we got back to our house after Thanksgiving, we realized that there really was a new Hjelmstad who we would likely be giving one of those names--it wasn't just a hypothetical game anymore!

I was convinced I was having a boy, even though the ultrasound didn't reveal anything because the baby's legs were strategically crossed, but we were smart enough to pick out names for both a boy and a girl.

For a boy, we entertained the name Dashiell for a bit (pronounced DASH-uhl, its origin being a French surname) with the plan of calling him "Dash" for short. But we didn't like the full spelling of the name, and realized that we might be forever sentencing our son to a life of mockery with the nickname Dash, even though it seemed cool at the time. So we gave that one up and ultimately decided on Jack as the front-runner. My dad's father was named Jack Dempsey, and though I never got to meet him, his reputation preceded him as a quiet but incredible gentleman with a mischievous streak. My dad definitely takes after him, and he's one of the greatest role models I know. So Jack seemed like a good fit.

For a girl, we both liked the significance of the name Mary based on the fact that it was traditional, recognizable, and special faith-wise. But we also wanted a name that felt a little more unique to us. I was (am) also a wannabe Frenchie and former French major, so we settled on Marie--the French version of Mary that still sounded American enough, and also the middle name of my grandmother, mother, and sister. It's one of the most common American middle names for girls, but it's fairly uncommon as a first name. It took us awhile longer to decide upon a middle name that sounded like it worked. Peter suggested the name Jacqueline (pronounced "jack-LEEN" with a soft j), and the wannabe Frenchie in me immediately agreed.

We wrote it a few different ways because we didn't want people to pronounce it incorrectly as "Jack'-lin," and ultimately decided to spell it as Jaqueline without the 'c.' Not so crazy about that decision in retrospect, but hey, at least it's only a middle name.

Second Pregnancy

Contenders: None
Final Cut: Erik Anthony, Kate Victoria

Once again, we didn't know until our little buddy was born whether we would have a boy or girl, so we prepared ourselves with boy and girl names.

I don't remember why, but neither of us were that interested in the name Jack anymore for a boy. We agreed on Erik--pretty much because it was about the only name we both agreed on--and spelled it with a 'k' to go with the Viking/Norwegian theme of our last name. Peter's mom still likes to call him Erik the Red because of his nice red face as a newborn. We chose the middle name Anthony because it was a family name: both Peter's dad and my mom's dad are Anthony.

For a girl, we agreed on Kate, even though I was still a little iffy about it. Peter lobbied hard for the middle name Victoria, which I was never that crazy about. Note that this was before the whole Will & Kate craze, so I'm glad we didn't have to subject a girl to that association, and was especially happy that we got to use our boy's name that we both liked mutually!

Third & Fourth Pregnancies

Though they were very short pregnancies, we did assign some symbolic names to our little saints so we can more easily refer to them. They aren't really names we would have ever used for a baby we could see or hold, but they are meaningful to us just the same, and fit our little saints perfectly.

Fifth Pregnancy

Contenders: Jude, Leif, Owen, Leila
Final Cut: Ethan Henry

Our littlest buddy was the only one whose gender we knew before he was born, but we still had about 15 weeks before the ultrasound for some animated name bantering. And heavens was there some banter this time around!

For a boy:
Peter kept floating the name Leif, which I adamantly shot down, because Norwegian name or not, I said I refused to have any son of ours named after a tree. I kept floating the name Jude, at the very least as a middle name, but Peter kept shooting that down because he doesn't like it. I still maintain that Jude would've been the perfect name for him because of the incredible significance behind my miracle pregnancy and due date (which was our son's actual birth date). I didn't push for it as a middle name simply because we both wanted to continue the trend of using a grandfather's first name (i.e. my dad) for our son's middle name. So my dad's first name, Henry, became Ethan's middle name, and Ethan won out for the first name because we both liked it more than Leif...or Jude, respectively.

The name Owen was runner up--I liked it, but not as much as Ethan. But the worst part about the whole name happened directly after the ultrasound. We'd decided on the name Ethan months before, and prayed every night with the older kids at bedtime prayers for "Ethan or [insert potential girl's name]." The day of the ultrasound, Peter and I met at the clinic, saw our beautiful, healthy, little boy, then stopped at Dunkin' Donuts for a quick celebratory bagel with cream cheese--what Ethan was craving at the time--before parting ways and returning to work. As I pulled into the parking lot, I got a text from him (wish I would've saved it!) saying: "So are you sure that you don't want to name him Owen?" My response: "Please tell me you're kidding." Him: "Not really..." I still won't let him live it down. Needless to say, having decided weeks before and telling his older siblings already, I determined that Ethan would, indeed, be his name! For the record, we did not intentionally choose another "E name" so the boys could match. Just coincidence, and not anything we will feel bound to continue in the future!

For a girl:
We struggled with a girl's name for weeks until just before the ultrasound, and I was actually hoping it was a boy because we didn't have a good girl's name (a whole list of pseudo-possibilities, of which Leila was the strongest contender, but it was a little too close to Princess Leia's name for comfort). But then we stumbled on what I still believe is a truly perfect girl's name for us, so I switched gears and was hoping we were having a girl because I was just so in love with the name we chose. We still love it, and didn't share it even after finding out that Ethan was a boy, just in case we ever have the privilege of naming another girl in the future. Also, if we ever get to name another son, I'm still convinced that we might be able to wear Peter down and vie for a Jude!

So there you have it--the reasoning that went into the names our kids are stuck with forever. Or at least until they're 18. But changing it is a lot of headache and paperwork to go through. I would know--just ask me...and the people who spelled "Hjelmstad" wrong on our marriage certificate!

Surprise! [Surprise!]

Surprise....

The week before last, Peter turned the big three-oh. In typical Tuesday fashion, he had to work all day and then head straight to class till late in the evening on his actual birthday (with little chance of even seeing the kids). So we had a hasty celebration Monday night before the kids' bedtime with a little cake and a few presents.

The big "gift" was a joint 30th Birthday-Valentine's Day trip ski trip to Vail. Which was fabulous, I might add.

But 30 is a pretty big deal (at least the biggest we'll see for the next decade), and I couldn't just leave it at that. So I schemed up a good ole' fashioned surprise party.

Peter's mom put together this awesome photo
album for his birthday!

Contacting Peter's friends proved a bit of a challenge; I looked up one of Peter's friends from grad school who I knew was on Facebook, and asked him to send a bat signal out to the rest of the grad school friends. When talking to Peter, I casually tried to work in questions about the people at work and in his army reserve unit to find out the name of another good friend, because I'm horrible with names. Then hacked into his email to try and find corresponding email addresses. My shining moment was digging through his army briefcase to find his unit alert roster (contact list with personal info) because I knew if nothing else, it should have the info I needed. Perks of having been in the army, I suppose.

To get him out of the house, I had the big kids give him "dad-kid date movie tickets" as a gift on his actual birthday...so that he would take them to the movies on the day of the surprise party and I would have my husband and two chatty kids out of the way (I didn't trust them for a second to keep the secret). I was pretty proud of myself for that one. While they were at the theater watching Frozen, I was busy running around with Ethan: ordering the food, picking up the cake, cluelessly wandering around the liquor store with my toddler lunging at alcoholic goodies until I  gave up and asked where I could find the largest bottled pack of Peter's favorite beer, and preparing games for our Minute to Win It theme. Peter had always wanted to do a Minute to Win It game night so I thought this was the perfect chance!

And finally, after a month of scheming and sleuthing, we pulled it off!

The games were a hit...

"In Your Face" - in which you have 60
seconds to get a cookie from your
forehead down to the hatch...
no hands allowed.

The cake was awesome...

It's not a real party until
you eat your head.

...and it was a really fun night just hanging out with friends and staying up way past our "old person" bedtime. 

It'll likely be the only surprise party I ever get to throw for Peter since he's way too good at catching onto things and likes to be the one behind the surprises. So I'm glad we made it happen for his 30th, and that it was as well-received as it was deserved!

-----      -----      -----

...and SURPRISE!!!

Speaking of...

The night before the party, I got a small shock of my own.

After another long week of busy schedules and school and not seeing each other, we finally got some time to crash on the couch, catch up on all the important stuff we're too tired to discuss during the week, and watch some Olympics and Downton Abbey.

Right before bed, I went to plug in my dying phone and saw this sitting on my computer:

Background: in a few short weeks here, Peter will earn his long-awaited MBA after two greuling years of going to grad school at night while holding down a full-time day job plus a weekend Army Reserves gig.

So what did he do? Write me this super-thoughtful thank-you note about all the sacrifices on my end (while he was the one to do all the work), which made me cry, of course...

Thanking me for "160 hubby-less nights,
hundreds and hundreds of study hours, and
unpredictable schedules" among other things,
ending with "here's your reward!"

 ...and then he surprised me with THIS folded up inside, which I thought at first glance was just a continuation of his long list of thank-yous, or at best a coupon for a massage or something.

Nope. Not a massage. He's just whisking me away for a little getaway to Coronado Beach is all.

The best part is that his parents knew about both the party and the trip, and got to keep the secret from both of us; they proved to be fabulous secret-keepers--just like Mrs. Hughes, for all you Downton fans out there.

Clearly we were both having way too much fun plotting for our weekend full of surprises--we certainly are made for each other, aren't we?!

Winterpalooza

Last month before Christmas, (another late post--imagine!) the kids participated in their very first Winterpalooza at our gym! The program was staged as a competition, where the students in the recreational programs (who don't normally compete) have a chance to perform routines on the different events, and experience some friendly competition with scores and medals and ribbons and jazz. 

I was coaching my own class during the event, so I didn't catch Marie and Erik's routines in their entirety, but I was able to sneak a few peeks while waiting to switch events...I caught lots of smiles and at least one good wipeout!

Wipeeeouttt!!
(I got to witness it first-hand!)

They did four events-vault, bars, beam, and floor:

(He did awesome on his second attempt!)

And I found out that I make some pretty awesome faces while spotting:

Full credit goes to Peter, who took on the task of snapping lots of pictures in my place (you know how painful that can be for non-picture-takers) which made me happy since I got to see on the camera what I missed in person. Also many thanks to Gran, Granddad, and Ethan, who were present to cheer on the kids during the competition--all four hours of it.

Both kids had a blast, and Marie even chose to get on the podium for a photo-op after the gym had cleared out, and begged to take her medal to the pizza place (the clear lunch of choice following any Winterpalooza) and school the next week to show it off to everyone she saw.

The whole program showcased the many reasons I am so thankful for our gym. With all the years I spent in a gym, I've seen many different environments, and it's clear that this isn't just any old gym--it's got something special going on. I appreciated the fact that they concentrated on the little things at the Winterpalooza (a personalized score card and ribbons for everyone, scoring so that every child could stand on the podium at least once, handmade 'bouquets' made of Dum-Dums just like the bouquets of flowers Olympians get)--but even more than that, I am so encouraged by how much they care about each and every gymnast. As I watch my own kids in this environment, it's obvious how both are just flourishing in the programs and gaining confidence to help overcome their unique challenges. We weren't sure that a certain someone would even participate in the program because it was so performance-related, but we all agreed to give it a try; and aside from not wanting to receive an award on the podium, it was all smiles and full-out participation. That, in itself, was monumental for us. I'm so thankful for the accommodations and understanding of the kids' coaches (one of whom is the owner), and their ongoing willingness to work with the kids and adjust to their needs, regardless of how much out-of-the-box thinking it may take. As an staff member, it's a great feeling to be a part of. And as a mom? It's priceless to know that my kids have a safe outlet where they are comfortable, loved, cared for, and understood. It's the best thing ever to watch them overcoming obstacles and gaining confidence, one accomplishment after another!

I loved the look on Erik's face when he was presented with his medal--and we had to coax him
off of the podium because he was so busy showing the crowd his very own bouquet of candy!

Yet another one of those little things about our gym: the owners are constantly decorating for the current holiday--Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, etc.--and as Christmas rolled around, they set up a tree and made little stockings by hand with the name of every child in every class, which they got to hang on the Christmas tree prior to Christmas. Then they filled the stockings with candy canes before the last class of the year so the kids could take them home. It was fun to participate in the tradition with my class, and awesome to watch my own kids delight it it--especially Marie!

They're very bummed that they have to wait a whole year until the next Winterpalooza. But in the mean time, Marie has grand schemes to have her birthday party at the gym, and we spend lots of Saturdays at open gym where Ethan also gets to bounce and flip around.

I'm currently searching for fail-proof ways to protect my eardrums from all the shrieking and cheering that happens when I remind them it's a gym night. But truth be told, I have the same reaction whenever it's my night to coach. It's funny to think that none of this was even on our radar at this time last year, but turns out it's exactly what we all needed most!

To Carlisle and Beyond!

Alternate Title: Remember that Other Holiday??

So, almost a two months ago (as in last year) we took an amazing trip "home" to Carlisle, Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving...but between school and work and winter sickness and programs and Christmas, my billion-picture post got delayed till now. Lucky you!

Ever wonder what it looks like to pack up a family of five and fly them across the country?

No?

Well you get to see anyway:

Clearly, the only way for an uber-disorganized brain (like mine) to possibly prepare successfully for the monumental task of remembering all the things that all the people will need for a week of travel...is to start the process seven days in advance, and put notes on everything. (Mind you, I have friends with many more children than I who do this with far more grace and far less chaos than I ever could, God bless them). But I did it--and we only forgot two minor things on the way back!

It was the first time the kids had been on a plane since we'd moved here, so the day was filled with Great Big Exciting Things like security and the airport train and escalators and their very own seats with grown-up seatbelts and tray tables that go up and down (and up and down and up and down) and ears that pop and big noisy engines that suddenly launch us waaay up in the air where we can see tiny little cars and trees and roads!!! To their credit, the kids did SO well the entire trip, and we got so many compliments on their behavior (guess my prayers worked!) which makes future prospects of family travel slightly less intimidating. Slightly. We packed a backpack for each of them with new toys and activity books and snacks to help keep them happy, which also helped a ton.

Now for the rest of the trip in pictures:

We made a quick trip to nearby Hershy Park to see Christmas Candylane [aka "The Chocolate Factory"] to tour the factory and see the Christmas Candylane lights!

The same day we got to see Aunt Joyce, who made a long drive up from Virgina just to say hi (she's my dad's step-sister who is the best--she used to be a teacher, and would take us cousins on week-long educational trips called "Camp Joyce" to D.C. and historic Williamsburg, despite the almost certain insanity that would result).

Everybody loves Aunt Joyce!

We also had fun playing, bowling...

Bowling shoes: most entertainment we've had all year.

We're petitioning the Olympic committee to make synchronized bowling a new sport.

Strike dances...

...and jump contest!

 And baking (to include a whole second gluten/dairy-free Thanksgiving feast to bring with us to Thanksgiving dinner with extended family in Philly)...

Making cranberry sauce from scratch and memories filled with giggles.

...taking family pictures, visiting Yabba at the high shool where he works, 

For some kids, pictures are a downright stressful event. So we allowed her to dictate some poses.
(Mommy couldn't quite hold her handstand long enough for the timer to go off...).

Fun at Yabba's office!

...and enjoying some good old-fashioned quality time together that we miss so very dearly when we're not together!

SO much fun with Uncle Q!

My sister and I got to steal away together for a
day of massages, lunch, a little shopping, and my very
favorite part--a  special visit to adoration together.
Miss my sis!

We also had fun traveling some more to meet the Philly clan at my aunt's house, celebrating as per the usual with dinner for a crowd, playing games, going to the zoo...

And of course, enjoying all of the innate silliness that comes with the territory of a true-blue family gathering:

Where there are animal hats...and masks...

It was a whirlwind--one that was worth every last second, and it reminded me how dire the need is for someone to invent a mode of travel that is a billion times faster and cheaper than airplanes, or figure out how to remove all that extraneous land in between our house and Grandma's. Or both. I'll even copyright it for free!

Despite our travel-weary crew, all they've talked about for weeks (now months) is how much they love Grandma and Yabba's toys, all the fun things they did with Aunt Chica, and all the funny things Uncle Q says and does. And above all, the kids' constant chorus is how they can't wait to see everyone again!
Me neither, kiddos!