The Magic of Christmas

Christmas Eve

There is something magic about Christmas with children. All it takes is one who believes, to plant that belief in everyone's heart. This year, our house was filled with the magic of believing. Of Santa and his sleigh, of magic Christmas elves, of freshly wrapped presents overflowing beneath the tree, but most of all- the magic of that cold winter night in Bethlehem. The magic of Christ. The nativity scene came to life this Christmas Eve.

And there was a young shepherd, traveling with his sheep...

And a small (sleepy) angel whose light brought smiles to everyone's faces that night...

And most important of all, we can't forget the infant that brings life and love to all the world...

So as you can see our night in Bethlehem was a night that we cant ever forget.

And that was only a third of the night. Christmas Eve was filled with food, a variety of talents- bringing much laughter, and even a few tears. We had stockings, and "special" Christmas deserts, gift wrapping and candle lighting. There was music and even some dancing (from Leah of course).

But even with all of that, Christmas Eve wouldn't be anything if it weren't for family. My family. For those two little ones who brought magic to the night. And especially the one who made all of this possible. Jesus Christ.

Christmas Morning

"WATE UP WATE UP ITS CHWISMUS!! SANTA CAME HEWE!"
Aroused from my peaceful slumber filled with sugarplum fairies and candycanes, my sleepy eyes slowly, very slowly...pulled apart to scan the room for the source of such a loud noise. My warm blankets tempting my body to slip back into their warmth and close my sleepy eyes.
"WACHEL WATE UP WE HAVE TO GET OUW PWESENTS FWOM SANTA!!"
And that was it. I was up.
It was CHRISTMAS!! There was so much excitment in the air no matter how warm my blankets were and how comfortable my bed was- there was no denying the fact that it was way past time to be up.
So the long awaited moment began. Santa had come, and it was time to see what he had left us. And so my morning went. Present after present, squeal after squeal. It was truly magical....

...See what I mean?

I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas. The gifts and gift giving was fantastic. I'm so lucky to have my family here, and I can never get enough of the time we spend together!! So thank you Santa for adding to the magic, and I think I can speak for us all in thanking the one above who made the magic. Merry, Merry Christmas to all.

flu shots.

6:45 a.m. Monday, December 15, 2008.
My alarm has been blaring for an hour exactly.
My eyes are still glued shut.
My stomach is uncomfortably arousing me from my slumber.
And then BAM.
I am snapped out of my fantasy world of dreams, and immediately sprung from my bed and stumbled across my room to the bathroom.
NOOOOOOOOOOOO. The flu.
Yuck. So, I spent the entire day on the couch, with my unfriendly friend....

...the PAN, and slept as much as I could to take my mind off of what had just hit me.

Yet, the merciless sickness continued.

Monday afternoon, Monday night.

Then, for some reason I can't remember, we decided that I could try a little Ramen. Thats soothing right? Just a little bit...ease my way into food.
One hour later, nothing.
Two hours later, nothing.
Five hours later, still nothing.
And so for the first time all day, I slept peacefully through the night.

6:45 a.m. Tuesday, December 16, 2008.
My alarm has been blaring for an hour, exactly.
My eyes are still glued shut.
I pull open one eyelid to glance at the time. I snapped it closed praying my stomach didn't pick up on the small signal I was awake. I couldn't bear to curse myself for another day with my newly found quite unfriendly friend.
But, of course, with my luck...my stomach had more then processed the signal. It acted upon it.

So I was doomed another day stuck at home, barely moving...with nothing to do but watch the snow fall.

And I mean that.
I layed here...



And eventually...ate these..

...for two days straight.

Message: Get your flu shots. ASAP

My journey to meet Mr. Franklin.

Yes, I know....it sounds crazy, but honestly I love my job. And let me tell you why.

Tonight, I discovered another reason why it is so wonderful. I mean, I have always loved my job. I am a nanny. What could be better? I get to take care of two young boys. The oldest, Ashton, is 12 years old and in 7th grade. Just beginning those rough Jr. High years we all hated. He is a talkative, energetic kid who loves lacrosse and hates piano...(as once again, I can probably speak for most in saying that anyone who took piano as a child, did not enjoy it either.) The youngest is Tenny. He is 10 years old, and in 4th grade. He loves scouts, and soccer, and his new found love is the recorder. (...they are learning it for their christmas program next friday.) He is shy, and rather kept to himself. Nonetheless, when you get him talking about something he loves, he is still the typical 10 year old little boy anxious and wrapped up in the joys of childhood. And I love the both of them.

Even when Ashton calls me in the middle of my workout because he stayed afterschool to finish a typing lesson and needs a ride to tutoring...

Or even when Tenny doesn't know what they are doing for scouts, but conveniently remembers they are going to smiths as soon as we arrive at the abandoned church...and then once again conveniently remembers it "doesn't start till 4:15 today" when we are sitting in the scoutless parking lot of smiths. Causing us to journey back to where we started.

And even when I sit anxiously on the freeway in rush hour traffic to get Ashton to a birthday party at classic skating...on time. (A round trip of over an hour.)

Yes, I still love them. Because they remind me how simple life really is. I can leave the house stressed from college applications, scholarship deadlines, homework to be done, christmas presents to buy...and forget all of that when I see these two bright faces everyday.

The spotlight is no longer on me and my worries, but instead I become engrossed with interest in the new notes Tenny learned on the recorder today. Or, how Mr. Tominoga let Ashton play on his computer today in math, making himself the coolest teacher ever!

So maybe I get caught in traffic when I have a million things to do, but inside my car that doesn't matter. Because I am listening to a little boy tell me his worries...how he doesn't know how he'll ever survive the night; from a birthday party at 5:30-8, to basketball practice at 9, and then somehow getting home to bed- he was swamped.

But tonight...I discovered another reason.
I would be happy just to experience all of that.
But there's even more to my dream job, I get all of this...

...as well. wow.

I repeat:
I love my job.

The empty nest.

This Saturday evening is not the same as the last. I was not drowned in holiday delight, and nearly glowing with anticipation of my family's arrival. No, in fact, it was very, very different.

This Saturday evening, I sat staring at the carpet that is no longer covered in toys. The dolly that no longer has a mother. A kitchen that no longer smells of freshly baked pumpkin bread or sparkle with sugar-covered goodies. I could not hear the laughter of the little kids, or the yelping of a tortured little dog.

Yes, you guessed it, my family has all gone. They have journeyed back to California, St. George, Arizona, and though it is only 25 minutes away, American Fork even feels too far. Everyone with different jobs, different homes, different lives. And as I watched the hugs and kisses, the exchange of I love you's, and the last of the cars pull away, I stood in front of a house that was now a little bit more full.

Wait, wait, wait....full? Yes. Full. Full of new memories, more memories. Memories that I will forever cherish. This week was the highlight of my holiday season. And honestly, I don't think it could have been any better. There is nothing like hearing my niece, with tears in her eyes say, "but I don't want to go, I want to play with Rachel." Or, my nephew in desperation cry, "I want to sleep in Rachel's bed." No, nothing can compare to the way I feel when I hear that from a 3 year old little boy, or 5 year old little girl. Or when I hold my 3 month old niece and see her bright eyes, and a smile of sheer joy spread across her face..and then watch her silently slip into peaceful slumber. Perfect in my arms.

These little memories are ones that will carry me through this Christmas season, knowing that no matter where we are scattered, there is a love between us that cannot be changed through distance.

So, yes my home is an empty nest overflowing with love and memories that will last an eternity. Amazing isn't it? I know. And I get to enjoy it everyday.

Thank you Noah.

The nice thing about having my 3 year old nephew stay with me, is that I don't have to do the treacherous chore of organizing my closet....

He took care of it for me.

He simply started over. That is after all, the best way to completely reorganize. Just start piece by piece. He started it...and lucky for him- his mom got to finish.

...So yes surprisingly I say, thank you Noah.

Simply having a WONDERFUL christmastime.

Imagine.
Frost upon the windows. Pumpkin scented candles flickering around the cozy house. A burning fire dancing in the fireplace. Freshly folded blankets anxiously anticipating the arrival of their next s h i v e r i n g visitor. Frank Sinatra's "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" playing softly in the kitchen. (which, by the way, smells of homemade rolls and banana cream pie.) Christmas lists covering the fridge, (well, mine. which at this point- is growing by the day...) coupons lying neatly in a stack, ready to be tucked away in wallets and purses headed for the mall. And last, but not least, a restless seventeen-year-old awaiting the return of well missed siblings and family members.

That was me this Thanksgiving weekend. Saturday to be exact.

The holidays without family, are in my opinion, nothing too special and nothing to really be remembered. But when our family gets together, they are holidays that we will never forget.

And that definitely includes this Thanksgiving weekend. Our weekend was filled with turkey dinners, endless supply of yummy treats, piece after piece of pumpkin pie, gingerbread houses, clangers, christmas movies (ELF- if you haven't seen it, its a must this holiday season) and much, much more.

In fact, we had so much fun that they decided to stay the entire week! And I am perfectly happy with that.

If I get to enjoy this everyday...

then I already have everything I could possibly wish for this christmas.
My family.

SO small.

Yes, it was amazing. Yes, I was really third row. And Yes, I am still singing Carrie Underwood. But that's not the most important part. Let me tell you a few things about this very day...

November 19, 2008.

From school, to running kids all over the place, squeezing in a few minutes here and there of homework, and a pounding headache- I was not ready for the night ahead of me. It was 4:55 pm. I had to be at Brock's house at 5:30 pm in order to eat and be on time to the concert. And at that moment. I crashed. Physically that is. My pounding head, burning throat, watery eyes, and congested chest could no longer function on a few gulps of water and a fiber one bar. I was physically exhausted.
I sat down for 30 seconds on the couch...yet we all know what actually happened. So of course, frantically I jumped up, quickly changed, gulped another glass of water (because like my mother always says, most the time when you think you're hungry- you're actually thirsty...) and flew past my mother in a mad dash to get out the door.

Fumbling fingers. Keys. Open door. Closed door. Keys in ignition. Nothing. Keys in ignition. Once again, Nothing.

In all the madness of my afternoon, I had completely forgotten how long that gas light had been on. (You all do it- or at least have done it before- admit it. The famous, "I can go a few more miles, the light hasn't been on for that long." Wrong. Don't try it.)

So it is now 5:25 pm. Anger is flooding through my veins. What am I supposed to do? I am going to make everyone else late. I ran inside, yelling for my mom. (Which, I have found seems to be the immediate response to any problem) I explained the short version- "I'm out of gas. What am I supposed to do? I'm supposed to be there in five minutes. I need your car." So selfish. She needed the car. Anger pulsing now through my entire body. Didn't she see how much I needed it? Couldn't she tell how important this was to me? (Selfish once again.) Yes. But sometimes the lesson is more important.

I will never forget her response.

"Well, this was your choice, and now you have to pay the consequence."

So, with her amazing patience and love, my mother drove me to the gas station, helped me fill up a gas tank and get on the road.

So what is the point? Yes, I was late. Yes, I had 3 friends anxiously waiting my arrival. But Yes, I learned a lifelong lesson that night. Thanks to a mother who never seems to stop caring, and teaching me. Thanks to a hero.

And it all hit me during the concert. I realized that none of that mattered after all- it all really was so small.

"When you figure out love is all that matters after all it sure makes everything else seem so small"

Take a minute. What really matters to you?"

A little piece of heaven.

THIS is what I have been waking up to the past few mornings...

And it never gets old.

the PERFECT treat.

Sometimes this is all I need...

...hot homemade doughnuts on a cold night

Sisterhood

Once upon a time, I lived in a house full of siblings, pets, new toys, bunk beds, Saturday cartoons, cream of wheat on late Sunday nights, hours of family games and all sorts of excitement. Once upon a time, I was a little girl with a big imagination. I was Cinderella, Julia Roberts, a veterinarian, a beautician, a ballerina- a dreamer. I shared a room with a cruel big brother, but I was content to play with my barbies alone on my shelf, for hours. I never knew just how much alone time I would get. I never knew that I would wish for the complete chaos that comes with a houseful of kids. I never knew that I would no longer be able to s k i p down the hall and sit on my sisters' floors, beds, or crawl into their laps. I never knew I wouldn't be able to sit cuddled up with my sisters and brothers as our mom read us Christmas stories. No, I never dreamed of my perfect life changing. I didn't know what the word change meant. I was an innocent 6 year old eager to grow up. Eager to wear the pretty makeup and own the millions of clothes my sisters did. It seemed like nothing came fast enough. I was always wishing I was older. Little did I know that someday I would be begging for those days back. L O N G I N G to be that careless little girl sharing secrets and making memories with her best friends: her sisters. However....I am not little girl anymore.

Now I am almost 18 years old, and preparing to leave this house full of memories. Getting ready to step out into the real world, all by myself. Now, my sisters are far from home, OUR home, and have homes of their own. And Now, it is almost my turn. But the thing about sisters is that no matter how far we are from each other, we are still best friends. I may not be able to walk down the hall and crawl into their laps for bedtime stories, but I can call them and talk for hours. I know my sisters are always here. And that is one thing that no one can take from me. No matter how far away we are, no matter how crazy our lives may get, we share a bond. A bond that can't come from anywhere else.

It is called Sisterhood.

Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Party

Preparations began LONG before the weekend.

Juli, Michelle, and Lisa had the party planned perfectly...with EVERYTHING we needed


A child's dream birthday...come true.

"Say cheese and I'll let you open a present..."


This comes a little more naturally :) silly boy.


The j o u r n e y to her dreams...


Even PRINCESSES get dirty sometimes