Oops

So for some reason that last blog post didn't include the rest of my thoughts. I thought I had saved that instead of published it, but since I've been able to get out of the house the last few days, I've been ignoring blogger completely and enjoying the Oregon rain as it melts away the last bits of snow.

Anyway, I was going to say something like, "we had a nice Christmas even though half of our gifts never made it here because we couldn't get out of our driveway to pick them up, or UPS couldn't get into our driveway." We're hoping to remedy that today. We're off to pick up the bunk beds that I had to show the picture of to my kiddos on Christmas morning.

Bunk beds...nothing cooler for a 4 year old named Jake. Nothing more life-threatening for an almost 3 year old named Ty. I'll keep you posted on all the late night fun, and all the head injuries to come.

Scratch that

I just looked at my last post. Snow? Beautiful? Maybe the first few hours. Few days at the most. 2 weeks and almost 2 feet later the snow has gotten a bit old. I'm downplaying it. It's gotten REAL old. We're talking older than most stories in the Bible. In fact, the way the local news has been covering it, Portland's "Arctic Blast '08" is the biggest weather news since Noah's flood.

A few cute pictures is what I could take away from this. Years from now I'll be looking back and remembering the sweet moments of cuddling with the kids, hot chocolate and marshmallows, folks dressed up like Eskimos.

Jack Frost nipping at our nose(s)

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! Isn't it beautiful? My parents braved the 2 blocks and brought over a sled for the kids to bring them back to their house for Sunday night football. We had such a great time attempting snowball fights (snow was too dry, bummer) and wiping snot off little faces. Loving it. Dan had school cancelled on Monday, a 2 hour delay today, and hopefully the extra inches that are supposed to fall tonight will mean he'll be home until after Christmas! This teaching gig is pretty nice. Anyway, snow pictures and 1st Christmas in our new house pictures, for your viewing delight:

Dan and his Dad ventured out in the snow to cut us down a beautiful 10 dollar steal of a tree. You can't quite see it well, but the kids helped me decorate it. The bottom left part of the tree was sagging with ornaments, and the right got shafted until I suggested those branches were looking a little lonely.

"Tiny tots, with their eyes all aglow..."

That's what we witnessed last night. Christmas spirit through the eyes of a child. It was Jake's preschool Christmas program, and he could not have been more excited. Or more of a handsome dude in his new tie. If you've never been to a preschool Christmas program, or if it's been a while, I'll give you a brief synopsis of how things work: You must arrive forty minutes early, not only to drop your child off in his classroom, but to find a remotely decent seat. If you are going to save seats for relatives, you must come ready for an intense battle of passive-aggressive facial gestures that imply "we're in a church so I'm not going to physically harm you, but you can't seriously be thinking that you're going to be able to sit directly on top of my coat and purse that are saving a spot for grandma and grandpa."

Then comes about six or seven false starts where the lights go down and people get quiet only to realize that half the kids aren't in line to come into the auditorium because they are either in the bathroom, or have run back to their classroom to retrieve something vital like a chewed up pencil they're planning on showing great Aunt Bertha after the show. Then as the first class walks down the aisle every child stops when they get to mom and dad for the ever important cheesy-grinned photo op. Sorry, my child definitely slowed things down with this one...of course we didn't end up with a good picture, but oh well.

Next is the 3-5 minute period where the teachers attempt to get the kids lined up in their assigned rows which no doubt is the same spot they've been practicing in since the beginning of September. Another 2 minutes to get everyone to stop wildly waving at mom and dad and shouting, "I'm right here, guys!"

Then the music starts and you cannot help but laugh until your stomach aches and tears are streaming down your face. They've obviously been told to sing loudly, which clearly means scream at the top of your lungs even when you don't know the words. Hysterical. Here's some great (and very short, don't worry) examples, the first one from cousin Matty's class:

This continues for about an hour, and then there's a cookie and punch reception that is the highlight of any preschooler's young life. Exhaustion takes over, for every child and parent and anyone within a ten mile radius of the building, and though the car ride home may include some whining and tears, the Christmas season feels officially kicked off. Happy Birthday, Jesus! We can't wait for more celebrations of your birth.

Best friends

Happy birthday to my bestest friend in the whole wide world! Megan Nichole (I prefer to pronounce the "ch" because I think silent letters get shafted) Wood. I am so very blessed to have you in my life.

First random favorite memory of Megan...our answering machine when we lived together in college stated, for a brief period of time, "Hi, you've reached Angela and Megan, we're busy putting on our flannels, so leave us a message." You must know that we sang the words "putting on our flannels" and that "flannel" was pronounced much more like "flaaah-null." Great song written and preformed by some great friends back in the day. Good times. We certainly milked that song for all it was worth. We actually have a magnificent talent for milking any old thing way beyond the limit. Like milking for instance. We found away to use that phrase "milk it for all it's worth" in just about every possible scenario. We even used extremely exaggerated milking hand motions when words were not enough. Meg's hubby Eric might recall that one of the Indians in the Peter Pan ride at Disneyland appears to be milking a cow when he's actually beating drums. Moving on.

Second random favorite memory of Megan. She loves to buy things if they're a good deal. Lots of times this means buying things in bulk, which didn't always work well in a small dorm room. She also loved to mix her cereal. One scoop of Kashi Good Friends cereal with one scoop of Kix. One night I had a dream, a VERY vivid dream, that Meg and I were shopping at some ginormous warehouse like Costco which had shelves up to the ceiling, and she comes around the corner hauling a bag of cereal that was bigger than she was. "Ang!" I can still hear it, "Look at this amazing deal!" The ridiculous bag had about 7 different kinds of cereal in it, all layered on top of each other.
Oh my sweet Megan! Thank you for so many memories. For so many yet to come. Enjoy this birthday. I love you! (And thank you Faith for this picture you took months ago. I swear I'm going to change my ways and start taking thousands of pictures of myself. Starting...tomorrow.)

3 random thoughts

Number 1: a picture of the Stump side of the family...because according to some people (you know who you are, you lucky buRN) I never post pictures of myself. Or my hubby. Or anyone else besides my children.
Number 2: Jake's prayer last night included praying for the needy kids around the world. "I pray that God would give them lots of toys like Tonka trucks and Hot Wheels, and...water, and...garbage cans so they can throw away their garbage...maybe pink garbage cans, that'd be good. And food..." From the mouths of babes.

Number 3: Ty threw the largest tantrum in recent memory today at Big Lots as we were leaving the store. He wanted to go back and look at the "craps". He meant crack, er sorry, I mean CRAFTs. With the way he continues to butcher that word, I doubt he's destined for creativity. Or winning a spelling bee.

Thanks

Before I start rattling off about Thanksgiving, let me just give a shout out to my mama. Nanci Noren Alcorn was born on November 30, 19?? (I actually do know the year, Mom. Just thought you'd want to keep everyone guessing!) Thanks, Mom for making me laugh and making me think, and always making me feel loved. It just doesn't get better than having a parent you actually want to hang out with! Thanks for modeling for me how to be a wife and a mom who is joyful to be where the Lord has placed her. Happy birthday Mom, just one day late on the blog, not too bad considering I'm the one who wrote a post about Christmas in mid January. I love you!

Whew, this last week has been LONG. Long in a very good way. I think this was one of the best Thanksgiving weeks I've ever had. I keep saying week and not weekend because our Thanksgiving started last Monday when our baby niece arrived from California. Oh yeah, and her parents Jane and Curtis, I guess they came then also. But let's face it, baby Bekah's chubby cheeks and angelic face pretty much stole the show. Although if you ask my boys, Uncle Curti's endless supply of energy (never-ending games of tag and races and wrestling) took Grand Prize. Your mom's not paying me to say this, Jane, but the house across the street from us is for sale. You'd get a lot of free babysitting. I'm just saying.Here's the quick rundown of the week: Monday night was an open house for the baby; delicious desserts. Tuesday afternoon I hosted lunch over here with the Stump family and Ann's parents. Wednesday my mom came over for dinner last minute (Pops was sick at home) and told us grand stories of their weekend in Florida with Tim Tebow. Lucky bums. Thursday we got to spend the whole day with the Stump side of the family. So much fun. I really can't tell you how much my in-laws rule. I can't say a bad thing about them. Honestly, I've tried, it can't be done. Then Friday we pretended like it was Thursday again and my mom hosted the Alcorn gang for some great family time and the full turkey dinner (and what a turkey it was...delish!) I just have to say that living so close to my parents is NOTHING like you see in the show Everybody Loves Raymond. I love being able to hang out in the house I grew up in with my own kids! Dan's in-laws rule, too. We're pretty blessed. No, VERY blessed.

I've decided that I'm on a cooking strike for the next few days. First of all, I don't have any clean dishes, and second of all, I cooked enough in the last week to sustain a small country. Chocolate chip cookies, pizza-pasta, Caesar salad, garlic bread, dump cake, nacho chicken casserole, broccoli au gratin, blended jello salad, pumpkin bars, apple pie, chocolate log cake, and a few PB&J's, grilled cheese's and Easy Mac's for lunch.

(This was much cuter in person, sorry the picture cut off your face, Bek.)

Thankfulness, thankfullness, thankfullness. Really and truly, that's what I feel. Thanks, Jesus, for your life and for your death. Thanks for the Alcorn's and the Stump's. Thanks for our marriage that just keeps getting better. Thanks for Jake and Ty. Even when Ty is too wired on excess desserts to take a nap and Jake insists on Dino chicken instead of turkey for Thanksgiving dinner.