Author Archives → Danica

babies grow, what do ya know

Ryan said, at dinner on December 31st, so how was your year? William happily recollected every single event — from the week before. I laughed, but who am I to laugh? I can’t recall much more than that without significant effort.

Until I turn to glance at the pig-tailed girl beside me, laughing along with the rest of us. Suddenly I realize how much a year can hold.

She was just this last January:

She had the biggest year of all. She

— learned to sit
— learned to roll like a pro
— learned to crawl
— learned to stand
— learned to walk
— learned to run
— started to eat “real” food
— learned to say Mama, Da, Boo[k]
— learned to relocate a hundred small objects every single day from one end of the house to the opposite end

So that now, I look up and see this:

Kind of amazing. A miracle happening right under my nose.

I saw these pics as I organized my albums the other night. Fiona on the go. Each one of these shots makes me chuckle: short legs, little arms, funny faces. Little tiny person, but oh, every bit a person.


“I’m so grown up” face


busy little legs, tiny toes


hand! ack!


soft, sweet arm. she’s so big. so little.

I love this Fiona Elspeth.

molasses spice crinkles with chocolate chips

I’ve been wanting to try a ginger spiced cookie with cocoa and chocolate chips, so today’s efforts turned out these, based on Baking Illustrated’s Molasses Spice Cookies.

Note: I used very black molasses and the end result was a fairly strong flavor. Use mild molasses if that’s not your thing! Also, I always substitute raw sugar or evaporated cane juice for granulated sugar.

1 1/2 c all-purpose flour
3/4 c cocoa (I used Dutch)
1 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp cloves
1/4 tsp finely ground black pepper
1/4 tsp kosher salt
12 Tbsp soft butter
1/3 c packed dark brown sugar
1/3 c granulated sugar, plus 1/3 c for rolling
1 large egg yolk
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 c molasses
1 cup chocolate chips
1 tsp cinnamon

1. Preheat oven to 375
2. Whisk dry ingredients together in medium bowl.
3. In large bowl (with wooden spoon or electric mixer), beat butter with brown sugar and 1/3 cup granulated sugar at hight speed until fluffy and light. Add yolk and vanilla; beat until incorporated. Add molasses; beat until incorporated. Add flour mixture and beat just until mixed. Add chips.
4. Mix 1/3 c granulated sugar and 1 tsp cinnamon in shallow bowl. With damp hands, roll a heaping Tbsp of cookie dough into 1 1/2″ ball; roll in sugar mixture. Place 2″ apart on greased sheet (or silpat; I love mine!).
5. Bake about 11 minutes, till set but still soft. Don’t over bake!

Serve with cold milk. Your kids will beam and your husband will say, “This is fun! I like cookies and milk. I should sell these!”

wrapping up Christmas.

I finally got all Christmas photos moved to flickr, which was really just an excuse to savor one more time the special moments of that most special month. Thankful once again for my family, for having been taught to make Christmas special for my little clan, for a Savior to celebrate and exalt and make much of.

So, this. The last of my Christmas photos from 2014. Relived once more, and now tucked away for future late-night blog-wanderings when I’m wondering where the moments and years disappeared to.


“Christmas Eve Eve” sleep under the tree.


Christmas Eve morning, excitedly set up by Jameson


Her very first at-the-table setting. She was very happy with herself!


Beatrice at Christmas Eve dinner


My sister’s Christmas Eve centerpiece — well, one of them, anyway. We’re a houseful!


Candlelight Service. Beautiful.


Eggnog and Cookie party!


Intently sipping. I love that bow!


Cookies. Waiting for presents!


This pretty girl. And no other photos of Christmas Eve garb. I almost burst into tears when they put on their new pi’s, and I realized we would never have a photo of them all dressed.


Tree, ready.


New doll things


Fiona got her very own baby doll


Afternoon and evening at my parents’, eating and playing games.


Christmas Night. The aftermath.

And the best Day After ever: new flannel pajamas and new toys and Mama vacuuming to her heart’s content.

Deep sigh. Deep smile. Deep thankfulness for it all.

Back to the bins, absorbed into the toys, tossed into the hamper, vacuumed and dragged out to the field it all goes. And yet, not quite. Those memories, that investment, this pause becomes knit into who we are.

Until next year,

snow

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Poetry is an utter mystery to me, but I like this one. I’m also reading a bit before bed, hoping enough of it will eventually help me to grasp some meaning. Do you like poetry?

pictures of december

Excitement is ramping up around here. Today we exchanged names (well, the kids did) and bought gifts for one another. Four or five times, I was pulled aside because a little boy needed to tell me a secret — a bursting with joy secret because their gift is just so so so wonderful and the recipient is going to love it so so so much!

We drove home in relative quiet until William suddenly said, “Mom, I was just dreaming about opening my present [on Christmas Eve, when they exchange their gifts], and I was so excited, and then I remembered that the next day will be Christmas!! (Said in the most COULD LIFE GET ANY BETTER voice you’ve ever heard.)

Before that day actually comes, and I get swept away with everything that entails and suddenly find myself two weeks into a new year, I’ll quickly put up photos of this special month. I do so love coming to this little corner of the internet and reminiscing…

*****


Three little girls, Fiona wanting very much to be as big as Beatrice and Margaret


Ready to get a tree


Easily entertained


Can’t wait for Daddy to come with the tree


Here it comes!


And there it is.


Early Sunday morning reflections.


Rest and reading time after decorating the bagel shops!


She loves baby dolls.


Pigtail perfection.


Cookies baked for neighbors and friends.


Special afternoons with my grandparents.


Time with beautiful sisters and their scrumptious babes.


Concerts.


Lots of this.


A break from routine school means time for not-routing things.


They keep careful track of this growing pile.


Drawing names!


Fiona felt very grown up with that slip of paper!


Too excited to get a picture with all four looking at me.


Lunch with family at (drumroll…) The Bagelry. (Pretty yummy!)

*****

Have a wonderful last few days before Christmas!

december’s story: grace and peace

I can’t believe we’re halfway through December, and oh-so-close to Christmas.

It’s all Christmas, all the time around here. If Beatrice isn’t making up songs about angels and shepherds, boys are pounding out Christmas duets (duets! Yay!) on the piano, or Fiona is touching ornaments. Or I’m slipping to my room to wrap one more present— or make that one half a present, someone is pounding on my door.


December 1st Christmas movie, though I can’t remember for the life of me what it was.


celebrating our first Friday post-CFA with a lazy breakfast


sleeping under the tree


mornings like this.


performing with almost 100 voices and instruments in a beautiful Christmas cantata

Snow sure helps the mood along, and for some magical reason, it’s gently hanging over the edge of our roof right out the window in a way very reminiscent of frosting on rum logs. There is lots of outdoor play before breakfast, because somehow, jumping out of bed and pulling snow gear on over pi’s is just the most fun. (And it buys me time, since I can’t seem to make cookies and have breakfast thought through.)


early morning, after our first significant snowfall


Jameson has made all of the rum logs this year completely by himself


pepparkakor


preparing cookie gifts

We are watching Mary’s slow trek as she waits for her baby to be born. We do our best to read one little book each night from our Advent calendar. And this year, we’re sneaking in a bit of this book here and there — a whole week behind, mind you, but pressure is not very Christmasy, so I’m doing my best to not feel any. Today we read about Isaac, climbing a long road with wood on his back, a shadow of the Child of Promise who walked a long and dusty road for me. I’m blessed, blessed, blessed to hear the thoughts my boys share, the connections they make. William especially seems quite enamored with this whole typology thing, realizing that all of those stories were pointing to Jesus. And I get to be right there, watching that realization dawn. What a privilege.

This is a month made for Jameson, my gift-giver. Suddenly, he is busily hiding secrets and scurrying to prepare a surprise. He generously finds $1,000 guitars that he thinks I should buy William. (Ha!) He is in his element. Saturday, when William was at work with Ryan, he took advantage of the 20 minutes it took for me to lay the girls down for naps and found paper snowflakes to hang from the ceiling. After being stunned by that beautiful surprise, he then made coffee and set out a whole little “coffee date” for him and me. He beamed with love. Today he gave me the gift he’d made me and put under the tree: a little “Meery Christmas” garland. Insert mother heart bursting right here.


snowflake surprise


afternoon date with this boy


my Christmas gift this year

Then there’s quiet William, who made me a card two weeks ago and tucked it away for Christmas, but seeing Jameson’s gift giving (“I’m just so bad at waiting, Mom! I want you to have all of my presents right away!”), he decided to pull his out, too. Simplest, sweetest, “I love you, Mama” card.


cutest cards


moments to tuck inside my mama-treasure-box, i.e., my heart

Are you kidding?, I think to myself. How could anyone possibly be as loved as I am? Let alone someone as grumpy and ornery as me?? Is this real? Are these little boys really smiling that big at me, their hearts in their eyes? Is this little girl really climbing up to plant a random sweet kiss on my cheek with a whispered, “I wuv you so much, Mama,” in my ear? Is this baby really laughing and dancing and wanting me to know that I’m her world?

If it feels too good to be true, it’s because it is. It’s grace, a gift. I know what I deserve — I look that ugliness right in the face many times a day, and it’s ugly. There’s an equation here that just doesn’t seem to balance out: How can I have a life of blessing, of gifts, of walking with God? I could never seem to do a good job balancing my checkbook, but even with my enormous lack of accounting talent, I can see a serious discrepancy like this one. Maybe you don’t think it’s that serious, look at my life and see a good person who tries hard. But I know. I know the discrepancy. I know the selfishness and self-seeking and jealousy and pride that fights to have its way moment after moment. How can a heart like that then receive blessing?

Jesus.

That’s it. That’s the only way to justify the account of my life. For someone like me to walk with God, to know Him and love Him and know that He loves me — it’s Jesus.

So I open that handmade card with 6yo scrawl, I feel those arms around my neck and see bashful eyes full of love, and my soul feels more than just full. It feels grace.

“Hark! the herald angels sing
Glory to the newborn King
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled”

Reconciled.
Justified.
Balanced.
Paid in full.

Waking up to morning after morning of new mercy.
Too good to be true.
God is like that.