Love Notes

With the start of February just around the corner, I get thinking about Valentine's Day, and in doing so remembered this beautiful love note Jack wrote for me a couple of months ago. Truth be told, I actually remembered it because I found it in a pile of stuff that had accumulated on my desk, and I was so glad I had (inadvertently) saved it.

I remember the day he wrote it he spent quite a few minutes working on it, and then came up and handed it to me and said, as he often does "You're the best Mommy in the whole world," (by the way, it's not true, but I'm glad I've duped him into believing it for the time being). He wanted to write I Love You, but since his writing skills are still developing, he wrote what he knew how to write, "Yes Mom", with a beautiful, sketchy heart. Never before has the word yes been so sincerely felt. I love that guy.

Yes Jack.

You Say It's Your Birthday....

...Happy Birthday To You, Max!

You've changed a lot in 8 years, but you're still my beautiful baby boy!

I LOVE YOU!

"Hugs!"

Max and Jack, happy to see each other after school.

One of my favorite moments of every day is when I drop off the boys at school, and not for the obvious reasons. Lately they have begun the habit of yelling "HUGS!" and then giving each other a huge hug before they run off in different directions to their classes.

Seriously, does it get any better than that?

A Cookie The Size Of Your Head

So, yesterday, Jack finally joined the "Cookie Club" at school, which means he was able to recognize all of the letters of the alphabet, out of order, with no mistakes. I do have to wonder if the reward of a cookie big enough to feed a third world country is the best incentive, but there you are, and he was so excited I didn't worry too much. And, luckily, he was nice enough to share it with a bunch of his friends at dinner last night, which made me feel a little better about the whole thing.

But it makes me wonder, what's he going to get when he passes off all his sight words?

Yes, Laura, There Is A Santa Claus

The other day I got up totally exhausted from all the Christmas festivities and business and looked on my kitchen counter and saw this:

Okay, like I said in the last post, I cry at EVERYTHING, but this really got to me. A couple of weeks ago Jack was asked to write a letter to Santa as part of his homework, and I figured, hey, why not mail it. Really, I had no idea they have some nice person in the post office mailing stuff back. It was just a form letter, but had Jack's name hand written and a hand written Santa signature, and I thought, like I do every year, why we try to keep the tradition alive. And I guess it got to me specifically because this year Max asked me one day "Mommy, is Santa real"? And guess what I did. I FLAT OUT LIED and said yes. Without hesitation. And I still don't even feel bad about it. And then I wonder why such a blatant lie would cause no guilt at all, and I realized that I want them, so desperately, to believe in Santa. I want them to believe that there really is good in the world, and sometimes we do get stuff just for being good. Even if we're only good once in a while.

And, that, I think is true.

But when I think of this Santa deceit every year, I can't help but think of one of my favorite Christmas stories ever, "The H Street Sledding Record" by Ron Carlson. It reminds me how important it is to keep the dream alive.

Just for some background, I grew up on the very H Street Ron Carlson is talking about in the story, so it has always had special significance to me. But I also adore Ron Carlson, who also grew up in Salt Lake City, and was the Artist For The Schools (or something like that) when I was taking creative writing in high school. I remember just being so in awe that this guy got to WRITE STORIES FOR A LIVING, and remember writing a somewhat mediocre story in an attempt to impress him. But the best part was when I ran into him a couple of years later while I was working at Mrs. Backer's Pastry Shop and he said he remembered a line he liked from my story. I could have died and gone to heaven right then and there. Years later, at a signing, I bought the short story collection, The News of The World, which includes "The H Street Sledding Record," and he signed it for me, saying he remembered me, but I had my suspicions he was only trying to make a sale by that point. Here's the title page:

I love this story because it brought back a lot of childhood nostalgia when I first read it, but now that I have my own kids, it has moved to a whole new level. And so, even though I am probably breaking a million copyright laws by doing so, I scanned it in to share on my blog. Just promise me you won't print it out, photocopy it, and sell it on a street corner somewhere, okay? My kids don't need to grow up visiting me in the state pen. Anyway, if you haven't read it before, here it is (click each page to make them large enough to read).

What can I say, this story just fills me with all kinds of hope.

I hope you enjoy it.

I hope that the legal team at Norton won't shut me down.

And, most of all, I hope you will be doing your own form of shoveling manure on your roof for years to come.

The Nutcracker is Sweet

This morning I woke up still on a Christmas high, and totally exhausted, from our visit to Salt Lake for the Nutcracker, including a backstage visit to see the dancers and sets, a carriage ride around Temple Square to see the lights and sing carols, and a dinner at The Roof restaurant overlooking downtown Salt Lake and the beautiful Christmas lights.It was a beautiful night, and so nostalgic for me. I spent many Christmases going to the Ballet West production of The Nutcracker, and was really excited to take the boys for the first time, but I was totally unprepared for my reaction. I have admitted that I cry at just about anything, but I started to tear up as soon as I walked into the doors of the Capitol Theater, and then had to hold back the tears through about the whole first half of the ballet, watching the boys rapt faces as they watched the magical moments of The Mouse King, The Snow Queen, the Sugar Plum Fairy, and, the favorites, Mother Buffoon and The Russian Dancers. Thanks to Alison for having the idea to go and make a day of it. Here's a few (bad) photos taken with iPhones since we forgot our camera.

I love the Capitol Theater. So beautiful.

Steve and Max gearing up for the show.

Jack was getting excited for the show to start...

...Ivy was too.

Cha Cha, Me and Max waiting to hear those opening notes of the overture.

Scenes from the production. Stolen from the Internet.

At the Sugar Plum Fairy Party after the show the kids got to see the dancers, eat some treats, have their picture taken with some of the cast, watch a magician, see some of the sets on the stage, and get their very own nutcracker ornament. The best $5 I've spent in a LONG time.

Zoe and Ivy on the train after the show.

Me, Jack, Alison and Ivy on a very bumpy carriage ride around Temple Square.

The view from our table at the restaurant. Also stolen from the Interweb.

Alison in the glow of the Salt Lake Temple from The Roof restaurant. I cropped myself out of this one because I looked as tired as I felt.

Such a wonderful night, and such a great addition to our Christmas season. Even thought I never in a million years wanted to end up in Utah, I am so glad I get to share these childhood traditions to my kids and friends. To me, that's what Christmas is all about.

Another One Of Those Sappy Song Dedications

One day I was just folding the laundry listening to my iPod when this song came on. Not a strange occurrence if, a) I had of downloaded it myself, and b) if it wasn't one of my long, lost favorite songs. And Steve downloaded it on there without telling me, and without knowing it was one of my favorite, long lost songs. Such a pleasant surprise. Seriously, is there a better, more joyful love song out there? And it reminds me of Steve, and not only because of his covert downloading of it on my iPod. I'll leave it at that so you don't have to deal with too much sap.

Really, try to forgive Phil Collins for all that stuff he did in the eighties, and give it a listen.