Big D.E.A.L. and Little Max

One morning, approximately 2 weeks ago, after dropping Ava and the neighbor girls off at the elementary school, I drove on home through the 20 mph School Zone and I cried. Because that's what over-emotional, gestating mothers do when they consider the sweetness that is a School Zone.

People's precious babies walk, ride their bikes, drive in cars to school.  And as citizens, we slow our vehicles down to a crawl just to be extra careful not to squish somebody's baby (as Max would say).


Because our babies are so precious! I thought.


 Silly, I know. Who cries about School Zones? But that morning I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of our ability to create little people, and love them, and teach them, and keep them; an idea that I often take for granted.  But not that morning.  I cried and I was happy not to have an audience, because I knew I was being ridiculously lame. Though here I am telling you, because I'm not really embarrassed anymore.

Friday I cried right along with nearly every other mother in America, in shock and sadness.  Reality was too harsh and too real, while seeming completely unreal at the same time.  Someone shooting babies?  What has this world come to?

I thought about those mothers who'd kissed and waved their kids off to school, with time to spare or in great frustration because they were late.  In either case, completely unaware that their babies would not return home that day.

I wondered if there were any mothers lucky enough to have had a sick child that day. My Ava was home  with what we would come to find out was the flu.  Were there any lucky babies with the flu out there?

I am sad for the kids, the ones who were killed and the ones who weren't.  And most sad for the families that survive.  Their world has shattered and while we sympathize and feel sadness right along with them, our worlds will continue to spin.  We will go to work, and to the store, and to our Christmas parties.  We will get sad when we remember, but those poor families, they will not escape the sadness. They don't have to remember because they won't be able to forget.


A few days later I stood in the pharmacy line at Walgreens to pick up Tamiflu for our family's latest flu victim, Max.  The drive-thru line was endless and I hoped going inside would be quicker.  The line was no shorter. I stood behind a teenage girl, who when she got to the counter asked for "Plan B". She and her friend agreed that it was a great price and happily walked away with the purchase.  I nearly threw up in my mouth.

Because our babies are so precious!

What has this world come to?   A place where sick people do terrible things, a place where right is relative, a place where sad things happen everyday, a place where "good shall be called evil, and evil good."

People may argue over legislation, over blame, over cause.   A person's ability to make choices brings about consequences, good and bad.  But that ability is absolutely essential. And the truth to me, is that the sad consequences for so many of the poor choices we face in this world, are merely a symptom of something much greater.  All the money and all the laws and all the band-aids in the world cannot fix what is broken.

Needless to say, I've been a bit of a pessimist.

My take-away from my Sunday experience was this quote:

"Righteousness is the price of happiness and peace."

I have no control over any of the messed up stuff that goes on everyday.  The one thing I can control are my actions.  For peace and happiness in this sad world and in the Colton family bubble, the sacrifice of obedience to God's laws is well worth the cost.


 I guess it shouldn't surprise me, that of all that has been written for good or ill regarding this incident, I have found the most timely reassurance in these hundred year old hymns.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
their old familiar carols play,
and wild and sweet the words repeat
of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."

                       -I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day


Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask thee to stay
close by me forever, and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,
and fit us for heaven to live with thee there.

                         -Away In a Manger


There is one great cure-all for all that's wrong in the world. We will celebrate His birth and His life in a few days time, and maybe even a little more than usual, I am so grateful for that.

By 1:00pm, after a leisurely breakfast with my sister Leah, and attending the sealing of her friends and their children, I was taking pictures of this sweet family in the 40 degree weather.


I was nervous but willing.  The cold played a leading role in our picture taking adventure.  Instead of taking our time and being creative or experimental, I felt rushed to get these freezing people back inside.  I still think we got some good ones, though, and I hope they like them.




When I grow up I'm pretty sure I don't want to be a wedding photographer.  That is one shoot you don't want to screw up, because if you do, it's not like you can go out the next weekend and try again.




A pit stop for lunch was followed by mad dashing and prepping of food for the reception, which Leah was in charge of.  Between chopping vegetables and arranging cheese trays, I would run into the church gym to take pictures of the decorations and the cake.

This deserving couple's friends were generously putting on the reception, and doing their best to make it the way it should have been, but wasn't, the first time around. That's one of the reasons I wasn't mad at Leah for volunteering me for the picture-taking task.  I was happy to contribute.


Taking pictures at the reception was definitely not my favorite.  I knew my camera was not up to the low-light task and I told myself ahead of time, and tried to accept, that I'd just have to use the flash. I also decided I wasn't going to take much at the reception.  Unfortunately, the couple had all kinds of requests and I found that I was taking pictures nearly the whole time, switching between lenses, cringing as the flash pictures evoked the same feelings as nails on a chalkboard.

When I wasn't taking pictures I ran back to the kitchen to help out my sister.

The beauty of our short day together was the reminder that while I may frequently feel like a fish out of water or a thug with no posse, I can get with my sister, not be doing anything in particular, and have the best time, laughing, working, talking, and feel like I am a neat person and she thinks so too.  (And like the luckiest dog on earth, both my sisters will be here this weekend. I cannot wait!)

By 11:00pm we finished the cleanup.

And at 11:30pm we were back at Leah's house where we both fell soundly asleep, completely and totally exhausted.

4:45am the next morning the alarm was ringing again and after a 26 hour stay and drive through the dark to Chicago, I was an open mouthed, big bellied, head bobbing sleeper on a plane back to Dallas.

 So tired, so excited for my sister-time this weekend, and happier than ever to be home to these hoodlums.

I'm not sure there's much left to say about him.

His three year pictures happened today as I realized that between the approaching cold weather and the busying of the schedule, it might be now or never.


**Blogger makes my pictures fuzzy unless you click to enlarge them.  I did figure out how to fix it in the HTML but I swear it makes this page load so much slower.  So click for clearness, if you desire.**


He is such a toad.


An adorable,



 naughty,





beautiful,




stubborn,




sweet, toad.



3 has brought with it the arrival of some new found drawing skills as well as his evil laugh, "Wa-hahaha!" (pictures and video to follow).




And I thank my lucky stars everyday that time hasn't been able to erase that delicious dimple.

Ok, actually I do.

Yesterday morning I went to the mall.  I told the cashier at Stride Rite that the only sure-fire way to find something you've lost is to buy a replacement, and as I did, she slid the identical white and blue size 1 sneakers into the sack. The very same ones I bought three months ago, the exact double of the single that went "missing" last week.

While I did say those words, and I knew that Murphy's law could actually come into effect, I cannot explain my surprise when at home, later that same afternoon, Ava opened this ornamental lantern that sits in the formal living room, to find, the shoe.

It is understood, though not always observed, that this particular lantern is off limits to grubby children's hands.  So why then, should it have come as a shock to find it working so well for treasure stashing?

The mercy of it all, is that the new shoes hadn't made it out of the box yet, and the receipt still waits in the bag. If Ava had run them through the mud prior to the discovery, let's just say Max's Christmas would have been severely compromised.

This is Ava.








 He says some cute things, too.  Like every time we're in a parking lot as we're holding hands, he pulls out the same, "We don't want any cars to squish me."


"No we don't!" I always agree.


Of course, his referring to me as his baby all the time, doesn't hurt either.

But more and more lately, he glares at people in the store who try to talk to him, he pulls serious attitude with Dan and me, and the other kids; everyone for that matter.  And he generally looks for things to disrupt and bother.

Yesterday evening, we had just returned home and I sat down at the computer with my mom's Costco card in my hand. I set it on the desk next to me. I don't have a membership and I always mooch off of hers when I need to order pictures.  As I was about to begin my business, Dan requested to use the computer for a minute.

In the three minutes it took him to look at what he wanted and my booty returned to the chair, that Costco card had disappeared. Gone missing. Vanished!

I began the search.  On the floor all around the computer.  In the drawers of the desk.  On the counters in the kitchen.  About the time by blood was warming up, I questioned the kids.

"Have any of seen a card?  It was on the desk?  Did any of you touch it?"

No, was the consensus on their blank faces.

I even went to my purse to pull out a similar card so they'd be sure to know what I was talking about, or maybe jog a memory.

Again, nobody had seen or touched the card.

I resumed the search and began to get mad.  How could something just disappear?  And it wasn't even mine?  Ava lost her shoe this past week too.  The shoe she wears every single day.  I might be giving the impression that we have so much stuff around here that things just get lost all the time.  But while my house rarely sparkles, we tidy things up most nights, so everything finds its way home before bedtime.  The fact that an entire sneaker, bought less than 3 months ago, was MIA was quite frustrating.  And now adding the card to the very mysterious list was too much.

I spread the search to every other room on the first floor--the bathroom, the toy room, the living room, dining room.  No stupid card.

I yelled at Dan to come downstairs. By this time, I was convinced that in his absent-minded-professor ways he had picked up the card and put it in the trash or the fridge or the microwave (stranger things have happened).

But he swore up and down just like the kids, that he hadn't touched it, though he did remember seeing it right there by the computer.

I don't know where I was when Dan came up with the brilliant idea that perhaps the smallest set of hands in our house had shoved the card through the infamous wall vent. (You remember the puzzle we found in the vent a few weeks ago?)

I am convinced that information was sent to Dan via divine intervention by a God who saw that three children were about to be traumatized by their mother's imminent visit to CrazyTown.

I got out the wrench and began to work on the stripped out screws in a fury.  And sure enough, as I pried the grate away from the wall, there was the Costco card.

"Max, did you put the card in the vent?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

Naughty List for sure.

The kids were off school for the entire week of Thanksgiving. I swear, if we'd wanted to take a trip they would have only been off for 2 days.

In light of our extra free time, we decided to hit the Gainesville Zoo.  We love that place even though it's a bit of drive and doesn't have many of the "big" animals.  The admission is relatively cheap, you can get very close to the exhibits, it's easy to navigate and see the whole thing without getting too worn out or overwhelmed, and my favorite part--it's never, ever crowded.




The night before as I lay in my bed, last year's Thanksgiving post came to my mind, and I realized that we may have inadvertently started a tradition.  Thanksgiving and a trip to the zoo.




The weather is always pretty great this time of year.






Our Thanksgiving was really delicious and relaxed.  My parents came over and we had planned to have another family over but they cancelled at the last minute.  That worked out fine though, because it removed that small bit of stress that comes with hosting.


We had our usual line up of food-turkey,rolls, stuffing, mashed potatoes, deviled eggs, corn pudding, sweet potato suffle, cranberry sauce, pickle and relish tray, apple, pecan, and pumpkin pie, spice cake, and cheesecake.  In fact, in my notebook (the one that holds the written version of my whole life) I found last years Thanksgiving plans and they were nearly identical.  We scratched green bean casserole and jello salad  this year.  I made the rolls, mashed potatoes, cheesecake, and a pumpkin pie.  Mom did all the rest, including the turkey.  And my dad made the apple pie.




We cooked together and we cooked separately.  We corralled all the food to the buffet about a half hour past schedule, and were just about to sit down until we realized we had no bottle opener for our sparkling cider.  So it came down to this, Dan and Dad demonstrating their man skills as they pried off the lids with knives.



The day after Thanksgiving, we skipped the sales and took a day trip up to Oklahoma.  About 1.5 hours from us is the beautiful Turner Falls.




I couldn't believe something so beautiful was so close.  (Though I very much wish it were closer.)





Apparently it's crazy busy in summer, but can you imagine going for a swim here?!





I hope we can make it happen this next year.



In the meantime, having a picnic on the huge stone table,



 and hiking through the woods was satisfying enough.







The park even had the remains of this "castle".  Back in the '30's it belonged to a professor who owned this whole area as his ranch and these buildings served as his summer home.


My dear Ava was in her element.  She was born to be outside, exploring, pretending, losing herself in beautiful surroundings.

The castle was fun to walk through (minus the billion stairs I counted as my exercise that day) and the fact that there were dozens of levels and patios all without railings.  Our kids and the images of them tripping right off the edge kept our blood pressure raised the whole time but we all enjoyed it.






The campsites are first come, first serve, which makes a trip from Dallas a little hard to plan, but man that would sure be a fun place to stay.

And finally, on Saturday, the final installment of our weekend agenda came along--a girls' trip to the Nutcracker.

I don't know why pregnant people hold on to their bellies in pictures.  I did it so I wouldn't look like I was wearing a circus tent for a dress, but I'm not sure the effect is much better.


The Texas Ballet Theater put on a wonderful show.  Ava thoroughly enjoyed herself as did Mom and I.



 I am ready for Christmas, at least in my mind.  I may (do) still have pumpkins on my front lawn, I haven't bought a single present, and the tree is still in the attic, but I'm already feeling the Christmas Spirit!