There are brilliant people out there. People for whom HTML is no problemo. I am not one of those people.

I was so proud of myself when it came to this blog’s background. Once I figured out how the original designer put it together, I could go into Photoshop and make up my own versions with my own pictures. Never mind that I did my measuring with sticky notes stuck to the screen to get the solid blocks of color behind the text to line up right. We’ll just ignore that part.

I learned just enough code to play around a teensy bit with text color and size. Joy abounded in my little heart. It was all going along so swimmingly.

Then I got this zoomy new ‘puter for my birthday. And with it a crisp wide screen monitor. And all my false pride in blog design sputtered and crashed. Kind of like when Wile E. Coyote’s prop plane flies smack into the side of a cliff.

If anyone reading this also has a wide screen monitor, you already know the problem. The small but annoying problem of the background image not making it anywhere close to the top and right edges of the screen. *sob* All that extra white space seemed to slap me on both sides of the face and shout, “Web guru, indeed!”

I cracked open my HTML For the Clueless-type books. I read online. I tried resizing. As a last resort, I restored the original designer’s rainy background. And you know what? It did the same stinking thing. Since the image isn’t tiled, there is no way it will fit all screens. So my beloved background has to go and I’m so sad. Which is pretty unreasonable, considering that it’s just an intangible thing that doesn’t change the world one way or the other. But there it is.

So the long and short of it is that soon things are going to change, but hopefully for the better. Wish me luck.

Two of the funniest Christmas songs ever.

Christmas changed for me forever when I became a mama. I’m sure that’s true for everyone – there is nothing like seeing your kid light up when they get their first glimpse of a twinkly tree or when they feel the mystery of an unopened present or when a hymn of God’s grace hits them full on in the chest. But for me, Christmas changed even more when I had a son. Because then I saw the story of Christmas from a different vantage point, kind of like when you see a picture of a vase that changes before your eyes into two faces.

What an honor and a burden to be Mary. To be the bearer of the son of God. To know that this kid you are feeding and washing and loving is the Creator wearing a suit of flesh. And here’s a case where the child doesn’t just think they know more than mom and that they are God’s gift to the world – they do and they are. Parenting Jesus must have been very humbling.

Because I believe that she was simply a mortal woman blessed to be chosen for the job, I don’t think she could have known where it was going to lead her. She could not have known that guards would come for her boy and take him away to be publicly tortured and humiliated. To be killed. But worst of all, to have his Father turn away as he carried the weight of the world’s shame. And like the labor she had to endure to bear him into the world, she couldn’t have foreseen the Resurrection, the joy without boundaries that came after the hard work was completed. I don’t believe Mary was holy, but I know she had to be one incredibly strong woman to still keep breathing through all that.

So, as I listen to the Princess practice “What Child is This?” over and over on the piano, it’s not the stable I think about, and not angels putting shepherds in a field on high alert. I think about a teenage Mary, and how she had no idea what a ride she was in for. And that God knew all along that she would be up for it.

What Child is this who, laid to rest
On Mary’s lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

Why lies He in such mean estate,
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christians, fear, for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.
Nails, spear shall pierce Him through,
The cross be borne for me, for you.
Hail, hail the Word made flesh,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

So bring Him incense, gold and myrrh,
Come peasant, king to own Him;
The King of kings salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone Him.
Raise, raise a song on high,
The virgin sings her lullaby.
Joy, joy for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

- Will­iam C. Dix

Are you plagued with extra time this holiday season? Kids lying around, whining that they are bored and wish that you wouldn’t make them suffer through Christmas break? Well, don’t just stand there! Amy Pak has a free mini unit study up at Homeschool in the Woods.

Enjoy!

The diaper! (You can thank me later for not including a picture of that.) Whoo-ee, that sugar must have been a bit of a shock to her system. And while my mom and mom-in-law dove in to clean up the baby and the floor, the carnage in her pants has been mine, all mine.

It’s been sparse posting lately, I know. But it’s the most wonderful time of the year, and around here it’s wonderful in overdrive.

We have four birthdays in twenty days. That is a whole whopping load of cake baking. What’s more, I have been all wrapped up in a small crisis because the baby was turning one. Can you believe I forgot to even think of her cake until two days beforehand? Or that I completely blew off a present? After all, she can’t get any bigger if I don’t acknowledge her birthday, right?

And then there’s the newsletter. I decided (at the last minute, natch) to completely change how I do the holiday newsletter, and so have been fighting to the death with MS Word and the printer. I am starting to think I should just send a blurry Polaroid attached to a sticky note scrawled with “HIYA!” to everyone.

But the best part? The cookies. Oh, how I love the cookies.

I love the salted nut bars…

I love the Penuche nuts (not actually cookies, but oh so yum)…

I love the no-bakes…

I love the linzer thumbprints…

I love the Kahlua balls…

I love the chewy chocolate gingerbread…

I love the macaroons…

And, my my my, I love me some chocolate orange hazelnut biscotti…

Besides eating a lot of cookies, I get such a kick out of making up cookie tins. It’s probably one of my favorite Christmas traditions. And the Bigs like helping, but like the taste-testing more.

So I will be posting more now that the HallowThanksBirthMas rush has peaked. That is, if I can roll my chubby tush closer to the computer.

When I became a mama for the first time nine years ago, I figured I was pretty wise. I had worked with children for years. I had read all the books. I felt very prepared.

In fact, if the Princess had remained an only child I would have remained deluded for life. I would have been one of those people, the kind who can’t understand what is wrong with all those other kids and their parents. It has never occurred to her to cut her own hair, climb the bookshelves, or paint the cat. At two years old she discovered that having a tidy room was immensely satisfying. She broke the code and read fluently at three and a half. To this day she is driven to achieve, follow the rules, and crease the corners. (In fact, her need for exact detail in all things may very well kill me.)

She humbles me with how very brilliant she is. She also humbles me because we are very much alike, and I see all my own flaws thrown back at me. When I’m fed up with her arguing and nitpicking and lawyering, it’s hard to remember my lifelong struggle to shut up, myself.

Born on my birthday, she is the very best present I ever got. She really is the gift that keeps on giving.

Happy birthday, Princess.