Yesterday was the kids first day off for the Winter Break. They woke up late, played a bit together, and watched a movie with lunch. We didn't have too much to do until the afternoon, when we needed to get to an orthodontist appointment. So, we waited to do our errands until then.
The girls each were fitted with their new retainers. Zoe's is a dark bluish/purple color, while Talia's is clear with sparkles. And I can say that we are all grateful for the girls choosing two completely different colors for their retainers. The alternative, and what can happen, kind of gives me the shivers.
On the way back from the orthodontist, and en route to the gas station, the kids were talking about Santa. I think just about everything was said with respect to the jolly man in Red. The Belief is strong here, and I'd like to cultivate that just a bit longer, if possible. The funny thing is, kids notice things, you know?
Melina's school had a Christmas party on Tuesday. (Yes, it was a Christmas party. She attends a preschool that has a religious affiliation, so we can go ahead and call it what it was.) After they spoke about the religious significance of the holiday, they had a visit from Santa. I remember the girls and Aaron absolutely loving the visit from Santa! They had been so happy to see him and I clearly remember the girls arguing over whether or not it had been the real Santa. Melina was very excited, but our conversation was much different.
Melina repeated this conversation with every adult with whom she came into contact. To her, it was just an observation, but to me, I can see that stringing out the Belief might be a bit difficult with my last born. Of course, every adult (including myself) told her that the real Santa always needs help, especially when it gets close to Christmas. And in reality, Santa does need all the help he can get, right? Many of us have taken on that role to help spread Christmas love and cheer, and whether I've been on the receiving or the giving end, the feeling I get is the same: that fullness of heart that reminds me of that scene in "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" when his heart grows back.
After the gas station, we stopped into the Italian store to get some frozen ravioli. I have never been in this store, which you might think is a horrible thing for an Italian to say. But, we cook at our house. So, if we want Italian, we usually to it ourselves. I don't make homemade ravioli (at least not yet), though, so we needed to go there.
The place smelled delicious, but I got a couple of looks from the people inside. A dark-haired family was waiting for their deli food to be brought to the table, and they looked at us. The little old man in the hat, he looked at us. I can't decide if it was the fact that I had 4 kids by myself (again, we've gone over this...it isn't even a large brood in this neck of the woods), or if it was the fact that I had 3 blondes and a red head in a store where most people had dark hair. I wanted to shout out: "My last name is *blank* and I am 75% Italian! My kids, although they don't look it, are 5/8 Italian!" I refrained from doing so, as I am sure that they would have escorted the crazy lady and her camouflaged Diego children out of the store.
And now, it is Thursday. Let's see what sorts of trouble we can get into today! Have a great day!
The girls each were fitted with their new retainers. Zoe's is a dark bluish/purple color, while Talia's is clear with sparkles. And I can say that we are all grateful for the girls choosing two completely different colors for their retainers. The alternative, and what can happen, kind of gives me the shivers.
On the way back from the orthodontist, and en route to the gas station, the kids were talking about Santa. I think just about everything was said with respect to the jolly man in Red. The Belief is strong here, and I'd like to cultivate that just a bit longer, if possible. The funny thing is, kids notice things, you know?
Melina's school had a Christmas party on Tuesday. (Yes, it was a Christmas party. She attends a preschool that has a religious affiliation, so we can go ahead and call it what it was.) After they spoke about the religious significance of the holiday, they had a visit from Santa. I remember the girls and Aaron absolutely loving the visit from Santa! They had been so happy to see him and I clearly remember the girls arguing over whether or not it had been the real Santa. Melina was very excited, but our conversation was much different.
Melina: Mom, we got to see Santa today!
Me: Oh, that is so great! Did you have fun?
Melina: Yes, he had a sack. He gave us a gingerbread man.
Me: Wow! I love it.
Melina: But he was the pretend Santa.
Me: How do you know?
Melina: Because it was Mr. Glenn in there.
Me: (Curious) How do you know?
Melina: Because it was. Mr. Glenn was Santa.
Me: Did someone tell you that?
Melina: Nope.
Melina repeated this conversation with every adult with whom she came into contact. To her, it was just an observation, but to me, I can see that stringing out the Belief might be a bit difficult with my last born. Of course, every adult (including myself) told her that the real Santa always needs help, especially when it gets close to Christmas. And in reality, Santa does need all the help he can get, right? Many of us have taken on that role to help spread Christmas love and cheer, and whether I've been on the receiving or the giving end, the feeling I get is the same: that fullness of heart that reminds me of that scene in "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" when his heart grows back.
After the gas station, we stopped into the Italian store to get some frozen ravioli. I have never been in this store, which you might think is a horrible thing for an Italian to say. But, we cook at our house. So, if we want Italian, we usually to it ourselves. I don't make homemade ravioli (at least not yet), though, so we needed to go there.
The place smelled delicious, but I got a couple of looks from the people inside. A dark-haired family was waiting for their deli food to be brought to the table, and they looked at us. The little old man in the hat, he looked at us. I can't decide if it was the fact that I had 4 kids by myself (again, we've gone over this...it isn't even a large brood in this neck of the woods), or if it was the fact that I had 3 blondes and a red head in a store where most people had dark hair. I wanted to shout out: "My last name is *blank* and I am 75% Italian! My kids, although they don't look it, are 5/8 Italian!" I refrained from doing so, as I am sure that they would have escorted the crazy lady and her camouflaged Diego children out of the store.
And now, it is Thursday. Let's see what sorts of trouble we can get into today! Have a great day!
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