Warning
This lady friend of mine just chopped off her hair. Okay, she had good reason. She donated 12 inches of her lovely locks--and I do mean lovely. She has the best hair in the world. And personality. And family. I'm about to start stalking hounding her for dates this summer when I could drive my kids to their Y camp and hang out with her for a week.

But I digress. Her decision has me looking at photos like this. Since we're not going to London...

We're having a bad week. I'm tired. Lily is having some setbacks. Just keepin' it real.

Bad Medicine and Theology 101

Lily is currently taking three medications. Three. It feels like three too many. Actually, I need to change that. She's taking five, if you include her allergy meds. We were seeing some success with one of the medicines, but one of the side effects is increased appetite and subsequent weight gain. I didn't notice anything at first, but for the last few weeks she is complaining of constant hunger. I help her choose healthy snacks and I also make sure she doesn't eat more than she should. Her doctor is amazing and weighs her every time we see him, but she's gained four pounds and he's "monitoring it closely." He won't let it get out of control, but it just sucks that on top of everything else, Lily is now having to count calories and restrict her diet and possibly worry about being overweight. I have been vigilant about my kids eating healthy. Always. I just want to throw a brick through a window somewhere to get all my frustration and disappointment out. And to make matters worse, her medicine may be losing its initial benefits.

However...
I am not at a crisis in my faith. I don't talk about my faith (if at all) on my blog because, well... it's just that. My faith. Just like I don't talk about all the details of my marriage, because it's my marriage and I don't feel like you need to know every little thing that goes on between myself and David. My faith is precious to me and personal, but I would be remiss if I did not share once in a while that without my faith--my belief in a God who does care about me--and my time in prayer, I would be a complete wreck. I think prayer is one of the greatest mysteries in the universe. People either believe in God or they don't. People read the Bible because they believe in it and put it to work in their lives or they think it's a nice collection of verses that can't have much application for today. But prayer. Prayer is different.

Quite a few of my friends who do not believe in God do ask for "good thoughts" or "good vibes" when they're going through a difficult time. Is this because they're selfish and just want me to think about them? Hardly. Can it be that collective thought on a positive outcome gives them a sense of comfort they wouldn't have otherwise? Maybe. Is the idea out there for us all that we can somehow help the universe along by hoping for a more positive outcome? I think deep, deep down we do hope for that.

Where does prayer fit into that? For me, prayer is one of the greatest mysteries of life. I don't embrace the idea that God is up there like a vending machine, that if I just pester Him enough or plead in just the right way He'll give me what I want. That's plain wrong. I think prayer works in the opposite way. As C. S. Lewis so eloquently put it, "I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time--waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God--it changes me."

That is what I know to be true. When Lily's illness or financial frustration or sibling bickering drives me bonkers, I remember the verses I read in my Bible that morning, like "don't be anxious but be thankful" or "have a joyful heart" or "love unconditionally." And I pray. In praying, my mind becomes less all-about-me and more what-can-I-do-to-make-today-better. I become less focused on my own problems and more focused on loving others.

I'm no theologian. And I've never been eloquent with words or opinions. But I know this to be true: prayer is a lifeline for me.

Where, Oh Where...
are my pictures?

I have been terrible lately, forgetting my camera and not taking photos. For example, yesterday we drove to our good friends' cabin in the mountains. The kids were jumping off 15 foot embankments into snow drifts. Carver actually managed a few flips. And what was I doing? Not taking pictures, that's for darn sure. Okay, I was yakking away with my friend Ali and hoping my kids wouldn't break their necks, but I was also not taking any pictures. I've got to remedy that.

It's Sunday morning and that usually means we would be getting ready for church. (I love our church.) But today we literally have no food in the house and I'm afraid David won't be speaking to me if I don't go to the grocery store immediately. Also, it's a rare cloudy day in Colorado, and I can not seem to get out of my pajamas. So of course I'm blogging and procrastinating, but I will get to the store eventually.

Carver is still at the cabin, sleeping there with his friend. We gained their daughter Bailey, who is currently snuggled up with Lily in Lily's bed. Zinabu, my shadow, is sitting on the floor next to me, giving me a play-by-play of whatever cartoon he's watching. I am very slooooooowly looking up recipes on Pinterest, Google, and my cookbooks. I'm slowly transitioning back to a vegan diet, and I'm also slowly transitioning back to exercise. My knee has completely healed from my surgery in October, so I've begun running. I'm using the famous "Couch to 5k" app on my iPhone, and even though the process is slow, I'm hoping I can regain my stamina without re-injuring anything.

So that's my Sunday. Hope yours is a wee bit more exciting than mine.

No Rest For The Weary

Lily had to have two teeth pulled this morning. Not baby teeth. Permanent teeth. I swear, I'm begging God to just give her a break. I have a whole post written in my head about prayer and its role in my life, but that's for another day.

Lily has no permanent incisors. They are the teeth that live right next to your two front teeth. The dentist told me it can be hereditary, so we'll just chalk that up to another medical mystery in our kids that we don't know the history behind. Anywho, when you are faced with this predicament, you have several options. Close the gap between her two front teeth, leave the gaps where the incisors should be, and give her a retainer with false teeth for the next several years. Then, when her jaw stops growing (around age 20), she can have a bridge or implants. The other option is to pull two bottom teeth so that all the teeth match up in number and for her bite, then with braces move all the teeth forward to close the gaps.

David and I thought a good long time about this, and there's no right or wrong way to do this. I think different orthodontists and dentists have different opinions about it, too, but in the end we chose the pulled teeth and braces. Well, she would have had braces regardless, but this is to bring all her teeth forward and align them. I just looked at the future and foresaw multiple lost and broken retainers, issues with fake teeth, and Lily not having dental insurance when she's in her 20s if she's not on our plan anymore. Plus, for her sake, we wanted this over and done with. Fix it now in the next two years and not worry about it again.

So after putting it off for as long as possible, I took Lily to our dentist today to have the bottom teeth pulled. At this point in my life, Lily is the bravest person I know. With all her current medical issues, she has every right to chuck some serious rotten eggs at life. But she gets up each day and does her best. The best for her. Taking her to the dentist broke my heart, but she did it! Then, stuffed full of gauze and completely numb from the nose down, we went to Target to pick out some toys and games. I rarely do this for my kids, but can you think of a better reason to spoil her? I can't.

Right now we just finished playing electronic Simon, attempted oatmeal (seriously funny), and plan to watch a horse movie.

Lily, I love you so much!

MLK Day
I wish I could say that for Martin Luther King Jr's birthday we celebrated by singing "We Shall Overcome" together. We didn't. Instead, I watched Carver do this:

I'm sorry, Martin.

Book Review
Let's see, recently I read.... (insert crickets chirping). Not a whole lot. I did get a book from the library about Lily's disease, but it was more harmful than helpful. I find that, yes, I need to stay informed, but too much information makes my head swim and causes me to lose sight of today. If I stay focused on today, I am in a much better place. And that's all I need.

I remember checking out something from the library, but I never touched it and had to return it before I ever got to read it. Please understand that I have always been the type of person that needs 146 books next to her bed in order to feel calm. I have always HAD to be reading something. But I don't have much time to read any more, and these days when I go to bed I just watch something on Netflix in my iPhone to escape. Always something funny. Always something to help me forget about everything. It's good therapy.

However, the kids are reading. Carver more voraciously than anyone. It's strange to have a child that is now old enough to be into books that I know nothing about. It used to be that we'd read together, or he would read books that I had already read (like Harry Potter or the Chronicles of Narnia or The Hunger Games). But now he gets the Middle School books of the year list and dives in. He just completed some mystery trilogy, and he is currently reading a fantasy novel about Frankenstein's apprentices. We have found audio books to be spectacular!!!! He can go through them like he goes through his socks: ridiculously fast. If you haven't gotten your kids in the habit of sitting and listening to books on tape or CD, I highly recommend it. I started Carver when he was 4 or 5, and it has been an invaluable tool in his life. He will still sit and play with Legos, and listen to a novel at the same time. And when his brother or sister get to be too much for him, he escapes into his headphones and a book.

Lily prefers non-fiction, which I am still not used to. I just don't know what to make of that. How can you not love a good novel? But she doesn't. She's her own person, and she prefers fact and science to fantasy or fiction. She is currently reading The Secret World of Wild Horses, The Encyclopedia of Horse Ownership, and Horses and Ponies: A Guide for Beginners. (Um, do you see a common theme?) Not my cup of tea but she does read them. I actually just offered to pay her to read a chapter book. She's considering it.

Zinabu is also turning into a book lover, but he doesn't like to sit alone to read. He prefers to be next to someone or reading aloud while somebody listens. Like when I'm on the phone or trying to cook dinner. The problem with that is he likes to stop every fifth line or so to tell you what's going on and give you the play-by-play to the plot. Remember, he's my verbal one. So he doesn't read as much as he could because he runs out of people who are willing to listen to him. I still read aloud to him every night, and he still loves picture books. He's currently reading The Spiderwick Chronicles.

Let it be known I'm taking book suggestions. I need something that is good enough to make me desire to stay up past my bedtime and get lost in its words. Any ideas? Hit me!

Update
I have some good news to report. Lily is feeling better. A lot better. One of the therapies the doctor wanted to try seems to be helping. She's sleeping better, too, and that is phenomenal. It feels so wonderful to watch her have more normal, pain-free days. It gives us great hope that 2012 will be a little easier than 2011. The doctors have warned us, though, that at times she can regress health-wise, but for now we'll take the improvement.

She's so brave!

How Free?

David's journal from his bike trip.

When David was 17, he rode his 10-speed bike from his small town in Minnesota to Washington state, then down to California.

Alone.

Please imagine this with me. Still in high school. No cell phones. No family stops along the way. One boy. One bike. The great unknown and hours and hours and hours by himself. Imagine all the things that could have gone wrong.

Except, nothing really did. He prepared his trip really well, he knew how to take his bike apart, fix it, and put it back together. He budgeted his money for food and supplies. He had family and friends send him letters at post offices along the way. He knew what he was doing and he did it. He confided in me that it was one of the hardest things he's done, but also one of the most rewarding. His mom once said, "I'm not really sure what we were thinking letting him go on that trip all by himself." And we've joked that it was a bit of stretch, his parents letting him do that all by himself. But David was (and is) pretty responsible and was (and is) really great at planning travel. So it all worked out.

If you're not a frequent reader of Free Range Kids, then you should be. I absolutely love that blog and read it often to get a dose of parenting reality. I think, as a parent, I fall somewhere in the middle. Pretty protective in some areas, and super lenient in others. If you've been to our house you know we are surrounded by trees, rocks, and the occasional cactus. Sometimes people will come to our house and be visiting with me and suddenly gasp, "Your children! They're going to kill themselves!" I follow their gaze and see my kids hanging from trees, jumping off giant rocks, and sitting precariously close to places where Black Widow spiders most likely live. For me, when my kids are outside I really don't care what they do. I want them to ride their bikes around the neighborhood by themselves, get to know strangers (like our neighbors), play, get filthy dirty, and build things with hammers and nails. I want them to (and I let them) ride elevators by themselves and meet me at the top. I want them to (and I let them) go into the grocery store with money, pick up some milk, pay for it, and meet me back at the car. I want them to (and I let them) be out of my sight for long periods of time and solve their own problems. Right now Zinabu is in the kitchen cutting his own apple with (gasp) a knife! These sound like such little things, but in today's version of parenting, they're monumental.

Would I let Carver, at age 17, ride his bike to Maine? Probably not. But I always hope I am the kind of parent that lets my children stretch their wings, test the water, loosen the apron strings, and gain some independence without me always hovering over them, making sure their grapes are forever cut in half or that they have clean socks.

It's all about balance.

Hair-A-Thon
My fingers are bent in the cramped position. Carver's hair is looooong, and he loves having it in cornrows. I did his hair last night, and this morning I am doing Lily's twists. Twists are way faster than braids, but all in all the entire process takes about 5 hours. We're taking a break right now to not kill each other stretch and grab a snack.Thank the good Lord for podcasts. I am blissfully listening to all kinds of information goodness while Lily plays on the computer and I comb and part and wet and twist and repeat. During November Lily was feeling especially crummy health wise and didn't really want me touching her hair. I let it go, but we've paid for it. I spent a good two hours combing (and cutting) the knots out of her hair. We're in a better place now and I'm hoping I can keep on top of her hair. Not to mention she looks so darn cute with her hair done well.

An FYI about the tamale recipe in the previous post. It was the BOMB.COM! All my kids devoured them. However, I found that I had three times the amount of masa and not nearly enough veggie filling. So I would halve the masa amount you make and triple the filling amount. I also added Boca meatless crumbles to my veggie filling and it was divine. I'm pretty sure homemade tamales are now a part of our regular meal rotation.

The Great Food Experiment

Thanks to his formative years in Ethiopia, Zinabu is by far my most adventurous and well-rounded eater. He loves Ethiopian food (duh!), he loves comfort food, he loves Mexican food, he loves Chinese food, vegetarian, Indian, middle eastern, and anything else you can come up with. Primarily this is because he loves food. Period. He is still pretty sensitive to when and where his next meal is coming from. He wants to know the food agenda every day. And he gets a tiny bit antsy when the pantry is low. So all in all, food makes him happy.

But his taste buds are seriously a mother's dream. He doesn't like cheese or pasta (my two favorite items in the universe), but other than that, he's happy about anything. He also goes through hot sauce like tokens at Chuck E. Cheese.

My other kids... not so much. Lily is better than Carver, but they still have their ten favorite foods and don't like to stray too far from them. Lily, at least, loves fruit and vegetables and I have no problem getting her daily doses of vitamins and minerals. But Carver.

He's thirteen and I'm still sneaking spinach into his smoothies. He loves white food. Bread. Tortillas. Cheese. He hates vegetables. Most fruit makes him gag. Literally.

But I'm ever optimistic and always wanting my kids to eat as healthy as possible. I used Pinterest this morning to find some interesting recipes... especially foods from other cultures. Here's my list for the week.

Saturday: Vegetarian tamales with salad. I found the recipe here.
Sunday: Falafels and fruit salad.
Monday: Tomato garbanzo bean soup with sandwiches and salad. Recipe here.
Tuesday: Vegetable casserole with pesto and polenta (for me), chicken for everyone else. I'm not stupid.
Wednesday: We have company that night, and I'm trying my hand at spinach and cheese enchiladas. One of my most favorite meals in the world.
Thursday: Tortellini and marinara sauce, garlic bread and salad.
Friday: I'm done. We go to our favorite New York style pizza restaurant.

I think I finally figured out why I hate to cook. For the most part, it makes a mess. A big mess. Between prep work, cooking, eating, and then clearing the table, I use a lot of our dishes, pots and pans, and the sink is full. I really would rather make everyone a piece of toast and call it a day. I also hate the amount of time it takes to make a meal for 6 people, plus clean up. Am I just incredibly slow, or does it take the rest of you two hours to do all that? Seriously, if I begin prep work around 4:30, make the meal, serve it by 5:30 or 6, we eat, then clean up... by the time I'm done it's 6:30 or 6:45. Yes the kids help (a little), and yes there are days when my meals don't take that long, but on average it's a production. I always plan my meals so we know what we're having, but I just wish the entire process was a wee bit easier.

And I just looked at the time. If I'm going to attempt homemade tamales (my first time), I'd better get moving. Who knows how long this will take.

This and That
Today is oddly warm. Like 60 degrees. I am cleaning the carpets and opening windows and you could easily convince me it is April.

David and I just finished the Jason Bourne movies. I loved them. I feel like running around the house, fists clenched in case I need to punch an intruder. We are a little slow in the entertainment department, and we like to watch movies that are a few years old. (That's a nice way of saying we have no time to watch movies and try to see what we can when the mood strikes.)

Carver is going to a laser tag lock-in with his youth group tonight. I have to drop him off at 11:30 pm. I don't even know if I am physically capable of staying up that late.

Someone I love very much is going to find out today the prognosis of her husband's cancer. It makes me feel sick to my stomach that they have to go through this. That they have to sit in a doctor's office to find out the future of their lives. We've been there and it is horrible.

Our extended family are coming on January 8th to celebrate Christmas and New Year's with us. Which means we leave the Christmas tree up until then. I am trying to be a good sport about that, but I get an eye-twitch every time I walk by the ornaments.

My mom gave me a gift card to buy some new clothes. She is so great. Now, I just have to find some time to sneak away and do a little shopping. That's a Christmas miracle all on its own.

David has been home for two whole weeks. It has been bliss. I think he needs to prepare himself to walk back into work on Monday with me hanging onto his legs, kicking and screaming. It will not be pretty. I just can't let him go.

Lily is dog sitting for some friends of mine. So we have Buddy (our dog), Gus (the friend's dog), gerbils and babies, plus a rabbit and a goldfish. All in all, there are 12 critters in the house. You can imagine that Lily is on cloud nine. She is.

I can not believe that we JUST got our tax refund from the IRS and it's almost time to do taxes again. Unfair.

Our computer software Net Nanny now blocks me from Tesi's blog because she likes to swear a little. I find this so hilarious for some reason.

Post-Christmas Blah
Those after-Christmas blues you sometimes read about? Well, I have 'em. All that wonderful excitement and joy leading up to the big day, and after the last present was opened and the last sugar cookie frosted, it dawned on me that life is still the same this side of Christmas as it was before Christmas.

You know that in your head, but it takes a while for your heart to catch up.

We had a small Christmas. Well, small by wealthy North American standards. Totally lavish by standards in other countries. My kids were fine. Actually, I don't think they really noticed. But how pathetic that I noticed and seemed to care. I had to give myself LOTS of lectures about not giving in to the pressures of consumerism. It was a wake-up call for me to do a self-check of our needs and wants. It was also a wake-up call for me to remember that our lives will be the same following a big celebration as they were before. Lily will still be sick. So I'm learning to lower my expectations. And that's ok. We had a fantastic day and we're all loving our break together.

To make life even more interesting, Lily bought gerbils for Carver for Christmas. While the pet shop ensured us they were both boys, alas... they are not. One girl. One boy. And the girl just had 6 babies.

Awesome.

Christmas Tree, 2011 Edition
We actually got our Christmas tree two weeks ago, but I just uploaded the photos to the computer yesterday.  We've been pleasantly busy this week. By busy I mean busy not doing dishes, busy not making our beds, busy not eating three square meals a day but snacking non-stop, busy playing in the snow, busy playing with each other and the dog, and the kids have been busy snooping for presents. (Mwahahahaha! They'll never find them!)

Every year our National Forest offers $10 permits to chop down your own Christmas Tree. (If you can't get to Bridget's house to get the one in her backyard, this is the next best option.) Every year we make the 30 minute drive, get donuts, and scour the woods for the perfect tree. The past few years we've been able to find a tree rather quickly. This year was a wee bit harder. It took some searching.

Zinabu, ready and excited.

Carver, a little upset he couldn't use a chain saw

Searching.

Searching.

Darling.

Caught eating snow.

Finally found one. Carver begins to chop.

Lots of chopping. We helped by watching and cheering.

Back home with our super-sized Charlie Brown tree.

Our trees are tall and somewhat sparse, but we load them down with colorful kid ornaments. They're often clumped more on one side than the other. Heaviest ornaments are usually hung on small limbs so that the branches bend down and almost touch the ground. I love our trees. I need to take a photo of the finished product, but the memories created each year as we do this are priceless.

Stage Hand
This week was Zinabu's 2nd grade holiday play! Entitled "Melten, The Warm-Hearted Snowman," it was cute overload times 1,000. Zinabu, on the other hand, is not so into elementary school musicals. He's not keen on people looking at him--on stage or anywhere else, for that matter. So while all the other kids were getting excited to be elves and reindeer and snowmen and the "town's children", Zinabu was having panic attacks about being in "Melten." His teacher understood his frustration and understood that forcing a kid to do something they really hate is just plain lame. So she gave him the job of curtain opener. He got to stand behind the stage (where no one could see him) and open the curtain at the beginning of the play and then close it at the end. I was so happy that Zinabu was happy. Tuesday night we all went to his play and it was adorable. Our favorite part, though, was when the curtain moved.

Zinabu with two friends who were elves.

At the end of the play, Zinabu was called out on stage to bow. You can see that he bowed quickly and was already heading for the wings faster than you can say "Justin Bieber." I barely had time to take a picture.

Weepy, Whiny, Wednesday
I said I would allow myself one day a week to whine. You're in luck. Today's the day.

Things are in a weird holding pattern. As in... I'm holding my breath, Lily's holding together, my mom holds my hand, and David holds the boys. We're holding it in, holding out for a miracle, and holding our heads up high.

However, at night I weep. I weep into my pillow and wonder how on earth I will get up the next day and do it all over again. Lily is still not in school. Still not where her doctors want her to be. Still not okay. Still on medication that could cause permanent damage to her body. Still missing out on a lot of life.

I am not taking nearly as many photographs as I used to because I'm afraid that when I look back on them in a few years, I will remember only the pain and heartache of this season. I am ready for 2011 to be O.V.E.R. No guarantees that 2012 will be any better. It could be worse. But as far as 2011 is concerned, stick a fork in it. It's done.

Inside vs. Outside
On the outside I look a little like this.

Well, minus the map and binoculars. (I leave those to Meghan.) I am, unfortunately, somewhat rumpled. I wear a baseball cap out of desperation when my hair will not cooperate. I have a bag of crap slung over my shoulder. I am either coming or going and not necessarily getting much done. I am average.

But what do I feel like on the inside?

Curvy and strong. Smoky eyes. A killer voice that belts out the blues. Awesome hair that always looks nice. Strength and compassion and purpose fill my days. On top of everything. Eternally young.

No, I can't sing. And no, I would never wear that much eye make-up. But that's how I feel on the inside. I think as kids we feel a certain way on the inside and assume that's how we present ourselves to the world. At a certain age, we have to come to grips with the cruel reality that what we feel like on the inside is not always how the world perceives us or even allows us to be.

One of my kids has a strong personality, and I often feel the frustration of trying to contain him. But why am I containing him? Shouldn't I let him be who he feels like for as long as possible? So without further ado, let me show you who my kids are on the inside.

Carver

Lily

Zinabu

Long live childhood

What Have You...
given up for your child?

In the wake of the London Vacation Tragedy (as I now refer to it in my head), I find myself teetering on the edge of feeling sorry for myself and feeling grateful to be able to take good care of Lily. I allowed myself one weekend to feel all the pain about cancelling our vacation plans, and then I had to move on. I confess I still have to be careful not to spend much time on Facebook, because it feels like everyone and their third cousin has just traveled, is traveling, or is going to travel to somewhere amazing. If I dwell there too long, I feel a pity party coming on and I have to be super-duper careful not. to. go. there.

Over the past week, though, I've challenged myself to think about what I, as a parent, continually give up in order to be a parent. It's not just one trip to London. Parenting is a lifelong act of giving up. Everything from sleep to a trim waistline, from complaint-free meals to song choices on the radio, from financial abundance to worry free evenings, you give up a lot. But would I have it any other way? Certainly not. Despite the fact that I still spend way too much of my free time attempting to match up socks, I would be the most selfish person on the planet were it not for my kids and the lessons they teach me about letting go. Letting go of having things my way in order to embrace a new way of doing things.

And unless you grew up in a cave, someone gave up a whole lot in order to raise you. Regardless of your relationship with your parents or caregivers, you are a walking, talking, functioning member of society because someone sacrificed for you. Their time. Their money. Their season in life to travel. Whatever.

So London is currently off the table of things we're looking forward to, but my day-to-day bursts of joy are not. They remain ever present. Ever there. Ever reminding me that my sacrifices are not equal to the love I receive.

Besides, maybe someday the doors will open for us to go to Holland.

When Christmas Goes Bad
Just found this hilarious blog post on the worst Christmas Nativity sets... ever. Go here to view them yourself. But only when you have time to laugh out loud. I personally can't decide between the Irish Nativity or the Meat Nativity. I'm dying to know your favorites.

Highlights from Thanksgiving
Our Thanksgiving trip to the mountains was fabulous on so many levels. Mostly because we left "life" behind at our house and escaped from all our responsibilities and demands. Lily was feeling pretty good that week, too, so she was able to keep up with her brothers in the pool and in the snow. It's always hard going on vacation because our family feels so conspicuous. I don't feel that way at home. I guess when we're in our own town keeping to our own routine I don't feel as sensitive to people's stares and questions. But when we're away from home, I'm hyper-sensitive to it. It doesn't help that my kids were the only children of color within a 45 mile radius. The only African American we saw that week was our waitress, which is not exactly what I'm looking for in regards to diversity. But my kids get trophies for adapting to their environment, sticking together, and shrugging off long glances and stares. When you become a conspicuous-looking family, you sign up for a lifetime of being under a microscope. I'm not complaining about it, because we chose this. You do get tired, though, of the same personal questions from strangers over and over and over again. Is it bad that I hope one of these days one of my kids will just pipe up and say, "Shut up!" to the next person that asks if they're siblings?

Watching the kids play.

Lily comes down the sledding hill. 

My kids in a blizzard at the inner tubing hill. You can barely make it out in the background. It was ffffrrreeeezing, but they totally rocked it anyway.

A whole week of this view. Good therapy indeed.