The weary world rejoices

Here we are in the Octave of Christmas, otherwise known as "I have more free time on my hands with Patrick off work this week AND not using the computer and thus I blog." It's an annual tradition.

Advent has come and gone, and Christmas is here to stay for a goodly long time (if you count it until Candlemas, we have Christmas straight until 12 days before Ash Wednesday this year). I'm currently wearing my most festive apron over my boring mom uniform of leggings + tunic top, after having just made shortbreads for the clan for an afternoon snack.

Amazon boxes and duct tape to create... something. There is a pleasant holiday feeling in the air, and it is oh-so-welcome.

But let's recap the Advent-y-ness first and foremost before getting to Christmas.

***

The feast of Martinmas involved our traditional lantern walk. We modpodged some Mason jars the day before and walked around the wooded area by our church singing. It was very touching because one of my children didn't want to go before we actually ventured out. I gently insisted that he go, and not let his negative opinions about the activity known to the younger children.

At bedtime, said child said "I'm really glad that you made me go, because that was really fun. I like keeping up the same traditions year after year." Ah, be still my beating heart.

Lantern walks get chilly in our northern climate
and taking pictures of kids after dark with the flash on is... interesting

Also, I ordered this book and it helped to explain with such sweet illustrations what this feast day is about and why we observe certain traditions surrounding it.

(Yes, I realize that Martinmas is not actually part of Advent but it used to be associated with the final day of feasting prior to Christmas -- that is, the beginning of Advent -- so I can lump it in here. Plus it is MY blog so I do what I want...!)


Then I did some decorating. I just. love. pink. and. purple.

The Jesse tree added structure to our loose attempts at evening prayer and a lots of hilariously unpious moments with four vaguely feral children. In all seriousness, what they like is getting to hang the ornament on the tree and sing an Advent hymn. Pretty much the most solid Church music happens during Advent.

We prepared for St. Nicholas day by bagging golden coins and candy canes for their classmates.

And we put out our favourite St. Nicholas books, hoping he'd stop by our place.

Of course he did. He doesn't forget!

The excitement was palpable.

After school we baked some ugly delicious gingerbreads to continue the theme of 'Sugar Means Feast Day' in our home. It was actually a bit of a production because I had made the dough the night before with some Bob's Red Mill gluten-free flour blend. And then I tasted a tiny bite of it the next morning and gagged. The first few ingredients were sorghum and chickpea flour. No amount of nutmeg and ginger could mask that nastiness.

I should say that I bought that pre-made gluten-free flour to save a step.
It bit me in the corner-cutting rear big time.

So off to the health food store to buy the different flours I normally use (recipe found here), then back home to mix a container of it, then make more gingerbread dough... thus obliterating any normal productivity while the baby napped.

But we had our traditional cookies! And the horrifically inedible gingerbread dough became a structurally inadequate gingerbread house that I took no photos of, but should have!, because it was so amusingly misshapen and Patrick asked "aww, which one of the kids made that?" in an endearing voice.

It was me.

And our St. Lucy day morning was similarly undocumented, despite Anna being adorable in her dress and sash and crown doling out baked goods before dawn. Suffice to say, it's quite the feat to have set such an event up on an ordinary school morning. So grabbing my camera was not on the forefront of my mind.


So... moving onwards to Christmas.

***

I love this picture Noah took of our tree angel. It showcases my beloved tin ceiling.

We saved decorating our tree until the Fourth Sunday of Advent / Christmas Eve, making for a marathon of a day, what with brunch, the 11 AM Mass and getting ready for four guests and two dogs. There are still empty Rubbermaid totes on my bedroom floor that house our ornaments...

(photo by Noah)

But the lovely tree was cut down from our friends' farm and dropped off on our porch in plenty of time! We are well loved.

(photo by Noah)

I made pavlova for our Christmas dinner with family, as well as a pumpkin pie in a sheet cake format. (The tins of pie filling make two pies so I made one huge GF graham cracker crust and filled it with the usual pumpkin pie recipe. Handy, since I don't own two pie plates.)

I am so amused by this picture Noah took of me holding up the tree while Patrick tried to fiddle with the screws on the tree stand. The ornament prominently in front of me is from my beloved set of the 12 Days of Christmas ornaments from my grandmother. I'm in a suitable juxtaposition behind 8 Maids a-Milking.

Given that I have spent 71 out of 114 months of marriage breastfeeding, then yes, maids a-milking indeed.

Another artsy shot by Noah. That's the camera lens reflected in the tree ornament.

What a wonderful treat to have an aunt and uncle and two grandparents with us on Christmas Eve! We had always spent the night before Christmas with Patrick's parents when we lived on the East Coast, and this year they came to us! My mother-in-law, who is French-Canadian, made tourtiere and because she has her grade 10 in piano, she played carols for us as we did so many Christmases ago.

She even encouraged our youngest piano student to show off his skills. So precious.

I think I have several nearly identical blurry photos of Isaiah giggling with his grandmother, too excited to stand still.

A Narnia lamppost seems fitting in a place where it is (nearly) always winter but thankfully! Christmas comes every year!


We didn't go to Midnight Mass this year. Chalk that up to another thing I was smug about in my earlier days of parenting that I had to let go of, for this year at least.

When we went to wake up our children at 11:40, there were tears from more than one child. In previous years, they seemed stunned but in awe of getting up in the middle of the night and going to Mass. Given that we would have to forcibly remove them from their beds while sobbing, we opted for a Christmas morning Mass (in the Extraordinary Form) the next day.

(That particular Mass wasn't especially pious either, as the kids had already opened their gifts from us, eaten copious amounts of chocolate and were generally keyed up by life. Anna turned to Isaiah and said quite loudly in the quiet Church how she was so excited to go to her aunt's later that day, because she was going to "open so many presents, I'll vomit!"

The reason for the season or something...)




BUT! Despite a mild case of the gimme-gimmes, they were truly grateful and appreciative of their gifts. Noah repeated that sentiment to me at least five or six times over the following days, and their squeals of glee were delightful and worth it. After overthinking gift-giving for almost ten years of marriage, I have settled with great joy on the fact that they do receive an abundance of presents (three from us, and some from extended family, too) and that is perfectly okay. In fact, that very abundance, which is only experienced once a year, helps to communicate to them just how magnificent this feast day is.

Plus, I don't prescribe to minimalism anyway. I just am not a fan of identifying with any type of "ism" even if there is merit to it. (Before you ask, I'll state quickly, the phrase "Catholicism" is an aberration. It's the Catholic faith, not an ideological ism on par with, say, environmentalism.)

Enjoying some Amazon boxes and duct tape from his stocking on the third Day of Christmas.

It's like a flashback to Advent from 2012 (scroll down near to the bottom with the joys of cardboard and childhood)

Isaiah in his element -- by wearing overalls 'like a real farmer' and helping out with the farm chores.

Elijah suddenly has features of my side of the family. I'm not sure how, or who he resembles, but I see it now.

Just an eight-year old boy living his best life. Isaiah gave him a new Eleanor Estes book from our favourite used bookstore and he has had his nose in it since Christmas Day.

While we were decorating the tree, Anna found a particularly lovely ornament and she said, "Oh, I just need to give it a hug before I put it on the tree."

Sweetheart.

As Christmas continues to weave its happiness and contentment into our souls, I wish you and yours a lovely holiday!