As long as Joe gets a vote, I think our family will be doomed treated to the early (6:30 a.m.), sunrise service on Easter Sunday. Amazingly, even little Caroline adapted just fine to being woken more than two hours earlier than normal.
What a whirlwind of traveling, overeating and celebration the past few weeks have been.
Christmas Eve. Here. Dad and Diana are here. They bring Alex, fresh off an airplane from Tulsa. Bob arrives around the same time, but falls victim almost immediately to a harsh stomach bug and spends the evening resting.
There are times where there is so much going on that I don't even know where to begin, blogging-wise. The everyday activities we busy ourselves with have kept us... well, they've kept us busy.
A birthday (mine). Gatherings with old friends. Kid activities. Laundry. Schoolwork. The fun and the mundane; we've been doing it all this past week and it has kept us on the move.
And so, a highlight: my birthday kickball game in Silver Lake. I mandated participation by all family members and all complied. My team, The Destroyers (Bob missing from photo),
was, ultimately, completely crushed by Pretty in Pink
but along the way we had a lot of laughs (check out my sister's outfit),
some injuries (Joe pulled a hamstring)
and a whole lot of fun.
A certain litigator in our family was just promoted to partner status at his law firm. Insert big, big sigh of relief. Congratulations, Joe! To use my favorite off mic political quote ever: This is a big *bleep*in' deal!
The change has been so gradual that I don't even know quite when it started. What I know, is that my Hank, my little boy, who used to look to me for all decisions to be made or any familial disputes to be arbitrated, now looks to his father. I am not saddened by this--at least no more so than I was when Elisabeth stopped breastfeeding or when Madeleine made her first solo trip around the block, which is to say I see this development as expected, a typical milestone for a seven-year-old boy on a course for eventual manhood.
Trips to the hardware store, once boring and something to be avoided, are coveted trips for my son to make alone with his father. Going to bed before Joe arrives home from work on days when he left before Hank arose is visibly upsetting to this little boy who desires, at the very least, a goodnight kiss from his dad. An opinion sought from me is now double-checked with Dad, a necessary exercise for a little boy, I suspect, who fears his mom will advise something too girly, too feminine.
Last evening, his sisters and friends from the neighborhood played and climbed trees in our backyard while Joe readied the grill. 
It didn't take long for Hank abandon the kids and, instead, fully commit to his spot by the grill-- with his dad.
Please, indulge me. Allow me to jot down random thoughts about books here and there and, if you're so inclined, respond. Tell me what you're reading. Tell me if you've read what I have read or am reading, and if your thoughts are the same as mine. I don't belong to any book clubs, so favor me, if you will, with your thoughts and recommendations.
Jane Ray's edition of Snow White is enchanting and Elisabeth has been requesting it be read to her a lot lately. The illustrations are lovely and Ray's adaptation is much more faithful to the original than the Disney-fied versions of late.
Madeleine is reading Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl and it has spurred a lot of interesting discussion in our home. And, to show how pathetic my memory is these days, I can't even remember if I toured the Anne Frank museum when I was in Amsterdam many moons ago. Madeleine wants me to dig out my pictures of that trip so we can we can see what, if anything, I saw. Is it possible I visited Amsterdam without visiting the museum? It seems unlikely; I read and was moved by Frank's diary as a young girl myself. How, then, can I not remember. Frustrating.
Ballet Shoes is my read and it's for our next Mother/Daughter book club meeting. I wish I could say I was loving it, but I am persevering. On the other hand, Madeleine enjoyed it immensely.
Joe bought himself a copy of William F. Buckley's book The Reagan I Knew with some Christmas gift cards. I hear him chuckling a bit when he's reading it. I suppose it would be difficult for a Reagan fan to not enjoy reading his personal letters and exchanges with a friend.
The Saddle Club book is (was?) Madeleine's late-night, my-mom-and-dad-think-I'm-asleep-but-I'm-really-reading book. She tears through this trash at light speed and I think this is the one she's on right now. She has other Saddle Club and Nancy Drew (the old, original ones) waiting in the wings.
We read The Tiger Rising by Kate DiCamillo as a family and uttered the final word just last night. This one was a heart-wrenching, emotional journey versus an adventure sort of journey and it gave our family a lot to talk about when it concluded. I do love the stories DiCamillo weaves, but I am thankful we read this story out loud so that I could edit language I would rather not have included in children's books. I'm no prude and I know my children have heard me mumble an expletive or two under my breath, but I don't understand why they're ever necessary in children's literature.
We're thinking of The Jungle Book as our next family read aloud. We'll try a chapter or two out and see if it grabs us. I suspect from previewing the first few pages that it will.
Out Stealing Horses. What can I say about this book? Oh, is it ever lovely. The story is building slowly, but the writing is captivating. The book is so engrossing and so haunting that I have been forcing myself to read more slowly, to treasure every moment and ensure that it not end too soon. I am only halfway through, but so far I adore this book.
The Seventeenth Swap and McBroom's Wonderful One-Acre Farm are what Madeleine and Hank are reading for their assigned, school reading. Madeleine says the The Seventeenth Swap is horrible and boring and dull. Hank is ambivalent about McBroom's Farm, but I suspect he's enjoying it more than he's letting on based on his guffaws while reading and how he becomes so engrossed while reading it that he reads more than assigned.
Save Hank, we all like to read. And, well, Hank doesn't know it yet, but he likes to read too. I am convinced he could not possibly enjoy being read to as much as he does without one day growing in affection for the activity itself. So, the Hankster doesn't read for fun. But lately, as he has been staying up later, we've been insisting on some quiet time before bed. Sometimes we read aloud as a family, sometimes Madeleine or Hank will read a book to Elisabeth or sometimes we all sit together but read independently and, because of that, Hank does have a book he's reading right now that is not an assigned school book. He chose Jake Drake, Know it All. While I don't find Clements' writing to be all that challenging, his plots to be all that sophisticated or his characters very layered, there is no denying the fact that kids enjoy his books. Hank is reading a book. For fun. I'm counting this as a win.
Ah, Duck on a Bike. All of my kids have gone through a Duck on a Bike phase, and I suspect Caroline will too. Something about the barnyard animals and the repetition... I don't know, but my kids have all loved it.
That's it, for now. I don't know what I am going to tackle next; I suspect I'll make my decision as things come with my holds at the library. What are you reading?
My kids are different. Really different.
Upon arriving at our hotel in Appleton last weekend, Hank and Elisabeth chucked their bags wherever they could find floor space and immediately began to pester Joe about going down to the pool. 
Not Madeleine.
No, she methodically got the lay of the land, organized who was sleeping in which rooms and which beds and, once she had staked out her spot, carefully unpacked her things and arranged them on the ledge behind her bed. When she realized Elisabeth had no interest in doing the same, Madeleine, muttering under her breath all the while, carefully unpacked Elisabeth's doll and arranged her things on her half of the ledge behind their bed. 
Madeleine also set out her diary and a pen on the desk in her room and then, when she realized Joe was still figuring out that evening's hockey schedule and Hank and Elisabeth were still whining about possibly not being able to swim until later in the evening, Madeleine promptly kicked back and relaxed in her newly organized room.
Madeleine is a girl after my own heart. That's all I'm sayin'.
Saturday night Madeleine and Joe attended a father and daughter dance. The formal invitation to the dance came over a month ago and it would be no exaggeration to say that Madeleine was counting down the hours until the event's arrival. Over two hours before the dance's scheduled start time, Madeleine started choosing clothes, asking for help with her hair, wondering why Joe wasn't putting on his suit, etc., etc.
Finally the long-awaited hour of departure arrived.
After a few hours of a dessert buffet and learning new dances (the Car Wash, anyone?) the pair arrived home happy and full of tales about all they had seen (one of the dads brought his daughter in a LIMO!) and the fun they'd had ("Mom! There was a CHOCOLATE fountain!")
Ten years ago, on a day much like today-- sunny and cold-- Joe and I exchanged our wedding vows in front of friends, family and God. It was a beautiful day, and still one of my absolute favorite days, ever.
During the ceremony.
Our gorgeous cake made for us by my incredibly talented cousin (sixty-five's daughter!).
Happy Anniversary, Joe!
The other night I had the privilege of hearing Joe's aunt, the oldest of eight children, six who are still living (two died as babies) recount some fascinating stories from her childhood. This aunt was born in Europe to Ukrainian parents and was about four or five-years-old when her parents brought her to America. They spent some time in New York and eventually she and her two younger brothers and her parents made it to Milwaukee.
Shortly after they arrived in Milwaukee the younger of those two brothers died. He was an infant. She described renting a small house with four other families at this time. She remembered her parents not speaking English. She remembered her baby brother being taken to the hospital and she remembered being left in that house all by herself, not knowing where her parents and baby brother were.
I've heard this story before, but from Joe's grandmother. Hearing her describe her confusion, her infant son being taken away in an ambulance and not being able to understand where he was being taken, let alone trying to understand the doctors once she finally figured it out, are heart wrenchingly interesting.
So, as Joe's aunt described these events Madeleine sat and listened. She was riveted and as the tale was recounted Madeleine's eyes grew wider and wider. When the story finally concluded Madeleine enthusiastically remarked, "Wow, that sounds so exciting! My life is so dull!"
And Joe's response?
"You're welcome."
Every year Joe saves part of the trunk of our Christmas tree and makes an ornament for each person in our family out of it. Someday I really should photographically chronicle each ornament, but they're all put away right now, so that will have to wait until December 2010.
For now, though, here is the ornament he made this year out of our family's 2008 Christmas tree.
As much time as Joe spends at work, he and I realized a few weeks ago that Dad and Diana had never seen his office. It's fun to see someone where they work, so on New Year's Eve we arranged a tour.
Here is Joe at his desk, where all the magic happens.
Here are Dad and Diana enjoying my kids' favorite room-- the break room. There is hot chocolate and a TV in there.
Here is a picture of his firm's lobby, all decked out for Christmas. Isn't it pretty?
Here is Joe surveying the view from the window in his firm's lobby. 
The next hard-nosed litigator in the family?
Or, maybe not.
The girls take their turn running a deposition.
Obviously they're so good they need no notes, no paperwork, nothin'. I'm quaking in my boots just looking at them.
Fun day. We all appreciated the tour whether it was our first or thirty-first trip.
It's amazing to me how happy a simple, seemingly meaningless, change can make me.
Joe and his friends at work finally finished up a bottle of twelve-year-old doublewood Balvenie single malt Scotch Joe had at work. As soon as it was gone, I swiped the bottle and filled it up with with canola oil and threw the ugly, plastic Roundy's bottle away. Since my oft-used olive and canola oils sit out on the counter, this pleases me to no end.
Next up? As soon as Joe works his way through a half empty bottle of twelve-year-old Elijah Craig bourbon my olive oil will find a new, pretty home.
We had a few hours of a sickness-free home last night. And then, at about 3 a.m. last night the spell was broken and first I got sick and an hour later Joe.
Whatever. We'll be fine; the kids all had this for a relatively short period of time, but what has me worried is Caroline. I could keep the kids away from her but, obviously, I can't stay away from her; the poor babe needs to eat.
If you could spare some prayers for Caroline, I would appreciate it. Things will get pretty miserable in a hurry if she gets this.
Missing out on a tradition, even one you have professed to dislike, is never fun. Once something becomes a tradition it just feels like something you should do and the routine of it all makes it fun.
For the past four or five years we've bought and put up our Christmas tree the same way. The steps are unchanging and suggesting even a slight alteration to the routine is usually met with no small amount of angst from some member of the family. These are the steps: 1) eat breakfast at some greasy spoon, 2) spend an absurd amount of time at a Christmas tree farm scoping out different trees, marking some, comparing others and trekking back and forth between finalists before finally choosing one and 3) take the tree home and spend the rest of the day decorating it.
It's a fun day and while I'm not overly fond of step two, I enjoy the day. It's worth noting that step two is Joe's favorite step.
Well, this year we had to change the tradition a bit. Poor Elisabeth Jane was still sick and, so, I stayed home with Caroline and Elisabeth while Joe took Madeleine and Hank out for steps one and two.
Madeleine and Hank pulling the newly chosen tree towards the car.
Caroline watching us decorate the tree.
Poor Elisabeth sleeping while we decorated the tree.
The final step, the placement of the star (we actually have a note in our star box telling us which kid's turn it is the next year).
And, finally, the finished tree. 
Joe and Hank got back from Wisconsin's Northwoods today, where they spent the weekend stalking Wisconsin's deer herd.
I hate deer hunting because of the huge block of time it takes Joe away and asked him point blank this afternoon if he thought he'd ever not deer hunt and instead bird hunt more frequently throughout the year.
In reply Joe relayed the following exchange. This morning, after he and Hank were sitting out in their tent for a few hours, Hank said to Joe, "You know what my favorite part of hunting is, Dad?" Joe said, "No, son, what is it?" And Hank smiled that goofy Hank grin and patted Joe to indicate that Joe was his favorite part. Just sitting out in that cold, boring tent drinking hot cocoa out of a thermos, looking for nonexistent deer and peeing into mayonnaise jars was enough for Hank because he was with his dad.
I admit it, my heart melted. As much as I like Joe to be around, clearly our boy got a lot out of having some special alone time with Dad.
I'm hoping some of the other photographers present at Caroline's baptism got some better shots than what I have. In each of mine someone in the picture has a wonky look on their face. Usually multiple people. Please, people, send me your .jpeg and .tif files-- I desperately want them!
In the interim, however, I'll share some of what I have.
Joe and me with Caroline following the service. The gown Caroline is wearing is the same gown worn by my great-grandmother, my maternal grandmother and now all four of my kids. While my mom and I did not wear it, others in our generations did, so the gown is on its fifth generation now. Of course, you can't really see the gown in any of my pictures because no one-- including me-- thought to get a close-up of just Caroline. Ugh!
Our whole crew.
Our family with Caroline's godparents.
Madeleine and Caroline with the cakes made by a very talented friend of ours from our congregation for Caroline's reception following the service.
I think most everyone who attended the service was able to join us for some cake, punch and coffee and I'm more than certain that at least fifty percent of our congregation held Caroline at some point. Madeleine kept asking when it would be her turn and grumbled how everyone else got to hold Caroline for too long. It was a fun celebration.
A much smaller crew including grandparents, godparents and a few friends joined us at home for a relaxing lunch that I failed to really record, photographically-speaking, except for the beautiful flowers Diana brought and the leftover cake.
As a side note, there are a million little things that happen through the course of life that make me miss my mom and it's usually the dumb little things, not the big important things. For instance, you'd think a big important day like Caroline's birth or her baptism would make my mom's absence hit home and it does, in a way, but you know what's really made her absence hit home today? The lack of pictures that I have from Caroline's baptism. Weird.
Anyway, it was a beautiful, happy day and such a joy to witness Caroline receive the blessings of baptism in the presence of family and so many good friends.
