On the seventh day of Christmas ...


... the kids made decorations for the front window. We didn't have time to get to it until after 8 o'clock last night, but with everyone working together helpfully, I didn't want to crush the creativity for bedtime purposes. CJ made a snowman that we hung on the wall rather than the window--he found sticky-tack on the back of a fish he'd made at nursery school and hung it himself. Fooey made a snowflake and a Santa. AppleApple made red and green holly to frame the corners, and Albus made blue snowflakes and a line of people holding hands.


On the eighth day of Christmas (ie. today), I've promised to make caramel popcorn balls. Maybe we'll use the recipe in our Little House on the Prairie Christmas recipes book. It would be appropriate because AppleApple is attending a Victorian classroom today--a field trip for her enrichment program. Here she is all dressed up and braided.

Yesterday was the kind of day that defines relentless. I received the final questions on the proofs for Juliet while sitting in an xray office with Fooey and CJ, having just dropped AppleApple at piano lessons, and while waiting for Albus to call my cell so I would know he was safely home. I was thinking today how strange it is that you can't always have your kids with you. Hm. That doesn't sound very profound. I was thinking of how strange it still feels to let them go and be independent, to know that they are capable of being out there in the world, without me. Same for my book--can it fend for itself? Is it ready?

(Oh, and the results of the xray came back positive for pneumonia. Which would explain my poor girl's endless nighttime coughing.)

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