Santa Came, Santa Saw, Santa Conquered

We had a wonderful, snow-covered Christmas (more snow in Alexandria, Virginia, if you can believe, than my brother's family did up in Vermont. How is that possible?). But snow, as we all know, is not the main event, when you're under 10. Judging by the faint jungle of sleigh bells and patter of hooves heard around midnight, Santa arrived just before the stroke and littered our beautiful tree with gifts for Harry and Charlotte, who awoke around 7 a.m. to see whether the Jolly One deemed them naughty or nice.

"That's a big truck!" beamed Harry as he approached the red and yellow Mack dump truck. It's one of those moments where a kid really doesn't know what to play with first. Charlotte zeroed right in on the Gymbo doll poking from the top of her stocking and even called out his name (something I didn't realize she knew), but "Gymbo" was clearly audible and she carried that silly little clown around all morning while she played with her other toys. I think he even got a spin in her new stroller with baby Mimi.

We stopped just long enough for breakfast and then resumed the unwrapping. I gave Paul some new running clothes (and a secret stocking gift...if you guess it, I will confess). I was given a Kindle and what shall be known here forward as the "emotional root canal" of 2009: he had several large reels of Smith-family home movies converted, secretly, from Super-8 film to DVD. And I watched, sobbing for nearly two hours (it was the images of me dancing, as a toddler, with my long-ago passed father, the love of my life, that pretty much sent me over the edge). Somehow I managed to pull myself together enough to enjoy dinner that night with my godmother and her husband Al. (Note to husband...next year...jewelry).

On to the New Year.

Carol-ine?

As the last hours to Christmas tick down, the Smith Barnes clan sends happy tidings to all of our family and friends. May your celebrations be snow-filled and warm and full of good cheer.

Last night we had the good fortune to attend a caroling party, the perfect way to ring-in the holiday. Nothing makes you feel like caroling more than snow (and champagne punch). Harry, I think, was quite convinced we were trick-or-treating, trying to enter each house for the goods as we carolers sang. Mostly, he thought we were looking for "Carol-ine," one of his girlfriends. He kept asking me, 'where is she?' A big, big thank you the Klines for hosting such an amazing party (if you have never put brie on a ginger cookie, well, I can tell you, you have not lived. Calorie free, these treats, they are not.)

Harry has today been bellowing Santa's name. He is currently refusing his afternoon nap and, best I can tell, is trying to figure out if there is still time to get on the naughty list. We went sledding again (our hill is quickly turning to ice, it was nice while it lasted) and Harry debuted his new blue boots, snow pants and gloves. Yes, Virginia there is a Santa Clause.

Soon it's off to the church pageant (we're watching only) and then home for a lamb roast. Pictured here are my angels trying this morning to convince me that they've been good. That and five bucks will buy you a bridge.

All together now "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas....."

Our Bolivian Snow Bunny

When I told Roxana to wear boots and a parka today to work -- that she was coming sledding with us -- her words were, and I quote "Oh Miss Leef, I don't want to die." Either she figured I'd relent (ha) or I'd take pity. But no, when the time came I insisted she at least walk up with us to see the sledding hill.

Within minutes, with just the slightest bit of prodding, she was racing down the hill on a saucer. "I'm never going home," she insisted. Charlotte, Harry, mom and dad all had fun, but honestly, I think Roxana's first-timer thrills trumped us. She's already talking about bringing her kids over on Thursday, before the snow melts, to show them just how much fun a little snow can be.

Editor's note: T-Minus 2 days until Harry's blue snow togs touch down. I've given up trying to take pictures that obscure his pink legs.

Hairy Harry

My boys went to see the nice ladies at Van's today in Old Town for a little trim. Next stop, the sledding hill before our lovely snow vanishes.

In the Pink

Yes, all it took were the proper clothes (visuals aside) to up Harry's snow-time enjoyment by a factor of 10. This mom is happy and relieved to report that the morning trek to the sledding hill was all joy, so says dad. On Harry's return home he raced up the stairs into my office (sadly mom does not have the day off), to tell me all about his time in the snow. Thank you pink powder pants. I owe you.

Snowed...The Blizzard of '09

Snow in DC puts homeowners through a set of stages, much like those associated with grief. There's disbelief that it will happen. Because 9 times out of 10 it doesn't. There's panic (we mock all those people rushing to buy TP and milk, but with a baby in the house, not having milk is suddenly a major worry). Paul took my car to Whole Foods to get said milk and sideswiped a concrete pillar. Let's just say he'll be making the call to State Farm, not me.

Eventually you wind your way to the anticipation and hard-to-suppress excitement stage. On Saturday morning, as I pulled Harry's shades, there it was, at least 6 inches of glorious, fluffy snow. He was ready to throw himself out the door without so much as a diaper.

We had pancakes, we talked big about the snowman we would make and the snow forts we would build and the amazing two days we would all enjoy under the cover of snow -- the kind of snow we won't like see here again for years. But this mom -- having not had a smidgen of snow here for two years -- simply did not prepare. Sure, Charlotte had a snowsuit, passed down from Harry, and Harry has all kinds of warm snow jackets and hats and mittens, Just enough to keep him toasty to and from school and on the playground.

But while every other sane parent was Fedexing clothes in from L.L. Bean on Friday or running to the mall in search of the last pair of toddler boots and sleds, I was still in the disbelief stage. So, come the weekend, poor Harry had no snow pants, no proper boots and no comfort in the snow.

Jeans get soggy. Woolen mittens go limp and frosty, rain boots are useless once they're packed with snow and this mom feels the total failure, because as a result, he just didn't love it as much as he should have. Paul and I of course loved it. Charlotte seemed to think it was wonderful (Paul built a snow fort (it really rocks), we constructed an awesome snowman complete with Santa hat and candy canes in each hands, but the chillier Harry got, the more he wanted to go back inside. So off we'd trudge, peeling off our own ski clothes and Charlotte's massive head-to-toe bunting and Harry's inadequate layers. A half hour later, he'd insist on going back outside. And the cycle would repeat, sometimes ending in tears, which are pretty hard to fathom out in a winter playland.

Paul has the day off (Federal snow day) and he and Harry are headed out to the sledding hill. And I've (ugh), broken out the Hannah Andersson snow pants in HOT pink that were a hand-me-down for Charlotte and sadly are Harry's perfect size (did I say ugh?? UGH!!), we've borrowed way-too-big boots from the neighbors and some better gloves. Such a happy time and I just feel so awful. Awful awful awful.

Perhaps we'll experience a day-long eclipse of the sun and no one on the sledding hill will see Harry's paisley-pink ensemble. I'm sorry baby. Mommy has taken out the credit card and spent an extra $21 on rush shipping. You bet I did.

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow

Some gifts are fun, even before they're formally opened.....particularly when the gift-giver stuffs the mailing box with shredded newspaper as my aunt and uncle did. I tried in vein to keep Harry out of the fluffy stuff, but finally gave up and showed him and Charlotte how much fun it is to throw the paper up in the air and yell "weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" We had a great time. Roxana thinks I need medication.