Christmas is a BIG deal {and that's okay}

I know the days of being able to wow our kids with a couple of thoughtfully-curated, $20 something Christmas gifts are numbered. Or are they?

I want to keep our family's focus on the real meaning of Christmas: Him. But I also want to really party it up, you know? And to me, party = presents. Not a ton of presents, necessarily, but a decent handful of brightly colored packages strewn under the (absolutely must be real) Christmas tree.

When I was growing up I remember one of the most magical moments of the season being that predawn treck down the stairs to the sight of a figurative ocean of Christmas presents spilling out from under the tree and filling the entry way of my parent's home. My parents knew how to go big.

But not necessarily bank-breaking big. With 7 kids (did you guys know I'm the oldest of 7?) times 3-4 presents each, plus grandparent gifts, we're talking somewhere in the neighborhood of 35-40 packages under that tree.

And it.was.awesome.

There was something about the superabundance of gifts under the tree that communicated, to my childish heart, the significance of the event we were celebrating. And it didn't matter that some of them were from the dollar store, or that inevitably, grandma's gifts were going to be lame pajamas (that I would die of happiness to receive today. Go figure.)

It was the ridiculous too-much ness of Christmas morning that helped me realize that ... this is a pretty big deal.

Now this is not to say that you can't have a lovely, minimalist Christmas punctuated by handmade gifts and baked goods. This is simply my own alternative perspective on the whole "Christmas is too commercialized/we're not doing presents on principle!" line of reasoning that seeks, rightfully so, to reclaim the season for Christ.

I think it can be both/and, though.

I think you can have a meaningful, sacramental, beautiful Christmas filled with bright paper packages and hymns and carols.

And I think it's okay to want to fill the space under the tree with a couple - or more than a couple - thoughtfully chosen gifts for your kids and spouse, never forgetting for a moment that He is the gift par excellence.

Also, we believe wholeheartedly in Santa in this house. But that's another post for another time.

So, without further ado, I present to you our hundred-something dollar Christmas which I hope will wow the crowd appropriately. (And, in keeping to a 3 gift per child limit, I realize that the only way we can really up the number of packages under the tree is by upping the number of butts in the seats. Gulp.)

For Joey, age 4:

This camera, which I fully expect to blow his mind while at the same time preserving my ancient iPhone to live to snap another day.

This collection of Star Wars peeps. Because my little apple didn't fall far from the tree.

This watch. Because learning! And Lightening McQueen.

For John Paul, age 2.5:

This remote control car. He's going to sob with delight when he opens it. And it alleges to be easily controlled by fat little fingers.

This watch. Because Batman.

This liturgically significant catechetical toy. Which will be shared by the whole clan, and will be personally delivered by St. Nicholas himself on December 6th. (My kids write letters to St. Nicholas, aka Santa, and leave them in their shoes on the evening of December 5th. Little do they know they're getting more than gold coins this year.)

For Genevieve, age 11 months:

These sweet little shoes. She's still utterly uninterested in doing anything resembling standing, but I figured these might give her some motivation. Plus, John Paul had a pair of Pedipeds in Italy and I loved them so much.

These adorable knee socks, which I pray can summit her 3-inch long calves and secure themselves above her cankles, staying in the upright position like no sock has yet to do.

And finally, this cool looking thing, which will be her first official "new" toy, not counting a baby doll and a stuffed kitty cat (all my kids have been given a Jellycat stuffie from birth and they are the attachment object par excellence. Do yourself a favor and check them out.)

So that's it. And looking over it in a list like this, it looks like a lot! But it was less than $150 for everything, and it will make for a nice little pile of packages under the tree. 

We also adopt a family equal in size to our own each year at our church, and I have a sort of unwritten rule that whatever we spend on our kids, we spend on theirs. It helps temper my natural desire to BUY ALL THE THINGS, and will be, we hope, instructive to our kids as they grow up and see that whatever we do for them we will match in charitable giving. So they could technically get twice as many gifts, but then the other family would not get their Christmas. 

So that's it. An alternative perspective on the annual introspective about presents vs. Jesus. Maybe He's the big Present, and the smaller ones help little impressionable people connect with that on a heart-deep level. That's my hope, at least.

 Now, onward to Advent!

Broad Spectrum Mothering

I just swept my kitchen table with the same broom I'd used moments before on the post-lunch bombed out floor under the swine's side of the table, and felt only the vaguest sense of shame washing over my subconscious in so doing.

Having spent the morning procuring various essential oils named after Olive Garden staple ingredients at our local Vitamin Cottage, I then trotted my two sick tots down to our NFP only, "vaccine whatever-you-say-goes, mom" family doctor where we waited half an hour to score some pink syrup in a BPA-full bottle. The good stuff. You know what I'm talking about.

Did I mention that while the boys were playing in the waiting room I gave them each a toxic plastic fire-engine shaped sippy cup to sip unfiltered tap water through? Or that I bought the pair of them used at Goodwill earlier this week.

Ew.

Later on we ate organic cheese and gluten free quesadillas before I rubbed both their feet and chests down with Italian herb and cheese scented oils and sent them off for a long afternoon nap. And it occurred to me: I am all over the board with this motherhood gig.

I have friends who babywear exclusively for months and months and monthsandmonthsand...don't actually own strollers. Or don't use them, anyway. I also have friends who co-sleep, friends who work as doulas, friends who feed their kids Kirkland's best frozen pizzas without batting an eye, and friends who spank swiftly and surely.

Some of us are vaccine avoiders, others are FDA-approved compliers. Some like organic berries and buy the rest conventional, and others wouldn't set foot inside a Walmart if there was an Anthropologie giftcard dangling enticingly over the 'entrance' sign.

I don't know if this is a unique phenomenon to practicing religious mothers or not, but for my circle of friends, far-flung across the globe and across the income spectrum, it seems like our philosophies for life and parenting are more informed by the Catechism than by the cultural pulse on parenting trends.

I have been to a breastfeeding support meeting where a woman tearfully admitted to some abusive behavior on the part of her husband in front of the entire group of moms...and the discussion immediately honed in on his demand that she give the baby a formula bottle at bedtime. Um, what? I was wondering if I had somehow become high off my neighbor's patchouli essential oil body butter because doubleyou tee eff, this woman had just uttered a kind of cry for help and everyone weighed in on the audacity of her husband to suggest formula. Forest for the trees, huggers?

In Catholic parenting circles, at least the ones I float through, there doesn't seem to be this rabid need to 'define' one's parenting style patterned after some theory or school of thought or whatever...aside from natural law. And the Magisterium of the Catholic Church. So we don't use contraception, we don't abort inconvenient family members, and we don't discuss divorce as an option with our girlfrinds over cocktails. We also don't do much husband bashing, as Kaitlin thoughtfully observed in her post yesterday.

As far as the actual nuts and bolts of it all? Bring it on. It's so nice to be able to discuss this or that idea/behavioral theory/discipline strategy without someone shutting down or feeling personally attacked because you just questioned their belief system. And believe me; I've been to enough playgroups where Dr. Sears is a prophet, and chiropractic care versus Western pediatrics is the only responsible choice a loving mother would make for her child.

Vom.

Pass the sugar-laden dum dum bribe sticks and the organic Vitamin D milk. We're all the hell over the place at our house, and figuring it out as we go. Thankfully, I can still meet my dairy free yoga-practicing friend for a trip to the mall, where we can discuss the proper dosing recommendations for garlic oil during ear infections along with J Crew's fall catalog, and nobody feels the slightest bit put out by anyone else's best practices on the home front. That's what I call freedom.

A 'Weekend' Away

Heading out of town today for an adventure of underwhelming proportions. We have a fun game we like to play called 'walk to the train station and get on the next train going somewhere interesting.' It sounds very glamorous until you figure the logistics of rail travel with children, but nevertheless, it has busted us out of many a funk these past couple months. As an added bonus, today Dave has an entire day off work, which has happened once since February 11th, and we squandered it at IKEA, so this is momentous. Momentous, I tell you.

Now picture this sand covered in speedos. And cigarette butts.

Here's the plan: load the double stroller up with children, supplies, and layers of clothing. Curse the heaviness of the load and start removing 'unnecessary' items, one by one, until only the children, 1 umbrella, the rain cover, and a handful of dirty raisins remain. Throw one questionably clean size 4 diaper back into the basket, congratulating self on having smartly purchased size 4s for both kids instead of the more-appropriately fitted 3s and 5s. (Yes mommy, you are a badass.)

Push stroller to the front door only to realize it's raining. Hard. Curse the Mediterranean Sea, the gulf stream, weather.com, and any other entity which may be held responsible for the incessant moisture which is  primavera in Roma. Fling stroller back into the mailroom corner and strap the slightly smaller baby into the Ergo, wrap the toddler in an extra layer of water-resistance, and run for the bus.

Wait, you've seen this one? Sorry, it's one of 4 pictures our our entire family. And JP isn't even visible.

 End scene.

Or rather, begin a new, even more entertaining to passersby, scene. Arrive at the train station to find Joey's heart bursting with joy. Most times we take the trains places, Joey is very, very pleased. He approves of the seating arrangements, the lack of seat belts, the bearded and chain-smoking conductor who comes to check his bigletti (let's be honest, once out of every 4 rides or so. So tempting to work this system....), and the adoring crowds of strangers for whom he can perform.

His favorite acts involve blowing kisses and speaking in simple Italian in his raspy toddler voice while elderly Italian women faint at his feet. He also enjoys accepting piggyback rides from strange men, which is not quite as creepy as it looks in print. But almost. Don't worry, we keep him within reasonable eyesight.

Not even from my camera, I'm pretty sure. Lazy, meet your new competition.

Our recent jaunts to the countryside include a memorable overnight in Assisi, a sun-drenched but frigid trip to the gorgeous beach town of San Marinella, and a spur of the moment Monday field trip to Bracciano, home to an impressively huge and beautiful lake and the preserved mideval castle where Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes got married. Obviously if I had known that before we visited, I would have planned an entire pilgrimage around trying to recreate their creepy publicity shots from various towers and windows. But alas, we had no foreknowledge of its storied history.

Not 'the' castle, but a castle we hand out at sometimes. Close enough.

Today we're heading off to Castelgandolfo, temporary home to Bishop Emeritus of Rome, Benedict XVI, and a sweet lakeside amusement park for small people. Fratelli, a town 5 miles down the road, is one of Rome's legendary providers of excellent vino bianco, so if I happen to wander off from all the fun....well, I can't get too far.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of normality on this very happy Thursday, and crossing our fingers there's no rail strike today.

Ciao for now.

Moving With Children

We are T-minus 4 days until we depart Denver and just a short week from leaving the States, and as our house continues to devolve into shanty status, our suitcases are still largely empty. I guess we're waiting for some magical combination of sleeping children, energy, and a burst of insight into what it is, exactly, we should be packing into our 8 suitcases to start our new dolce vita.

Thus far, I've consistently outscored on the 'purge' column and failed to deliver much of anything into the 'pack' side of the equation. It did, however, feel monumentally important to spend $35 dollars at Hobby Lobby the week before Christmas on 3M command strips for hanging...I don't know, pictures we don't own yet? On the plaster walls of our foreign flat.

In addition to my healthy adhesive stockpile, I've also managed to amass a decent supply of Tide-to-go pens, Sharpies, prescriptions, pregnancy tests, and like a year's worth of cosmetics and baby toiletries. Because my babies use toiletries. And because I'm a sucker for my best friend's employee discount.

Meanwhile, I've been putting off the actual task of, you know, packing for a family of four to live overseas for an indefinite amount of time. I have suitcases lined up in the basement, and I have a decent idea of what to put into them as far as housewares (like 4 framed pictures and some tiny candleholders from Pottery Barn, since you didn't ask), kitchen supplies (a garlic press and one spatula we love. Sad? Or super impressive? I can't decide), toiletries, and adult clothing...but for the kids...oh, the children. What about the children?

The children, as it turns out, are something of a rarity in Rome. Italy has the lowest birthrate in all of Europe and the second lowest birthrate in the world, second only to Japan. In a weird and sad display of cultural irony, Italians are also borderline obsessed with babies. We're talking grown men in 3 piece suits dropping to their knees on a filthy city bus to pinch your bello bambino's cheeks and making kissing noises obsessed.

So while they aren't having any of their own offspring, they will not hesitate to pour their hearts out in praise of yours. This has been uniformly true in our limited travels elsewhere in Italy, but seems especially true in Rome, which is admittedly a nice break from giving whiplash to the lady behind me in the Target checkout line when she asks if we'll be 'trying for a girl?' wink, wink.

(Gee, I guess so. Do you have any tips? We seem to keep rolling 'penis' every time we play the game.)

Back to the bambino/a/s though. Since they're an endangered species who require the utmost care and coddling, it is only fitting that their diapers should cost approximately one US dollar per dump, and their onesies retail for around $12 a pop. (Wish I were kidding, sadly I'm not.)

So aside from wild dreams of tandem potty training my Irish twins and abandoning layers as a dressing technique, I've made some serious efforts to beef up my stash of portable baby gear ... and in the process, I've narrowed down what I believe are my true 'can't live without' items for early child rearing.

Having recently sold our 8th stroller (3 of which were doubles), and all the nursery furniture I simply had to have when I was pregnant with Joseph, heir to the throne, I am now left with the following sundries* which will be making the leap across the pond with us.

• Double stroller: After months of intense research, some test-driving, and a failed Craigslist foray into Maclar-land, we settled on this pretty pony...and we couldn't be happier. So far. We'll see if we end up in some 4th floor walkup situation, at which point I will either be suffering severely expensive buyer's remorse or at long last sporting Michelle Obama's triceps. It's heavy, but all doubles are heavy, and it pushes like a dream. Plus, my kids love punching eachother, and this bad boy has 16 different seating configurations to facilitate many different angles of assault. Seriously though, it's the best single piece of baby gear I've ever purchased. 

• Pack n play: after a hot debate, we're decided on bringing uno, and letting little brother sleep on a pillow-lined mattress on the floor until we can get to Roman IKEA for a brand new baby cage for his very own. Our more than 2 year old still sleeps in a crib and has never tried to get out (please Jesus, let it continue to be so), so we're planning on 2 cribs for as long as is legal.

• 2 stuffed animals each and a handful of well-made toys which they have proven to enjoy. (A Melissa and Doug garbage truck and a battery powered John Deere, if you must know.) Nothing larger than what will fit into a canvas storage cube from Target, which is now the toybox. And it.is.awesome. They're already playing so much more creatively and doing more interaction (and yes, more fighting) now that their inventory has been drastically slashed. 

• Winter and summer wardrobes for their current and next-up sizes. We plan on being home for a wedding next summer, so any real shopping will have to wait until then, unless I happen upon some glorious Italian equivalent of Goodwill.

• A digital forehead thermometer and Children's Tylenol and Motrin. Will we be able to find these there? Probably. Do I prefer to spend my hard-earned Euros on wine? Definitely. (I read on one ex-pat mommy blog that baby advil was $12 a bottle and had a mini stroke.) 

• My trusty Ergo Sport. I have a love/hate relationship with babywearing, but this thing comes in seriously handy for long flights, papal audiences, awkward networking events, and sightseeing in stroller unfriendly places. Plus, I can still strap Joey into it when need be.

•  4 spare pacifiers for each little mister. Just in case we can't find their preferred brand abroad. I plan on taking children's pacis away when someone is reaching out to put a diploma in their hands, for the record. And Joey only uses his while he is in his crib, so he won't have much to discuss in therapy later.

• This completely amazing sound machine, which will probably start smoking and shooting out sparks as soon as I plug it into the janky Roman power grid, but whatever, I can't bring myself to leave it behind.  

• 2 sippies per boy, and a couple of cloth bibs

• The world's best breast pump, batteries included. Just in case we meet and fall in love with a wonderful babysitter oooooor have a lengthy audience with the Pope someday. 

• And last but not least, our current wonderful babysitter, plus a handful of DVDs for maintaining those critical bits of English vocab, the likes of which only Thomas, Dora, and George can provide.

 And there you have it, folks. A comprehensive list of items necessary for the survival of yours truly + 2. Laugh now or laugh later, but I'm feeling strangely optimistic that we've got it aaaaaaaall figured out.

Buona notte!

*(disclaimer: Since Dave's company isn't paying moving expenses beyond airfare and baggage fees, we are literally moving with 8 suitcases and a few carryon items. If we were shipping stuff, this list would look a little different)