An old Christmas card....

My tongue is dry from licking, my fingers are cramped from scribbling, but when I stack 'em up and flip through them, the sound of the thick little envelopes snapping together gives me great joy. Ah--the first wave of Christmas cards is complete! I've placed them on the hall table so Hubby will remember to drop them in the box tomorrow morning.

I know, I know. Christmas cards are dated. A lot of people don't bother to send them anymore, citing 'green' reasons or 'time constraints.' Others say they are too expensive to send and too time-consuming to make--especially when they end up in the recycling bin two weeks later. I get that.

Sure, mass e-mails or e-greetings are faster and simpler, more environmentally-conscious, but to me, they lack the personal touch, the thoughtfulness that stands behind the printed image of a cat curled up by a Christmas tree or a silvery skate pond stamped onto a beautiful piece of cardstock. It makes me all warm and fuzzy to think that someone sat down one evening, opened up a box of beautiful cards and thought of me. That the author paused for a moment and wondered what he or she would write to wish me well. That in a time of text messages and voice mail, the author picked up a favourite pen (y'know the one--the ballpoint with the ink flow that is just right) and jotted down a few words in his own sprawling hand.

Really, I'm all for being granola and budget-savvy, but I won't give up my Christmas cards without a fight.

Are you up for a little history lesson?

According to Wikipedia, English printer Sir Henry Cole was of an entrepreneurial mind. He was the first to commercialize greeting cards in London in 1843--three years after he had founded the Penny Post (which in turn made mail affordable to the common people). That first Christmas card depicted a family sitting down to a holiday dinner. And, although the card illicited a bit of scandal (since the illustration shows a small child drinking wine), the greeting card was a success--two printings for a total of 2,050 cards. Each elaborately printed little card was sold for a shilling, and the new trend was readily picked up by fashionable Londoners. The greeting card craze spread across England and Europe. The Victorian tradition arrived in North America 30 years later. And, if I have my way, it's one that will continue for years to come.

I have always loved cards. Well, to be honest, I love all writing things--stationery, pens of all colours, stickers and seals, little notecards or personalized post-its, highlighters and sharpies, spiral notebooks and loose-leaf paper. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a school supply fetish (September sales are hard for me to resist!) and I can't walk into a paper or card shop without having heart palpitations.

In fact, I am so in love with paper products that my considerate Hubby has even been known to drop $40 at Staples buying up half-price Hilroys and Bic pens, in an attempt to win Brownie points with me. It works. :)

But, Christmas cards....the lovely scenes, the embossed or gilded edges, the dusty shimmer of glitter, the meticulous sweep of water-colours, the heartfelt words, the hokey greetings....these are the gems of the greeting card crown. I love them. Always have.

Perhaps my love affair with them harkens back to my grandmother's farmhouse of the 1980s. With as large a family as she has, and with so many friends across the country and in the States, it seems like she is always receiving Christmas cards in the mail. And, when I was young and before she began wintering in Florida, she would hang them up all over the farmhouse.

They weren't just seated atop the mantle or buffet or tucked into a Christmas tree as some people are wont to do. No, she actually taped them along the doorways between the rooms and strung them up all the way around the window sashes. The kitchen and the hallway and the dining room. The living room and the parlour, too. All those cards lined up together, all those warm words greeting you every time you entered a room. It was beautiful to look at, and every year, I was enchanted by the sight.

I would spend hours looking at each card, reading the notes, wondering who all these people were. Either Grandma got a lot of cards each year or she kept every one she ever received and pulled them all out each year to use as part of her Christmas décor.

But it's not just the images and words that I love. I love every aspect of the card--from the snowflake or angel stamps to the foil-lined, colourful envelopes.

I love the eager walk down the driveway to the mailbox each day. The anticipation of a raised red flag. The excitement of seeing a candy-cane striped corner or a handwritten scrawl peeping from underneath the bills and advertisements. A letter, a postcard, an invitation to a party. It's a rare form of mail these days and I love it.

Really and truly. Mail like this, Christmas mail, always delights me.

Sometimes, I can barely contain myself and rip into the envelope right there in the road. Other times, I try to savour the moment. I carry it back home, my eyes glued to the handwriting. Trying to decipher who sent it, what message it could contain. A family photo, perhaps? A Christmas newsletter? A missive from Santa?

And, if it's addressed to the girls, well.... I never open it without Brooke, but oy vey--the waiting kills me!

And, if I should receive more than one card that day? Sheer exhileration! It becomes one of the day's most notable events and I bubble over in sharing the news with Hubby or my sister. No one else seems to care much, but for me, it's very exciting. And rest assured, that the card is proudly displayed for all to see.

My love for mail--real mail--is well known. Hubby has commented to me on more than one occasion that I should work for Canada Post, as he has never known anyone to enjoy getting the mail so much as me.

One year, during a particularly barren and disappointing Christmas card haul, my Hubby started sending me Christmas cards from work, just so I would have something in the mailbox to read. It was one of the sweetest things he has ever done for me, and my eyes filled with tears at his thoughtfulness.

So, to say the least, my Christmas card business is a chore I enjoy. In fact, it's not really a chore. Sure, sitting down and scribbling for hours on end can mean a lot of work. But it's a tradition--and one that I love.

Tonight, I settled down on the sofa before a roaring fire with my pen, my list and my address book. I opened up my Christmas card box that I hauled out of my office last week. (Tangent: I wish I could say that there was some great Christmas carols playing in the background, but Hubby was watching football, so I was listening to NFL commentary, instead.)

The box is a big Rubbermaid bin, full of Christmas cards and envelopes, pens and stickers, rubber stamps and seals. (I tend to buy my cards at Boxing Day sales the year before and always buy waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more than I need.) I sorted through the old cards, found the news one I planned on using this year, made sure I had extra envelopes for screw-ups and got down to business.

But not before I thumbed through my old cards.

You see, dear readers, I have never thrown out a Christmas card. Nor has any card ever made its way into my recycling bin. At least, not intentionally and not since I moved out of my mother's house.

For years, I too, taped the cards collected each year around the doorways and stairwells of our apartments, and then, our first home. So, if you've sent me a card in the past and worried what became of it, fear not. I still have it.

After I've displayed it for the season, I take down each card, carefully stack it with the others of that year, wrap them together with a rubber band and put the little bundle in my card box.

And, every year, I pull out the little bundle and go through the cards again. I admire the pictures, I read the words, I examine the photos. I remember friends far and near, friends old and new, friends long gone but never forgotten. And, every year, I admonish myself for keeping these cherished cards in my stationery box, instead of their rightful place among my keepsakes.

One day, I really will get around to scrapbooking them, giving each card a permanent home in a beautiful book that will sit on my coffee table. A holiday book that guests will be able to peruse and enjoy as I do each year. One day. But for now, it's enough for me to flip through the bundle of cards and smile at the thought of all of you, thinking of me.

P.S. I received the first card of the season last Thursday. Thank you, Brisson Family. I can't believe how big Alexandria and Charlotte have gotten. They are beautiful!!

The Activity Advent Calendar

I am all about making new family traditions. I feel, that when you become a parent, that it's part of your duty to create these ties that connect your children both to your family and to their heritage--and what better way than to create a tradition that the kids will cherish for years to come?

When her first son was born, my sister started the tradition of Christmas pyjamas. The kids all get new jammies on Christmas Eve, that they wear to bed that evening. When Brooke was born, I started the tradition of Christmas books. I add at least one to my collection every year. Brooke and I try to read one every evening during the Christmas season.

This year, I decided to adopt a new tradition in honour of Avie--it's a concept I read about on another blog. Basically, I've created an Activity Advent Calendar for the girls this year. Yes, B still has her chocolate calendar, but this year, I also decided to do something simple, but special, with the girls every day up until Christmas Eve.

I purchased two little treat buckets from WalMart (a buck each, notch!) to hang from the girls' doorknobs. The plan is that every day I will put in a chocolate treat (bag of foil-wrapped chocolates courtesy of Dollarama) and a hint as to what special Christmasy thing we are going to do that day.

For the most part, the activities are holiday things we have to do anyways--go pick up and decorate a Christmas tree, send out our Christmas cards, attend Christmas parties, wrap presents, etc. Other activities are just plain good fun: make Christmas ornaments, make our own gift wrap, create Christmas 'pizzas' for the birds, build a snowman (gotta wait for the snow on that one!), go for a sled ride, check out the Christmas lights on the Hill, etc.

I received some other great suggestions from friends, such as making popcorn garlands, building a gingerbread house, purchasing a gift for the Angel Tree at WalMart or dressing up for family dinner (think tiaras and meatloaf). And, I'm thinking of an impromptu Christmas dance contest, too, as well as a Christmas TV movie marathon. Other ideas I've come up with: making stockings for CHEO's kids (got the idea from last year's Christmas Day visit to the ER), eating breakfast for dinner (who doesn't like that?), and baking cookies for the nurses at the Medical Day Unit.

Anyways, yesterday I gave Brooke the buckets and explained what we were going to do with them. She was very excited to hang them up on the doorknobs. Didn't want the one I chose for and switched with Avie, but all's good. She hung them up last night while I was out Christmas shopping with Jax. When I got home, I went to put in her treat and clue and found the bucket hanging on the inside of her door. Cuckoo bird. Love that kid.

She completely forgot about the bucket this morning, so didn't notice the treat until I mentioned it to her. She was so excited. She looked at the photo I had printed off as her clue for what today's activity was and her face lit up.

"Look, Mom. It's a mission! It says 'Dear Princess Brooke, I can't wait to see you.' '' (It said nothing of the kind, as she is just three and cannot read anything beyond her own name. Besides, why would I write that? Still, very amusing to overhear her 'reading' her 'mission.')

What, in fact, was the photo? Well, it was a humdinger of an activity, and as Hubby noted, might be setting the bar a little high for Day 1 of the Advent, but I couldn't help it!

It was a photo from The Nutcracker Ballet, which will be performing tonight at the National Arts Centre. We received the tickets as part of the NAC's Share the Spirit program, which offers tickets for holiday events free of charge to families with sick children or families who cannot afford such luxuries.

The back story on the Nutcracker? It has always been my dream and that of my sister to one day take our daughters to that show. We've both seen it as girls (and I've seen it as an adult too!) and remember it as a very special event in our lives. It was the first time either of us got dressed up and went 'out' for an evening. The first time we got to hold our very own tickets and do something so 'grown-up' (even if the story is for children!) as attend a ballet performance. It was very special for us and we wanted it to be very special for our girls.

Jackie and I have been envisioning the night for years now, long before our daughters were born: we'd dress the girls up in fancy Christmas dresses and go for a special dinner, then to show where we would all be enchanted by the magic of this timeless story, the sparkly over-the-top costumes and scenery, the incredible music and cherography.

The Nutcracker dream is an important tradition we wanted to share with our girls. Months ago, we even considered taking the girls this year. (Grace just started ballet, so she is particularly 'into' the Nutcracker at the moment and Brooke is still enthralled with anything magical, princessy and fairy-like.) But, after checking out the prices for the event and considering schedules, we decided against it. Maybe the girls are still too young to fully appreciate a full-feature ballet, we thought. They might get bored and want to leave, they might fall asleep 10 minutes into the show--and at $60 a pop for a children's ticket, it might be better to wait a bit.

Then, last week, I received an e-mail from Tamsin, the program co-ordinator at Candlelighters. They had received a number of tickets to select holiday shows at the NAC and were offering them to any member family wishing to attend. At first, I hummed and hawed, was Brooke still too young? Was she too sick to attend? Would she enjoy it?

She has an incredible attention span for movies, so Hubby thinks she could handle it. I agreed, and after hearing that her numbers had gone back up this week, I decided to check with Tamsin to see if there were any tickets for opening night left. Sure enough, there was! Enough for Jax and Gracie to join us, in fact! Awesome!!!

I am so excited for tonight--and B is elated with the thought of seeing the show. The photo was a great idea on my part (pat your own back, Ginger) and B has been carrying it folded in her basket all morning.

Now, the only hitch tonight will be whether or not Jax and Grace will be attending. (Grace was not feeling well yesterday, so it is touch and go today. Jax doesn't want to chance Grace near Brooke, even if her numbers are high this week. She did just have chemo on Monday. So, perhaps Jax will come alone or take one of the boys.)

And, as for the Activity Advent Calendar? So far, so good. (Although B was a little disappointed that there were no chocolate treats in Avie's bucket for her to ''eat for my sister cause she's too little for chocolate--hey, Avie has nothing in her bucket!'' Note to self tomorrow: Put in Baby MumMums for Aviecakes.)

5:27 am and awake

I have this very annoying habit. I'm a pretty light sleeper, so the minute one of the kids even so much as coughs, I'm awake. Tonight, at precisely 3:30 a.m., Avie lost her souce and started crying.

Gave her a few minutes to see if she would go back to sleep on her own, but after 10 mins, I realized she wasn't going to and the whimpering was quickly escalating into full-out cry. Before she got there, I went in, sneaked the souce back in. Too late--now she needed to be cuddled a moment. A few pats on the back and laid her back down. Done.

Back to bed. Except, now I am awake. And, I've started thinking, worrying--about all kinds of things. I look at the clock. Suddenly, it's 4:30 a.m., and I'm still awake. Tossing and turning and just unable to get back to sleep.

I try to clear my mind. Get up out of bed, pour cold water on my hands. Nada. It's 5:00 now. I'm annoyed because I can't sleep--more annoyed that my husband is sleeping soundly and doesn't even bother to wake up to share in my discomfort. Logically, of course, I don't really want this. Why should he have to suffer? But, somewhere in my head, I want him to roll over and say something and sympathize with my situation. I sit up, throwing back the covers and making frustrated sounds. Nothing from him. Not even a stir.

I walk into the living room to get some cool air into my system (I once read an article about insomnia that mentioned that coolness helps people get to sleep, hence the water and air.) and to avoid waking him while I try to distract myself enough to go back to sleep. I see the glow of the laptop from the dining room where I've left it open, and sigh.

Might as well check e-mails. I need to get out of my own headspace anyways. Checked e-mail, checked FB messages, read some new posts on my fave blog sites. Now, it's 5:34 a.m. and I'm not certain if I am getting drowsy or more awake. I'm hoping that my body temp has cooled down enough to sleep and my mind will relax enough to just accept it.

Otherwise, I'm going to pay for this in the morning. And, tomorrow is chemo day. Although Hubby will be taking her, I'll be at home with Avie--and she rarely naps, so I can't count on her to let me catch up any lost sleep through the night.

Am I the only one this ever happens to?

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Well, not really. In fact, I can't recall a November as non-wintery as this, but it's beginning to 'look' a lot like Christmas in our house. Almost all of the decorations are up (with the exception of the trees, as we have decided to go with two real pines this year), Diana Krall is on the CD player and sugar cookies have been baked and iced (in hideously garish fashion!) and now reside in a Tupperware container on the kitchen island, awaiting eager little hands.

Still, I feel every bit behind this year. Not much shopping has been done (beyond a few Etsy orders and a last-minute trip to the Samko and Miko sale, that really only produced a few books), the Christmas cards have been ordered, but not yet started and the Santa letters, although in the works, have not been completed. I still have to attempt a new recipe for a Christmas cookie exchange next week, buy some decorations for the float Hubby has been working on putting together for this weekend's parade and RSVP some holiday invitations.

Plus, there's all the things I would like to do, but feel we will simply not have time for this year. (For example, I wanted to sew up somnot e presents and do some crafting in time for the holidays, but realistically, I know that that is going to happen.) This isn't unusual. I always have a huge 'to-do' list each holiday season, but I generally get most of it accomplished with time to spare. This year, I'm really feeling bogged down by it, though.

Why am I dragging my feet a little this year? Is it simple lack of time or a deeper hesitation? Not sure. I'm usually all over Christmas. And, as excited as I am for the parties and family visits, turkey dinners, twinkling lights, mailboxes full of glittery cards and delighted faces Christmas morning, lately, I've been preoccupied with other things.

A lot of it has to do with Brooke. She's been a superstar throughout this whole cancer ordeal--tolerant and rocker tough, but the chemo treatments have finally caught up to her. I find the meds are really taking their toll on her these last couple of treatments. She has not tolerated them as well as she has in the past. And, although her numbers are usually quite high, she's feeling the effects of the treatment.

Lately, her appetite is nil. And, because of mouth sores that she has developed as a result of the chemo, it hurts to eat. She's fed up of medication and having to take upwards of five syringes of medication a day (usually just two, but last week, she had an ear infection, so had more meds to take.)

Her balance and equilibrium are completely off-kilter, so she has been falling down and running into things more than usual--even for a naturally clumsy kid. And, of course, she bruises like nobody's business now, so the bumps and scrapes really look worse than they are. And, we think, because of her balance sensitivity, she's become prone to motion sickness. We've had a few vomiting incidents of late that seem to suggest she can't handle more than 30 minutes in the car any longer.

Sometimes, she seems so tired, or rather tired of being sick, that she just curls up in my lap and says ''I want you.'' It makes me want to cry.

This morning, I cajoled her into taking her medication and allowing me to swab her gums with a medicated mouthwash. It was so painful and/or yucky, she began to cry. I gave her some water to wash out her mouth and she spit it out. Then, she just lifted her hand up and patted my cheek and crying said. ''I just want you to colour with me.'' So, off we went.

She's pale, she's skinny and she's sniffly. She's sick of being sick and I'm sick of having a sick kid. I want my robust, rosy-cheeked, cheerful girl back. It sucks.

On the bright side, it's almost over. My little Fuzz Buzz only has to endure another month of pokes and bandaids and anti-nausea medication. Another chemo treatment on Monday and the final one four days before Santa makes his big trip. To be done with this whole thing will be a relief--and the best Christmas present of all.

I think that's what I'm really looking forward to this year--not really Christmas, so much as the New Year. Starting 2011 healthy and happy. Hubby and I have already decided to spend an LCBO gift certificate our friends gave us on a bottle of champagne to ring in the New Year. It will be a clean slate for all of us. I can't wait.

Until then, Brooke and I will finish her Santa letter. I'm going to include a post-script at the bottom to let Santa know just how great she's been this year. Brave, patient and the best big sister Avie could hope for. I think he will agree that she is deserving of an extra-special present this year.

P.S.: Wrote this yesterday--mailed Santa letters today. Got some shopping done yesterday and RSVPed to a few shindigs. Feel like I finally accomplished somethings. Good thing, too--only one month to go!

P.P.S.: The close-up of the cookies--yikes. Brooke has the benefit of impatience and lack of dexterity on her side. I don't know what the hell my problem is. And, yes, sadly--that's my batch.

P.P.P.S.: To my French-Canadian readers, Happy St.Catherine's Day! To my American readers (should I have any?), Happy Thanksgiving!!

Toddler talk

I am always amused by the things Brooke says. I try to jot down the crazy, mixed-up phrases as often as I can, as I always want to remember the way she spoke as a kid. These moments are fleeting and I can't bear to let them dissolve into the nothingness that can sometimes be my memory. Thought I would share some of these kooky quotes. Here are a few of my faves:

• ''treasure-treating'' instead of ''trick-or-treating''



• ''being boring" instead of ''being born'' (For example: ''When I was being boring, I was just a little, tiny baby.'' My reply? ''Peanut, you have never been--and will never be--boring.'')



• ''but I don't love potatoes'' instead of ''I don't like potatoes'' (I like that she is always so passionate about such a downright mediocre vegetable.)



• for some reason, she always says ''lemon'' when what she is really referring to is waterMELON. Verbal dyslexia, perhaps?



• ''wello'' instead of ''yellow''



• the common toddler ''sgetti'' instead of ''spaghetti''



• ''firemetre'' instead of ''firefighter''



• ''puter'' for ''computer''



• ''mote'' for ''remote''



• ''bitch'' instead of ''fetch'' (And when she was called out on this one, she explained to me that she meant the comment for the dog. This did not help clear things up until she actually tossed the ball for him. Phew!)



• ''mean shows'' for TV shows or movies that are adult in nature and should not be viewed by the under 13-set.



• ''daddy shows'' for any TV programming that is crime or home improvement-related.



• ''my bum hurts'' used as her announcement that she needs to go pee. (Said shortly after I notice her doing the potty dance, and immediately following the "but Mom, I'm not holding myself!'')



• ''Tim Hortman's'' instead of ''Tim Horton's''



• ''red store'' in reference to her father's fave store--the holiest of Canadian retailers: Canadian Tire. The "blue store" refers to Wal-Mart, while the ''green store" means Dollarama. These are her three favourite shops.



• ''black things'' for any reference to pepper, spices, or the slightly blackened parts of cooked food. She refuses to eat anything touched by these black bits--doesn't even matter if she was the one to put them there, in the first place.



• ''Oh, isn't that so sweet!'' when referring to babies, bunnies or baby dolls.



• ''Let's go girls!'' (This is said to Avie and me only in moments of exuberant adventure.)



• ''How 'bout I have chocolate AND cherry?'' (This is said in response to her father's question: ''Do you want a chocolate or cherry Timbit?'')



• ''Okay, darling, this won't hurt. And if it does, we'll put a bandaid on it, okay, sweetie?'' (I don't call people 'darling' or 'sweetie,' so I imagine she gets this from the nurses at the hospital. Only ever seems to come out when she is playing nurse or doctor.)



• ''I've got cozy, fresh socks on." (Nothing really funny or amusing about that one. I just enjoy the fact that my barely 3-year-old can appreciate the comfort of a good pair of socks.)



• ''Mommy, can we got to Donald's?'' (This is said after a chemo appointment when she is craving McDonald's. Not as funny as Grace's version: ''Chicken Donald's!'')



• and, although, she got a reprimand for this one (even as I was laughing behind my hand): ''Mommy, you are being a pain in the ask.'' I think you can guess what this one should have been.
  

Kids truly do say the darndest things. Love you, baby girl.

A few of my favourite things

My in-the-moment fave things:

1) Watching B try to feed Avie with a baby spoon. The two of them enjoy it for a few minutes, before B gets bored with how difficult it is to gauge where Avie's mouth will be and Avie gets frustrated that B is taking so long to get any grub in! But those few moments of shared giggles? Priceless.

2) Holiday commercials on TV--yes, they've started, and I don't mind at all. I'm hoping to see some tear-jerkers again this year. (Best ones to date? The Pampers Silent Night ad--huge, ugly tears every bloody time I see it!--the Tim Horton's one where the kid brings a coffee to his elderly neighbour while the old man shovels the driveway, the Dieppe Bell Canada one (my Hubby's personal fave), and the Canadian Tire no-fireplace-for-Santa commercial.)

3) Loading up my Playlist.com with holiday tunes and then setting my laptop to the page so I can listen to my family's playlist over and over again while I dice carrots or fold laundry.

4) My new lunettes. Browny librarian frames from Ray Ban. I like the contrast punch of dark tortoiseshell against my pale, freckled skin each time my eyes flicker over my own reflection.

5) Avie's two little teeth, set into that sugary-sweet, gummy smile. I love you, cupcake, like vanilla batter loves chocolate frosting.

6) Following the Enjoying the Small Things blog by Kelle Hampton. Vivid, evocative photos + passionate, heartfelt writing = great friggin' read. I find both her blog and how she views ordinary things--motherhood, everyday life, simple moments--truly inspiring. Don't even know her and yet feel she is a kindred spirit--or at least the kind of the spirit I aspire to be. Check her blog out if you need a pick-me-up.

7) Hubby's Movember makeover. In support of prostrate cancer, he has decided to turn his goatee into a moustache. To be entirely fair to the cause, he decided to start from scratch. He shaved off the ol' facial hair to make room for the new. He took off the hair on his head, too. He's a cueball. B has more hair on her little chemo head than he does now (her hair, by the by, has started to grow back. I love feeling the soft little tufts sprouting on her head. The little hairs look dark right now, but we'll see what comes of them with time.). In spite of looking like a newborn baby, it's kinda fun to run your hand over his bristly pate. Like wide-weave velcro.

8) B's continued love for her baby dolls. Yesterday, when we were preparing for our walk to the mailbox, she asked if we had a baby sling or a car seat for her doll (I was trying to find the Bjorn for Avie). I told her we didn't have one, but maybe we could ask for one from Santa. She agreed, then promptly unzipped her jacket halfway, stuffed her doll inside and proceeded outside. A mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do to keep her kid warm.

9) Getting back into scrapbooking. Made three pages at my sister's Stampin' Up club get-together last weekend. Felt good to sit down with the ladies, chat about the latest goings-on and get our creative juices flowing. Can't wait to make Christmas cards and gift tags!

10) Watching my precious babies sleep. Every night from the time we brought Brooke home until I stopped some months ago, I used to peek in on Brooke before I myself hit the hay. I told myself I was just checking in, to make sure she was alright and still breathing, but the reality was just to catch a glimpse of her relaxed face, dark lashes sweeping peacefully across her seashell-pink skin, her plump, bow-shaped lips sucking peacefully at nothing, an uncurled fist flung carelessly across a plush snuggly toy.

I stopped slipping into her room a few months after she turned two because I found that she was startling awake each time I inched the door open. I hated to do it, but I decided that her need for a good's night rest outweighed my desire to watch her sleep. (Why I simply didn't think to get Hubby to WD40 the hinges is beyond me, but that's besides the point of the story. ) Anyways, I simply got out of the habit of checking in. I haven't even done it that much with Avie. She slept beside us in a bassinette for the first three months, so I checked in with her then, but that's about it.

The other day? I did just that.

I had to wake up Avie from her nap to make it to an appointment on time. (Trust me, I did not want to do it. I HATE waking a sleeping baby--and it would figure that the one time I need Avery to take a short nap, she decides to pull a two-hour siesta.) I went into her room and just stood there for a few moments. Watched the breath go in and out of her, eyelashes fluttering, cheek buried in the brown satin of her blankie. Pure bliss.

Was so struck by how sweet that moment was and how I missed the checking in that I decided to peek in on Brooke, too. Cracked open her bedroom door. Her bald little head was popping out of her blanket cocoon, bunnies falling halfway out of bed, dolls haphazardly perched on the edge, books strewn about the comforter. Complete and utter peace and comfort.

Filled me with goodness. Really missed that. Thankful for the moment that reminded me of how precious it is to have children to watch over--even if it meant having to wake Avie from a sound sleep.

What are some of your must-haves this month?

And it begins anew

Halloween has been over for days now, and I am amazed that the snow is still here. It fell in huge, fluffy clumps on the night of the 30th, just as Hunter's Birthday Surprise (which went off without a hitch! He was so confused and stunned!) was coming to an end.

The snow, a sparkling white blanket, was still there the next morning--inches thick on the car and back deck. The chickens were huddled in the shed, leery of the frost out in their pen and the ice that had formed in their water bowls. It was so cold that Hubby had to shut their little door to the pen and plug in the heat lamp for the old girls. Their days are numbered, but no need to freeze 'em beforehand.

That morning, we defrosted the windows of the car and cranked up the heater, then packed up the trunk with costumes and pumpkins and treats.

The chill outside was palpable. The pines in our front yard drooped from the heavy snowfall. The chimneys of our neighbours puffed merrily as if each was trying to out-puff the others. The kids on our street threw snowballs and made snow angels and wiped mittened hands across runny noses with glee.

In fact, the entire drive to my in-laws was every inch a Christmas scene, and had we a holiday CD in the car, Hubby would have popped it in the player. The only difference between that drive and the usual wintery landscape? The pumpkin heads on the snowmen!

Parkas-over-costumes aside, the kids weren't too bothered by the weather that night. They traipsed from house to house, begging foodstuffs from Jackie's neighbours. They came back, after 1.5 hours of trick-or-treating, with rosy cheeks, chilled hands and bulging bags of goodies. And, even though it was a school night, we ended the evening by going over to my Dad's place for post-Halloween burgers and pumpkin cake. A good time had by all for sure.

And, now? It looks like Christmas is settling in for the long haul. The snow is on the ground (with more flurries expected this weekend). The songs are already playing on my car stereo. The December magazines have started appearing. And--dare I say it? I already received my first holiday party invitation in the mail! Sure, it's a community ''Breakfast with Santa'' thing sent to everyone in our village--and sure, it was printed on pink paper as opposed to red or green--but it still counts. Sorta.

Can you hear the Whoville Whos singing "Welcome Christmas, Welcome, Welcome" in the background or is it just me?