Merry Christmas, and Lucia

Before I had three kids, our Christmas cards were usually prepared right at the beginning of December and sent with ample time to reach Europe. Now I send most electronically, and the hard copies that are sent this year will land somewhere before New Years - I hope.

Anyhow, here's a Christmas wish from our house to yours. And below, a picture of the Lucia celebration in Dallas on the 13th. Elina can be seen to the right of the Lucia herself, Isak is in one of the two star boy hats. Yours truly is somewhere on the back row. The light is not the best, but clicking on the picture should help.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

A bit of December

We went to Dallas for a truncated weekend. My kind brother-in-law not only lets us stay at his nice condo, he literally evacuates to let us have it all when we come down. The kids are so enthralled with urban living, the grand view over down town from the balconies, and the stores and people just below. When we were there we saw horse carriage rides every night, below on the street! Elina was in heaven. We saw the Dallas Temple (spire above) and met all the Swedes of Dallas for the annual Christmas celebration.

No pilgrimage there is complete without an IKEA stop, especially before Christmas when we have to stock up on essential Swedish Christmas food supplies. (I may add a video later of the Lucia performance). No pictures were taken. Mark had his hands full with Anja, I guess, and the rest of us were in the performance. Elina endured the entire dress rehearsal then backed out of the actual performance because she did not feel well. Sure enough, at IKEA later that evening, she threw up after I - very motherly - insisted that she take "two more bites." Elina throws up no matter what her illness is. This time it was upper respiratory.

At the IKEA cafeteria, minutes before Elina 'personalized' our area, poor thing.

I am also adding some pictures of the annual Christmas photo shoot. Last year we somehow managed to get everyone facing the camera at a snapshot in the church foyer. This year blood, sweat and tears would not get my kids to cooperate much. And forget taking them to the photographer. The photographers tear their hair out before we leave and insist that every picture is "really cute", just so we will leave, even though my otherwise gorgeous kids look like caricatures of themselves. Isak and Elina did fine during my hopeful session, but Anja would have none of the posing stuff, would not be still for even a second and never mind looking in the camera. Isak and Elina came up with the idea of chasing Anja down and putting her in an upright wrestling hold. It worked better than any other thing we tried. My kids just don't get enough practice posing, I guess. Worse things could happen to kids, but I would like just one good Christmas picture one of these years. Is that too much to ask? (All I want for Christmas is a frameable family picture, or one of the kids.)

Anja, 19 months

Isak, almost 6 and a half

Elina, 4 and a half

How to make hair like this, you wonder? After bath, let dry without any brushing. Voila.

The trick to making Anja sit long enough to snap this picture: removing one of her new shoes. "Ko!" she says while putting it back on, her version of the Swedish "sko" meaning "shoe."

Cold Blooded

Elina: "Mamma, can I go outside in my swim suit and play with the water hose?"

Mamma: "It is only 5 Celsius outside (41 F), that's really cold. You'll freeze!"

Elina: "No, I won't. Only for a little while, please?"

Mamma: [plan response, anticipate answer, form retaliation, steel myself against the emotional fit...Is there not a better way?] "Hmmmm. Okay. "

Elina: "I can?"

Mamma: "You can."

Elina zips through the house and in no time is dressed in her swimsuit.

One of those affordable lessons, right? She'll learn it is cold, come in on her own and then we won't have to have this discussion in December again.

She stayed outside, undaunted. Then I remembered that she has Viking blood, and despite the 3% body fat, playing with water outside is simply too much fun to give up just because it is, well, winter. The eighteen-month old on my hip (the one with the runny nose) moans and whines. She, too, wants to get down and play. Ouch. Plan has backfired.