Teaching My Children to Lie, and Other Mother's Day Gifts

(I have four posts in my drafts folder right now.  Only one of them is not a Random Thoughts Thursday post.  I don't know what's wrong with me that I can't complete a single blog post these days.  It's been over a month.  I think I'm just burned out from too much sitting in front of the computer while I was taking classes.  Or, at least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.  But, so help me, I am determined to actually hit the "publish" button before the day is done.  I don't even care any more what the post looks like.  So, you know, heads up :) )

Today is Mother's Day.  It's also my birthday.  I'm...old.  Okay, I'm not really that old.  In fact, I'm younger than most of my friends these days.  But I'm older than I've ever been, and while I think I'm handling it fairly well, it's still kind of a big number.  Chris and I have a kind of mutual agreement that we don't need to make a big deal of each other's birthdays.  Mostly we just don't have the energy, but when your birthdays fall a day apart, the celebrating just gets to be too much.  So we typically don't do a whole lot, and that's understood without needing to be said, and we're both okay with it.

Even with all that, though, I woke up this morning feeling a little bit bummed - knowing that it was two big days in one, and not much was going to be done to celebrate them.  And knowing that I couldn't complain, because that's just how we roll around here, and because Chris's birthday is tomorrow and I still have no idea what we're giving him (love you, honey!)

We do have one Mother's Day tradition, however, which is that Chris & the girls always make me breakfast in bed.  So even though I generally wake up when Chris gets up, I stay in bed and pretend to be asleep so they can "surprise" me.  I love it.  And that's what happened this morning.  They came in with a tray, two cards, and - what's this? - a great big box.  They made me read the cards first, then an extra card taped to the top of the box, and then I took a closer look at the plate my breakfast was on, and I slowly realized something.

Our plates don't have words on them...

And realization came stronger and stronger as they unpacked the box.  For Mother's Day, for my birthday, they made me a set of plates, each one depicting a different illustration from a children's book, hand-painted by the girls, Chris, and our good friend.  For weeks, my children and my husband, and, as it turns out, several of my friends, have been lying to me.  While I thought they were having playdates and providing free child labor for our friend, they were painting, glazing, and, in Vicki's case, driving all over the place getting these plates ready to surprise me today.

The backs all have something special on them, too, but I was in a
hurry and didn't get a picture

They're beautiful.  They're amazing.  They make me smile and cry and smile again.  They are, quite possibly, the best present I have ever received.  And I refuse to think about the number of lies I was told in order to make it happen.  They were definitely lies for a good cause, and I will cherish the knowledge of them just as much as I will cherish these plates.  They make me happy, and they're a reminder that my family knows what I love and are willing to work hard to surprise me with something they know I'll treasure.

Now I'm just sorry I don't have something equally as epic for Chris's birthday tomorrow.  I guess there's always Father's Day...

He is Risen!

He is risen! He is risen!

Tell it out with joyful voice.
He has burst his three days’ prison;
Let the whole wide earth rejoice.
Death is conquered; man is free.
Christ has won the victory.

Come with high and holy hymning;
Chant our Lord’s triumphant lay.
Not one darksome cloud is dimming
Yonder glorious morning ray,
Breaking o’er the purple east,
Symbol of our Easter feast.

He is risen! He is risen!
He hath opened heaven’s gate.
We are free from sin’s dark prison,
Risen to a holier state.
And a brighter Easter beam
On our longing eyes shall stream.

                                                    -Cecil Francis Alexander

The Christmas that Almost Wasn't

A bit of a warning: this is a really long post.  I tried to make it shorter, but it's just not as much fun if you don't get all the details.  Bear with me, and hopefully it will be worth it once you've made it all the way through!  

When we left all of our family behind in Utah seven and a half years ago, it was with the unspoken understanding that we would bring the grandchildren home every year for Christmas.  So every year we pack our bags full of winter gear and Christmas presents, load up the car, and drive for 12 hours to spend a few weeks with the people we love.

This year was no different.  We loaded up Friday evening and got up early Saturday morning to begin our drive.  We usually leave around 3:00 in the morning so the girls will sleep for the first part of the drive, but this year the alarm malfunctioned and we didn't take off until just after 5:00.

We warned the girls that this would be a different drive than they were used to, because they were going to be awake for a lot more of it than they were used to.  Changes in plans do not go over well for people with Ebert genes, so we wanted to give them enough of a heads up that we didn't have to deal with drama when it took forever to get to Grandma's house.

Well.  It was certainly a different drive.  Just not for the reasons we anticipated.

About 3 hours into the drive, we were passing Pendelton, and I turned around to take a picture of the girls, who had snoozed a little and were now all happily occupied with movies and various other activities.

Little do they know...

Chris and I began talking about how efficiently we must have packed, because it didn't seem like the car was quite as full as usual.

And that's when it hit me, like the proverbial ton of bricks, that there was a very good reason why it didn't seem so full: because it wasn't.  There were three bags of Christmas presents at home in our closet.

All of the girls' Christmas presents.  ALL of them.

While packing Friday, I had gone through all the presents we were bringing with us and organized them into bags and boxes.  All the wrapped gifts for our families and from the girls to each other were in a pile on my bed, next to a giant - closed - box of unwrapped gifts for Chris and myself and the couple of things that were for the whole family.  Everything the girls were getting was sorted into three big grocery bags and put out of sight in my closet, where they had been hiding for the last several weeks anyway.  And, due to some miscommunication about what, exactly, was in the giant box, where they still were.

Once I had finished repeating variations of "Oh my gosh" and "Oh, no, no, no, no, no" and was able to explain to Chris why I had launched into complete and utter freak-out mode, he pulled the car off at the next exit, and we got out so we could discuss the situation without three extra pairs of ears.

Our first thought was, of course, that we would have to turn around and go back.  Another three hours in the car, except this time moving further away from our goal.  Our second, happier, thought was that maybe we could continue on to Utah, and somehow manage to book a plane ticket for either Chris or myself from Salt Lake to Portland and back again.  Because he travels for work, Chris has MVP gold status with Alaska Airlines, so he called them to see if there was anything they could do for us.  And there was, to the tune of $700.  The day before Christmas Eve is not a good time to book a last-minute plane ticket, FYI.

Back to square one.

So while I freaked out some more, Chris called his dad, hoping for another, less freaked out brain to help think things through.  After determining that the only keys to our house were with us, meaning no one could get in and overnight everything to us, and that no, we couldn't just rush out and replace everything once we got to Salt Lake and then return the stuff in our closet once we got home (which was also my dad's suggestion - he even went so far as to offer to start searching right away and save us some time), his dad realized that not only had Chris's brother and his girlfriend stayed overnight in La Grande, 45 minutes down the road, but that they were still there.

After much frantic phone calling back and forth between the three parties, it was determined that we would head to La Grande and meet up with Blaine and Mel, who would then take our car and continue on with the girls as far as Ogden, where Grandma & Grandpa would then meet them, give them a car, and take the girls on to Sandy.  Chris and I, meanwhile, would take Blaine & Mel's car and head back to Portland.  It is important to note that these two are saints, because not everybody would willingly agree to lock themselves in a car for seven hours with someone else's children.  Not even parents willingly do that.

All the way to La Grande we discussed with the girls what was happening.  The hard part was being as clear as we could about why it needed to happen while still being vague enough to keep from destroying certain beliefs.  We told the girls we forgot the presents and needed to go back and get them.  Ellie, who was sitting in the way back, immediately piped up, "No we didn't!  I can see them!  They're right here!"  And Vicki said, "Yeah, I carried them to the car."  And we said, again, "Nope, we forgot the presents."  Vicki caught on then, and started telling Ellie, "No, just trust them, they forgot stuff.", all the while with a look of horror on her face as it dawned on her just what had been forgotten.  Lexi didn't say much, but I think she's trying hard to hold on to certain beliefs, despite her brain telling her otherwise, and she didn't want to think about it any more than she really had to.  Once they understood that a return to Portland by some of the people in our car was inevitable, they immediately promised to be good for Blaine & Mel.  With the alternative being more time in the car, it was an easy promise to make.

So we got to La Grande around 9:30 in the morning, and, after a gas and potty break, Blaine, Mel, and the girls took off in one direction while Chris & I took off in another.  Four hours later, we were back home in Portland, where we headed straight upstairs to the master bedroom closet, pulled out my three very organized bags of presents, and put them in the car before grabbing a quick lunch and getting back on the road.

At one point, I called Mel to see how things were going, and she answered with, "We just had the best experience at a gas station.  With llamas!"

Llamas make any trip worthwhile

So things went great for them.  Fears were unfounded: the girls behaved, no one threw up, I was the only one who freaked out the entire trip.  It's not surprising, really, considering they've made this drive twice a year for the last seven years, but it's good to know they can do it.

And it's a good thing Chris and I like each other.  We talked, we listened to podcasts, we enjoyed music that we wanted to listen to... it was like a very long date, in a car.  And we decided to enjoy every minute of it.  What else could we do?

As much as we just wanted to get to our final destination, we knew that it would be too much to try and drive straight to Salt Lake, so we stopped around 10:30 at the Super 8 motel in Boise and had an impromptu overnight date.  After breakfast at Denny's we set off again at 8:45 the next morning, stopping in Ogden to trade cars with Blaine before finally arriving at Chris's parents' house just after 2:00 Sunday afternoon.

The total driving time for us came to 20 hours.  Yikes.

But, guess what?  It was totally worth it.  Because on Christmas morning, we got to see this:

Roller skates!

Perfect for the budding artist

Google Nexus tablet - she's been dying for this for a year now

Robotics 101

She didn't take the skates off or put down the
bunny all day long

I will be the first to admit that this was truly a first world problem.  There are so many people in this world who didn't even have presents to leave behind.  And, of course, we know that Christmas isn't about the presents, but the birth of our Savior Jesus Christ.  Still, we were blessed this year to be able to provide some things for our girls that they really wanted, and it would have been sad for all of us if they'd had to wait for two weeks to receive them.

It turned out to be the best Christmas we've ever had.  I don't know whether everything was better because we had to work so hard to have it here, or if it's just that we really scored this year as far as knowing what the girls wanted, but whatever the reason, it was an excellent Christmas.  Well worth 20 hours in a car.

And, besides, now we have an awesome story to tell.

Random Thoughts Thursday (the un-random Halloween edition)

We interrupt this regularly scheduled Random Thoughts Thursday to bring you a Halloween-themed post.  This post is brought to you by the knowledge that there are far-away grandparents and an uncle in Australia who really want to see the girls Halloween costumes, and by the fact that I actually have time to blog today.

Random Thoughts Thursday will return at its regularly scheduled time next week.

About two months ago, Ellie told me she'd decided once and for all what she wanted to be for Halloween.  This is the girl who has fairly readily molded her costume ideas to my will for the past six years.  I should have enjoyed that more while it lasted, because this year she decided to be...a volcano.  I usually make the girls costumes, but even if I'd wanted to buy them this year, I have no idea where one would go to find a volcano costume.  So we got creative with the several yards of black felt that Chris has had stored in our cedar chest for the past 10 years, and here's what we came up with:

Pretty darn awesome, if I do say so myself.  Here's another angle:

And one more, because I was feeling artsy:

Her original plan was to have her hair all ratted up and sprayed red, but we tried that for the church Halloween party, with traumatic results when it came time to clean it up, so we came up with the headband instead.  She got pretty good at explaining to people what she was supposed to be, and was over the moon when someone actually guessed right.

Lexi usually goes for simplicity when it comes to costumes.  Her main goal is to just have fun and get candy.  I completely understand that, and appreciate how easy it is to create her costumes.  This year we just had to hunt down a Viking helmet, and the rest I threw together in a few hours using a couple of t-shirts and some fake fur.

And the "okay, stop taking pictures now" picture:

Vicki originally wanted to create an elaborate steampunk costume, but as much as I would have loved to do that (and make something for myself, too, I just didn't have the time.  So she decided to be "Alberta" Einstein instead.

We had fun fluffing up her hair (you can't really tell, but we sprayed it white), and those eyebrows and mustache were a fantastic find.  This is one of my favorite pictures of her, ever:

Here are all three together:

And it wouldn't be Halloween without Chris and I in our goth costumes:

Scary, no?  We also had tattoos:

(That picture is from a party we went to a few days before Halloween.)

So, there you have it.  Hopefully this satisfies those of you dying to see what the girls came up with this year. The only things that scares me now is wondering what, exactly, Ellie is going to decide to be next year.  What could possibly top a volcano?

One last shot of all three girls:

And thus concludes the Ebert family costume roundup of 2012.  Join us again next year when we discover just how much weirder it can get.

He is Risen!

He is risen! He is risen!
Tell it out with joyful voice.
He has burst his three days’ prison;
Let the whole wide earth rejoice.
Death is conquered; man is free.
Christ has won the victory.

Come with high and holy hymning;
Chant our Lord’s triumphant lay.
Not one darksome cloud is dimming
Yonder glorious morning ray,
Breaking o’er the purple east,
Symbol of our Easter feast.

He is risen! He is risen!
He hath opened heaven’s gate.
We are free from sin’s dark prison,
Risen to a holier state.
And a brighter Easter beam
On our longing eyes shall stream.

                                                    -Cecil Francis Alexander

Things to be Thankful For

While going through my file of old emails to our Utah family, I found an account of our first Thanksgiving here in Oregon, back in 2005.  In previous years, we had always had Thanksgiving with one or the other extended family, so this was the first year I'd had the experience of cooking a turkey.  It was definitely an educational process:

The girls watched me get the turkey ready. They were fascinated by the whole thing, until I got the wrapping off. Then I pulled it out of the bag and the "juices" came dripping out and Vicki started screaming, "It's bleeding! It's bleeding!" (She refused to eat any of it at dinner, so I think if I do a turkey again next year I won't let her watch the prep part so she doesn't get scarred for life.)

She asked where its head was, and I explained to her that they cut off its head and neck, and they put the neck inside, and that when I pulled it out she could see.

I was, and I realize now that this was probably not the best idea, referring to the turkey as "he", and just as I said, "they cut off his head and put it inside him", Lexi walked into the kitchen and asked in an extremely concerned voice, "Whose head? Dad's?"

There's probably a really good reason that I don't ever remember watching my mom get the turkey ready on Thanksgiving morning.

The Obligatory Halloween Post

(Mom, this is for you!)

Vicki is studying ancient civilizations this year, and has been really into the Percy Jackson books, so she decided to dress as Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom (hence the owl on her shoulder).  She made her costume by herself - how cool is that?  Ellie has been planning on being Rapunzel pretty much since she saw Tangled for the first time.  And it was extremely important to her that she have a wig.  She determined that her own hair, despite being the longest in this household, is nowhere near long enough, and anything I might have attempted to create with yarn would only have been met with all the scorn a 6-year-old could muster, so I caved and bought something that is now sitting in a tangled (ha!) mess on my stairs.  Lexi...well, I don't really know why she wanted to be a zombie, but she made an awesome one.  We had a blast designing her costume and doing her makeup, and her hair was a riot.  Yes, that's her real hair.  It was lots of fun to comb that out afterward, let me tell you.

Our church has a Halloween party every year, and they always find someone to take pictures, which I love.

This is the one I took with my cell phone camera
behind the photographer's back

I'm seriously considering making this our Christmas card this year

This is the only picture I have of Chris's and my costumes.  Chris made his own steampunk attire.  He wanted to go all out, but budget constraints made that a challenge, so he just went with an awesome eyepiece and a wrist-mounted rocket launcher.  And I just recycled my punk costume from years past, but with better tattoos and a different hair color (I tried purple this year, but I think I like last year's blue the best...what do you think?)

After the church party, we humiliated our children by taking them to the pumpkin patch in full costume.

Contemplating the choosing of the pumpkin

She went with a "zombie pumpkin"

Isn't she cute?

And then, of course, we carved the pumpkins.

Happy Halloween!

He Lives!

I know that my Redeemer lives.
What comfort this sweet sentence gives!
He lives, He lives who once was dead.
He lives, my ever living Head.

He lives to silence all my fears.
He lives to wipe away my tears.
He lives to calm my troubled heart.
He lives, all blessings to impart.

He lives!  All glory to His name!
He lives, my Savior, still the same.
Oh, sweet the joy this sentence gives:
I know that my Redeemer lives!

You Should Move to Portland

The main reason we chose Portland when Chris was looking for jobs is its close proximity to EVERYTHING.

Not only is it a big city, but it's just two hours from both the ocean and the mountains.  Today I want to sell you on the mountains.

Some of our best family friends invited us to join them in a President's Day snow hike around Trillium Lake.  Given the choice between spending a day on Mt. Hood and spending a day folding laundry, I had no problem choosing Mt. Hood.

If you move to Portland, neither will you.

You could go on a snow hike around Trillium Lake, and enjoy scenery that is breathtaking in all seasons.

Mt. Hood is back there, but it's too cloudy to see.



You'd probably have to stop a few times for snacks. (Girl Scout cookies are excellent incentives when it comes to hiking up a steep, snow-covered hill.  Just FYI.)  Maybe you'd even find an igloo to eat them in.

You could have a snowball fight.

I think I have at least one snowball fight picture of these two from just
about every year that they've known each other - it's what they do.



Watch out, he's going to throw a 'nowball at you!

Or make snow angels.

If you move to Portland, and go on a snow hike, you'll discover lots of fun places to explore.

Look how deep the snow is!
Also, Ellie thinks she can fly.

Or to just roll around.

If you're under six, you'll probably get to ride some of the way.

This is the life.

And this is a good thing, because there's an awful lot of walking involved.  4.5 miles' worth, in fact.  Although if you're like us you may not discover this until the end of your hike.

The stick seemed to help when she was forced out of the sled.

You should definitely move to Portland, because if you did, you'd probably make wonderful friends, like these:

Johnny, Ellie, Anna, Lexi, Vicki, Daniel, and Noah (in the sled)

And if you moved to Portland, not only would you get to see a beautiful place like this in the winter:

But you'd be here to see that in the summer, it looks like this:

Yes, you should move to Portland.