I sound like a 100 year old smoker with a frog in her throat.  As to not get too graphic on a Wednesday night, I'll leave it as it's scratchy and I've been trying to clear it for over 24 hours now. 

All that to say, I'm happy to typing to have our chat instead of using my toadish voice.  

all of today's photos are brought to you by my phone via instagram.  normal pictures will return shortly.

Christmas time is hear full force.  

It took us three days to completely decorate our tree, but she's finally dressed in all her beauty.  Please don't mind that I personified our Christmas tree and made her a she. And to complete this rabbit trail I call her Gladys.  She is a beaut.  Most of the Christmas cards have been signed, addressed, and are in their trucks traveling to loved ones.  Or in the post office sitting in a pile next to yours.  

We are making a conscious effort to be present and together this season.  Bedtimes are being ignored in lieu of nighttime walks to view the twinkling neighborhood, along with a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Pickles, and even Milo are too young to fully get this, but one year it'll stick.

I love little babies' eyes growing as wide as Japanese Anime as they soak it in.  Apparently I'm in a mood tonight. Please forgive.  They soak in the twinkling lights, the smells of cinnamon and pine, and the sounds of carols as the notes dance from room to room filling every square inch of the bungalow.

I look at their faces and I pray.  I pray that they will be able to enjoy the wonders of this season without becoming distracted their pupose.  I pray that as we give gift to those we love, to those we want to know more, and even to those we don't know at all, never will, but are in need; I pray that He is glorified.  That we never make much the means to worship instead of the One worthy of of it.  

I'm learning.  I'm not perfect, and my parenting and woshiping isn't either.  But I am mindfully aware that our actions, more so than our words are on display.  

And little anime eyes aren't missing a step.

I think I should pour myself a cup of tea now, but hot chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon sounds so much cozier.

In my opinion there are two types of busy.  There is the kind of busy where you feel thrown into a whirlwind, and you're not sure when it'll stop, but you're just begging for it to.  And then there is the other kind.  The kind that is good for you, and you know it.  It fills your soul full of memories, and stirs in you a thirst for more.  The kind that makes you sad when it's all over.  That's been our kind of busy this past weekend. 

Its been busy with family, friends, traditions, each other, love.  Our time is precious, and we've been spending it with others.  It's made our hearts full.  

It was my third year hosting Thanksgiving.  I love having my home full during the holidays. 

I want this home to be the nucleus of family and traditions for my kids.  And this year it was. 

We feasted.  This year's turkey was my best one yet.  However, I failed taking a photo of the darn bird.

One of my favorite traditions:  My mom bakes a pie for everyone who comes, and then we share. 

The day after Thanksgiving has always been family day.  We decorated our house, minus the tree.  They're not for sell yet around these parts.  

We visited a new park.  And ended our day with a trip to Grandma and Grandpa's house for chili and corn bread. A childhood memory I hope to pass down to the littles.

It was a busy weekend with us hosting surprise party for a 13 year old, running errands, visiting with friends, and decorating for Christmas.  But it was the rejuvenating busy.  And I am thankful for it.  

Christmas time is upon us. Love it.

Let the Wild Rumpus Begin!

I never went trick or treating as a child, quoting Taylor Swift, "like ever!"  My family did "Fall Festivals" at my elementary school.  They were in the gymnasium and with games, a cake walk, a "spooky walk" with grape eyeballs and spaghetti brains.  It was fun.  But I knew.  I knew what trick or treating was, and I knew I was missing out.  It wasn't all my parents fault, the condos in Santa Monica didn't really make it trick or treating accessible.  But I promised myself that I would trick or treat with my kids. In this one small area, I would live vicariously through my kids. 

Pickles was Mickey Mouse that Michael carried all night.  And Milo was our little Wild Thing Max for Halloween.

We headed out early for Milo's (and mine, really) first trick or treating experience.  Grandparents came along and stayed on the sidewalk as we slowly walked up to neighbors doors, probably interrupting dinner.  Milo loves knocking on doors, and was just as tickled with one tiny piece of candy as a full size. 

It was a shiny night full of sparkles.  Yes, we brought glow sticks with us.  But more than that, it was bright because we are growing to love our neighbors and they are beginning to love us.  At each house, we stopped and visited for a while.  They scooped up our Wild Thing in their arms as they cooed over our boys and wanted to know the latest in our lives.    

Every year we've lived in the Yellow Bungalow, we've set up a table on our porch.  We hand out glow sticks and candy to the kiddies and hot apple cider for the grown ups.  After we were done trick or treating, we fed the boys and put Pickles to bed.  We let Milo stay up later to help us pass out the goodies.  

We soaked it up.  We relished in the glow of the lights, the distant laughter of running kids, the parents coming up to our porch to warm their hands with hot cinnamon cider.  There were screams caused by the junior high kid down the block scarring the littles.  He does it every year.  And the kids love it. It was a great night.

And I am so thankful.  

Hope your night was just as sparkly.  

One of my favorite childhood memories is "apple valley."  When I was a kid, my cousins and I would go with our parents to this magical place.  We would pick apples, press them into cider, sample apple butter, and cap the day off in a cozy restaurant with a slice of homemade apple pie with American cheese on top.  I loved it because it was something we did every year, together, as a giant family. 

When my cousin Sarah and I got a little older, maybe junior high, my parents tried to recreate the memory.  So we woke up early, and headed out to "apple valley."  The thing is: the real Apple Valley isn't where we would go as kids.  It's actually two hours in the wrong direction, in the middle of nowhere.  It turns out just our family called it "apple valley" because, well, they sold apples. Not only that, but once we were out in the middle of nowhere, our car kept breaking down every 10 miles.  We spent the entire day looking for our "apple valley." It became so ridiculous, that every time the car would break down, we just would laugh.  I think we all had cabin fever.  We finally got home around 10pm that night, never seeing an apple, but instead creating a new memory.  One that we still laugh about today.  It was special.  Imperfect in every way, but ours.  

So, being a product of my parents, I too wanted to recreate the original "apple valley" known to the rest of the world as Oak Glen with my family.

 We made new family traditions with help from the old.  

We picked apples from the ground and from the branches, where the proper way is to twist, not pull. 

There were so many tiny gems in each farm that we visited.  A field of marigolds, and reds and oranges.

Riley's Apple Farm had little sections set up, perfect for an impromptu photo shoot.  

 Willowbrook farm was a favorite.  It was small, but had personality to boot.

Milo's favorite game wasn't apple pickin' but throwin'.  So we gave him already bruised apples that we knew were going to be pressed into cider, and hid the good ones in the stroller.

We found a four legged friend, he followed us around for a while. 

"Both heirlooms and good traditions strengthen our sense of history and belonging.  As Christians, our history is God's story of drawing us into his family. (2 Corinthians 6:18)

"I turn from the generation who came before me and look toward the children who come after me.  I want the story they live to resonate with the history written by that great Author of the universe. " Noel Piper in Treasuring God in Our Traditions  

I'll leave you with our Family photo - crop shot style.  

What are your favorite fall traditions?

Happy Autumn, 

Kristin