Although It's Been Said Many Times, Many Ways...

Merry Christmas...to you, gaggle of Crawford children.

From my perspective, it's always better to give than receive, and has been for some years now. But I'll say it right here and now, at the risk of being a horrible parent: the longer they can hold fast to the pure joy of receiving, the better. Who gets this excited over Cherry Sours in her Christmas stocking?
Or new underwear? That he opened in front of all the grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, without even blushing?

Or these silly bands, soon to be absconded on a random coffee table, never again to be touched? But thoroughly cherished for those blessed few hours comprising Christmas Eve?

Eve is a classic giver, and not only picked out this Nerf basketball hoop for Ty on her Chrismas shopping trip with daddy (one of the season's highlights for each of them), she smothered him with this bear hug - how priceless is this moment for a mom, and how priceless for them? That they shop for each other, chose each other's gifts to open on Christmas Eve, that they're so grateful to each other? This is what you pray and work for, all day long, if you're in my shoes.

Ty outdid himself with the gift-giving - fashion design mannequin for Evie, fashion stencils for Gracie? Just watch him work that room!

This is a stereotypical Santa delivery, the crazy-expensive, coveted swim parka. All status, all the time.

This is the look of pure Christmas joy: he got the fishing pole he's been coveting since summer. It's hysterical to us that he has this deep passion - neither of us has ever shown the slightest interest in fishing, were born to parents who have never shown the slightest interest in fishing, who were probably born to parents who had never shown the slightest interst in fishing. But it moves his soul, baby. You might even say that a river runs through it.

More familial bonding. This time, over a batting helmet. It slays me, like a dragon.

Foodstuffs are a gal's best friend. Cherry sours and jerky. A dentist's nightmare.

Runner-up to Ty's fishing pole pic for capturing the spirit of the season...Grace has coveted this little remote-controlled puppy since Nickelodeon first introduced the commercials this last fall, and the Crawford grandparents made their darling angel's dreams come true. Did I mention that she pants and barks, incessantly? The dog, not Gracie.

And don't even think of flicking that "Off" switch.

Bass Pro Shops? Seriously? This is a Blog Entry?

No, really, I'm with you: ordinarily, if I were to stumble upon an entire blog post devoted to a family's visit to the nearest Bass Pro Shops, I'd cringe and scroll right past. I might even silently and even snidely grumble: "Did they do nothing else of importance in the month of December?"
But this holiday break, that glorious edifice beckoned on a cold, cold day, and we didn't emerge for nearly 4 hours. It was simply too good to be true. Taxidermy-treated bear, elk, moose, you name it, in addition to a 7-ft. tank of fish, rock wall, ATV and boat displays, weapons to handle, and a fantastic Santa's Village. I'm not kidding. Four hours. And I had to drag them out.

The fellas, wrestling. Should have warned you, I know the shock is stupefying.

The great wish of the young'uns hearts would be to procure an actual ATV. But just think of the insurance premiums - for the machinery and the medical bills.

Couldn't resist this shot. This is what home looked like at the turn of the last century. Precious. The view north from Wilcox Street. Or is it Perry? I can never tell them apart.

The major draw for the fellas was the RC cars - since every remote control device brought into the Crawford household is broken within minutes, I often forget the pure joy the boys experience.

Seriously. Look at those faces.

We wrapped up the afternoon with the climbing wall, of which Shane, naturally, made short work. Then we paid for our gingerbread sleigh kit, left the premises with many promises of a speedy return, and indulged in Cold Stone at Northfield Stapleton. Because we're on vacation, that's why.

Celebrate Me Home

The Sabbath before Christmas, and all through the house...mom's gotta get a shot before the progeny run upstairs, throw their Sunday finery hither and yon, and clamor back down to eat processed cheese food product and crackers while settling down before the big TV screen in the basement to watch those Broncs make a respectable showing: they started Tebow! A new era dawns! Ahem. Back to Christmas.
Mom has officially given up on gingerbread houses, so we tried our hands at sleighs this year...not nearly as time-consuming nor frustrating, which means, of course, that only one child cried when the royal icing couldn't hold the sides together sufficiently to sustain the child's full body weight when applied.

I LOVE Christmas break! We were at our leisure this lovely Sabbath Day - after the aforementioned Broncos game, we had all the time in the world to construct sleighs, eat a nondescript dinner, make cookies, and snuggle in front of yet another Harry Potter film. I've waited all year for TIME, and, by jingle, we got it!

How was it that the Outlets were not chock-full on the Monday before Christmas? Who cares? We enjoyed this mega tree...

severed a few limbs...

and saw the Big Man, all in a span of about 15 minutes, which was a rarity. I loved this particular embassador for North Pole generosity: after hearing Shane's request for more Legos, he pointedly asked if Shane wanted more Armos as well.

The gals and I headed up to Hudson Gardens in Littleton to take in the lighting spectacular, and our socks were appropriately knocked off! We've had such amazing weather this season, we only began to lose sensation in our fingers toward closing time.

Pretty tricked-out tea party design, I'm thinking.

We took in this beautiful willow, as well as another few acres of lighted gorgeousness from the seat of...

a one-horse open sleigh! Smokey was much admired by my ladies, and we really loved when he came to a dead stop on the trail in front of his trailer: when it's 9 p.m. and you've pulled Denverites around all day, it's just time to pack it in, you know?

Oh, by gosh, by golly: It's time for mistletoe and holly!

Invoking a little yuletide Sinatra is always in style.

The retrospective begins...NOW...

The first week of December is always chock-full to a ridiculous degree: my 40th birthday (anguish! dang those zeroes!), and, as always, The Nutcracker. Our 2nd year running at the International Ballet's production at the University of Denver, stellar every time. The gals always make a night of it, and almost as entertaining as the show itself, bookended by Noodles & Company and Bonnie Brae ice cream, is watching the boys fenagle themselves out of attending.

Our greatest aspirations of cutting down a tree are foiled again (who's got a spare day to jog up to the mountains, what with swim meets, basketball practices, the oddly scheduled birthday party?), but the tree lot by Chili's will do in a pinch. Reminiscent of my childhood tree-trimming, our background symphony was provided courtesy of Monday Night Football, which always gives me a feeling of security and a sense that all is well with the world. I wish I could say I was kidding.
It's just one of the happiest nights of the year. Our newest ornaments represented the Star Wars, vintage Barbie, holiday Barbie, and Alice in Wonderland collections. Glad tidings, indeed!

Budget cuts made it necessary to eliminate the choir program for the 6th grade, to Eve's great disappointment, but the 4th graders got a clear shot, and Ty's been loving the experience. The holiday concert was a joy to watch and observe, and certainly involved about 1/100 of the usual spectators. More glad tidings.

Apparently, singing for Clear Sky was as far as Ty was willing to go...Shane and Evie, far left, brought their sterling talents and matchless stage presence to the nativity for the Foothills Ward Christmas party, regaling the precious plastic baby Jesu with angelic ministrations...

No, I can't get enough of crouching princesses in front of Christmas trees, if you were wondering.

This year I'm room mom for 3 classrooms - the 6th graders got a breakfast and rousing game of whiteboard Pictionary for their holiday send-off...is Castle Rock Middle School ready for these scorching beauties next Fall?

The 4th graders received the same treatment, and their breakfast was crazy over-the-top. One of the things I've come to expect is that no matter how many e-mails and fliers you deliver to parents, 9 out of 10 of them will not respond, leading you to believe that you need to procure $40 worth of food on your own, only to find that they send in $40 worth of food apiece the morning of the party...I'm learning to be grateful for their particular brand of ill-communicated generosity. I really am.

Pictionary. I tried to mix it up a bit, but they manhandled my little suggestions in mere seconds. Only 'eggnog' slowed 'em up a bit.

The kindies got the real production, which their age, attention span and parental involvement both necessitate and make possible...they got a Polar Express extravaganza: tickets punched by a conductor as they followed the taped train track to listen, on board, to the story while sipping hot chocolate.

They got to make tree decorations, play "Conductor Says" and decorate Twinkie trains...the preciousness of this age group always kills me. I hate to think it's my last go-round. But it is. It IS.

Mama can only do so much, so I missed much of Shaney's 2nd grade bash. Luckily, they just munched and socialized, but I did get this great shot of Shane's group writing projects for the holiday: their own version of the 12 Days of Christmas.

Dressed in White

The happiest of all days...I truly enjoy every day of being a mom to this amazing crew of people. Some days are better than others, however. And this firmly falls under the category of "Payoff Days", when, somehow, you've managed to prepare another soul, as much as you have any part in it, to be baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and to begin the covenant-keeping relationship you hope he will always enjoy with his Savior Jesus Christ.
Shane was just gang-busters for this experience, and, like every milestone he's experienced since birth, the time I'm personally contributing to prep him has exponentially decreased with each successive child. With Shane, it has never mattered, from weaning to walking to talking, and on to this great moment. He excels, I think, precisely because I'm not in there mucking with his own natural, God-given abilities to think things through, consider events and consequences, and do what he feels is right.

Shane woke up bright and early on the morning of November 7th ready to fast, waltzed into Sacrament Meeting and became the first Crawford child EVER to bear a public testimony (and did I love that his special testimony included Joseph Smith? Did I love that I don't think he was just reciting what he was 'supposed to', but that our recent trip to SLC impressed something on his heart?), and that he was just a model of composure at his baptism? A friend told me that as he sat to receive the gift of the Holy Ghost that he felt the brethren's hands on his head and then closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and just waited. It was also good that he didn't try to tackle anyone after the blessing was given.

Here he is with the Crawfords, Kulwickis and Prusses - one thing I think he really doesn't appreciate is how blessed he is to have so many family members attending such a special day, that the entire program was brought about by the talents and efforts of these special people. But he will.

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

All Hallow's Eve. How amazing is THAT view from the back deck?

Nothing worse than a holiday that falls on the Sabbath. But I'll tellya what: the kids were only mildly disappointed, and were actually a joy that night as they watched movies and jostled over who got to answer the door and dispense treats...
The necessary ordeal of carving.

I doubt Gracie will ever be a gut-grabber - she's an artist by temperament, and would rather paint than hack.

Daddy doing the honors...now that I think of it, we just tossed those perfectly good seeds: no roasting, no spring planting. Dangit.

Nicely done. And though I love the lighting in the kitchen for everyday living, it sure wasn't flattering for picture-taking. But, then, they're pumpkins. What more could I expect?

OK, OK! Fine! We're wickedly, naughty, horrible people! We let them dress up and trick or treat! Only the houses at the end of the cul-de-sac, however, and they were back within 10 minutes. What an awesome weather weekend - 70s during the day, and, although they had to layer with shirts underneath the costumes, no coats required! Bonus!

Alice. Pulling an "Eat me." In the Wonderland sense, of course.

Eight, not a moment too late

Shane Roman Crawford. What can I say that hasn't already been said?

Eight years ago this angel of a boy came to us, and he has been, ever since, the life of every party, the spark in every conversation, the squeaky wheel, the bull in the china shop, the apple of our eye.
This fall, Shaney joined Eve in year-round swimming, which, if you can believe it, does NOT wear him out. If anything, he comes out of his thrice-weekly practices more hyped up than before he went in the water. Which is somewhat, well, beyond belief. And slightly disappointing.
He was able to attend the Great Pumpkin Meet in Longmont on his birthday, and just tore it up. Daddy will take the honors for getting him to a 7 a.m. warm-up at a venue 1 1/2 hours from the house...

The traditional apple bob following the meet is always a kick to watch, and I was somewhat stupefied: a kid of Shane's athleticism, determination, love of food and plain old big mouth didn't do him much good - he was one of the last to get his apple, and that was only after he followed the suggestion of cornering it against the pool wall.

The boys chose a trip to Elitch's as our family party this year, and our only open day was the evening of the 30th, Shane's birthday, and, naturally, a travel swim meet day, but, as is our way, we just shoe-horned it in. No pictures, but Shane's now tall enough to ride all the big kid rides with Dad, Eve and Ty, and they were beyond stoked to enjoy the full spectrum of crazy. We love going to Denver's oldest amusement park during the Fall weekends - probably not a bit less crowded, but significantly cooler temps, and the place is all creeped out for Halloween, complete with cobwebs, fog machines, and roving staff members in various horror-inducing costumes.

Shane scored an AWESOME body sled for our snow-cruising pleasure, as well as a plethora of Lego kits - lots of Star Wars for this kid. It's always a mixture of elation and frustration as he puts them together, but I just get warm fuzzies from watching him - that's what a childhood should look like, creating, experimenting, developing. Thrilled beyond measure that we get to watch him go through it.

Perfect Ten

Ten years ago I gave birth to a beautiful, blue-eyed, 10-pound boy...which was just as ridiculously painful as it sounds. But he grew on me.

And what a huge year it's been for Tysie - this year he's again excelling in all things math, and has added to his already brimming schedule regular practice times with the Clear Sky choir and is representing the heck out of his fourth-grade class, in addition to two kindie classes, as a Student Council representative.
Here, as he awaits his gifts expectantly, dad psyches him out with his hoodie instead. Oh, the madcap hilarity of a Crawford birthday!
The real goods. Which is all he really cares about these days: football and baseball, but not necessarily in that order. He's given up soccer (I hate to say it, but flippin' YAHOO!), granting us a blessed few fall weekends of stress-free enjoyment, but I just KNOW that next year he'll be demanding the gridiron. I don't mind it. Goodness knows, if there's one thing I truly enjoy, it's football. But, oh, those blessed few fall weekends of stress-free enjoyment! How I lament thy loss!

No need to call Social Services - he had a real cake at the birthday party. Pictures at eleven.

To sum up: we absolutely adore Ty. He's my main man, my angel boy, someone I'm endlessly proud of and can't wait to see at the end of every school day. One-sixth of my greatest blessings.

So there.