Dear friends, family, foes, fogies, falsely identified email accounts, and fairies of diverse dryad a-filliations,
After last year's monumental effort to gather mailing information and perform the duty of sending out a Christmas update, you might think that we would receive many a letter from all of you.
Then we realized that our mailing address has changed and that none of you have it. So, since I have to dig up all of your email accounts I might as well send out our Christmas mailer via the computer...I once thought that sending such sentiments over the wires was vile and that traditional letter sending was more authentic and romantic. I pictured the noble letter carriers trudging around in the snow after beloved grandmothers had sorted the letters. However, this year as part of my experience working for a contractor for the post office (the post office is the largest employer of the Deaf and they use ASL interpreters quite a bit) I was able to tour a post office facility. They have robots sorting this stuff, massive beeping car-like contraptions to move it around, and no grandmothers in sight. So, this year I am giving the letter carriers a break and calling it a form of my noble environmentalism--here's your "Christmas letter."
Now, the news of our home. A couple weeks ago each of us buried a word that we use too much. In an attempt to get Gaebriel to stop talking about jingoist dominance and death and destruction, he buried "gun." Lucky for him, bow and arrows, knives, daggers, cimiters, spears, and guillotines are still viable forms of communication. He is doing pretty good ending the endless chatter about blowing things to smithereens.
James buried grumpy words in the middle of the night when he is awakened by wee ones, and I buried the word "no." I was hoping that Gaebriel was so excited about getting to go outside in the darkness under a full moon and put paper scraps in the soil that he would forget to make the connections in his mind of all of the ways he could use my promise against me. He's a smart kid. We have been doing a lot of science experiments (that usually end in the blowing up of something with sodium bicarbonate and vinegar), plays, park adventures, book readings, and climbing up the walls--literally--since that promise I made.
I am excited for a Christmas break with Daddy around so he can say "no" for me a little bit. I just realized that I was teaching the kids how to make up excuses a little too much. They would say, "let's build something" and I would say, "no, I have to do the laundry." But when all is said and done, all of creation knows that you will never remember that moment in front of the washer loading in the lights and darks, but you just might remember the leaning tower #300 that you build with the kids. So, I am trying to say "no" less often. Merry "No"el to you.
James, previously mentioned as grumpy at night, has plenty of excuses to be less than content when awakened at 1, 2, 3, and his favorite 4:15am (just before the alarm). He arises most days around 4:30am--the hour he used to call bedtime as a teenager after wrestling with the poetic muses inside his head, getting rest for a few hours before high school began. Now he is snoozing around 9:30pm (ideally) so he can arise to beckon the muses of philosophical texts. He is more than halfway through with his PhD coursework at Georgetown and loving the discussion, vigor, and endless paper writing of his program. Truly, he loves writing papers, they are his new poetry? Hopefully he will return to romantic iambic pentameter after this love affair with Kierkegaard, Kant, Heidegger, and political philosophers who surely affect tremendous change in the world (although I have never heard of their names) is less all encompassing in a few years. He also works at the Department of State to insure that we are insured--a very noble thing since we just had our third child in October.
Speaking of child, Myriam (note spelling change from original announcement--that was James' idea) Reevkahleh Olsen is two months old now and smiles and smiles and coos and coos and a-gah a-gah's. What a fun moment in life this is to have her laughing at us so often. She is adored with a great adoring by Gaebriel and Magdeleine. She even smiles when they are squishing her with hugs and kisses. Magdeleine says, "Me want she to play with me." They have adapted to a new angel in our home with more ease than I. Balancing 3 kids is kinda like balancing dishes on your head. There are people that can do it, I have seen them at Asian acrobat shows and on late-night comedy long ago doing "stupid human tricks." But when I do either, it's messy. And the same amount of vacuuming is required. Luckily we are surrounded by friends and family and neighbors that are helping and making the beautiful disaster of parenthood we are experiencing part of their entertainment (now that screenwriters guilds are holding picket signs).
We've lately gotten into Greek mythology. James just completed a Herculean effort of a test for his program. Gaebriel learned all about Icarus and keeps trying to get us to make him some wings with honey (supposing there is enough wax intermingled within the honey) so he can fly. I am feeling like Medusa with my current hairstyling approach, and Magdeleine and Myriam are the mermaids watching the entire mythological chaos (and occasionally luring the unsuspecting to their own chaotic doom). Magdeleine sits on her rock in the sea of daydream and humms and sings while twirling her hair. She is the light that shines in darkness when she awakes giddlily in the morning and beckons "bubba" to follow her to start the day of play. She is our painter, too. Color all about strewn with reckless abandon. That little girl is a joy.
Year in review in stream of consciousness form: Pregnant!
Thus canceled vacation.
Hate where we live, let's move. Birds singing round recycled Christmas tree covered with seeds. We moved (95 boxes of books on the wall, 95 boxes of books--thank you dear friends who took them down and passed them around)!!!
Thus canceled vacation.
Quaint old townhome few miles from the district in Olde Towne Alex--doesn't that sound romantic??? Working, playing, sleeping (in the basement/in tents/in castles of moving boxes), traveling, conducting book clubs and the songs in our heads. I finished my master's thesis!!!! Whew, that was close to the deadline.
Thus canceled vacation.
Is sleep truly vital? Let's read by candlelight say the kiddles. Aunt Morgan moves in with us! G and M are speaking Spanish enough to tell you to get your butterfly to do almost anything (mariposa is their favorite word and probably the only one to be remembered after a few more months). We have a mouse! Baby comes, Daddy catches her (baby, not mouse, we still have not caught the mouse), many a visit from beloved family. AND THE WORLD TAKES A PAUSE AND BREATHES IN DEEPLY AS A NEW ONE COMES DOWN. Back to task at hand...Parks parks, parks. Squirrels eating our pumpkins. Did I take a shower? I did get the majority of me wet while aiding in the brushing of teeth. Christmas lights, kiss good night.
And one final thing, we offer as a gift of poetry Shakespeare's 29th Sonnet representative of our feelings toward you in our life:
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
There is so much to celebrate at this moment and in every moment. We are children of God. He hears the birth of every star whether it be a bang, whimper or a quiet chord and still listens to our voice in prayer. He has sent his Son for us and as we look at the faces of our own children we are beginning to realize what a tremendous sacrifice that was. As we sing and play with our Bethlehem city while eating a sinful amount of Christmas fudge we hope that our lives reflect in some way the love he has shown to all of us. If we can bring aid to any of your lives please let us know. Please let us find ways to be less distant in our relationships and gather together to show forth our love, less in words and more in arms outstretched for embraces.
Glory to God in the Highest,
& Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men.
Erin, James, Gaebriel, Magdeleine, and Myriam Olsen (and the mouse)
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