Crandall Christmas

The month of December kind of sucked me under. I've finally re-emerged to the surface and am ready to join the blogger world once again. I wrapped up my classes on December 10th and I felt such an immediate sense of relief and freedom that my feet couldn't help doing a slight skip every few steps as I walked away from the testing center. I know bragging is unbecoming in a lady, but I'm going to do it anyway:). Drumroll........I received a 98% in my anatomy class! Jonah has been pretty proud of me for the last nine months. This past summer, his favorite way to introduce me to people was, "This is my mom. She is the best "human body describer in the world!". I still have 2 prereqs to go, but I've decided I deserve a break so I'm not taking classes next semester.

We bought our tree a little late this year. Todd loaded up a hatchet and the little boys in their winter garb and headed up to the Blue Ridge mountains to find the perfect Christmas tree. (Okay, maybe they didn't drive all the way to the mountains. Maybe, just maybe they found our perfect tree behind the Seven-Eleven).




Jonah and his pals helped all of the Hyde Park neighborhood get into the Christmas spirit by Caroling from door to door. I wasn't aware of this delightful activity until I answered my door to this:




I was impressed. Especially with little Stella playing her heart out on her violin.

I wanted a wreath for my front door this year. I found the perfect one at TJ Maxx (love that place!) for the right price and promptly hung it on my front door from a length of ribbon per Martha Stewart's intructions. I was so enthralled with it that I would run out to the sidewalk and look at it several times a day. I'm sure my neighbors thought I was crazy (maybe you think I am too?). I was enthralled with it right up until the day it started to rain and my perfect Christmas wreath began to bleed rivers of red down my front door.

Apparently, there are two categories of wreaths: the indoor kind and the outdoor kind. I wonder how I missed that important fact in my 30 years of living.

The night before Christams is my favorite part of the whole season. We have some really special family traditions centered around Christmas Eve. We eat gooey cinnamon buns for supper (Great-Grandma Jensen's secret recipe), we open Christmas jammies;


Someone's a bit excited.

We act out the Nativity Story:



Apparently, Mary needed to stretch her legs, so she let Joseph have a turn on the donkey.

And we sing Christmas songs—both sacred and secular: PRESENTING Yonah serenading us with his own rendition of "Mamacita, Where is Dee Santa Claus?" with his back-up dancers Ezerita and Ruvane! (It is at times like this, I wish I had a digital video camera to show you how truly awesome this performance was).





Then, we tuck the childlings snugly away into their respective beds so Santa can begin the long, laborious night of preparation.

The hit of Christmas morning was the GBOP--the Great Big Outdoor playball! It took Todd all of an hour and half just to pump up this ball (with an electric pump, no less). But it was well worth the effort. The ball was too big to push out the front door so we had to open both of the french doors in the family room, take it through the backyard, and then out to Hyde Park in front of our house.




The boys took turns climbing inside the ball while the other two rolled them around the park at high speed. It was hilarious!