Thursday, December 23, 2010

Hot wheels, chilly morning, warming words

'Twas Christmas morning at our house. We make a special request to the Big Man to make a special drop off a few days early at our house. He graciously complies.

I heard the first footsteps making their way down the hallway towards the Christmas tree at five minutes past six o'clock. "He came. Santa came," were the whispers that followed. Precious.

I had programmed my coffee pot to begin brewing at fifteen minutes past six o'clock. The present opening proceeded at sixteen minutes past six o'clock.



















Thank goodness we open presents from youngest to oldest, because Nell had already begun to unwrap her presents at this point. And although the present situation looks a bit skimpy, scroll down to see the over-sized and under-priced goodies Santa left behind in the garage. (Santa worked miracles with the prices he paid for these gently used wheels.)



































I insisted we wait until exactly ten o'clock this morning to take the first test drive, because by then the temperature was 25 degrees. Perfect weather for cruising around the yard.

I realized boys must come from the womb knowing how to drive anything. Tucker expertly maneurved around the yard; Noah crashed into three bushes and completely demolished a plastic Sesame Street scooter parked by the shed.

The power wheels were chilling fun for the kids, but I was most eager to give Brent a special present. I tried something new this year and wrote him a poem. I printed it off at home, found an old mat, repainted an old frame, and wrapped it up.

The inspiration came two weeks ago as I was recovering from hip surgery. The kids were away at Grandma's house, leaving Brent here to help me get around. It's rare these days we have any time alone, and somewhere amidst my pain I found inspiration.

The gift was a semi-success. First, it got lost in the excitement over the kids' toys. Secondly, he thought I found the poem online and printed it off. After a third read, he thought it was perhaps insulting. By the fourth read, and lengthy explanation, I think he sensed the sincerity.




















I'll let you decide for yourself...

Sometimes it's hard to see the man behind the daddy
Tangled up with our toddlers
Hidden in a game of you can't find me

Sometimes it's hard to see the husband for the father
Lost in a game of t-ball
Or up to his elbows in bath water

Sometimes it's hard to see the spouse for the provider
Buried in a job
Forgoing his own desire

But today I caught a glimpse of the man I've missed
His humor, sport, love, support

My eyes were lost to a place years ago
Where I took that first step as God whispered, let go

Merry Christmas everyone!

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