NAME THAT HOLIDAY MOVIE:

1. A tiny little boy is separated from his family.
2. When his mother finds him, he is thousands of miles from her.
3. His 5-year-old sister saves her coins, one at a time, to help save her little brother.
4. Legal red tape keeps them apart for months upon months.
5. His parents scrimp and save and pray every day for their son who, halfway around the world, doesn't even know they miss him.
6. After a long, long time, the precious little boy hears that his family has found him and is coming to get him as soon as they possibly can.
7. You buy a t-shirt.

What?

Okay, so it's not a movie. At least not yet. It's the story of my amazing friends, Philip & Sara, who are adopting a little boy with special needs from an orphanage in west Africa. The legal work is nearly finished, their son DOES know they are coming to bring him home, and you CAN help write the end.

They need to raise $15,000 dollars to finish this journey.
Sound like a lot of money?
How much are your children worth?

Go. Seek. Love.

Seriously, go seek love. As in
http://www.goseeklove.com/ and buy a t-shirt. Or buy 2 t-shirts. Or buy t-shirts for your whole family. If you do it before December 13, this sweet family gets the proceeds donated to their adoption fund.

You are likely to spend hundreds, even thousands of dollars this season to spoil your children, indulge your appetite, take a vacation, and deck your halls with boughs of Hallmark . . . while this little boy waits in an orphanage for his dad and mom and sister and brother, who are already crazy-in-love with him, to come get him and bring him home.

Come on, if that doesn't tug at your heartstrings, your name must be Ebeneezer.

"God bless us, one and all." Now buy a t-shirt. Please.

(If you would simply like to make a tax-deductible donation, please email me - stephanie@reidland.org and I would be privileged to help you do so. Also, you can click HERE to read about their adoption journey. Merry Christmas to you all.)

traditionally untraditional . . . or why Kevin probably shouldn't be allowed to eat the Rum Cake. A holiday story by Stephanie Reynolds

My side of the family loves to be traditionally untraditional. Especially when it comes to food. For years Mom would get up in the wee hours of the night to baste a turkey, only for us all to admit afterwards that none of us really like turkey. A few years back Dad ordered a Tofurkey or Turducken or somesuch critter combination (just don't say it incorrectly and shock your grandmother . . . ), but it tasted pretty much like it sounds. For the last few years we have thrown caution to the wind and dad has grilled. This year he did ribs with a brown sugar/black peppercorn marinade and a Jack Daniels pork tenderloin. Add double-stuffed potatoes, 9th Street tea, and rum cake and, well, it was nothing short of A. Mazing.

Adding to the traditionally untraditional feel is Mom's flair for drama in decorating. The mantle, the kitchen table, the dining room are completely harvest-festive, down to the little touches like individually moulded butter pats in the shape of fall leaves, that sort of thing. Then we all come to the table in our best (cough, cough) clothes - dad was in his paint-stained pants, Kevin in his black Beatles t-shirt . . . you get the idea.

Here is where I will verbally reprimand my mother for callously engaging in the tacky practice of irreverent holiday jumping. When I said the mantle, kitchen table & dining room were harvest-festive, I should also say the Thanksgiving holiday was confined to those spaces, and those spaces only. Mom and Dad had already completely Decked the Halls for Christmas . . . and the front porch and the den and the garden room and the foyer and all three bedrooms AND THE BATHROOMS. I am so not kidding. Mom's house looks like an issue of Southern Living Christmas . . . she begins decorating in August and finishes getting it put away in June.

I, on the other hand, am contemplating whether or not I want to go to the effort of putting a wreath on my door.

The most bizarre of the traditionally untraditional had to be our dinner conversation. Did we share all the things we are thankful for? No. Did we discuss politics? Barak Obama, the health care system, Nancy Pelosi, Global Warming, Sarah Palin, Glenn Beck's Christmas Sweater, or the economy? Thankfully, no. Was there mention of Michael Jackson's death or Oprah ending her show? A discussion of the best books and movies we have read this year, like Crazy Love or The Blind Side or Where the Wild Things Are or anything Twilight-related by Stephenie Meyer (in book form, not on the big screen). No. No. No. Instead, Kevin nearly stabbed his dad in the face (accidentally . . . at least, I think) with a steak knife, and Mom was displaying a burn on her hand from a decorating mishap. The 10-person, full-table discussion went something like this:

"There are 3 things you should never grab:
a pan right out of the oven, a sharp knife, and a hot glue gun."
"AND OH, THE ARK OF THE COVENANT!" the cowboy instantly interjected.
"Yeah, that would be a bad way to die."
"So that would be 4 things then, not 3."
"So . . . would you rather die by getting chomped in half by a shark
or swallowed whole by a whale?"
"Shark."
"No, whale"
"Seriously?!?!"
"I'm afraid that if the lower half of me was bitten off by a shark,
the upper half would still be alert and know what was happening."
"True, but if you were swallowed whole by a whale,
you might get in there and find out you aren't alone."
At this point, Kevin waves and, pretending to be inside a whale,
says, "Hi Elvis!"
Kevin then goes back to the kitchen to refill his
previously overflowing plate.
"Speaking of dying, how many squirrels have you killed at the bookstore,
Paul?" (Paul is my dad, the bookstore is his business).
"342 glorified rats, all with a single shot 22!"
These potatoes are so creamy.
"Wow, of course none of those squirrels were shot when
Nancy (mom) was around!"
"Of course not, Nana sets them free, then cuts down an oak tree
so the squirrels can find food without having to climb so high."
(At this point mom asks if anyone wants cake.
The answer is a resounding, and unanimous "no").
The conversation continues with my sweet 90-year-old grandmother:
"I used to catch mice and put them in the garbage disposal."
WHAT???????!!!!!!!
She repeats with her quiet soprano voice,
"I used to catch mice and put them in the garbage disposal."
Shock and Awe. Oh, and Disgust.
Kacey turns three shades of green and begins to look
like she is going to lose her recently-eaten holiday meal.
(Again, mom asks if anyone wants cake.
It has been approximately 6 minutes since the last time she asked.
Again, the answer is a resounding, and again unanimous "no!")

Since Kacey is now in a pukey mood, she shares the memories of a "Fear Factor" competition from college when she had just finished drinking a pureed hamburger, peanut butter and DIRT milkshake and was the only remaining female competitor. (Yes, yes. A proud moment indeed in her $80,000 college career.) Kacey tells her end of the table (mostly men):
"After that I quit. The final contest involved eating bull balls."
The mostly female end of the table didn't quite hear her,
so she repeated louder,
"After that I quit. The final contest involved eating bull testicles."
The cowboy then wanted to know why she felt comfortable using the term
"balls" with him, but chose to say "testicles" to the matriarchs.
These potatoes are so creamy.
"I used to eat brains and eggs. I liked brains and eggs."
"Gross. I can't imagine eating brains, though I do like the eggs."
"Hyena eggs?"
"WHAT?"
"You said 'hyena eggs'"
"No I didn't. I said 'I do like the eggs'."
"Oh. Nevermind."
"Speaking of balls, when is Nana going to pass on her
Christmas ornaments to Kacey?"
"HEY! Some of those are MINE!" Kevin objected.
"Yes," Kacey said, "But the Frosty Friends are all mine."
"Fine. But I get all the Star Wars ornaments!"
Yes, because nothing says "Christmas" quite like Darth Vader.
Kevin went back to the kitchen for thirds.
I widened my eyes at him and he shrugged his shoulders and said,
"I can't help it. I'm 16 and this is yummy!"
"Speaking of yummy, anybody want cake?"
"No! But what does everybody want for Christmas?"
"I don't know. I haven't even started thinking about Christmas yet."
"How can you not be thinking about Christmas
when the entire house is decorated for it!?!?"
"I had to start decorating early, we have a church party
here next weekend. Can't relax till it's done!"
"Speaking of relaxing, did I tell you I had a facial last Monday?
It lasted for a full 90 minutes."
"I got a pedicure for Christmas one year. It lasted for 9 months."
"9 months? The pedicure lasted for 9 months?"
"No, the polish on my toenails lasted for 9 months."
Dad interjected,
"Apparently they painted her toes with automotive enamel."
"Really, ya'll, does anybody want cake?"

At this point we imbibed in a rum cake so strong it was illegal for Kevin to eat in most states. Then we cleared the table, put away the cornucopia of autumn decor, and mom began decorating the dining room with a trio of silver glittered Christmas trees.

christmeme

1. Favorite Holiday Memory - Kevin licking the candy canes off the Chritmas tree
2. Favorite Holiday Song - “O Holy Night” Fall on your knees gives me cold chills every single time I hear it. Although Harry Connick Jr.’s “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” works for me too. :o)
**Last year I had fun with my Charlie Brown Christmas cd that Kacey bought me.
**This year I have Mikey’s “Candlelight Processional Disney Massed Choir” cd that he recorded when he was in high school and that his mom brought from Florida so I could enjoy.
3. Favorite Holiday Cartoon - How the Grinch Stole Christmas (the animated version!)
4. Favorite Holiday Movie - Die Hard! But I’m also a sucker for “It’s a Wonderful Life”.
5. Wrapping Paper or Gift bags? Both. I like wrapping paper better, and I LOVE big bows, but I hate to wrap, so gift bags or gift boxes would be more honest.
6. Real tree or artificial? Fake, baby! The last time we cut a real tree, some critter hatched out after we brought it home and we were bug-infested the entire season. Ick!
7. When do you put up the tree? Thanksgiving weekend. Always.
8. More importantly, when do you take down the tree? New Year’s Day. I’m firm on this one. When the season is over, doggone it, turn off your giant inflatable penguins and take down the garland. I will give you about a one-week grace period on this one, and then I will be yelling at your house from my car, “CHRISTMAS IS OVER!!!! TURN OFF THE LIGHTS!!!”
9. Favorite Gift received as a child? Hmmmm . . . the funniest one was a GIGANTIC can of ravioli my parents thought would be funny. It was. The most creative was from my boyfriend we'll call "Tim": He did a “12 days of Christmas” thing that included a lot of sweet and fun things like cars and fur coats and flowers and a diamond necklace. I’ll have to blog about that sometime . . .
10. Hardest person to buy for? Dad. What do you get dad? I never do know.
11. Easiest person to buy for? Kacey or mom. They both like what I like!
12. Christmas cards? Nope. Sorry, just don’t do them, but I’m happy to open yours as long as you don't include one of those "this is how wonderful my family is" newsletters!
13. Nativity Scene? Nope again. But then, I don’t even have family pictures displayed in my house, so this is not a big surprise. Jesus is in my heart, but not on top of my entertainment center. Sue me.
14. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Christmas Sushi! HaHa. Okay, grandmama’s oyster dressing. Yum!
15. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? Yeah, Grumpy, Sleepy, Dopey . . .
16. Angel on top of the tree? Sparkly sticks and twigs and berrys and spirally things that stick out everywhere. Love it. When the kids were little we usually topped the tree with a Santa hat.
17. Open presents on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning? One present only on Christmas eve, the rest on Christmas morning, except now that the daughter-face is married and not coming home. Christmas will be weird and a week early, and on Christmas we will sit and stare at one another and sigh deeply while feeling sorry for ourselves. But at least we have cable this year, so we can watch "Paris Hilton's My New BFF" on MTV while we feel sorry for ourselves. (Yes, I'm kidding. MTV is blocked in my house for those of you who don't recognize the sarcasm.)
18. Best part of the holidays? Playing games. Especially ones that I win. Like Boggle.
19. Worst part of the holidays? Missing people who should be sharing the holiday with me. That, and putting away the Christmas decorations and getting used to seeing the house look “naked” again.
20. Weirdest Christmas memory? Asking for a doll that looked like me, and getting a Raggedy Ann doll. Not a great self-esteem booster, though now that I see her again . . . round face, pale skin, thick ankles, unruly red hair . . .
21. Colored lights or white? White, LOTS OF THEM, but NO BLINKING!
22. Ever been Christmas caroling? Yes, but it's been a LONG while! Mostly I just Christmas Carol to myself in the car . . .
23. Ever been ice skating? Once, in Alaska, while pushing Kacey in a stroller. Cold, but FUN!
24. Candy Canes or Gingerbread? Gingerbread, but star-shaped sugar cookies with colored sugar sprinkles are even better!
25. Christmas quirk? When the kids were little, I wouldn't let them see the presents under the tree or open their stockings until everybody was awake and their hair was brushed. (It's a photographer thing. Or a control-freak thing. Who, me?) :o)

nursing on peppermint sticks

Most of you who know me know this story, but it's the season, so it bears repeating.

I did not feed my children sugar until they were 2. Even then it was more of an extended family thing than a mom thing. My theory: why give it to them when they don't even know what they're missing? Anyway, the Christmas when Kevin was 11 months old, Kacey wanted to decorate the tree with a candy-cane motif. We hung shrink-wrapped candy canes, strung peppermint garland and made a huge bow for the top from red & white diagonally-striped wired ribbon. Cute!

Kevin, (having never had a nursery, nor a crib because we're "family bed" people) was, what I call, a "wandering baby". You never knew where he was going to be when you woke up. One particular morning during the holiday season (I believe it was "8 Maids a-Milking" day), I woke to funny little noises coming from the living room. Those funny little noises turned out to be my barely-steady-on-his-toes baby boy, standing as high on tiptoes as his footie pajamas would allow, neck outstretched like a Serengeti giraffe, nursing the end of a peppermint stick. Apparently he had sucked the plastic off the end of one, then continued to lick and slurp it to a sharp point, and the funny little noises were his grunts and groans as he neared the end of his height range in relation to the dwindling candy cane. The look on his little face told me what his lack of verbal communication could not: "Me like sugar."

As a wandering baby he did many other funny little things like sleepwalk, almost pee on his sister, and sleep in the kitchen cabinet. Oh, other stories for other days!