The First Noel

The first Noel the angel did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay;
In fields where they lay tending their sheep,
On a cold winter’s night that was so deep.

They looked up and saw a star
Shining in the east, beyond them far;
And to the earth it gave great light,
And so it continued both day and night.

And by the light of that same star
Three Wise Men came from country far;
To seek for a King was their intent,
And to follow the star wherever it went.

This star drew nigh to the northwest,
Over Bethlehem it took its rest;
And there it did both stop and stay,
Right over the place where Jesus lay.

Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel.

You Capture: Holiday Decor

You Capture: Lines

I had this fabulous idea for this week's You Capture. I was going to go to the beach and take a picture of the horizon, because what's a more perfect line than that? Except that it was eleventy-billion degrees below zero yesterday and very windy. I briefly considered it because I bet there were some angry waves that would have made for great photos, but in the end, I just didn't feel like getting hypothermia.

Instead, I played around with some photos I took of my still blooming rosebush yesterday. I've never used the macro setting on my camera before, but I managed to get a few decent shots of all the little lines that make up a snow flake.


Snow is pretty. I just wish it wasn't so cold.

Yellow Rose of Winter

In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.
Albert Camus


Bloom on, you crazy rose, bloom on.

Excuse me, but can I be you for awhile?

Last night I had this whole post written in my mind at 2AM, as I was nursing Tommy and crying. I was going to tell you how this is my last full month of maternity leave, and how I'm frustrated that I'm spending it with a thumb wound and how I spent two days bedridden with the flu. It involved the admission that I am scared, so scared, to return to work and that I don't think we can have any more children, simply because I cannot bear to go through this again. I was going to really tell you how as sad as it makes me that I have to go back to work, it makes my husband even sadder because he feels like he is failing as a husband. And I hate that he feels that way, oh, do I ever.

Today I'm still scared. I haven't been apart from Tommy for longer than half an hour since his sweet body first landed in my hands. How will I handle NINE HOURS a day, five days a week? I don't know, but I know there is a strength within me bigger than I can imagine. I know I can do it, simply because I have no choice. But I also know that I can keep hoping for the right part-time job or maybe for someone to just walk up to me and hand me a check for $20,000 and tell me to stay home for two more years, and it's probably okay to never let go of those hopes. I wish that I knew what it was like to not have to take a maternity leave, to just BE at home, but I know that there are many, MANY people who would wish to be in my position. Healthy children, a happy marriage, great health insurance, a steady job. The boys have a sitter who lives so very close to us, who is like family. Who calls to let us know when she finds boys' clothes on sale and calls to tell us she loves our Christmas card and who was one of the first people we called the morning after Tommy was born. Who I can TRUST with my children. Oh, I know I am blessed. And as a teacher, I know that the kids who have behavior problems are almost equally the children of parents who work and a parent who stays home, so I never fear that my children are somehow getting LESS because one of us cannot be with them all day long.

It's just.

I'm going to miss this face so much.

I am fresh out of thumb-related puns

Note: I wrote this Saturday night, when I was just starting to get feverish from the flu. I almost wasn't going to post it, but then I decided that feverish Erin is kind of funny. And probably not that different from real Erin.

I'm going to share a photo of this pecan pie that I made with my left hand the night I cut my thumb. Thankfully of the two pie crusts I made, one was tucked safely in the fridge and thus did not get hit by any arterial spray (do you like how dramatic I am? Do thumbs even have arteries?), so I was able to make it into a pecan pie because pecan pie does not involve any cutting.


The crust edges are not crimped or fancy looking because I was doing it one handed and wouldn't let Shane help, because it felt heroic to do it myself.

Here's a picture of me eating the pie, which I want to share with you so you can see how awkwardly I have to hold my fork. (If any of my friends comment and say this is how I always hold my fork, they are filthy liars and you should not listen to them.)

That is not my sippy cup. For the most part, I'm still allowed to use big people utensils. This is also not my house. I do not have a giant photo of a pug on my fridge.
I also wanted to share this picture to let you know that Shane did my hair. I could not figure out how to work my flat iron with my left hand without burning myself, nor could I position a clip correctly. Shane did both for me because he loves me. He's also been changing diapers because Tommy keeps grabbing my thumb during diaper changes. His only downside right now is that he won't throw away the apple wedger because he said it's still just fine since he washed it. What's strange is that Shane is very squeamish so it seems out of his character to keep it, which means that he's probably keeping it around to taunt me with at a later date.

Oh, and I was kind of excited because I thought that since I cut off the part of my thumb that has the fingerprint lines, then I wouldn't have fingerprints. But it turns out that skin is really amazing and you basically have to have leprosy to make it so that your fingerprints disappear. I was disappointed because I'd planned out this entire life of crime that involved only using my thumb and baffling the police (except that I'm totally going through that post-partum massive hair loss stage right now so they'd track me that way, probably), but also not disappointed, because at least I don't have leprosy.

Anyway, the whole point of this post was not to celebrate my not having leprosy (which is good), but to see whether you agree with me in that the apple wedger should be burned and then tossed down a deep well, or if you're like Shane and think it's not the apple wedgers fault that I'm clumsy.