Four Christmases Part 3: Christmas Weekend in Orangevale

Christmas morning we woke up at 6:00 (apparently Ben is already starting a routine of waking up early on Christmas morning). We opened presents by the fireplace with Ben. He could have cared less about the presents, but he was really into the wrapping paper. He found it quite tasty.


We then got ready and went to Matt's mom, Bev's, for breakfast. We spent the day at her house in Orangevale. It was a great day! People slowly trickled in. Present opening was a frenzied affair. Ben continued his practice of a couple 30-minute catnaps and a lot of fussing. All in all, though, he did quite well. There were probably 15-20 people there, and so there was a lot of commotion. It was a bustle of energy (what a great Dickensian sentence, right?). We enjoyed a delicious meal of turkey, mashed potatoes, and lasagna, topped off with a dessert of banana cream pie (which happens to be my most favorite dessert of all time).

Jon, Ben, Fynley, and Beckie

The boys playing with Sean's present.

Matt rocking out on Fynley's High School Musical dance mat

The boys opening their gifts. Sean just can't get enough of Ben's head.

Ben and his Grammy

After dessert and a little bit of chatting, Matt, Ben, and I went back to Paul and Amy's. We got Ben down at his normal bedtime after his normal bedtime routine, which we all appreciated. Then Matt and I watched movies and relaxed, snuggled up in the fantastic new blanket Matt's mom got us, snacking on some of her homemade cookies, apples, and caramel dip.

On Friday we stayed at "home" for the morning, which was nice since we'd been constantly moving since our arrival. Then we had lunch with Matt's dad, Bob, and sister, Megan, then headed over to Matt's Grandpa Fred and Boots's in Fulsom. It was nice to catch up with them, and they loved meeting their new great grandson. I like to see Grandpa Fred because he used to be a musician, and he always has such great stories.

Ben at Applebee's

After Grandpa Fred's we went to dinner with Bev and his stepdad, Carl, Megan, and his brother, Jon, and Jon's girlfriend, Rachel. Friday night Matt and I enjoyed another evening of movies, warmth, and snacks.

Rachel and Ben

Saturday we spent the day with everyone. We went to Bev and Carl's for breakfast. Carl is Japanese, and he makes these fantastic fried hot dogs and fried rice. I seriously would go up there just for that breakfast. I've tried making the hot dogs before, but I just can't do it like Carl can. We had a leisurely morning with them, then we went up to Cool to visit Paul, Amy, and the kids. After playing with his cousin Sean for a while, Ben FINALLY took a good nap. He slept for an hour and a half while we visited with the adults. I love my boy, but it was really nice to be able to talk and hang out without holding and watching a fussy baby, who loves to practice his new skill of sitting up, but still tips over on occasion. Another great thing about this visit was just being at their house. The backyard is incredible. The guy who used to own it created this virtual paradise behind his house, with a waterfall, gorgeous landscaping, an outdoor fireplace, and a hidden patio.

Ben and his Aunt Megan

Ben and Sean

After the trip to Cool, we returned to the Roseville area and went to dinner with Bev, Carl, Megan, Jon, Rachel, and Matt's other sister Beckie and her daughter Fynley. Afterwards we went back to Bev and Carl's to spend some more time together and say our goodbyes. Then we went "home," cleaned, packed, and squeezed in a little more relaxation.

Usually when we visit Matt's family we stay with his mom, which is nice because we get to spend plenty of time with her. It was really good, though, to stay at Paul and Amy's this time. For one, they have an 11-month-old, so they have a crib, high chair, and all the baby things we could need. Also, having our own space where we could enjoy some quiet alone time was especially helpful. As I've mentioned, I'm an introvert. I recharge by being alone; staying with people during vacations can be stressful for me, as I never really get that time to unwind. It was also really good for Ben. Our days were so busy that he needed the quiet time and place to unwind and feel at least a little bit of normalcy. He's very sensitive to change and stimulation, and all of the activity, however fun, is a lot for him to take in. So even if we were in a different house, it was good for him to have some alone time with mom and dad where he could feel safe and rested. Also, since naps were a big issue all weekend (with being on the go constantly, and with being surrounded by very energetic cousins), the times he was able to sleep in a quiet house in a comfy crib were much needed.

It was a really good weekend. We enjoyed a nice blend of relaxation and activity, had a great time with our family, and were blessed with great gifts and wonderful company. Ben was, of course, the star, and other than a few overtired, overstimulated periods, took the whole thing in like a champ. Our flight home went well. Ben slept through the entire flight, and we made it home on Sunday in time to get some rest and enjoy some time together, just the three of us, before venturing in to another week.

Four Christmases Part 2: Christmas Eve in Auburn

After settling in to Paul and Amy's house and visiting for a few minutes with Matt's mom and sister, we headed to Matt's dad's house in Auburn. It was a nice evening. Matt has a big family (he's the middle of five), and there are five little ones six and under, so it was a little chaotic. It was also the birthday of Matt's brother, so it was a double celebration. Ben was, for the most part, great. He allowed himself to be passed around, held by little kids, sucked on by another baby, and smothered by his cousins. He did, however, start to get a little overstimulated and overtired. By the time we got to Jon's birthday cake and gifts, Ben was melting down. We stayed as long as we could, and ducked out after quickly opening our gifts.


It was really nice to see the family, though, screaming baby aside. Our nieces and nephews are getting so big! We haven't been up since spring, and it was good to be with everyone again.

Poor, unsuspecting Ben.

Cousin Sean licking Ben's head.

The girls: Kylie, Fynley, and Alysa


Cousin Fynley and B

B and his Grandpa

The kids

Traveling with Baby

The Millers continued their Christmas festivities with a trip north to visit Matt's family. We flew up on the morning of Christmas Eve. Of course I was nervous; we were flying for the first time with a five-month-old. Fortunately, it's a short flight. But we never dreamed we would be so lucky. I'm sure all of that luck is going to come back to bite me in the rear the next time we fly. But, at least this time, Ben's a great flyer.

We got to the airport and breezed through baggage check and security (When does that ever happen? And on Christmas Eve? Sad, sad economy....). Speaking of security, did you know there's a special family line? We'd never seen or heard of it before last week. Is it like the thestrals, where you can only see it if you have kids? At any rate, it's a great idea. That way the people behind you aren't all pissed because they have to wait behind whining kids who don't want to take their Buzz Lightyear shoes off, or people with an infant who have to collapse the stroller and try to get it through the x-ray bomb scanner. Well, after said stroller was declared explosive free, we had to get the bottle of breastmilk scanned to make sure it wasn't a bomb (it wasn't). So then we went to the terminal, had breakfast, played on the floor, and generally entertained the passengers of Southwest (who you know were thinking to themselves two things: "Ooooh, cute baby" and "Frick, I have to fly with a baby"). Well, lucky them (and us), Ben conked out while I was carrying him on the plane and slept until we started decending, at which point I gave him a bottle and he cheerfully aquiesced to the rest of the day's travels. This brings me to my first "Travel with Baby" tip:

Do: wear your baby out before you board the plane so he's ready for his nap.
Don't: let the judgmental, freaked out glares of your fellow passengers bother you. They have been or someday will be there.


When we landed it was pouring rain. So Matt went to get the rental car while I retrieved the luggage (all four bags--we used to be able to travel with two!). When Matt arrived with the car, I got two strapping young pimply lads to help me lug the suitcases outside. Now, we purchased Ben a seat on the plane and brought his carseat. But, because we cannot have a first flight go too well, we left the base in the car of my friend who took us to their airport. So, to be safe, we decided to use the car rental company's carseat (or at least a base). The main issue with this was that their car seats were from something like 1982. After seeing the rickity, base-free seat in the back, we decided to go back to the car rental place and see if we could get a base or a more stable seat. On the way there, we realized that our carseat was nowhere in the car. So we got a new carseat (circa 1987) from Enterprise and went back to the terminal to see if ours was still on the curb (which, thankfully, it was). So...

Do: Buy a seat for your baby and bring the carseat.
Don't: Leave the base in your friend's car and the seat on the sidewalk.

At last we get on the freeway (remember it's pouring rain and Christmas Eve) and begin the hour-long drive to Matt's brother's house where we are staying. Ben, thankfully, slept for most of the soggy trip. Unfortunately, however, he awoke around 2:30 and did not nap again for the rest of the day. This began a rather painful cycle of a couple of 30 minutes naps a day and hours of fussiness and crying that is still continuing today.

To be continued....

Four Christmases Part 1: Hemet

Christmas for the Millers began on Sunday, Dec. 21 in Hemet with my dad. We went to my grandparents' house and spent the afternoon with my grandparents, a couple of uncles (I have several), my dad, and my brother. Unfortunately, Ben has been a bit clingy with Matt and I, and there were a few days where our little social butterfly was not so accepting of others. This was one of those days. On the whole, he was great. He slept the whole ride out, smiled and played (as long as Matt or I were there and no one else was touching him) while we were there, and slept the whole way home. As an added bonus, my brother, who is an amazing photographer, brought his fancy pants camera and took some great pictures of Ben, which I've been begging him to do. So here are some shots of the first of our four Christmases.

Some of the pictures my favorite brother took:

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

Christmas has always been, at least until recently, my favorite season. I love everything about it. I love Christmas music, decorations, baking, snow, family, giving...And I love the real Christmas. I love celebrating Jesus' birth. I love (and need) the reminder each year. I wish I didn't, but I do. Because in the chaos that is often life, I lose sight of my savior. It's ridiculous if you think about it. I live, breathe, and move because of a God who loves me so deeply, so passionately, that he was willing to sacrifice his Son for me. Motherhood changes that for me. I see that sacrifice in a light I was never capable of before. And when I think of how much I love my son, and I think of how much more infinitely God loves his, I am astounded. And yet I still sail through my days, often not stopping to really reflect on these truths. Christmas is a beautiful reminder of it.

Up until a few years ago, I really didn't seem to have a problem with celebrating both aspects of Christmas. The social, commercial version and the original, holy version. A few years ago I hit a bit of a bump in this blissful relationship with Christmas. I found that the Christ was being obscured by the world's Christmas. That the simplicity and beauty of Jesus' birth had become lost in the shuffle. I know that this is something that happened many years ago; but for me, it just occurred that year. This was also the first year that I spent Christmas away from my family. I went up north with my new boyfriend, Matt, to spend Christmas with him and his family. I also had a particularly nasty cold (that seems to almost always be the case, though). While I'm quite outgoing and lively around those I know and am comfortable with, I'm painfully shy around those I do not know. So I found myself miles away from my family, my home, the snow, and all that I found warm and comforting on the day of the year that I craved them the most. I was happy to be with Matt, and I was grateful for the kindness of his family. But I was painfully uncomfortable in my unfamiliar surroundings. I felt like for the few days that we were there, I was in performance mode. And in the midst of this awkwardness and discomfort, I lost sight of my Christmas. Matt has this big family, and I was this outsider. They were kind, to be sure. But I didn't feel like I belonged. I remember one night going into the guest room, curling up in the bed, and crying. I wanted my family. I wanted to feel welcome. I wanted to know where Christmas had gone. In all of the anxiety, all of the discomfort, and, for the first time with any kind of potency, all of the consumerism, I felt lost and alone. For the first time in my life, I didn't go to a Christmas service. Surrounded by people and activity, I couldn't find quiet time to think and pray. So that night, crying in that strange bed, I made a decision. I realized that the world's Christmas wasn't a bad thing. A day where people get together, share a meal, and give each other gifts is a wonderful kind of day. But God needs to have his day, too. And for me, in order to fully enjoy both Christmases, I would need to celebrate them separately. And so, for the last three years, I have.

It's now four years later, and somehow I feel infinitely worse. Every year since has been the same. Instead of finding myself amidst warmth, sharing, love, comfort, and "cheer," I find myself amidst angry shoppers (who are probably nice people all year until they turn into fierce demons during the holidays), fighting, guilt trips, and tears. Matt and I try so hard to love on and please our families. But somehow it's never enough. We trade off holidays every year to try to be fair to each of our four families, but no matter what we do people get angry and hurt. Every year I run myself into the ground trying to find thoughtful gifts, often taking hours to make things, and yet still, every Christmas ends with an argument about how Matt and I are bad, selfish people who play favorites. And it doesn't matter which of our four families we're with--the script simply changes. And in the midst of the conflicts, I once again lose sight of where it all started and should always be; with a baby in a manger, destined to save the world. He's still there, I know--I just can't find him quite like I could before.

I know that this is the plight of married life. I know that no matter what we do, because our families live on opposite ends of the state, we have to be with one and not the other. But somehow, what was once my most beloved time of the year, is quickly becoming my most dreaded. And now I have this sweet, wonderful little boy. I want Christmas with him. I want to wake up with him in the morning, make hot chocolate, and open presents. I want to read him Luke 2 and watch Christmas movies with him. I want my Christmas back. The warmth, sharing, love, comfort, and "cheer." I want to make new traditions with my family. Except that once I again I find my little family, now of three, the rope in this seemingly endless tug-of-war, and this year's match has already started.

Dear Santa, Please bless my family this year. Help me to find cheer and lavish wonderful memories of Ben's first Christmas. signed, Shannon

Dear Jesus, I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've let myself get caught up in all of these messes. I'm sorry I keep losing you in the midst of the chaos. Please help me find you again. Please bless my family this year. Help me to find peace, joy, and love. Please give me patience and grace. Help me to anticipate this week with hope and faith, not fear and dread. love, Shannon

Sometimes you just need a little something between bites...

Five Months!!

Dear Benjamin,

Today you are five months old! I can't believe you have been blessing my life for almost a half of a year, now. Time is going by so quickly!

Some of your loves and accomplishments so far...

Your first love is your feet. You LOVE your feet. The moment I lay you on your back, you kick your feet up, and, if you're wearing socks, pull them and suck on them until you pull them straight off. If you're not wearing socks, you stick your precious little feet inside your mouth and suck away.


You love to talk and make noises. You babble on endlessly, sometimes pausing for a deep sigh, to us, your toys, to nothing at all...it's very sweet.

Everything you see goes into your mouth. Toys, hair, clothes, paper--you name it.

You also suck on your lower lip a lot, which is funny.


You love your thumb.


You eat two meals a day of cereal, and you love it. Your new favorite game is taking the spoon and putting it in your mouth (of course).


You can push up, roll over, reach for your toys, stand up (with a little help for balance) splash in the bath, laugh, and, gloriously, sleep all night.


We love you, B, and we can't wait to have your first Christmas next week!

Sick Little Buddy

I suppose sharing is caring...I've given Ben his first real cold. We are a sad little family right now. I feel so bad for my sweet little boy and his stuffy nose and cough. Poor little man.

Oh, and if you're wondering why there's a sock by his head in this otherwise precious picture, it's because as soon as I lay him down he kicks his legs up and tears his socks off so that he may eat them and then subsequently suck the bejesus out of his toes.

Merry Christmas!

And the Husband of the Year Award Goes to...

...Matthew Miller!!!

My super hot hubby spent the weekend playing superdad and superhusband. I was sick as all get-out (what does that even mean anyway?), and my sweet hunk of a honey came to the rescue. He watched Ben while I laid on the couch blowing my nose and reading Entertainment Weekly and New Moon (shut up--no judging). He cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He made me tea. He did the laundry. This afternoon I awoke from a nap to the smell of cookies baking and the sight of my man cheerfully changing his son's diaper--which, let me tell you, is no small task. Thanks to rice cereal, every poopy diaper begets a new outfit and ten minutes of a complete babywipe sponge bath and onesie hose-down in the bathroom sink. I have learned very quickly to not get attached to any of my son's clothes.

But I digress. Thanks to Matthew the Magnificent I have been able to get loads of guilt-free rest this weekend, thus speeding my recovery, and I now feel well enough to face the week. Well, health-wise. Emotionally is a whole other story. But that's a blog for a different day. Today I am simply thankful for an incredible husband.

By the by, the above photo is in no way connected to this weekend. It's from an 80s prom night at our church a few years ago. I just thought you might want to see this amazing man in all of his glory.

Another Tissue, Please

In case you were wondering, being sick when you're a middle school teacher, wife, and mother of an infant is super lame. I actually used to not mind being sick. I mean, I hated the sniffly, achy, icky part. But I kinda liked sick days. I mean, you get to lay around on your couch or in your bed all day watching TV, reading, and napping. Sure, you don't feel good. But it's like a little mandatory break in the busyness of life.

Not so when you're a mom. When you're a mom you don't call in sick to work because you're saving up your sick days for when your kid gets sick. And for me, even if I did call in sick, I'd still be at home taking care of my sweet little boy all day (the one and only negative to having my mom watch Ben at my home).

Yuck.

On the plus side, I'm going to get pies thrown at me at lunch today. Oh wait.

The REAL plus side is this guy:



Hooray for weekends when I get to hang out with my little buddy! (And have some help from the hubby if I'm feeling icky.)

A Rant, if I May

So I love Benjamin, and I can't imagine my life without him. That said, today, I am feeling a little "un-mommy." Is that allowed? I mean, I'm not usually a complainer. When life hands me lemons, I make all kinds of lemonade or whatever. But today, I don't want to make lemonade. I don't like lemons. I would like to have a lemon-free day. In fact, I would just like a free day. Because I'm tired. Actually, tired doesn't even begin to cover it.

So you know how when you have a newborn, you get little snatches of sleep that last maybe 90 minutes? And when you've finally dropped off into what feels like a coma, the little one cries and it's time for another feeding. It's 2am, you go in, you feed him, you put him back down and, hopefully, he falls back asleep and you crawl back into bed for the next little nap. Okay, now imagine that you've been sleeping for 90 minutes, the little one cries, you wake from your coma, and then you have to be up for the day, work three jobs, and then do it all over again. That's how I've been feeling this whole week. The alarm goes off at 5:00, and I'm pulled out of the deepest sleep I have ever known, and it's off I go into my day. I've gotten 6 hours of sleep, and now I begin the routine:

5am: alarm goes off, hit snooze a couple of times
5:20: pump the ladies, clean up
5:45: shower
6:15: have a cup of decaf coffee and check my email and such
6:30: wake Ben up, feed him, get him dressed
7:00: My mom arrives, I get dressed and ready
7:25: drive to work
7:45-3:30: teach 150 12-year-olds (note: my recess and lunch times are spent locked in my classroom, pumping, while I hold the pump with one hand, and eat/grade papers with the other)
3:30pm: go home
4:00: play with Ben
4:30: make dinner
5:00: eat dinner and clean up
5:30: feed Ben
6:00: feed Ben (rice cereal)
6:20: family walk
6:45: bath time
7:00: feed Ben
7:30: put Ben to bed, then collapse on the couch while my husband asks: "So what do you want to do tonight?"
7:30: any or all of the following: straighten up the apartment, grade papers, plan lessons, take a bath, watch TV, read, tool around online
9:45: Pump the ladies and clean up
10:30: bedtime

So I'm tired. And I don't want to play today. I want to hole up in my room and sleep, read, and do whatever I want. But that's not an option because of the mom job. I love my son, I do. But today I just don't want to do it. I don't want to play perfect wife, mother, and teacher. I don't want to grade the 50 essays sitting in my bag. I don't want to hold my baby as he screams because he's overtired from resisting his morning nap on account of preferring to be with the mother he doesn't see during the week. All week long he's apparently been taking these 2-3 hour naps in the morning, and I was all kinds of excited to rest, relax, maybe do something crafty. Instead, I spent an hour with a child who would scream if I put him in his crib and scream if I held him. I then gave up on the nap and ran errands instead. And now my husband's home, disappointed because he wanted to go out with us for the couple of hours he has between meetings and practice, and Ben has finally fallen asleep and I am losing my mind.

And it's not just today. I'm tired in general. I'm tired of being a prisoner in my own home. I'm glad I made the decision to breastfeed, but sometimes I hate it. I hate that I'm tied to my home and my child so much so that I can't leave or take any kind of break for more than an hour or two. Sure, Matt or someone else can take a feeding. But all that means is that I'll be spending 15 minutes with a pump instead of my kid, or getting an infection. And I'm tired of never having a minute to myself. I'm an introvert--I recharge by being alone. I don't even remember the last time I was completely alone. So I feel like I'm losing my mind. And now, even when I do have down time, I don't know what to do with myself. I don't feel like doing anything that I usually enjoy, and I know that the quiet will not last. And if I DO take some time for myself, I'm consumed with guilt. Because while I'm feeding Ben, cooking dinner, etc., Matt is on the computer playing games, so when I'm all finished his first question is, "What would you like to do?" He's ready to hang out, of course, because we don't get much time together these days either. And then when I'm in a half comatose state wasting my ten free minutes in front of the TV, I'm bombarded with commercials and programs telling me to cook healthy, organic meals and join a gym. I'd LOVE to rid myself of the baby fat (and more). But I defy you to find time for me to go to the gym in the above schedule.

So that's my selfish, un-called for, whiny rant. It probably makes me a bad wife and mother, but hey, I figure every wife and mother out there has felt this way at least once, and you don't do anyone any favors (least of all yourself) when you pretend you haven't.

Amazing Love...

Lately I have been completely fascinated by my son. I seriously can't get enough of him--I could stare at him for hours. I remember being in the hospital when he was born and just laying there watching him sleep. And every now and then I sneak into his room at night and just look at his sweet, peaceful, perfect little face. My proclivity for observing this amazing little person is not limited to his sleeping hours. I just love to watch him. I'll lay with him on the floor and just stare as he explores his world with his eyes, hands, and mouth. I watch him stare at his hands and suck on his toes; I can see the concentration in his face as he looks at his foot, attempts to control it and his hands, and once he's finally grasped it, guide it to his tiny mouth. I watch him rub his eyes and sigh when he's tired. I love to listen to him babble on, and, when I really lucky, hear his sweet little giggle. He's nothing short of amazing.

And in my awe of this amazing little person, I'm led to an overwhelming awe of his and my creator. As I watch Ben explore and discover his fingers, toes, belly button--you name it--I see how new and fascinating it is to him. I mean, let's be honest. I can't remember the last time I was as fascinated and impressed with my own body as Ben is with his--I was probably four months old. But we really are extraordinary creatures.

I am daily falling deeper and deeper in love with this little man. I wait for his growth with both excitement and trepidation. I can't wait to hear his voice, his words, his thoughts; to see him really play and explore his world. But I am loath to lose the cuddles and the slobbery "kisses." Someday I won't be able to hold him in my arms. There will come a day when he'll start throwing tantrums, followed all to soon by adolescent angst. But until that day, I will savor every sweet and fascinating moment with my little man, and look forward to all of the joys that his growth will bring.

Yummy Books

So I teach middle school, and this morning I go to work after a glorious nine days off. And what do I hear?

"Oh my gosh, I read the entire Twilight series over break! I'm hooked!"

"Molly, do you have the fourth Twilight book? Can I borrow it?"

"I saw Twilight three times during the vacation."

And that was just what the teachers were saying. You should have heard the kids.

So I read book one of aforementioned series, and now I'm reading A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest Gaines. Hey, I like to fill my crack pipe a little bit at a time...then it lasts longer. So I'm taking a thinking book break, then it's back to Dawson's Creek: Washington.

Gratuitous Cuteness