Christmas

Here's a photo bomb of all things Christmas, for all of the family out there.

First, we cuddled those that we love.

(Uncle Thad)

(Cousin Tova)

(Aunt Beth)

Then, we wrestled them.

Opened some presents.

Met a celebrity with our cousin, T.

Looked ridiculously cute.

Caught the zzzzzz's, however we could.

Made a human train tunnel with Grandpa and Aunt Beth.

Shot some guns.

 Swam, because it's hot as junk still down here.

 And mostly, we realized how weak David is.

I. Love. Christmas. And my family. 

In His image.

I have always desired, on varying levels over the years, to work with children that have special needs. This desire grew even deeper inside of me when I was pregnant with my little boy. The Doctors told us, at 13 weeks into my pregnancy, that the chances of my child having special needs were very, very high. They encouraged me to consider all of my options, including abortion. My heart is one that will only consider life, plus I am a firm believer that God does not make mistakes and that my journey through this life is in His hands completely-whatever may come, so for the remaining 25 weeks of my pregnancy, I prayed and prepared myself for a child with disabilities. We all know how this story ended, and I won't turn this blog into that story any more than I already have, as that was our journey and it's a bit...private...and painful. However, now that I am home again and have felt this desire still in place,  I have been volunteering in the Special Needs Ministry at our church to give back what little that I can, and it's been pretty great so far.

Today I was able to take part in the ministry's annual Christmas Ranch Party. When my kid and I pulled into the iron gates of the farm, I didn't know what to expect, but I had something lurking deep down in the quiet place of my heart; fear.  I was bringing my two year old with me, (alone, as my husband is in the middle of presentations at the church until tomorrow night) and he is hyper, loving, and extremely "hands-on" with all people, whether he knows you or not. This has caused him to get pushed down on more playgrounds than I can count, has brought tears of "they no play with me mommy" when he tries to interact with older children and they say those super cool I'm-5-and-better-than-you-in-my-light-up-shoes-and-yours-are-just-lame-velcro words of "ugh...baaaaabbbiiiiieessss." I hate to hover over him, and most times I don't, I let him figure out things on his own until it escalates and I have to step in to school an older child on manners and how hands are not for shoving, but today, when I parked and he ran straight for the bouncy house filled with teenagers, I panicked. These were children that would not be able to help their actions. These were children that I would have no idea how to redirect if things were to get handsy. What would I do? Would my child hurt any of them? He can be rough, and he's a wildcard at times with his crazy movements (think of a constantly dancing and jumping about creature with arms flailing like mad, usually with heavy cars in them. That's him. That's my boy.).... And so, right as I saw my child's tiny foot disappear under the tarp to let him into the bounce house, I sprinted full steam ahead, ready to drag him out. Instead....I was stopped short, as all 7 teenagers within, whom I believe were all Down's Syndrome minus perhaps 1, stopped bouncing. They sat down. They clapped for my child. They hugged him. They called him their friend. And then they all hugged some more. And I? I did my best not to cry as I sat down and just watched what I can only describe as....love...surrounded my boy.

It was the same story when I took my son on the hayride. We were with a few of the kids that are in my Sunday morning class, so they came up and sat beside my boy and I on the hay bales. They handed him hay so that he could feed the cows first, coaching him on how to hold the blades and then hugging him when the cows ate greedily from his little hands. Come to think of it, I don't think any of them fed the cows, they were too busy helping my son, clapping for him each time that he giggled and high-fiving each other every time the cows came near us.

These children that society deems as the underdogs are really the opposite-they are better than us. When I think of how God loves us unconditionally, well, honestly, I struggle with that as it's a tough concept to fully grasp, but these children get it way more than most of us ever will. We are all made in His image, but we could take a page or two from them on how to love each other well, as Christ loves us. These children are beautiful, and I am humbled tonight, in more ways than I can express.

This bear must have a cub. I get it. I have a coffee this size in my hands daily too.

Clowns. MacPherson's not into them. 

Winter....?

I was reminded today of how differently my life now is....

Gone are the days of ordering a hot chocolate from a random bodega because your hands are literally going to fall off before you can make it underground to warm them. Gone are the days of putting on my snow boots and trekking out to Central Park with Scott to make snow angels and snow forts, while trying to also make friends with random children in hopes that they would let me use their sleds on the hills within. Snow days off were a gift from Bloomberg, as he almost never called them, but when he did, we'd sleep in, waking up only to stare at the millions of tiny snowflakes falling down around a city filled with lights that had gone strangely dim in the storms. It was cozy. It was beautiful. But being realistic, it was also hard. Trains would shut down leaving you stuck. The power would go out often, leaving us in our tenth floor apartment debating on whether or not dinner was actually important enough that night to walk down, and, worst of all, back up, the many flights of stairs we had. Usually, we'd just have peanut butter and jelly while hoping that our elevator would come back on by morning. Lazy. When I was pregnant, Scott began walking me in the snow to our subway, sometimes tag teaming with my girlfriend Mehren who would meet me on the other side at the 57th st stop to walk me to our school where we both taught. Good girl, that one. Miss her. But all of these things are no more.

Here is what my day looked like today, December the 10th, in Florida:

 Also, here is the view from Santa's Sled. I'm kind of a big deal. And...no comment on why a reindeer in the front was shortly after knocked over, then unable to be rested properly back up in the standing position, so is now being held up by two large sticks, like a teepee with a reindeer in the middle...no comment on that all... 

Five weeks and counting until I can return to my crazy, snow covered city of lights and dreams. Even if it''ll just be for a long (child free) weekend, it's enough.

Pumpkin

I like pumpkins. I like selecting them. I like trying to lift as many as I can at one time to make me feel like Popeye. I like carving them. Mostly, I like to eat them. In pies, drinks, cakes, breads, muffins, soups, etc. This year, I decided to give making my own puree a shot. Here's what I did. Be impressed.

  

Step 1: Top off. The pumpkins top, though if you're feeling slightly warm, you can remove your own as well.

Step 2: Make your Mother-in-Law remove all of the stringy bits, aka the nasties. Then, scrape the insides of your pumpkin and separate out the meat from the seeds.

Step 3: Bag them and place them in the fridge, then go straight to Google because you are not sure what comes next.

Step 4: Per Goggle, place the meat on a foil covered baking sheet and cook at 350 degrees until it becomes what they called "fork tender." which means really soft. I think. 

Step 5: Look at it.

Step 6: Place your soft pumpkin stuff into a Food Processor that is straight from the 1950's.  Then, take this outside as your child is finally napping and NOTHING needs to ever change that. Line up your shot perfectly, like I did, with your husbands old riffle for added warmth and color.

Step 7: Come back inside and start bagging up your "way to go, you actually nailed it" puree into baggies, containing 1 cup each for easy measuring out later.

Step 8: Look at it. Be proud. Then place it in the freezer and google Pinterest recipes like I currently am doing as I have yet to sign up for that site out of some kind of weird spite that is really, really hard to explain. But it's definitely ok to lurk on it from time to time and get ideas.

(And yes, our pumpkin in the background was not so much carved this year as it was more-so drilled. I wanted to take it out back and shoot it repeatedly for this effect, but the drill idea won out. Looks pretty good at night, I must admit. And also, another yes, that artwork on the fridge from my son does indeed feature two little purple colored DeVore children. We have no announcements to make yet at this time, but his urging for a sibling is being received loud and clear.)

Fall kinda

Fall in Florida is not the same as Fall in Upstate NY, or even in NYC, where Central Park takes on the characteristics of a field upstate, but if I can, at the least, walk outside and think, yes, yoga pants and a hoodie actually make sense for me to wear all day today and I'll look like I'm dressing for the weather, not for laziness, then I'm good. We took the kid and some friends out to an organic farm about an hour north of here this weekend to get our pumpkins and to get a sense of the fact that seasons had actually changed. Being on a farm feels more like Fall than being on our typical beach. Here are a few random pictures from the day.

 

Cheater..

                                     

"I huggy de pumkins mommy"

This cute guy was a storyteller 

While this picture was being taken, an elderly creeper was telling me how wonderful my own "homegrown pumpkins" looked. I'm so glad that a nearby friend overheard, because no one is ever around when I am being messed with usually.

My heart.

Beautiful "Fall" day.