New Year's 2018

And then, after a couple of quick work days (on which Seth, still on leave, took the kids hunting and let them wear PJs and eat whipped cream as a meal and spread their new toys across the living room)

I managed to come home early a few times for warm, rainy playground antics (thank you, southern weather!),

and we squeezed in some always-appreciated Carron-Taylor time.

Before we knew it, it was New Year's Eve. One of my absolute favorite holidays, packed full of Walters family traditions like the annual "eating of the chips" and "burning of the bad habits." We also make New Year's resolutions for each other, and if you've never survived a true challenge to your relationship, you should try this. Finley, for example, resolved that Ford should eat more vegetables. While he told her she should "get it together, Finley! And don't hit me!" I'll leave mine and Seth's to the imagination...

Anyway, on a whim, we headed south to Myrtle Beach, because of the (admittedly fabulous) "noon year's eve at Lulu's"

at which sand castles were built

 and a new New Year's tradition, the dropping of the beach balls, was begun.

Plus, Ford acted like this

 and the kids danced to live country music barefoot. Because, South Carolina.

 We finished off the day with, predictably, a trip to Bass Pro Shops,

 a walk on the beach,

and a trip to the truly horrifying indoor water park at our hotel. Which the kids loved, almost making it worth whatever ringworm I am definitely going to contract.

We had dinner at a lobster joint, popped confetti cannons, and slept in, after which we jubilantly welcomed 2019 like this:

(perfection in every way.) Below is an actual photo of Finley biting it and eating sand, our favorite clutz incarnate. Plus, funny Ford. Who hates the sun.

And then we broke alltheresolutions at Senor Frog's on our way home.
Which is as it should be.

We looked like this (photo of the week) as we arrived home, ready to tackle the new year. But so, so tired.

2018 was rough, and exhausting, and just not our favorite. We made lots of resolutions this year, among those which are "making the best of everything," but we sincerely hope that's less of an effort in 2019. Here's hoping it's full of joy, and irreverence, and stolen beach days. And lots and lots of love.

Christmas in the Great White North.

It was 65 degrees when I boarded the flight from RDU to MSP, tired and a little frazzled from a rare 3.5 days at home by myself, with just enough time to unpack and repack and do allthelaundry and clean the house from top to bottom and attempt to polish off the Christmas shopping and the myriad to-do lists I never get to when there are small humans underfoot.

It was snowing when I landed, and late, and Seth was waiting outside the teeny tiny Grand Forks airport in his Mom's car, and we skidded over unplowed roads to the only bar open that late and had beer and cheese curds and caught up for a few, long overdue minutes. Crazy that we had had to come all the way to the frigging Arctic to do it, but Seth had had a crazy, tumultuous couple months and our schedules were just insane and we adore our kids but there just isn't much left after juggling daycare schedules and jobs and storyhour before bed. It was nice, tucked in at this ridiculous college bar with the snow coming down out the window, feeling way too old and tired for the late night crowd but still kind of giddy to know F+F were warm and safe and nobody needed either of us at the moment.

Of course, they woke us up at dawn, excited about the hotel breakfast and the heated pool. Which, admittedly, was really nice and warm and luxurious-feeling, as we splashed around and looked at the snow outside.

We finished our Christmas shopping at the only Target within driving distance, and decamped to Buffalo Wild Wings to watch Army win the Armed Forces Bowl.

And then it was off to balmy Calvin, 3 hours away and with far fewer "town" amenities.

Unless, as Ford does, you count whipped cream and homemade pancakes.

And, as always, we had a great time and Jayne & Tony pulled out all the stops. In addition to the menu, there was "sledding" North Dakota-style (behind the four-wheeler)

shoveling lessons,

lots of much-needed family time (check out Seth in short sleeves!),

second-cousin time (careening around on dangerous-looking vehicles),

and "Ford's" beloved puppy, Mickey.

Tony indulged my favorite ND Christmas tradition, driving to church on the four-wheeler on Christmas Eve,

and neither kid burned up a hymnal during the candlelight service, 

a minor Christmas miracle. Although both insisted on sporting their slightly irreverent Christmas hats.

Christmas itself was a little nutty, with a present frenzy (here, Ford is actually drinking the M&Ms out of his stocking)

followed by the long drive to the Fargo airport (on which, hilariously, most everyone slept but Finley outlasted us all),

an even more hilarious truck stop Christmas lunch buffet at which Ford consumed ungodly amounts of fried shrimp,

and a fond (and funny) goodbye at the airport.

Followed by the long, long trip home, which included beer and Barbies in Chicago,

a midnight Sheetz stop, and a not-so early morning second-Christmas melee.

It was a lovely Christmas, full of family and cookies and dog slobber and motorized vehicles and sleeping in and cold, crisp North Dakota temps. Tough to pick favorites from the picture trove, although Ford took the cake this week. This one of he and Grandpa Tony (up way past bedtime) is priceless

and this one, all bundled up before his gocart ride, cracks me up.

And then there's this rock star shot, of his gleeful celebration of being home in his own playroom, after Seth slept in too late to take F+F to daycare and gifted them one more stolen vacation day.

It's back to the grind for us all tomorrow, but here's hoping everyone had Christmases full of love and laughter.