Art is life.

Mia finished this watercolor on the last day of school before break. Her art teacher at Oakdale is the bomb-diggity. Mrs. Walsh has met Mia every week at 7 AM to work with her on special projects. I am in love with this latest piece. Mis says it's "just a girl in my head." Which  is humbling, since the only images floating around in my brain have to do with food and coffee. 

 Last week the Oakdale 2nd graders had their annual Bedlam game. Thankfully everyone (the parents) was speaking to each other afterwards. They spent the week leading up to the big game trash talking, which I have no doubt was instigated by an arrogant little blonde-headed boy named Bode.

 And speaking of arrogant little boys, Bode is now dressing like some sort of white, suburban gangster. I've tried to tell him that's not really a thing. Apparently, listening to your mother isn't really a thing either.

Bode tolerated another piano recital. And he will continue to tolerate them for as long as his mother says. And that's how you keep a little suburban gangster humble.

 Mia is finally to the point where she can pick up a piece of music and figure it out. She actually taught herself a piece and then asked her teacher if she would add it to the recital. 

If I was going to teach piano that would be my one requirement - "must know how to teach themselves everything." And then I would sit on my phone and order things off of Amazon. It's kind of similar to my parenting style.

Sehon Christmas in a million pictures (of a baby)

Weston got his own personal Christmas this year. 

 Which was just fine with us.

 There is nothing better than a baby at Christmas.

 They provide hours of entertainment by doing absolutely nothing. 

 This kid isn't about to just give away a smile. You have to work for it.

 I really don't blame him, none of us can stop staring at Mom's Christmas trees either. My tree looks like I threw a few ornaments at some grade school kids and told them to do what they wanted with them (because I did). Mom's trees are legit.

 The boys spent most of the day playing basketball.

 Apparently, when guys get together to "play" anything it's pretty darn serious.

Weston knows better than to actually treat this like a silly game amongst relatives. 

 Weston wins Christmas. Hands down.

Weekends are busy

This weekend was no different than most. Fifty things to do, most of them fun. 

I ran another race with the BRPE , AKA crazy running maniac:

 Darci went with us to be our "Running Mom." You can't run a race without someone being willing to hold your kleenex and take pictures of you in a state of distress at the finish line.

 Then I raced home from Dallas to host the annual small group minute-to-win-it Christmas party. 

 Nothing is cuter than this:

 Except maybe this:

 When you get 18 kids and 10 adults together things get loud - like, ears ringing, can't hear yourself think loud.

 I love the background of this picture. A dad changing a diaper, junk strewn everywhere, and toddlers running:

Thankfully, the mothers aren't concerned with winning at all. We just want the kids to have a good time:

The tall dude in the middle started chemo today at 8 AM. Pray for Drew. He has four precious kids and a wonderful wife. We have been so blessed to have their family in our small group.

Mia blew off the Christmas party to see a broadway show with her Uncle Lucas. They are kind of the same person.

Band concerts are long, and other stuff

At Oakdale, all 5th graders have to be in band. I'll let that sink in for a minute.  

That includes 5th graders who have never so much as looked at an instrument before. It also includes 5th graders who have no interest or musical talent whatsoever. Which is why I love it. They have to stretch themselves and sometimes they have to do hard things. 

And like I tell Mia all the time, it's good for you to hate something and have to do it anyway. It gives you a tiny little glimpse into adulthood. 

Also, the teacher is a saint sent straight from the heavens. Whatever pitiful salary they pay him should be multiplied by one million. 

Notice the looks of sheer joy on their faces:

 Mia rocked it on the chimes.

 When she told me she was moved to chimes for the concert I thought it was some sort of consolation for being the worst trumpet player or something. However, if it's possible for 5th grade band to have a cool instrument, this was it. She beat those things like an African tribal dancer. I was so proud.

In other news, Andy had a birthday. 

 It was a school morning, so there was no time for posed photos. I basically gave him a look that said, "I hope you can blow those out in one breath because that's all the time I am allowing for this nonsense."

I hope my warmth and charm have inspired you.

Thanksgiving, Day in the City Style

This is the only thing you need to know about the Sehon Thanksgiving at my house (and the only picture I bothered to take):

The baby stole the show, which is as it should be.

If you want to know where we will be every Thanksgiving day it is alway, always at Day in the City. It's the highlight of our holiday every single year. 

1,752 meals later we were covered in rain and gravy, and yet, it was still so. Much. Fun.

 And it doesn't hurt that it's the perfect excuse to have Thanksgiving with your besties.

The boys are more entertainment than help. This year it was all about the Whip and Nae Nae, which I certainly can't criticize since I am a child of the 90s. I can still perform the Electric Slide, Macrana, The Hammer, The Carlton, The Tootise Roll, and The Roger Rabbit on command. Or not on command. I happen to be doing my junior high cheerleader try-out dance to Paula Abdul's Straight Up right now as I'm typing this. I'm kind of a multi-tasker.

 This girl can stack tiny little containers of cranberry sauce like a boss:

 The best part is setting up the room for our own meal after the deliveries are made.

 If you ever want something to do on Thanksgiving day, let me know. I will put you right to work (ask all the students that I have roped into helping every year, they will confirm this.)

And finally, no Thanksgiving weekend is complete without a Lashley family game night (AKA bludgeoning match). Bode finally took the lead in Farkle and was terrified that someone might take him down.

Happy Thanksgiving, from our little snot rocket to yours!