In a constant reminder that education is not one-size-fits-all, we’ve entered the new year in a schooling flux. We pulled Jackson from our local elementary school and put him in a lovely little private school down the road. We kept Preston in public kindergarten. And Addison, well, he came home with me.

If you followed that, it now means I have one public, one private, and one homeschooled child. This could be the beginning of a grand educational experiment, but what it has turned out to be is exactly right for each child. Mothers, our number one job is to fret about our children, and I’ve have spent the past two years as a full-time fretter. But no more! In the mornings, when everyone scatters to the wind, I am content, knowing that each of my boys is where they need to be.

As for homeschool, well, that has been buckets of fun. I don’t know if I could do it with all my children, but doing it with one (a middle child, so often shuffled along with the herd) feels like a grand luxury. We read Greek Myths by the fire. Or pop popcorn and watch a National Geographic special on Egypt. We discover new places, like the fabulous Minneapolis Institute of Art. There are workbooks and assignments too, but ours is definitely more of an unschooling, because we still have to live life around it all, and that includes dentist appointments and the grocery store. And recess, which these days, includes grand aspirations to be the next Shaun White.

Learning at its best.

Much to the dismay of my snow-loving boys, we haven’t had much of a winter around here. Last year at this time we were up to our elbows in snow. The complete absence of frozen white stuff has left a gaping January hole, one that is usually filled with sledding, tunneling, shoveling, frozen-lake-walking, and icicle-licking.

But even the kids couldn’t be too upset this week when it got warm enough to pull out the bikes and roller blades. I took advantage of the same good weather to clean out the car and sweep out the garage. When I was finished, I pulled out my iPhone, just to check the temperature. Fifty-five degrees!

We may never see it again, but for the record, I’m not complaining.

My mom! (Isn’t she beautiful?) Without my mom, Christmas would not have happened in these parts. There would have been no joy in Joyville, no roast beast, a tree without decorations, and maybe a toothbrush for each kid. That’s it.

December is always busy. This one was especially so. We had Addison’s baptism with many houseguests. Seth and I spent a lovely weekend in Las Vegas for Seth’s brother Crismon and new wife Danielle:

In the midst of all this wonderful celebration (and holiday concerts and perfomances and life) Seth had three major research papers due. I had just begun a new writing project, and was finishing up two big stories (found here and here). There weren’t enough hours in the day for all that needed to happen.

But happen they did, because Mom came to town and ran the show. She put me in my office and said, “You write. I’ll take care of the rest.” She bought and wrapped all the Christmas presents, down to the jammies and stocking stuffers. She watched the kids, all of them in the throes of pink eye, sinus infections, and strep throat, while Seth and I went to Las Vegas. When I came home I found new throw rugs in every room, the laundry folded, and all the bath toys squeaky clean in the dishwasher. Then she flew home (with pink eye, a sinus infection, and strep throat) to put together her own Christmas.

It has taken me a decade to realize that I will never live up to my mother. For a while that was a hard pill to swallow, but I’ve come to realize that I don’t have to. All I have to do is say thank you. Thank you! Thank you! Every day, to this remarkable woman, for the rest of my life.

It began with finding the perfect tree while my family was in town.

And continued with the requisite cookie making.

Dallin and Janelle and their three girls drove all the way from Indiana to spend Christmas with us! They spent most of the time on the couch reading. Just kidding. Actually, they cleaned my house and cooked multiple meals, including a gourmet Christmas dinner. And Janelle managed to plow through the entire Hunger Games trilogy.

The Nativity program was stellar. With D&J’s identical twin girls, plus Dorothy’s cache of baby dolls, we had several options for the part of baby Jesus.

Christmas morning brought its own magic, as it always does. Another fantastic year!

We had a very special night for our man Addison, who turned eight and was baptized by Seth as an official member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

For the first time in Seth and I’s married life, we had Thanksgiving with just our family. I have to admit, on the days leading up to it, I was a little sad, a little lonely, pining for family far away.

But then, Thanksgiving morning came. And there was no schedule, no pressing commitment except to sometime that day eat copious amounts of turkey and potatoes. I went for a long jog. The entire Lewis crew helped make rolls. We sat down and watched TV! (Macey’s parade.) It was a lovely day. And yes, I made the entire meal by myself (with intermittent “help” from those who wanted to taste-test), but really the Thanksgiving meal makes itself. I even had time for bath.

The meal was lovely and peaceful, just our little family reflecting on this past year’s blessings. And the festivities rolled right into the weekend, where we celebrated Addison’s eighth birthday. Of course, he wanted pie, something large, yellow, and lemony. All in all, a fantastic holiday.

Scarves and hats and snowpants and sleds and down jackets and mittens…oh my!

The entire crew missed the bus today. We were all relearning how it all goes on, and in what order. (Please no mittens ’til you zip that jacket!) Then, upon dropping the kids off at school, half their gear was left in the car, so I had to make a second emergency drop-off with sneakers for gym and forgotten mittens.

Oh, snow!

But in the dark of night (6 p.m.–ahem), when we all venture outside to sled and create massive snowmen, hunting around for pinecone eyes and stick arms, rolling those snowballs around and around, teaching a 2-year-old the proper way to throw a snowball, spreading our arms into snow angels and marveling, always marveling at this miracle substance that makes bearable an otherwise unbearably long season, then I am grateful, even for that jumble of gear in my laundry room.

I hope you’re staying warm in your corner of the world!

In honor of Steve Jobs, whose passing has been mourned heavily in these parts, I thought it would be appropriate to do a post about apples.

It’s high apple season here, and our apple tree, Copernicus, gave us a bumper crop this year. I am learning a little more about growing apples each year. Lesson 1: An organic oil spray really does help inhibit the bugs, and 2: Our apples are meant to be red. (Remember last year? Yeah, we picked ‘em about 4 weeks too early. Oops!)

My scrumptious nephew Elliott.

I had a bunch of eager apple pickers, kids to climb in the trees and retrieve the apples, plus my niece Gabrielle, who used the highly methodical technique of climbing way up in the tree and shaking it silly. It turns out that method works best.

Then all it took was two late nights of chopping piles and piles with my sister-in-law Havilah, plus Gabrielle (both visiting from Texas.) Gabrielle introduced me, her non-TV-watching aunt, to the hilarity of the show Psych.

Then it was time to bring out the wonder that is the Victorio Strainer. And with that, we had applesauce!

We also supplemented with a trip to our favorite orchard for more eating apples, because really, in this house, you can never have enough.

It was a whirlwind of a weekend, memorable, magical, perfect really, with friends and family from all over the world, and some for the second time around. (Yeah Bregje and Harm!) There was dancing, poetry, lovely original songs (you know how it goes in the Gee family. Ahem.), laughter, story, and a giant lemon pie. We’re so happy for these two wonderful people who made hard choices and pushed through together. As Kat sang in her song to Matt, “For some it comes easy, for others it takes time.” Glad we got to be there for this moment!

(With apologies for the substandard photos, which are mostly by me, a few by Seth, and I think Addison grabbed the camera at some point. Whitney Lewis was the pro behind the lens, and I hope to be able to show you the real photos soon!)