Life As Told In Pictures

I really did not plan to put up Christmas what so ever this year. No kids arriving home this year. No other family coming in. Just me, dad, my brother Steven, and Craig. I couldn't muster up any Christmas spirit. However, after spending time with Donna Vogt, and talking to Sue Gross, I caught a case of Christmas fever. This led to me finally giving into a long held desire to long a silver Christmas tree like my Great Granny Banks put up every year. While browsing through At Home and stumbling across one on sale, I took that as a sign.

After putting said tree together, I rummaged around the house looking for any stray decorations in the house. Way up in a cabinet above my dryer, I came across Santa pictures of the boys. I gently caught them down scattered them on the table.

As I gazed wistfully at the pictures of my babies sitting on various Santas' lap, it struck me that I was that there in squares of Polaroids, was a documented history of their first formative years.

The first Santa picture is of Chad when he was around one year old. He is all decked out in the cutest Osh Kosh overalls with a matching shirt. I can promise you his socks matched as well. I was obsessed with Chad being coordinated from head to toe. That is what first time moms do along with boiling and sterilizing everything in sight. Chad visits Santa all by himself for several years until ...

Little bitty Andrew makes his Santa Claus debut. Andrew wearing an adorable Christmas sleeper. Chad is a proud big brother looking confidently at the camera. They do not remain a duo for long.

A year and a half later baby Kyle pops up in the picture. Andrew doesn't look very happy. Is it because he's having to share the space with Kyle or is he being difficult as Andrew was prone to be at that time? Andrew who is the most least interested in sports of the boys, says he's crying because he just realized he asked for a football. Gone are the "matchey matchey" outfits.  I could care less if their socks matched the shirts they were weaing. During this time of life, my main goal was they at least had clean underwear on and hair combed when they went out the door. Because that is all moms of three little boys who happens to work outside of the home has time to worry about. Isn't it funny how priorities change. Boiling is long gone. I didn't bat an eye when I looked outside and saw Andrew on all fours, drinking out of the dog's water bowl and barking like a puppy. He lived.

This is the last photo with Santa that I have. Chad has dropped of the radar. He has started to grow up and has asked that age old question, " Is Santa Claus real?" Poor Chad. His whole world shifted one night when he asked that question. When in a course of an hour, he came to grips that the same held true about the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. He quickly was soothed with a promotion to head elf. A position he relished until Andrew crashed that gig a few years later. I have no idea why this is the last picture. Were we too poor the following years? Too busy? I can't recall. But I do know this. I cherish these photos and the memories they hold. A magical time of life for little boys. When anything is possible if you  just ask an elderly man in a fuzzy red suit for  your heart's desire and believe it can come true.


Merry Christmas to all of you!

Susan