The Christmas Tree Hunt Strikes Again...

I should know by now that life with four young children is anything but predictable. But we got a little too confident on this year's trip to the Christmas tree farm. We've been going to the same farm for the past eight Christmases straight, and we thought we had our little routine down pat.

Now, we've had our minor bumps in the road in years past. There have been freezing children, starving infants who must go back to the van with momma to eat, the time we almost lost a boy or two between the rows of trees, and who could forget the year that the pregnant momma peed her pants? Ahem. But nothing that has taken away from the thrill of the hunt as a family.

Until this year.

(Look closely to see a brother about to get tackled. This actually makes me smile... such real life, and we caught it on film!)

The day was gorgeously warm and we had just finished a wonderful breakfast as a family at Bob Evans. I love that place. The half-and-half in the tiny creamer pitcher alone makes me happy. Everyone sat like little angels (a complete miracle in itself) and ate all of their food in record time. They were so good, in fact, that a sweet family at the table next to us commented on their behavior. And said that they could see Jesus in us. Because this has never happened, I know that it's the start of a very good day.

After breakfast we headed out to the farm. Tyler and I drove separately, because from all of our past tree-farm-with-small-children experience, we know that it takes a vehicle for the children and a vehicle for the tree. We're getting good at this.

Or so we thought.

Tyler and the boys headed over for a little hayride down the long lane to the trees. I decided to drive Tess back to the trees in the van. You know, just in case someone got cold, or hungry, or.........decided to vomit their entire breakfast up.

It started with a cough, then a little whimper. And just as I parked the van, there it was. Her breakfast. Covering every inch of her body, the car seat, and the floor of the van.

While I'm van-deep in clean-up mode (and still processing what just happened), Tyler and the boys - with the biggest smiles ever - hopped off the wagon and motioned me to join them. Maybe they missed the naked baby sitting on my lap.

About this time I'm thinking back to breakfast and about that sweet lady's comment. Yes, I should have expected this.

I motion Tyler over and the situation becomes clear. The boys are already almost lost in the trees. I think I might have to go to the bathroom. And somebody needs a bath. Bad.

Tyler gathers the boys, and after some quick problem solving, we decide to let Tyler pick our tree out this year by himself. The boys did catch a tractor ride, so they are surprisingly OK with riding home with me before the tree is cut.

Whichever one it is.

Tyler starts to hug me goodbye, but I stop him just in case I need a bath too, and we both got a good laugh out of that.

Life is never predictable.

But we did get a great tree.

And we still have Jesus, after all.