Happy Stretchy Pants Day

We had a really lovely Thanksgiving over here. Other than the part where Sir O stepped on my perfect Pecan Pie after it was loaded in the car, and then threw a library book into the whipped sweet potatoes, and where I never finished writing our Thanksgiving Ceremony. I'm telling you, NEXT YEAR is the year!
(And both the pie and the sweet potatoes are warranting their own posts, coming soon!)



 After we were already feeling pretty sweet and sentimental about our kids and our lucky lives, Mr Renn and I put the kids to bed and started The Tree of Life.  I say started because about half way through it I was sobbing so hard I'd given myself a full-blown migraine, and my mind already had so much to chew on that It took me almost 5 more hours to fall asleep.  We will attempt to be brave enough to finish it in the next few days.

I had been forewarned that the film was meticulously paced, intentionally designed to provoke the viewer into uncomfortable and deep thoughts of their own.  I was not, however, properly forewarned about the implications of young parents of three boys watching such a profoundly honest portrayal of a family of three boys.  It caused us all kinds of healthy self-evaluation.  And thankfulness. Oh my, so much thankfulness.  Mostly for each other, and for every moment with three living, loving boys.  But also for having the answers to all the uncomfortable questions that Mr. Malick was trying to ask.

If I can find a way around the migraine, it might be the perfect Thanksgiving tradition.