Norman Rockwell captured a perfect moment in time through his paintings. Mike and I are tickled to say that our family is finally having what we like to call “Rockwell Moments.” We knew they’d happen eventually, but with three little boys we weren’t sure when to expect them.

A Rockwell Moment: Three little boys sitting perfectly on Santa’s lap with twinkles in their eyes and smiles on their faces. (Previous years usually included mommy or daddy holding a screaming kid, flailing arms and legs and a candy cane stuck in Santa’s beard.)

A Rockwell Moment: Baking Christmas cookies with three beautiful children taking turns mixing and pouring, a fireplace burning, and echoes of “I love you Ma-cus” from Jacob. (Previous years as you can imagine with children snatching spoons, cries of who got to pour what, dropped eggs and burned cookies.)

A Rockwell Moment: Our annual family Christmas tree day with the boys helping to pick out and cut down the perfect tree followed by enthusiastic decorators, Christmas Carols and a table full of snacks. (Previous years always left us exhausted after dealing with crying, tired, whiny children at the tree farm, broken ornaments and complaints of no Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in the party spread.)

I hope you’re not panicking and wondering what I’m going to write about in the future. Well, not to worry… for every one of these few (but treasured) moments, there are 20 “Non-Rockwell Moments.”

A Non-Rockwell Moment: Jacob throwing his juice cup at Marcus’ head and then a trip to the emergency room for stitches. Hey, at least our holiday pictures had been taken the week before… there’s a silver lining in every gray cloud, right?!

A Non-Rockwell Moment: Three boys wearing Santa hats and sword fighting with the giant candy cane decorations supposedly adorning their room. Only little boys could turn Christmas decorations into weapons.

And the best Non-Rockwell Moment of them all: We’re all sitting on the sofa watching Frosty the Snowman. The fire is roaring. The tree is lit. Our cat is sleeping on the rug. Christmas cookies are on the table. We’re on our way to another heartwarming memory when I look over and notice Jacob is picking his nose. “Jacob honey, take your finger out of your nose.” I say. “And use this tissue to wipe your hand.” He ever-so-innocently replies, “That’s OK Mommy. I don’t need the tissue. I just always wipe them on the sofa or wall.” Uuuggg. How can the beautiful go to the disgusting so quickly. I guess it’s upholstery cleaning and 409 tomorrow.

Happy holidays from our wonderfully dysfunctional — yet perfect — family to yours,

~CMH