More words. Probably too many words.

I only allowed each person three words in my Christmas card this year--a stringent requirement that made some people (me) happier than others (my daughters). As I was talking about it with KJ, she said I should write about what I wrote, so as to give my dear readers (mostly me in future years I'm sure) the background on my cryptic message.

Ablating (burning out tiny parts of cardiac tissue that cause arrhythmias) is the part of Alan's job that makes him the happiest--and let's face it, by doing these procedures he cures a good number of people. No wonder he thinks it's cool! He also sees patients in clinic, conducts research and submits it for publication, implants pacemakers and defibrillators, and goes to meetings, but he comes home happiest after ablations--especially ones that go smoothly. (But then again, if they all were smooth and easy, it would eliminate some of the complexity that keeps him vitally interested his job.) I call him a cycle dad because he LOVES to bike to work. He secretly disrespects all those bikers dressed up in racing gear going nowhere in particular and is so pleased that he has found an intense workout that compels him to be outside and that gets him where he needed to go anyway. He's also the best dad ever, so that word took precedence over things like ward missionary, eagle scout advisor, great kisser and a whole host of other things that aren't really one word.

I mostly chose my descriptors because my kids have begged me to please not be an organic yoga mom (said in a slimy tone that implies bucketloads of wierdness). My only response has been, "Sorry, I'm already there!" I've been doing yoga for almost a year now and I pretty much love it. (Someone even told me I was GOOD at it the other day--I really didn't know how to respond to that because I'm not really someone who has arrived at "good" yet.) And I really have been trying to feed my family and myself better (more healthy, more organic, more raw, less sugar) this year. Most of them hate it. Too bad for them you can't vote a mom out of office.

Mariah kept voting for bland, watery, inaccurate descriptions of herself like "musical chic runner". Mariah's main passion for music these days is of the Top 40 variety, interspersed between discussions of why she can't quit piano until she's filled her hymn quota (which is dragging on and on and on). So musical seemed a smidgen misleading. And okay, she ran cross country, but not with the regularity that should be required for a three word summary of herself. If you know Mariah though, astute describes her. She completely knows what is up. (Which is probably why she detests the word astute--it's bound to shoot her popularity quotient down about a hundred points). And she is immersed in pop culture right now, studying it daily and intensely. As a matter of fact, I owe much of my current cultural literacy to her. I'm amazed I even know who the likes of Rhianna, Fergie, Vanessa Hudgens and the Jonas Brothers are. They would normally be way off my radar. Thanks to Mariah, they are not. And mademoiselle was a nod to French (which she's been taking for two years and reads novels in) that she thought sounded tres nerdy.

Eliza didn't disagree with stylin' or social. She is, after all, the go to girl for clothes and hair and has blown the limits of her texting plan to smithereens. It fits, but she was worried the babysitter part would make her seem like a pathetic loser. I wanted to put smarty-pants instead, because she is one, and she's also really smart. She didn't like that either.

The other problem about finding words for Mariah and Eliza is that they are very similar girls who do most of the same things, but it doesn't seem like their three words should be the same. Still, they worry if I call one smart or athletic people will assume the other is dumb or sluggish. I like to give my friends more credit than that.

When I explained what vibrant meant, Willa embraced it and wouldn't let me change a thing. And she did finally decide to take dance again, which is pretty jazzy. And you can't define Willa without mentioning her propensity--no, calling in life--to tease. That girl!

Wyatt didn't like advertising his penchant for computer and video games (which he puts in two COMPLETELY different categories, and which are WAY different than just watching TV) with the made-up word screeny. But we had to. And it may be the only thing he does with his free time besides climbing trees and collecting every Bionicle in the known Lego universe. And I was going to use savant instead of sage because it is so true (more true, really) in the strict definition of the word, but Mom and Paige thought I'd have to add three more words ("look it up") to reassure people who thought it might imply our son had been diagnosed with autism.

I don't know...it probably is way too much. That's why I went with the three words in the first place.