After Taste

December 27, 2010 by · Leave a Comment

My daughter, the pirate.

When she put this outfit on this afternoon, my son cried out “pirate!” to which she replied, “I certainly am.”

We pulled her dress-up clothes out after we wrote some thank you notes. We’ve never written thank you notes for Christmas gifts before, and I felt like we should. She really has been enjoying every single gift 100%, and I thought it would be fun to sit down with her and write some notes. I would dictate to her.
“Write the letter T.” I would say.
“How is T?” She’d ask. After the first few cards, she had it figured out. After she’d written “Thank you” across the top, I’d write whatever she told me to. She would start out sweet… really sweet.
So sweet I’d nearly tear up over the wonderfulness of it all. Then she’d hit me with something else.

“Thank you for being you.” Aww…
“Tripe,” Ewww…

The backward “N” was too cute not to capture.
In her thank you note to my grandparents, she said “Thank you for being you. Thank you for F.”
I’m sure they’ll really take that to heart. I mean, really… who wouldn’t?

As I made dinner, I asked her what she wanted to do for her 4th birthday in a few weeks. She wants a square rainbow cake. I asked her who she wanted at her party.
“Everyone!” She cried out, “Just everyone at my party!”
She began naming off her cousins one by one. It was so adorable. She really wanted to share her birthday with everyone. I thought about how sweet it was for all of three seconds before she hit me with
“Just not you. I just want everyone to be at my party and you can leave.”

I might have cried my eyes out had I not been thrown into a fit of laughter.

I sent her away to watch a movie. This year, she asked Santa for a “DDD” player, and he delivered. Luckily, he had a spare one still in the box in his closet.
Santa also managed to finagle a small television set for her. Since Santa came to visit, our regular TV has been neglected. Dormant. (Dare I say it?) Replaced.

That’s right, our bigger, clearer, surround sound television and DVD player have been replaced with a teensy TV and teensy DDD player. We haven’t finished setting them up in the kids’ room yet, and I went into the living room to find this.

Look at them, bordering on Amish.
Lucky devils.

Notice I wasn’t invited…
So I left.

Filed Under: Family, The Boy, The Girl, The Husband ·

Confessions: Post-Holiday Edition

December 27, 2010 by · Leave a Comment

#1) I love hot chocolate, but every time I indulge I find myself washing it down with at least 46 ounces of freezing cold water.  Yes, hot cocoa makes me thirsty -so thirsty I’d consider hocking my kidney for cool, clear water.  And yet, I still find myself guzzling the elixir of winter at least three times a week.  Okay, five.

#2) I went looking for my son on Christmas afternoon and couldn’t find him anywhere.  I really couldn’t.  Just before my instincts hit the PANIC button, I found him.
He was almost 100% camouflaged by the wrapping paper, toys, chocolates… packages, boxes and bags!

#3) Tony Stark fathered my children. Evidenced here:

And here:

#4) On Christmas Eve, I got up before the sun and dashed away to Wal-Mart where I beat the crowd (yay!) and spent the entirety of our food budget plus $2 on last-minute Christmas items such as chocolate and chocolate chips and white chocolate. On the drive home, I stopped off at Mom’s for some fresh eggs. Once home, my husband set to making a Christmas Eve Feast of a Breakfast. While our backs were turned, our son (Spawn #2 of Iron Man) snuck an egg. He proceeded to crack it on the kitchen floor. Instead of harassing him for stealing, I took a picture. His first cracked egg, and he didn’t even break the yoke! Of COURSE I had to capture it. My first cracked egg went down the front of my mom’s blender and down the front of my mom’s kitchen cabinets and all over my mom’s kitchen floor. And I was 8! He’s TWO! I’d love nothing more than to post evidence, but my husband imported the picture to a currently inaccessible file. But wait for it, and prepare to be dazzled.

#5) We slept in until 8 on Christmas morning.

#6) I’ve never seen “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

#7) I have a celebrity crush on The Old Man, dadgummit.

#8) I don’t read books. There. I said it. Recently, facebook was hit with a list of books that apparently not many people have read. The idea was: you were supposed to go through the list and then report back to all of your adoring facebook fans JUST how many books you had read. I wished I could have read the list and come off conquerer. Instead, I came off pathetic. The Harry Potter Series? Nope. I ditched that darkfest somewhere in the middle of book three. A Christmas Carol? I’m ashamed to say… never. I’ve never read it. I’ve seen about eleventy million movie versions though. I haven’t read the Twilight series. I haven’t read The Hunger Games. One solitary Stansfield book aside, I haven’t read any LDS fiction. I have to tell you this because I think I give the impression that I do read when, in fact, I don’t. It isn’t that I don’t like to read. I’m constantly picking up quote books and perusing my book full of Frost poetry, but those are books that don’t require bookmarks of any kind! I can pick them up and put them down at will without ever having to WAIT to find out what happens next.

Two summers ago, I read a nonfiction book and loved it so much that I recommended it to Granny. She told me she’d look into it after Christmas.
“I only read during the week after Christmas,” she said, “What did you do last year during the week after Christmas?” she asked. I had no answer for her -I was completely baffled.
“No one can answer that question,” she said, “No one seems to know what they do during that time. No one even takes the time to write in their journals what they do during that week because apparently they don’t do anything. Since I’m not going to remember what I do anyway that week, I take it to read.”

Her reasoning is sound -very sound.

And yet… and yet… Santa brought me something better than a book. And don’t go guessing “A KINDLE?!” because I’ll scratch my eyes out over the prospect of library books becoming extinct.
No, no. He brought me a lap top.

And so we go #9) We’re on number nine, right? I could just scroll up and find out but I’d rather not. I’m actually doing good to just type what I’m typing now on my new keyboard. I’m afraid if I try to scroll, I’ll delete something monumental (like that uber hot picture of Darren McGavin). It turns out I will be spending the week after Christmas WRITING. My heart should like to leap out of my chest! (Mostly because I keep feeding it fatty holiday food, but that’s another Resolution post for another day. In the meantime, I just posted mom’s orange roll recipe on the cooking page. Delve on over.)

Filed Under: Family, The Boy, The Girl, The Husband · Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

Hard Work and One Spectactular Weekend!

December 21, 2010 by · 1 Comment

In my last post, I mentioned that I was burning the candle at both ends and then I fell off the face of the earth.

Not having time to sit and blog is surely one of life’s little annoyances -at least it is for me.  Taking time to sit and write about life’s everyday occurrences is something I really look forward to.  Today, I have mounds of crafting to do before Christmas, but I just had to sit down and write.

The last day I blogged was my husband’s 30th birthday.  We didn’t do very much to celebrate because I had super-de-duper secret plans in the works that had taken up ALL of my spending cash.  I did manage to get a cheesecake together and take it to his work, which I told him I would do.  He told me not to because they might be busy, so I shelved the plan.  Then he called me the morning of his birthday and told me to go ahead with the plan.

I sighed a great sigh because I filled my day with other plans on account of his CANCELLING his birthday cheesecake.  Instead of saying “GAH!” I said, “I love you.”

He read the “GAH!” through my tone.

The cheesecake was made and delivered in the end.

That evening, we had the opportunity to watch our daughter perform in her first EVER tumbling meet.
As the class began their stretching, the teacher would have the go through that actions of “making cookies” in a way that would stretch their little bodies out.
“What are you going to put on your cookie?” She’d ask the students, one by one.
“Jelly beans!”
“Frosting!”
“Sprinkles!”
And then there was my daughter’s reply…
“Pinecones!”

To finish up their stretching, the teacher had them turn into “rocket ships” and “fly” different places.
“Where do you want to fly?” The teacher would ask the students, one by one.
“The ice cream store!”
“Shopping!”
And then there was my daughter’s answer:
“The Land of Oz!”

She waited patiently on the wall between routines.

First she did a floor routine, then a beam routine, and lastly: a trampoline routine. Her beam routine:

The next day, Thursday, was the only day I had to get things done before we left to start celebrating my husband’s big birthday bash, and I was busy from sun up to 1 AM.
I made monkeys and cleaned and cleaned monkeys.

I had to get them finished before we left because I wanted to deliver them to their rightful owners. Once I got those three done, I started on another one. He’s the cute little guy on the far left.
I wanted to try and give him a persona before I gave him away to my husband’s brother. He’s an unabashed monkey lover, and I’d joked with him earlier about making an Adolf Hitler-themed monkey. I decided to give it a try.
First came the ‘stash and angry eyes.

Then came the authoritative black hat with hand-stitched swastika.

Then I stitched his arm up at a permanent angle.
Then I took a picture of my children stuffing their shirts with the monkey stuffing.
“Santa Clause!” They cried out, “Santa!”

Then I added the armband.
Not so cute now…
But definitely worth the time it took to make it!

I wrapped and packed the monkeys that night. Hitler Monkey was packed up with a pair of homemade monkey pajama pants that I had also made that day and which I was tempted to put on and never take off.
Ahhh….. PJ pants.
We woke up early on Friday morning and packed the car up. By lunchtime, we were at Aunt Darah’s house. We dropped our kids off and turned right back around. We drove two hours in another directions to get to my husband’s secret birthday spot.

The England House.

My husband took me there for our anniversary in September, and he hadn’t stopped talking about it since.
As we crawled in bed one night, he started talking about it again.
“How badly do you want to go back?” I asked.
“Real bad,” he answered, “Just as soon as we can.”
So I started working hard. I babysat, I crocheted, I made aprons, I taught preschool and piano lessons, I played piano at the high school… and somehow it all came together.

I was also able to snag us reservations at my husband’s favorite restaurant, The Cottage Place. It’s been voted the best in town for years. Before checking into our room, I had my husband stop off at Wal-Mart so I could pick up some much needed cosmetics. I ended up spending $40 all at once because I hadn’t bought eye shadow or mascara in months. I put off buying these kinds of things, you know, on account of money. Then I have to buy them all at once and I end up needing to really spend a hunk of money, so I turn to Wal-Mart instead of JC Penney. Besides, if you get eye shadow, you need to get glitter. And if you get glitter for your eyes, you should probably buy the shimmery body lotion.
And then you’ll probably end up hating yourself for it all once they ring you up.
But only if you’re a cheapie like me. However, I HAD to have that crap! I haven’t been able to get dressed up for a date in ages!

As I got dressed and ready for dinner, my husband tried to visit with me. He didn’t do a very good job on account of the headache he’d had for four days straight. He was quiet and tired -I felt really bad for him, and I hoped that he would start to enjoy his weekend getaway as much as I was able to enjoy it.
We pulled up to The Cottage Place a few minutes before our reservation time. They were running behind, but it didn’t bother us at all. We didn’t have anywhere to be, and we didn’t mind waiting.
We ended up waiting so long that the restaurant management gave us a complimentary appetizer.
Four of the FATTEST shrimp I’ve ever seen!
They were swimming in anchovie sauce, which I thought would disgust me out of my brains, but it was SO good that my husband and I literally mopped up every speck up sauce with our complimentary bread.
Our meals arrived shortly thereafter. He got the artichoke chicken and I had the seafood pasta. My dish was filled with a few more of the fattest shrimp I have ever seen, soft scallops, and the best salmon I’ve ever EVER had! I’d never tasted anything like it.

The restaurant put us up in a cozy corner table -very cut off from the rest of the restaurant. We were surrounded on two sides by window panes that let us watch as soft snowflakes started to fall outside. I watched as my husband’s mood lightened, and I was so glad that we had come. He fed me his chicken and I fed him my seafood, and we were so full we couldn’t muster room for dessert (probably because we had each eaten six hot wings a few hours prior).
LOOK at those SHRIMP!

My dish, my dish, my dish…

After we were filled to the brim with holiday cheer and OUTSTANDING food, the waitress snapped our picture.
You can’t see it, but I’m wearing heels. I never, ever wear heels so I had to make note of it. At 5’8″, I never, ever heels. Especially because the man I’m sporting is 5’11” (but if he asks, tell him I told you he’s not an inch short of 6 foot).

We pulled back into The England House around 11 pm, and snow was falling all around. I snapped a picture of the back of the house.

I loved the way the camera’s flash reflected off the snowflakes. We nestled into our soft, warm bed and SLEPT SO HARD. When we woke up, there was a soft covering of snow.
The England House was decorated for Christmas, and there was a big, beautiful REAL tree in the front parlor. It hadn’t quite been decorated, but it was so full and fragrant that I had keep from hugging it. The best part? They paid $20 for it. $20! For the best BEST tree I’d ever laid eyes on!

Before we checked in, I could smell that tree from the porch outside. As the owner opened the door, the smell of Christmas wafted around us, and we settled comfortably into “vacation mode.”
Breakfast on Saturday morning was delicious. My body was still digesting dinner from the night before, but I was powerless to resist breakfast. Powerless.
Banana crumble served in a ramekin and a baked egg souffle!

As we ate, a fire crackled in the fire place next to us, and snow continued to fall in large downy snowflakes. The flickering taper candles on our table topped the atmosphere off perfectly.

Our second stay at The England House was as perfect and picturesque as the first. Of course we’ll go back. Of course we’ll love it. Of course the owners will treat us like we belong there. Of course I’ll be responsible for eating most of the chocolate in the candy dish set out in the kitchen.

Here’s the back of the house after the snow.

I love nothing more than escaping reality with my husband. Our reality is really as good as it gets, but it’s still nice to sneak away now and then.
One of the greatest things about The England House is that the rooms don’t have televisions in them. No television means we spend more time talking and more time listening. By the end of our stay, we’re always 100% reminded of why we got married, why we’ll stay married, and why we’ll be back to visit The England House again and again.

After checking out, my husband and I were able to get some Christmas shopping done. We hadn’t shopped together at all this season, and we won’t be able to again -so we had a GREAT time wandering the aisles of Target. By this point in the weekend, my husband’s headache was nearly gone and he was back to his teasing self. I couldn’t get ENOUGH of him!
We bought the kids all sorts of little goodies here and there -nothing too expensive because we’re poor as church mice these days. Luckily, the kids are too little to notice or care.
The drive home was peaceful.
Then the drive home got foggy.
Then the drive home got REALLY foggy.

I kept joking to my husband that I felt like Russel Crowe in Master & Commander: The Far Side of the World.
“I feel like we’re going to get hit on the port side at any given second,” I said. Then I’d imitate a sailor’s whistle.
Then he’d turn his podcast up.

We made it back to Aunt Darah’s house much later than I had anticipated, and I can’t express my THANKS enough for what she did for us! She made it possible for my husband to have the best birthday yet.
I was able to pay for all of it which my husband felt more than a little weird about, but it was SO nice to be able to take care of him for a change! I almost forgot to take my wallet with me just about everywhere we went because I’m so used to him paying, but it was 100% worth all of the work that went into it.
Which -by the by -still isn’t done. I’ve got loads of monkey socks waiting for me on the couch and two little kids that both woke up with coughs and cute croaky voices.

Here’s to a day filled with humidifiers, orange juice, sock monkey stuffing, and a traditional family sing-a-long tonight that I will be attending solo.
Thanks in advance to the husband who has agreed to stay home with the kids so I can play and sing tonight!

Later on tomorrow, I’ll blog about our family get togethers. Last night, we met at Aunt Lil’s house for a smashing Christmas dinner with the tastiest bruschetta this mama’s evah had.
Tune in tomorrow (the other side of three sock monkeys).

Filed Under: Family, The Boy, The Girl, The Husband · Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

I Can’t Wait To Get Up in the Morning and Do it All Over Again

December 15, 2010 by · Leave a Comment

I’m burning my candle at both ends right now.  I’m sure I’m not alone.  I’m sure there’s a million people burning their candle at both ends this time of year.  I don’t mind it because it is only once a year…what I DO mind is the way my kids seem to be melting my candle from the middle on out.

Proof:

For the first time since she was a baby, my daughter threw a SCREAMING fit last night.  When she was a baby, I would let her know that throwing a SCREAMING fit was completely unacceptable.  Last night, I let it go.  I know that she knew throwing a screaming fit was naughty.  Besides, she was just trying to get some negative attention and I wasn’t about to give it to her.  Here’s was happened: I had spent the day working hard on projects and as I worked, my children slowly tore the house down.  Then we went shopping.  Whilst shopping, I bought the supplies for the kids to paint a shirt for their Daddy -who is the BIG 30 today.  My daughter was dying to paint.  She had told me weeks ago that she was going to paint a shirt for Daddy for his birthday.  She asked a million times over if it was time to paint.  I told her she could paint as soon as the house was picked up.

“Make it brand new,” I said, putting it in her terms.  She likes to call clean rooms “brand new.”

“Alright,” she’d say, and promptly get distracted.

“Make it brand new so you can paint,” I’d remind her.

“I’m going to,” she’d say and promptly get distracted.

Finally, the hour of reckoning came.  I had asked her and asked her and asked her.  She was not obeying.  She was not listening.  I had warned her that if she didn’t clean not only would she not get to paint… she would have to go to bed.

The clock struck 9 pm, and I broke the news to her: she had to go to bed.  No painting.

She was devastated.  I asked her if she knew why she was being sent to bed without painting.

“Because I didn’t obey,” she said, through tears.  Watching my sweet girl cry is enough to break me, but I knew I had to stay strong and follow through.  I put her in bed and went to the couch to stitch another sock monkey.  My husband curled up on the floor next to me and put a movie in.

“I don’t wanna go to bed,” she wailed from her bedroom, “I don’t wanna go to my bed!  I don’t LIKE my bed!  And I’m MAD AT YOU MAMA!  And I’m MAD AT YOU DADDY!  And I don’t LIKE MY BED AND I DON’T LIKE MY KITCHEN AND I DON’T LIKE MY ROOM AND I DON’T LIKE THE VACUUM!  AND I DON’T LIKE EVERYTHING!!!!!”

At this point, my husband and I both chuckled.

“We’re in trouble,” he said.

“Sounds like it,” I agreed.

Her screaming woke her brother up.  He screamed.  She screamed.

“I’m about to put a stop to this,” my husband said.  I begged him not to.

“Please…” I said, “Let’s let it play out.  She’s dying for us to go in there and we can’t do it.  She knows what she did wrong.”

He agreed.

“I’m SO SAD AND MAD AT YOU MAMA!” She screamed, “I TELL YOU I JUST WANT A STORY RIGHT NOW!  I’m JUST SCARED IN HERE AND MY BED IS SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO BUMPY!”

Again my husband and I started to chuckle.  She sounded so irrational, and it was sorta cute.

“MY ROOM IS BUMPY!” She screamed.

Soon enough, she came out.

“I don’t wanna go to bed because,” she choked on her sobs, “I just wanna stay awake and I don’t need my room.”

“Honey,” I said, “Why did mom put you in bed?”

“Because I didn’t obey,” her crying came back full force.

“That’s right.  And you need to go back to bed now, and you KNOW that screaming like that is very naughty.  You had better stop it before you get a spanking.”

She wailed and went back into her room.  A few minutes later, she was sounds asleep.  A few minutes after that, her father was sound asleep.

An hour and a half later, I crawled into bed.  I closed my eyes and started to drift off when I heard little feet outside my bedroom door.

“I just don’t NEED my bed,” a little voice whispered.  Because she had learned her lesson, and because I would die if I didn’t get any sleep, I took her to the couch where she loves to sleep.

Again, I rehearsed to her why she got in trouble.

“When you wake up, you WILL pick this house up,” I said.

“Okay,” she smiled up at me, forgiving as always.

I got her a drink of milk and crawled back in bed.  A couple hours later, my son woke up screaming for me.

I don’t know WHY they’re into screaming lately.  Usually they just fuss, but lately they’ve been screaming outright.  I got up, scooped him into my arms, snuggled down with him in his sister’s bed, and we both went to sleep.  Thirty minutes later, my alarm went off in the other room.  I hopped up to turn it off before it woke up THE BIRTHDAY BOY, but it was too late.

It woke him up.

And I got up so fast it woke my son up.

He followed me into my room and proceeded to crawl all over me.

“I needa gwink a’ milk,” he said.  Over and over and over.

Finally he crawled down and fell asleep on the floor.

I woke up exhausted.

I will spend the day exhausted.

I will go to bed exhausted.

Tis the season.

My little candle melters:

Filed Under: Family, The Boy, The Girl, The Husband ·

Rocky Mountain Oysters

December 11, 2010 by · 6 Comments

I took the kids up to my folks’ house two night ago for a movie night.  I had planned to watch the old holiday classic “Christmas in Connecticut” with my mother.

I expected to be greeted by my mother’s warm smile and always-cheery smelling house.  As far as the warm smile goes, I got it.  But the cheery-smelling house? Not so much. Instead, I found my Dad over the sink with a knife and a bowl full of what I wished was jelly.

Nope.

He had branded earlier that day, and his bowl was full of cow testicles.

He was going to cook them up, but he couldn’t find the mix he usually uses.  Instead of hunkering down on my parents’ leather couch to watch a Christmas movie, I made my dad A Cow Ball Cookin’ Assembly Line.  I filled a pie tin with an egg and milk mixture, and then I filled another pan with a seasoned flour mixture.  As he cut the oysters up, I dipped them in the egg/milk mixture and then into the flour mixture.

Dad then grilled them on his George Foreman.

My kids weren’t at all interested in the black and white Christmas movie.  But they WERE interested in helping grandpa.  PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don’t read on if you’re squeamish.  REALLY.

I’m BEGGING you.

Dad only grilled a few, but he did make sure the entire lot of balls was cut and cleaned before he went to bed. The kids were by his side the entire time.
After I had seasoned and coated the few he wanted to cook that night, I retired to the living room for a long winter’s movie.
But I laughed, as I listened to dad and the kids, in spite of myself.

“You’re going to squeeze it,” Dad would say.
“Squeezie! Squeezie!” My son would say. He’s been adding and “ee” sound to the end of everythingee these days. (“I want milky, milky, mliky.” “I want juicy, juicy, juicy!”)

As the kids would squeeze, the meat would come out of it’s skin and be nearly ready for cooking. My son couldn’t get enough of picking them up out of the water and THROWING them back in.
I’m going to warn you AGAIN. DON’T WATCH THIS IF YOUR GAG REFLEX IS WEAK.

cookincowballssqueezie

After they were grilled, we all got a taste.

Anyone is welcome to taste. Dad does make a mean cow ball.

After the movie was over, I loaded the kids into the car and drove home. It took about three minutes. When I pulled into my drive, I turned around and saw:

Cooking can really wear a kid out.

Filed Under: Family, The Boy, The Girl ·

If My Life Could Be Summed Up In One Picture

December 10, 2010 by · 2 Comments

I hosted Bunco last night, and my husband wasn’t home yesterday. The kids stuck around the house during the games. I did my best to keep a pile of distractions in their room, and I knew they would absolutely thrash it but that was okay. I tried to counter-act the trashing by having them clean their room beforehand. Thank goodness. Can you imagine what their room would have looked like had they NOT cleaned it up?

After most of the guests left, I walked into my kids’ room and found my son completely crashed on the floor. I had to laugh. Do you know how many times I’ve crashed on the floor? I mean, besides last night… do you know how many times I’ve crashed on the floor? So many. So very many.
I like floor sleeping. I think if I didn’t like food so much, I’d make for a great post-WWII refugee.

That seems to be my theme in life. Wake up, clean up, make a mess, crash… wake up, clean up, make a mess, crash…
Some things never change.

Filed Under: The Boy ·

If You Could Pop Through The Picture, You’d Hear:

December 6, 2010 by · 1 Comment

“Babe, let’s put the kids in a chair and we’ll kneel behind it. That way my after-baby belly will be hidden.”

“Sweetie, for the last time… keep your LEGS DOWN. No one wants to see your big girl pants.”

“I can’t take another picture until SOMEONE CHANGES THAT BOY’S DIAPER.”

“I should have worn panty hose, my legs are as white as the snow. Son, look at the camera…”

“Son, LOOK at the CAMERA.”

“It’s okay, I can always picnik it.”

Filed Under: Family, The Boy, The Girl ·

Thrones

December 4, 2010 by · 1 Comment

The theme for today is thrones: polished white ones and invisible ones.

The things is: my son has taken to calling me “your highness.”  There’s no sarcasm in his voice because he isn’t 14, and it makes me laugh every time.

“Here’s your orange slice, son,” I say.

“Bank you, yo’ highness,” he says.

“Here’s your dirty diaper, go throw it away please!”I say.

“Bank you, yo’ highness!” He replies.

So I’m royal.  I mean, I always suspected it but my son has confirmed it.
(in this picture, he was standing in front of my cart and pulling it all over Safeway. He insisted on it, and why shouldn’t he? I’m royal.)

This morning, my daughter decided to try her hand at royalty and sat herself down on the porcelain throne. She held herself up with two hands behind her as most toddlers do. When she lifted one hand off of the royal seat to reach for the royal Charmin, she started to sink into the royal hole. She gasped and immediately put her hand back on the seat.
“Hey!” She yelled, looking down at the toilet, “That wasn’t very nice!”

One great thing about kids is you always know where you stand -whether you’re a household queen or a toilet.

Filed Under: The Boy, The Girl ·

The Tree is Up

December 1, 2010 by · 1 Comment

We put our tree up.  It’s fake.  I love it.

That’s the the short version of what happened.

Want The Alicia version of what happened?  Read on if you do/dare:

I’ve always wanted a pre-lit FAKE tree.  Last year, my husband bought me one.  Before last year, we had been using a three foot tree that was shabby.  And not “shabby chic” shabby.  Just plain SHABBY.  When we went and bought a new full-size tree last year, I was jumping for joy.  The only downside?  My kids could unplug it, grab the cord and run circles around the tree and it would spin with them.

While my best friend was visiting during the holidays, I actually had to speak the words, “HEY!  STOP SPINNING THE TREE!”

It’s moments like those that make you slap your own forehead, and then afterward you realize your palm was covered in peanut butter or jello or playdough and you now have a nasty print on your forehead.  It feels about as good as stomping your foot in frustration, only to have it land in dog poo.

This year, the kids have forgotten about the spinning thing (knock on wood), and they had so much fun getting ornaments from me.  I have a few that coordinate and a few collected from the years over.  There’s the fake glass ship we bought on our Honeymoon while touring four historic ship in a harbor in San Diego (one of the ships was used in the filming of Master and Commander.  I nearly peed myself in excitement.  Nearly).

There’s the blue jingle bell that says “Baby’s First Christmas” and the pink jingle bell that says “Baby’s First Christmas.”  There’s the one made out of baked clay (or something): two teddy bears dressed as a bride and groom holding a cake between them that says “our first Christmas 2004.”

While we put the tree up, I put on some Christmas music that was eventually sacrificed in the name of the Suns game. My little brother came over with a box of green apples and a smile.  I busted out the popsicle sticks (jumbo), caramel, and white chocolate and we started making caramel apples.  While they cooled after the first dipping, we finished putting up Christmas decorations and I made some hot chocolate for everyone including my cousin, Jason, who had come to help with the apples (with the simple stipulation: I help, I eat.  Period. And he helped and then did eat).

While the Suns battled against the refs (according to my husband “It’s like 5 against 7 out there!” and “It’s hard enough playing against five guys, but we’re playing 5 guys and TWO ZEBRAS!”), I pulled my husband under the mistletoe to break it in.  My kids weren’t fazed, but my brother and cousin? Thoroughly disgusted.

Tree Spinner #1:

Tree Spinner #2:

So we put up our tree.
It’s fake.
I love it.

Filed Under: Family, The Boy, The Girl, The Husband ·

On Being Irreverent

November 30, 2010 by · 2 Comments

We spent Thanksgiving with my husband’s family, and it was wonderful!  It was very small, and the food was (as it always is) SO good.
I couldn’t resist snapping some close-up pictures. The subjects were just too wonderful.

That pup, by the way, is looking right at the Thanksgiving spread on the table.

My daughter was getting impatient for the meal to start and her grammy gave her a deviled egg. She was thrilled beyond belief and brought it to me announcing, “Mama! Look at this Humpty Dumpty Grammy just gived to me!”

I guess as long as he can’t be put together again, we might as well split and share the spoils.

A few snacks here and there weren’t enough to pacify her, and I was happy when she crawled underneath my arms to have me read “The Polar Express.”
We enjoyed a full feast together and tried diligently to talk about things we were grateful for, but it didn’t go over too well.
It turns out the oddball things my husband is grateful for aren’t heartwarming, but they ARE conversation starters. We got off the subject easily, tried to return to it constantly, and enjoyed our meal thoroughly.
After dinner, I happened to glance at a flier and notice that Bass Pro Shop was open. I’ve been on the look out for red heel socks, and I thought they might have some. I went to round up my kids to take them with me because SANTA was there, but the turkey had taken it’s toll on one of them.

But the rest of us packed up and made the short drive. Our first stop was Santa.
He asked her what she wanted for Christmas.
She said, “A DDD player.”

Thank goodness “santa” has an extra one all boxed up in the closet!

As we walked around the store and from thence to Michael’s where I bought YET MORE cinnamon scented pine cones, I got a weird feeling. I watched the crowds of people flock around. I gawked at the shoppers lined up outside of blackened store windows, and I almost choked on the words “Happy Thanksgiving” as I checked out at Michael’s. It felt SO WEIRD to say that to a cashier.

As we drove home, I remarked to my husband that I’d never again shop on Thanksgiving. I then spent the next few minutes boring him with the tedious details of my childhood Thanksgivings in the country. I didn’t even KNOW the day after Thanksgiving was a huge shopping holiday. In my mind, the day after Thanksgiving was the day Dad and the brothers left on their two-day round-up, and the day I stayed up and baked with mom. Mom always made a real gingerbread house, and I stood guard, snacking on leftover bits of gingerbread and candy. Our little town slowed down (even more so. ha.) for Thanksgiving Day and nothing was open.

I then told him that going out and shopping on a day that was set aside as a day of Thankfulness seemed so… so…
I fished for the right word, and finally came up with:

irreverent.

My husband nodded in agreement and spent the next few minutes boring me the tedious details of his big-business-tyranny rant. He was 100% right on all accounts, but I’ve heard it before. Many times. Just like he’s heard me talk about my childhood Thanksgivings before. Many, many times (over).

The day after Thanksgiving, we came home. I knew my Dad was gone on a round-up and I knew my mom was making her gingerbread house. My mom gradually decorates the house after Thanksgiving, but the tree doesn’t go up until December 13th, my brother’s birthday. But WITHOUT FAIL, a gingerbread house is made and assembled the day after.

Since 2005, I’ve been making my own gingerbread house. This year, I lost a screw in my head and made four gingerbread houses. One is a small love shack, and the other three were even smaller -perfect for toddlers to decorate. We spent yesterday baking and putting them together, and I thought warmly of my mother as my kitchen turned from chaos into utter mayhem.

But as I watched my mother’s grandchildren (I invited my niece over) decorate their little houses, my heart just filled to the tip-top. Soft Christmas music played in the background, and the house was flooded with the scent of freshly-baked gingerbread. There was no arguing or fighting. There was only soft giggles and lips smacking and tiny little chatters.

I texted the above picture to my mother and when she called to thank me for it, I said “Look what you started!”
When I think of my holiday memories, I always think of my mom’s gingerbread house. It was unique to our house, and we looked forward to it every year.
Something else I loved about my mother’s decorations was her Nativity set. It wasn’t big and fancy. It was small and plastic. She liked it that way because then all of her kids could play with it without hurting it.
None of us could have anticipated that my little sister would come and along and repeatedly throw one of the wisemen in the trash because he was a “bad guy” but OTHER THAN THAT, we really couldn’t hurt them.

When my husband and I were first married, we used a WalMart gift card we’d received as a wedding present to buy our meager holiday decorations. The only Nativity we could afford was really small and not pretty at all. It was all of $3, but it served it’s purpose for us that year.
and the next year.
AND the next year.
AND the next year…

Finally, last year I was eaten up with guilt. We needed a more reverent Nativity Scene. I vowed that this year would be the year that we’d get one. I’ve been shopping for one for a long time and couldn’t find “the one.” When I did the grocery shopping last week, I had enough money left over to buy a $20 set at WalMart. My hopes weren’t high that I’d love it, but I was determined to set something up this year.
I had to buy a few animals to go with it because it didn’t include any, and it doesn’t have a Shepard either, but that’s okay for now.
When I came home, I eagerly cleaned the house and dusted the top of the entertainment center, I pulled the Nativity Scene out, and I was MORE than pleasantly surprised! The pieces are good sized and beautiful!
My only nagging regret (Shepard aside) was that it was so high up that my children couldn’t play with it. I shook it off and remembered that on top of the fridge I had a teensy TINY set that my grandmother had given me a few years ago. I pulled it out and the kids had a great deal of fun with it. In fact, baby Jesus has been pocketed and taken on a few field trips without my knowing.

On Sunday, I made my way to our storage unit and got all of our Christmas decorations out. I sent our old three-foot tree with my little sister so her college house could have a little tree all their own (shabby as it is), and I popped open our biggest plastic tub to find a world of merry and bright.
Mistletoe!
Stockings!
Hanging Holiday Signs!
Ornaments galore!

And there, on the very bottom of the tub… was a brand new Nativity Scene that I had purchased on clearance last year after Christmas.

And COMPLETELY forgotten about. I pulled it out and laughed and laughed and laughed. As I unwrapped my decorations, I found my dilapidated Nativity Scene from our first years as a married couple and family. I found a beautiful Willow Tree Christmas Ornament that depicted Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus. And I watched in pure joy as my daughter opened the brand new box of porcelain Nativity people and began to stage them. She rearranged them. She rearranged them. She rearranged them.

She gave them voices and plot lines and all manner of adventures. A few times, the wisemen ended up on the roof of the manger scene. Baby Jesus fell out of his manger and the donkey started to talk!
My son followed her lead and began to play with them as well, and as I glanced around my house I saw a teeny TINY Nativity scene. I saw a dilapidated old Nativity Scene that was well used and not at all pretty. I saw a brand new beautiful Nativity on top of my entertainment center. I saw a decoration depicting Joseph, Mary and Baby Jesus. I saw the Nativity felt hand puppets I’d made the day before.And I saw my children, side-by-side, playing with a very breakable Nativity Set to their heart’s content. I realized that my house was now fully equipped to take on the Holiday season, and I breathed a sigh of contentment.
And then I saw this.
It turns out that being irreverent?
Hereditary.

Filed Under: Family, The Boy, The Girl, The Husband ·