Perspective

A few days ago, I had a meltdown of epic proportions.

Tears, crying, and, oh, did I mention the tears?

I was decorating my umpteenth batch of holiday cookies for the neighbors. I was simultaneously also preparing a dish to take to the Husband's holiday work lunch the next day. I had been up really late the night before working on client orders and was exhausted. I had laundry literally exploding out of the mudroom, crawling on its dirty hands and knees towards me, begging to be dealt with. I had kids to shuffle to baptisms at the temple. And there had been workmen in my house all day long.

I was almost at my breaking point.

With the timing of a hurtling bomb, a boy reminded me of something he needed at school the next day. Which meant yet another trip to Hades The Target.

Hiding in the bathroom, I dried my tears and took a deep breath. Gritting my teeth, and stifling every urge of protest my feet made, I grabbed my purse and we headed out.

I glared at everyone in my path. I felt no love for the season and wondered why in heaven's name all these people come out of their holes this time of year. I hurried through the store, grabbed what we needed, and headed to the checkout. Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I sighed with impatience. Mentally counting out all that I still had to do this week, I felt the irritation seep out of my every pore.

Finally it came time to pay, and I gratefully prepared to leave.

As I was digging in my purse for my keys, I glanced up and noticed the girl in line behind me. She was short on money and was having to decide which items to take out of her bag.

Instantly, all my irritation melted away and I actually looked at her with kinder, softer eyes. Instead of seeing her worn coat and thin sweater, nails chewed down to the nub -- I saw something else. I saw a sister, younger than me, struggling to pay for her Christmas gifts. Gifts, it appeared, that were for young children. Having been there once myself, compassion flooded over my body like a warm blanket.

I felt like absolute crap. I had been whining and complaining over what, in the right perspective, are no real problems at all. I had momentarily gotten caught up in the material needs of the season and forgotten the meaning behind it.

With tears in my eyes, I reached into my purse, pulled out all the cash I had, and slid it across the counter towards her.

Merry Christmas, I said, and then walked away.

Much happier and more grateful than when I had come.

[I tell you this story not to brag of my good deeds or seek your praise. I tell you in case you, like me, needed a reminder of the good that can be done if we will just look. Look through different eyes at those around us. There just may be some that we can help. ]

My after dinner snack? Tums.

Tonight is the night mothers everywhere look forward to with dread. Not only do you have to try to keep yourself out of the chocolate, but you have to police your children lest they consume too much and find themselves home from school tomorrow with a belly ache and a bag full of candy.

Which, really, is a never ending cycle of misery for all that plays on repeat for days and days.

Plus, you have to parade your children around the neighborhood, frozen hands shoved in your jacket pockets, and beg the neighbors for yet more candy.

It's my least favorite holiday.

I will be glad once again when it's behind us and I can look forward to the real reason to gorge yourself sick: Thanksgiving.

But my scrooginess won't bring the party down -- we'll celebrate in the usual way: A pumpkin-shaped pizza, chocolate for dessert, and maybe I'll even find the energy to whip up a batch of these.

And, since I'm mean beyond belief, we'll also be taking the oldest boy for an after school appointment to get his braces tightened. Because nothing says I love you more than a Halloween orthodontic visit.

But, today, we wish you a very happy Halloween anyway. From a very cute cowgirl:

And two of the cast members from the television show Psyche.

Can you guess who this one is?

No? A cop with a gun, name tag, and handcuffs doesn't give it away? Combine a surly attitude with this, and maybe you'll have it figured out:

That's right, he's our favorite, Carlton Lassiter. Some of the boys' friends decided to band together and dress up as all the Psyche characters. It was an easy sell. Guns? Handcuffs? Bad attitudes?

Done and done.

Chase was assigned a critical, but lesser known, role. Any guesses?

He's the one cop on the Psyche police force who actually dresses like a cop. (And, yes, he wears shoes. As Chase sometimes does.) Give up?

It's McNabb, whose job is usually to bring in a bag of evidence or stand there looking pretty while holding a gun. Chase is quite thrilled to be him.

Happy Halloween, peeps! Raise your bottle of Tums high tonight!

[And last, but certainly not least, courtesy of our friends at Random dot org, the winner of the Son of a Gun giveaway is Amanda D. Email me your address, sister, and a copy is headed your way.]

Have yourself a merry little Christmas...

Poetry and Pictures

The cards have been mailed, and plenty received. If someone's been missed, we would surely be grieved.

The stockings are hung by the chimney with care. (Along with some fights on whose sock goes where.)

The presents are wrapped, all snug near the tree. It's possible that I even put one down there for me.

The decorations (though scant) have been placed out with care. So far I'm not manic, they might last out the year.

The flower has bloomed, no thanks to my man. He fed it Coke Zero, then quickly he ran.

The plastic nativity changes each day. Sometimes poor Jesus goes very astray.

The good one sits untouched, as per mother's orders. If someone goes touching, they'll be sent 'cross the border.

If only you'd hurry to us, Christmas dear.
We're waiting most anxious for you to be here.

The Tree and me

The weekend of Thanksgiving has become the much-anticipated time when we put up The Tree. It is so sacred and important in my children's lives that, yes, it deserves to be capitalized. If it were within Hannah's power to declare the day a national holiday, rest assured it would happen.

Over the years our tree has evolved from a poor, starving student tree containing only a few ornaments (most of those handmade) to a rich, ornament laden tree that is full of memories. Each ornament tells a story of Christmases past. They've seen the babies come, and looked down each year, watching as we've grown. Each and every one has silently witnessed us rub sleep out of our eyes on Christmas morning, and heard the squeals of joy after wrapping paper is torn.

I cherish all these ornaments with a slightly uncharacteristic attachment.

There are ornaments that I don't remember acquiring, but love nonetheless. Like these chunky, carved wooden candy canes.

There are ornaments that I DO remember getting, like this treasure brought home by my-then little kindergartner:

This year's favorite addition was a set containing all the main characters from Peter Pan, including the notorious Captain Hook:

And my personal favorite (and doppelganger), The Croc:

(Because I frequently walk around the house, eyes bugged, tongue wagging, and toting an alarm clock. What?)

Some of our ornaments really ought to be thrown out (and have actually won Ugliest Ornament Contests in the past. Celia, doing it again this year?). We have the baby Jesus eraser, eternally slumbering with his ball-point pen face:

And probably the truest ugly on the tree is the Star of David made out of straws. Somehow, I am sure this ornament offends Christians and Jews alike, but I can't bring myself to part with it. It makes me laugh too hard each year when it comes out of the box:

Slightly more tolerable (but just as ugly) is our disturbingly vast collection of wood colored nativities from the preschool days:

Yet somewhere in the middle of all the homespun ugly are ornaments that I love. Ornaments that have adorned our tree since our very first Christmas together. Like this one, brought back from Austria by the Husband's parents:

And this hand-carved rendition of that sacred first night:

And this one, hand-stitched by an awesome sister-in-law:

At the end of the day, I think our tree is a lot like me. Fatally flawed, pretty ugly in some spots, but greater than the sum of its parts. When put together properly, with the right lighting, it looks pretty damn good.

Thanksgiving 2010 (Also known as: Gluttony is Awesome)

Guess what? So it turns out that there is this crazy thing called "The Internet." And on "The Internet" there are these wacky things called "Blogs" where people keep a record of their everyday lives, showcase their family activities, and post for all the world to see on a daily basis.

Did you know that?

Isn't that amazing?

(One would think I'd never heard of it, the way I've been posting around here. Or NOT been posting.)

Well, I am back. I had a most excellent Thanksgiving, and will now proceed to bore you (The Aforementioned Internet) with photos and updates of my goings on. Feel free to click off and hunt for free p@rn unless you are:

a) a relative (and even then I might understand)
b) one of the 16 people featured in the pictures
c) a stalker who can't get enough of me, no matter how boring my posts become

We had quite a crowd here for the holidays, and it made my heart sing with joy. There is nothing more fantastic than sharing the sacred gluttony that is Thanksgiving with people I love. We had two of the Husband's brothers, their families, and the in-laws come to stay (for a total of 16, ranging in age from 64 to 14 months).

There was much eating. A lot of card playing. A couple movie viewings. A little sleeping. And definitely some more eating.

(There was also a computer virus, a flood in the car, and a minor vehicular accident. But who's counting the bad things, anyway?)

The best thing I did all Thanksgiving day (besides eat my weight in coconut cake) was hand my camera off to a brother-in-law. I tend to find myself preoccupied on days like this with the cooking, and do not always remember to do the picture taking. I am so grateful.

What would my crazy stalkers have to look at otherwise?

It was the best weekend, and my house seems far too quiet without all of them here. Anyone ready to come back?

Best. Thanksgiving. Ever.

Have a spooktacular weekend...

Question: What do valentines and a blatant marketing ploy have in common?

Remember when I shamelessly stole these from Alyssa last year?

Yep, you guessed it. I'm stealing them again. And the entire time I am making them, I cannot help but wonder at the genius that is Alyssa.

Seriously. These are the bomb.

For the creatively challenged (like me), I thought I would include step-by-step instructions should you decide to steal the idea yourself.

(But if you do and decide to blog about it - please link back to Alyssa. She is the creator of these babies and it's only fair that we fully credit her for them.)

Step One: Take a photo of your child holding their hand out in a fist. Do not worry excessively what the child is wearing or looks like. After all, these photos are going to be handed to a bunch of sticky-fingered kids on Valentine's Day. Add your valentine's day message in photoshop or other similar program.

I ordered mine as press printed cards from the printhouse that I use because I wanted them to be a little better quality than just a 4x6 print. Then I rounded the corners with a punch. (Yes, Marta. I am totally stealing the rounded corner idea from you, my friend.)

Once you have the pictures back, these are the only supplies you will need:

Step Two: Take the x-acto knife and cut a rounded slit above and below your child's hand in the picture.

Step Three: Insert lolly-pop of your choice carefully into the slits. Swear under your breath if you accidentally rip a couple. Be glad you ordered a few extras.

Step Four: Secure lolly on the back with a small piece of tape.

Step Five: Admire your handiwork and, for the billionth time, thank god for Alyssa and her creative genius.

**And for you St. Louis peeps, I've got an offer for you.

Or a shameless marketing ploy.

Whatever you want to call it.

Call me this week and I will come take pictures of your kids for free, add the lettering of your choice, and order the press printed cards for you at MY COST (which, let me tell you, is about what you'll pay for the crappy princess/transformer cards at Target). The only thing I ask is that you let me put my logo and website on the back of the cards in small print.

You know. Getting my business out there and all that?

Plus you can brag to your friends how you had your kids' valentines done by a professional photographer. And be sure to pretend that you have a chef and a live-in masseuse, too, while you're at it. Just so they'll be impressed.

We have to act fast, though. We need to have this done before Friday to give the printer enough time to get the cards shipped and back in our hot little hands.

For the rest of you - happy crafting!

Merry Christmas!

Today it begins.

Two glorious weeks with the Husband here, at home, with us. We almost don't know what to say or do, so strange is the sight of each other across the breakfast table.

In light of that happy development, I'm here to tell you that I am taking these two weeks off. I am not putting the pressure on myself of taking time away from him and the kidlings to find things to post about. I may (for my own sanity) sneak away and read a post or two of yours, but it is adios from this blog for a while.

I know. Try to console yourselves.

Before I leave, I wanted to wish you a merry merry via our Christmas card this year. I designed it myself and am quite pleased with how it turned out.

We opted for the trifold this year:

The front looks like this:

Using the lyrics from my absolute, all-time favorite Christmas song, we added photos that matched the words:

(Because they are still TOTALLY wild)

(And because she is definitely more sweet than wild)

(And the gratuitous family shot - practically the only photographic proof of my existence this year. Have got to get better about getting in FRONT of the camera)

And last, but not least, is our top ten list from this year. Every year I think we will run out of things for the list, and every year the kids keep spewing forth their unintended genius. I keep a journal all year long of funny, random things the kids say (and have done so since they were babies). It's become our tradition, and makes us laugh every year.

Merry Christmas, peeps! And a Merry ChristmaHanaKwanzica, too. See you next year!

A little bit of happiness

I find myself cranky and overwhelmed these days. I'm tired. My feet hurt. My hands are cracked and dry. The holiday shopping is still not done. And I look down in dismay every morning to find that the bulges and bumps on my rear end seem to be mating at an alarming rate.

It's enough to drive one to drink. Or overindulge in chocolate. And caramel popcorn. And fudge. And...

You get my drift.

Instead of focusing on all that I need to do or on all that I've not done well, I'm going to focus on a few things that are bringing me a colossal amount of joy today.

Top of that list is this beautiful display:

Since I freakishly obsess over our own card every year, it should not be surprising that I fall down giddy with glee over yours. Every time I walk past these doors, my heart skips a happy, little beat. I love reading your letters and seeing how big your kids get every year. I love walking out to the mailbox and finding an envelope with our name on it. Scrawled in lovely handwriting, addressed by you, with care, to me.

Just makes the day a little better, you know?

I think we should send cards all year long. Mail in February and March would be so much more cheerful if there were something in it besides bills and more bills. Doncha think?

Next slice of joy is the fact that I completed about six dozen of these beauties today, just in time for a cookie swap tomorrow with friends:

I don't necessarily go for the cookies (gasp!) as I can pretty much bake my own any day of the week (and frequently do). But it's such a nice way to spend the morning - chatting with friends in a cozy, warm house. A cup of hot chocolate sizzling in my cold hands. The stresses and worries left at the door. I look forward to it every year.

Next up is a little indulgence I treated myself to. These lovelies, courtesy of the Container Store, sit proudly in their new home on my counter. Snacks at the ready for little hungry fingers to grab. I've had my eye on them for a few months now, and finally just decided that I deserved them.

Which I really don't. But whatever.

They're my little Christmas present to me.

And last, but not least, are these videos sent to my kiddies, straight from the North Pole. I think the younger two have watched theirs at least eight times in the last 24 hours. It's definitely helped up the magic for them this year and kept at least one from not believing.

Which I'd say is pretty freaking fantastic.