Party on, my friends!

Have fun. Be Safe. I hope that 2010 is better for everyone!

Apparently you CAN put the wrong bag in, provided you use electrical tape...

I just couldn't take it any longer. The tree is DOWN. The dry-as-a-bone, needle-free-branched fire hazard of death tree is awaiting the trash pick up in the slush by the curb. Is there anything more depressing than a discarded Christmas tree?

Of course, once the tree had been undecorated and heaved through the front door (by my lonesome because I am SuperWoman) I was confronted with the Worst Aspect of Christmas ever: post-tree needle duty. Oy vey. I was wearing my new cozy red socks and knit pajama bottoms which were both magnetically attracted to the lovely green needles of agony. Every step I took resulted in being impaled in any number of appendages. Yeowch! Knowing that my vacuum wouldn't be happy with me if I started sucking them all right up, I decided to sweep my carpet and eliminate a majority of the debris. It went pretty well, and I worked up quite the calorie-burning sweat. Bonus! (Except I hadn't showered. Bummer...)

I lugged the vacuum to the kitchen and peeked inside to assess the space left in the bag and found (not to my surprise) that it was full well beyond the "Do Not Fill Above This Line" line. Damn. Ok, ok. So the bag got tossed into the trash and I crossed all of my fingers that I would find the appropriate bag for this particular vacuum cleaner. You see, we have had several vacuums over the years and no two have ever used the same bag types (naturally). But when you replace a vacuum cleaner, what do you do with the surplus bags? Toss them out?!? Well, NO. Of COURSE NOT. You keep them, just in case you need them for another cleaner! Or, in a situation as I was in, to jerry-rig them into the vacuum cleaner that they DON'T fit into because your carpet is coated in needles, despite your attempts to "sweep" them up.

It actually worked, you know. The suction was fine, and there was nary an electrical spark that resulted in any fires or deaths or anything. I'm quite the successful handyman, eh?

Ohmmmm

The kids were all quietly playing downstairs. The heaps of underwear I had scrubbed in the tub was wrung out and waiting in the sink. I had NOTHING calling for my attention so I allowed myself to lie back in the steaming bath water and focus on the swirls of soap, letting my arms bob to the surface... As the corners of my eyes fuzzed over and began that blissful blackening that occurs when I honestly center myself on complete relaxation, my head sank lower and lower, and I concentrated on ignoring the urge to twitch or move a single muscle. It was as my nose reached the water level that I realized that lying on my back in the bathtub may not be the safest place for meditation...

But it's the only place it's quiet and clean enough for me to be STILL! Maybe I should meditate with a snorkel?

I Survived Christmas of 09!

Hope you had at least one reaction as awesome as Evan's reactions were to just about every single present he got this year. Even his socks. Yep. Even his socks... (New Gold Toes from Grandma!)

We're still alive! Despite nature's attempts to keep us down with an ice storm, sudden thaw and now 4 inches of snow (still falling!). Despite my washing machine's sudden demise with a load of Christmas clothes inside which required me to wring out each piece and dry 4 items at a time and then empty the water by hand (14 buckets!).

Much Christmas cheer was spread these past 2 days and I got only slightly twitchy last night when I saw my computer sitting all vacant and cold in the corner. I had intended on writing a fabulously funny and poignant piece about the adorableness of my children but got distracted by the wondrous beauty that is The Internet and then foamed at the mouth a bit while reading this article (start at page 7) but then let my anger out a bit when I read some of the brilliant posts that Crunchy Mama wrote in response.

Many cute things were said by said adorable children. Phrases such as this gem from Corinne when she was frantically searching through the wrapping paper carnage for her new ladybug wristwatch from Grandma:

"Hey! WAIT!!! Where's my Wish Wash?!?"

I know. A.Dor.A.Ble.

Other cuteness was found when Evan stated that he looked "handsome" in his fancy black shirt and Justin claimed that this was his "Best Christmas ever!" as he gripped his new Pokemon Platinum DS game over his head. (Thanks Nana and Papa).

Overall, Christmas of 2009 was just right. I overlooked what I promised I would and only freaked out a tiny bit like, once or twice. With that, I bit you adieu as I pat myself on the back and head off to watch our new Goonies movie with the family.

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

My Promise

I promise to not go online again until after Christmas (Dec 26, 1 am, I'm here, dudes.)

I promise to not stress over the stuff that doesn't matter (i.e. the throwing of the paper at my parents' house which stresses my parents out so I guess I really will stress about it a little bit because I don't want to upset them...)

I promise to spend more time this week with my family, reading books by the tree and singing carols and drinking egg nog (though I am with them 24/7 so I don't think I can really "be" with them any more but maybe I can be present more) (heh... PRESENT. Heh.)

I promise to stop writing posts that suck so much and to only put things up that I am proud of instead of fluffy, unedited bits of tripe that make me hang my head when I read others' brilliant and beautiful odes to parenthood, Christmas and life in general. (Well, I promise to TRY. It might still be a bit tripe-y at times...)

Hope your Holidays are sweet and peaceful and that you are surrounded by those you love, be they beside you in their earthly bodies or in the snow that falls from heaven to remind you of their love.

We Wish You a Merry Christmas!

What have we been doing these past few days?

Well, we visited Santa...Had a slumber party in Mommy and Daddy's Room (We watched Elf!)...We've gotten dressed in our best for a holiday party...Made a turkey...
Watched it get picked apart by short bandits before I could get a carving knife anywhere near it...
Fallen asleep beside the Christmas tree...Baked Christmas cookies (with no photos to prove it)...

Noticed that my eldest is as tall as my younger sister... And have been enjoying the anticipation that the falling snow and twinkling lights of our tree have given to the entire household...So far? It's a pretty damn good holiday season...

Mischief is her middle name...

In an attempt to be with my family more and on here less (imagine that!) I decided to raid my drafts that never got posted when they were written. This post was originally written on 8/20/09 when Corinne was just under 4 years old...

~~~

Lord, I try.

I try not to laugh. But the corners of my mouth are disobedient. I find that I have to race from the room more often than not. Especially when SHE is there.

I never understood the stories from parents who would talk about their kids "getting into" stuff. Really? How? Other than a few situations when Evan was a little guy (can you say 2-year-old unsupervised with toothpaste = not good situation??) , my boys were pretty easy going as toddlers. They didn't wander and I knew where they were and (usually) what they were playing with. This parenting thing was a SNAP!! What the hell was wrong with the rest of the world that their kids "got into" stuff?!?

Ahem.

I apologize. These last 3 years and 10 months have taught me exactly how a kid "gets into" trouble.

Enter Corinne.

Before she arrived, I was unaware of the feats that a fearless, curious child could accomplish. Perhaps when she walked, no, RAN before she was 1, I should have had an inkling? The fact that she could swing like a big kid before she was 2 could have clued me in? When she sings songs for waiters (with encores) without a fear or care in the world? The countless times she has figured things out on her own, without even asking? All of these abilities will no doubt lead her to become an amazingly strong and charismatic woman someday. But today? Today my heart and mind are simply exhausted and I am raising my hands in defeat. She WINS. She wins the medal and can be in control for I am obviously out of my league here.


And yet, there is something endearing about this ability she has to create and exist within chaos...

Money, Money, Money

Money, Money, Money... So much of our lives are dedicated to the pursuit of, preservation of, and allocation of it. We all wish to instruct our kids in the best methods of earning, spending and saving their money. But when the question in your mind is no longer "How do I teach my kids to save/donate/spend wisely?" and is now "How do I explain that because of Daddy's job loss and the economic downturn, we can NOT buy new shoes? That 2 loaves of bread instead of 1 isn't in our budget?"

I know that we aren't the only family experiencing this horror. I know that countless other parents are also lying awake at night, fretting over not WHAT to buy for Christmas, but IF they can buy something for Christmas. Or if they will even have a home to celebrate within. This knowledge does nothing to ease my worries; in fact, it multiplies them! But it brings about a question that is ever-present in my mind:

When you find your family on the receiving side of charity, how do you teach your children to be grateful and accepting of help? How do you teach something that you have a hard time swallowing yourself?

It's an ongoing process. Every day, I attempt to maintain some semblance of calm, even when I walk into a room with the lights on and tv running, though there isn't anyone using that electricity. Each time I see a box of cereal spilled on the floor, I have to force my anger down my throat while I make them pick it back up and put it back into the box. It's important that my children don't live with a fear of not having food or electricity, but it's also important that they understand that these privileges are not a given. In our world's present situation? These are LUXURIES.

Yo.

I find myself barely online and unable to post very regularly. The season, the kids, the schoolwork, the babysitting... It all eats into the hours of my day and when I DO find myself with moments alone? They are usually moments of complete exhaustion or when my head has emptied itself of the hundreds of ideas I had intended on documenting.

Sigh... So be it.

Christmas is nearly upon us and let me just say that I was MORE than pleasantly surprised to find presents for the boys in my stash upstairs that I had forgotten about! SCORE! So, my pack-rat ways of scuttling things aside throughout the year has paid off and I only need to buy ONE present for Justin!! That's it!! Granted, I went out last week and spent a little bit on some presents, but only about $50. What a relief!

Corinne came into my room this morning and poked me awake. (I was up till 2:30 am wrapping presents!) "Is it Saturday yet?" she asked. I rubbed the crust out of my eyes and caught a glimpse of her in her full-length Christmas gown. She has been waiting for months to wear that dress for more than a few minutes at a time! If she were easier on her clothes, I'd have let her wear it, but I know how quickly she goes from playing quietly with dolls to cutting and gluing and pouring glitter everywhere.

This is really disjointed, isn't it? See? I told you. I am not fully present (heh), even when I DO have time...

Science is simply Magic, explained.

Why is it that we keep trying to suck the magic out of everything? A beautiful rainbow is no longer a mysterious treasure from the heavens or a sign of something wonderful to come. Now, when our kids exclaim over a rainbow, we feel the need to explain that the colors are actually always in the sky but we can't see them because of the bending light and atmosphere and water molecules and blah blah blah... The mists on the morning ground may seem mysterious and spooky for our children until we are compelled to analyze the reasons why the warm ground and cold air react the way they do when the sun starts to rise. And, by the way kids; the sun isn't actually rising! It's the EARTH that's moving!

Ugh. Everything is explainable. Everything has to have a scientific cause and effect. Nothing can remain beautiful and magical, simply because it IS. The fairies cannot live in the mists. There are no leprechauns at the end of that rainbow. And it is "supposed" to be assumed that as adults, we should obviously have no belief in real magic of any kind. Unless, of course, it's a belief in an organized religion. Then, by all means! Believe in those miracles and magic! But not in the magic of nature or myths. Because THAT? That's just childish.

Well then, I must be a child. I must be, because I believe in possibilities. I believe that it is entirely possible that I may glimpse a fairy in the woods. I have absolutely no doubt that some of those "illusionists" that we try so desperately to "figure out" have true, actual, magical abilities. I don't watch their hands and try to understand. I simply smile in awe and wish that I could have a touch of that power for real.

So, my kids are told this. My kids are told that I rule nothing out. After all, just because we know how a baby is grown and developed in the womb doesn't mean we know why. And really? Do you really want to know? If scientists are able to "figure out" the real causes of the beginnings of life, would it make it any less magical?

Ketchup on the weekend

Big yawn into my coffee right now.... I'm waiting for the water meter person to come and adjust our water meter reader thingy in the basement so that we don't get another $400 water bill. Heh. YEAH. That was a fun one to read! Thankfully, (THANKfully) it was re-read when Patrick called (and waited on hold for 25 minutes) and it's actually only $22. So, you know; a little more reasonable. ;)

Would SOMEbody please remind me that it is never ok for me to headbang at a grown-up party where the attendees all consume more alcohol than they are used to and then end up dancing around the living room to 80's and 90's rock? Also? Please remind me that it was never really popular to headbang to Cyndi Lauper, anyway... Oy. The neck! It's KILLING me!

And so I am yawning and groaning and waiting. And I am super excited that next week is Christmas break so the kids will be playing with neighbors and baking cookies and I don't need to make or follow through on a single lesson plan! It's funny that I'm just as excited about break as I was last year when both the boys were still in public school... You would think it'd be different, seeing as how I'm always with all of them anyway, but it's not!

We had a blast this weekend! Friday was spent in Chicago, eating at The Rainforest Cafe and watching The Christmas Carol in 3-D (FYI, it's not for little guys that are scared of loud music or ghosts that, you know, jump off the screen and into your lap. Not that my 7 year old had any problems with it and left the theater with his aunt, or anything...)
I am unaware as to why they all look like they're in pain. They were actually having the time of their lives!
What is with kids and their fascination with bunny ears? I have a sinking suspicion that all of my Christmas pictures are going to have bunny ears this year...
My dinner companion. Patrick's great idea to sit beside the elephants was awesome until we got to listen to them trumpet every 25 minutes. Also, for some unknown reason, MY seat was in a freezing draft that I didn't know was for just my spot until we were leaving! Literally, I was 10 degrees colder than everyone else...
Evan and Corinne were happy to see that the train at Navy Pier is inside for the winter...

I'm sorry, but there's nothing cuter than a little kid in enormous glasses!

Moments before the speakers blasted his eardrums and the screen shot freaky ghosts at him...

Brought to you by...

This hurried post is brought to you by the letter F and the number -20 as in Fah-reaking-cold-ass-fingers and the answer to "What is the windchill outside?"

Pardon the dust I leave in the trail behind my doubly-socked feet as I zoom from room to room, trying to secure clothing warm enough for all of us to venture out onto the streets of downtown Chicago tomorrow afternoon for a fun day of Christmas activities, thanks to the kindness of Patrick's mother.

We are excited, despite my worries that we may come home with less fingers and toes than we will start off with... Wish us luck! Have a great weekend. Stay warm.*

* This only applies to those of us experiencing the TRUE meaning of Christmas, i.e. people freezing our asses off from above (or near) the Mason-Dixon Line.**



** If you don't know what the Mason-Dixon line is, well... Sigh... Didn't you pay attention in school??***



*** Here. I'm taking pity on you.

2 reasons to love my DVR

My DVR is a blessing and a curse. Without it, I would never have the chance to watch such gems of broadcasting as "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant." I mean, am I the only one who sees that the show is on, knows she shouldn't watch it, and then turns it on anyway, ready to be amazed at the fact that not only a FEW women have delivered babies in toilets, completely unaware of their pregnancies, but that so MANY have done so, that it actually warrants the production of an entire television series?!? And am I the only one who now freaks out a little bit when her period is lighter or I feel a fluttering in my stomach and I wonder, "Oh My GOD. Please tell me I'm not pregnant!" I can't be the ONLY woman to attend to her needs in the bathroom and think, "Hmmm... a little longer on the pot than usual... I sure as hell hope I don't push a BABY out!!" Seriously, this is where my mind goes nowadays... And it's all the more horrendous due to the fact that my toilets? Are NOT somewhere a baby should even be NEXT to, let alone falling into! (Now, Stephanie's? Those might be ok:) )

Without that beloved DVR, I would never have fallen in love with Glee. You know what I love about Glee? (Besides the adorably awkward teenagers that burst into song and dance numbers at the presentation of any uncomfortable situation?) I love that everyone I know seems to love it. I love that everyone that I find cool and awesome today (Awesome! Thumbs up, dude!) claims to have been a band/drama/speech/mathletes/fill-in-the-blank-of-a-not-so-cool-high-school-club nerd in high school.

Is this possible? How? How is it possible that so many very, VERY cool people look back on their teen years with a grimace at how very UNcool they were? This leads me to realizing that we band/drama/speech/mathletes/fill-in-the-blank-of-a-not-so-cool-high-school-club nerds are the foundation of the successful world. Sure, sure. You athletic, popular kids have your own places in society, but you were the elite and minority, to be honest. And while some of the popular kids went on to do great and fabulous things, some of them fell and faltered without the support of peers who idolized them. Now, the somewhat nerdy-not quite cool-lots of friends but never felt 100% like we "fit in" kids? We RULE the world. We are everywhere. We are enmeshed in every aspect of the adult world and you know what? That kind of rocks.

Don't forget to enter my giveaway , check out the discount codes for kid projects, and use your $20 off code for designer women's clothing!

Traditions Schmaditions

Sometimes traditions have to be altered. Or put on hold. And sometimes your kids can teach you a real lesson in learning to realize that the traditions themselves aren't what's important as much as the time spent together.

I was severely bummed that we couldn't afford to go to the tree farm this year (as in, pouting like a child). I thought we could. I even posted below that we WERE going, no matter what. But when the bills came in before we headed out on Sunday morning, I knew that the extra $20 for the tree farm tree and gas for 45 minutes in one direction just wasn't smart right now. So, we headed to Menards and got a tree that was just as good as any tree we would have gotten from the beautiful tree farm. Though Menards didn't have the hay wagon, hot cider, sugar cookies and gorgeous, rolling farmland surrounding it, it DID have an indoor playground that the kids just about DIED over. And though I might have felt a little bit silly taking pictures at MENARDS, I brought the camera anyway. And I snapped away whenever a salesperson wasn't staring at the crazy lady with the camera in the garden area. Menards or tree farm, I was documenting the finding of the family Christmas Tree.

Behold...Cutie pie. Rawr.
Egg Nog smiles before bed...

It's the small things that I am having to give up or alter that are making me realize that no matter how bad things may appear to me, I am still blessed. My family still HAS a tree this year, though many would consider it a luxury. Though fewer and less expensive than years in the past, there WILL be presents beneath that tree. Though it's a rare treat to be able to purchase Egg Nog for my kids, I CAN do it, and they are able to appreciate it all the more since they taste it that much less. Though we may have to change the way we celebrate and live our lives, we are STILL celebrating and living and that is more than most of the world is able to claim.

We are blessed. We are blessed. We are blessed...

Sugar High

Honestly, all I have in me right now is a half a can of Pepsi and some apple muffins. I am tired. I am cold. My tree is listing to the right and is half-lit as 4 strands just doesn't cut it. My fingers are actually aching from the cold. I'm probably dying from inadequate circulation. They're going to start cutting off my appendages before I turn 40 because of the gangrene that will eat away my poor, blood-starved extremities. I'll sink into a serious depression from not being able to not only walk and wipe my own butt, but from not being able to write online and share all of my minuscule tragedies with the entire (or at least .00043%) internet. I'll probably still be having the same argument with Justin over how adding zeroes to the end of a decimal does NOT change its value ("But it's different! It IS! The number is different, Mom!!"). I'll probably still be wearing the Arizona Jeans sweatshirt from 1992 that I have on at this moment as it'll be the only thing warm enough to keep the blood flowing through my frigid torso. That'll be me: 40-years-old-weeping-legless-armless-poorly-dressed and banging my chilly head against my keyboard in an attempt to document the non-existent happenings of my life...

Damn.

I guess for Christmas, I could really use some slippers and cozy gloves. And a new sweatshirt...

Brilliant ways to save a little cash this Christmas...

Forget paying high prices for gassing up the van. Tie the kids to a sled and have them work for those presents!As for trimming the tree, Corinne has found a FABULOUS way to utilize that tree skirt which was just sitting in the corner, all forlorn (our fake tree was ruined in the flood this summer and I've been putting aside a little bit of cash for our traditional tree farm)...
I'm considering wrapping her up in lights and sticking a star on her head and calling it a day.
Too bad for her though, because we're hoping to hit the farm this Sunday. Hope you find the time to fit a holiday tradition or two into the weekend and spend some time with your family!

Check out my review blog as I have 2 giveaways going on right now!

A Never-ending December

Originally posted at the former Chicago Moms Blog on Dec 4, 2010

A Never-ending December

I had an interesting conversation the other day. A fellow mother and I were talking about the impending holiday season and all that it included. Presents! Shopping! Carols! Parties! The good and the bad. The sweet and the tedious.

"I'm just so furious that they won't allow the manger scene in the White House!" * she proclaimed.

I hadn't heard that they had decided upon this, but wasn't really surprised. I mean, you can't get any more religious than the manger scene. And to incorporate it in the capital which represents EVERYone, and in a country which has a "separation of church and state" may not be a good representation of the whole of the USA. I said as much to which she huffed,

"Christmas is about the BIRTH of CHRIST. That's all! There isn't anything else to it. If you don't believe in the birth of Christ, then you shouldn't be celebrating Christmas!!"

Not wanting to offend her, I acknowledged that I had been raised a Catholic but am now someone who follows her own beliefs, none of which are written down by any man or religious affiliation. I told her that I still celebrate Christmas, but in the knowledge that for me, it isn't just about a virgin birthing a baby in a barn. Not for me. Not for many people. For many people (even many Christians) Christmas has morphed into a holiday focused on the idea that an entire population can be centered on peace and goodwill. The holiday season isn't just about the religious aspects anymore than it is just about the purchasing of many gifts. December is, (for most Americans) a season of goodwill, generosity, and attempting to be a better person. Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa and the New Year are all to blame for that. These holidays encourage us all to center our energy and hopes on the idea that we CAN be kinder and gentler people.

There is definitely something magical about this time of year, no matter what your religious or spiritual beliefs. The magic (for me) exists not in the words I have read in a book, but in the joy and hope I see upon the faces of those I love.

I hope that we can all remember to focus upon the similarities that mankind possesses this holiday season. If we can just acknowledge how monumentally SIMILAR we all are, instead of our small differences of opinion and culture, perhaps every month could be like December...

* FYI, according to SNOPES, the rumor my friend had heard is false. There are still religious decorations and ornaments in the White House this holiday season. I wonder which religions are represented...

The Pink Glove

Surrounded by kids and schoolwork today. So I thought I'd share this YouTube that's going around the internet like wildfire.
Let's all hope the cure is found soon. Be sure to do your self-exams, ladies. Or get a willing significant other to help you and turn it into something more exciting! Whoot!

They say that girls are easier when it comes to clothing. They LIE.

I never knew that so much of my life would be dedicated to forcing my sons to wear underwear. Honestly? I mean, SERIOUSLY? This is an issue? This is a discussion that had to happen more than once? And often enough that I am frustrated to the point that I feel the need to write a blog post about it?

Apparently, so. Apparently, wearing underwear that isn't soft enough/loose enough/tight enough/blue enough/filled-with-the-ability-to-make-you-fly enough is a fate worse than being stabbed in the eyes with spit-sharpened candy canes. Apparently, going commando in JEANS is more comfortable than undergarments that cannot meet the high standards of my underwear snobs.

But the Battle of the Underwear pales in comparison to the war that is fought every day between a certain 7 year old and I. This particular war is the bloodiest of all and deals not with whether they have boxers or briefs but whether or not his socks have 3 gold stripes on them.

I shit you not. He will NOT wear socks without the right stripes on them. Despite the fact that we have hundreds of white boy socks in his approximate foot size, there are about 5 pairs of socks in our home that Evan finds comfortable enough to wear. Sadly, for all of our eardrums, I am not adept at keeping the whites clean or the socks matched. This ineptness results in the piercing of said eardrums when aforementioned middle child is forced to remove the 3 day old socks from his petri-dish feet and he realizes that the replacement socks being casually offered are NOT. GOLD. STRIPED.

And this is the reason that there are days that my children go commando while wearing socks that could walk on their own....