Christmas Eve

It has been tradition for as long as I can remember to celebrate Christmas Eve at my grandparents house.  I am sure that there were a few years when this didn’t happen on the actual “Christmas Eve”,but for the sake of tradition, Christmas Eve means Grandma and Grandpa Huff’s house in Tulsa.

There was a wall of presents under their tree – laid on top of one another like bricks.  This wall would stand about knee-high in the back and progressively get shorter the further out it went.  It took my breath away.  Sadly, or maybe it was a good thing, all those presents were not for us.  My grandma likes to shop, and there were often other young family members, great nieces and nephews, who would get a little something from Aunt Lee.  Oh, and she does have a quiver full of siblings so there was that, too.  Anyway, an unheard of amount of presents.  Her tree also had those tinsel-ly icicle things that when you crawled underneath to reach the wall of presents in the back, they got all over you.  My mother didn’t allow icicles on our tree at home – I totally support this decision, by the way – so we found them to be all the more amazing since they were at grandma’s.  It should be no surprise that something that was completely against the rules out our own house was a must at grandma’s.  That’s how it should be at the grandparents house.

Strangely, another of my fondest memories of my childhood Christmas Eves at Grandma’s was her relish tray.  I can’t eat a sweet gherkin pickle without thinking of her.  Immediately, no matter where I am when I eat one, I see the brown, paneling walls of my grandparents dining room and a red and green lacy table-cloth.  I also feel the need to put black olives on my fingers and eat them one by one.  I’m working very hard to create these special memories for my own children.  Unfortunately, the only brown, faux wood paneling that we have direct contact with us in our garage and that isn’t very conducive for meaningful pickle eating.

But we still have those same sweet grandparents and we still have Christmas Eve, so I’m working with what I’ve got.

I have no memories of Grandpa helping to make the salad.  I really don’t have any memories of us actually eating a real salad on Christmas Eve as a little girl, but this is a precious memory right here:

The wall isn’t there anymore, it’s just more of a puddle – a scattering of gifts.  We only buy for the little guys anymore and I think that suits everyone just fine, but they still captivate the kiddos.  Presents are presents, right?

I think Grandma and Grandpa were afraid that they wouldn’t ever really get to know Lila, her being born in Memphis and only getting to know them through our 2-3 time a year visits.  From the looks of things, this hasn’t been a problem after all.

Grandma knows her way around Legos

Every time we see Grandpa, he talks about how when Mattie was just a little thing, he used to sit outside in a lawn chair and push her in her little swing until she would fall asleep.  He loves that about their past – having that story.

She knows her place

I guess its true, you’re never too old to sit on Daddy’s lap

Also, between you and me, I’m pretty sure that next to my mom, Mattie is his favorite girl ever.  I called him out on it this year and he just smiled.  I guess that makes me his third favorite girl because I gave him Mattie.  I can live with 3rd.

And what would a Family Christmas be without cousins:

Cuzzies

 

These two are not cousins, but I thought they were awfully cute in this picture so I’m sharing it.

It doesn’t take much for my imagination to take off and remember another brother/sister duo canoodling with this same lady on Christmas Eve many, many years ago.

And it seems kinda crazy that this person who just a blink ago was a little boy shorter than me, now has a………..

beard….you thought I was going to say wife and darling little girl, right?  Well, that too, but that beard still gets me.  You wear it well, John.

This is a new tradition that I hope continues to be played for years.  One that I think would be even funnier the older they get.

This was a silly little game called, two little girls find it absolutely hilarious to put a flimsy red hat on their adults.  First was Grammy (or Aunt Heidi if you are anyone other than Momo)

Then Uncle Tom

Who knew a decorative hat could be so entertaining

Each of us got a turn eventually and then they started putting it on random objects around the house, things like candles.

While the little girls were occupied with silliness, Mattie took an opportunity to have a little Grandma time to herself.

And Reese didn’t seem to be bothered in the least by all the estrogen flowing around him.

All the boy needed was an ink pen and a coloring book

I’m so thankful that these little people will have each other to (hopefully) share many Christmas Eves into the future.

And I’m so thankful that my little people get to know these Loveys.

The Grandpa and Grandson

And hopefully, when they are old and have babies of their own, their memories of Christmas Eve will be bright and vivid and they will remember each of these special people.  And I will do better to bring back the sweet pickles.

Things I Have Recently Discovered

I have recently learned two pieces of information that have boggled my mind.  The first is that Ikea will be moving to Memphis.  This excites me in a way that I can’t even create words for.  For quite some time, I have been longing for the people who make big decisions for Ikeas would consider the Nashville area.  Nashville seems to be a hotbed for new up and coming things.  They recently got a Nordstrom and there is much hysteria surrounding the opening of the American Girl store this spring.  They have Trader Joe’s, which is something many Memphians speak of longingly and Ikea would have just been the icing on the cake.  But even greater than my wildest dreams, something I threw out into the universe probably once a day – “Sure would be wonderful if there was an Ikea closer than Atlanta” – to find out that it’s just going to be down the street (okay, down the interstate a good 20 minutes, but hey close enough friends, close enough.)…..it leaves me speechless.  Now if I could just find that lost Ugg boot, I could forget about the stupid car and broken dryer and life would shine like a never-ending rainbow.

Ikea comes in 2016.  I can’t wait.  But you know what the best part is?  They have free child care on site.  Lila will still be nest-bound and thinking about getting to go and peruse through the wonderland of home furnishings, cabinets and inexpensive Scandinavian furniture…..oh my goodness! I just remembered the cinnamon rolls!!!!! I can go and check Lila into Sproutworld, or whatever its called, and just go have myself a little me-time. Fellow stay-at-home mom friends, let’s make a coffee date right now for the spring of 2016.

So excited!!!!!!!!!

The second bit of information that I have recently come in the know about is that you aren’t supposed to wash you denim.  Brandon has found me sitting quietly many times (since hearing of this) with a thinking scowl on my face and when he asks me what’s wrong, I say something else pertaining to my jeans and their proper care.  It just doesn’t make any sort of sense to me, not to wash them.  Maybe it’s just me, but after a few wears my jeans get all stretched out….espeically in the knees.  And this could very well be me and the season of life that I’m in, but it’s not unusual for their to be pooh on my jeans at some point.  To go forever without washing them just seems gross.  The experts recommend spritzing your jeans with vodka to sanitize them, but really, my Tide just seems like way less trouble.  And what would I have done when I was underage and not living at home yet still got my denim dirty.  I don’t imagine my dean and my private Christian university would have popped into the liquor store so I could do some laundry.

The experts also recommend “spritzing” your jeans with water to re-shape them.  Again, my Tide and gentle wash cycle seem to be doing such a lovely job at this, it seems silly to try something else.  I want to do what’s best for my jean’s quality of life, but at the same time – to go without EVER washing them just seems impossible.  Any advice anyone out there has on if this really is what I’m supposed to be doing would be nice.  I will take a poll and base my laundering on those results.

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And a little story for you.  I realize that you aren’t supposed to advertise when you are away from home.  And normally, I would never think of doing such a thing but because my home will be used as a hotel while we are gone, and you readers don’t know exactly when and for how long that might be happening, I think it’s safe to tell you I’m in Arkansas.

Today in Arkansas we went on a little family adventure, looking to do something fun with the whole family right here at Christmas.  We did what I imagine families all across the world do on Christmas Eve Eve.  It really rings in the holidays for us and I’m so thankful that the weather participated for us this year.  We went to visit a cave.

Doesn’t look like much does it?

This is hardly the first time these two little ladies have found themselves walking up the stairs to something just a tiny bit sketchy, but mom and dad (and mumsey and poppy) say it’s okay so here we go.

You read that right, on probably one of the busiest shopping days of the year, we headed to somewhere that didn’t really even have a parking lot.  Cliff Dwellers Cave in Noel, Missouri.  Now, I am no cave aficionado but I have visited a cavern or two in my life and this one is probably on my short list of the finer ones.

We were captivated by a petrified nest complete with petrified eggs

Enjoying the little museum. They had Little House on the Prairie desks!!!!!!

We were a little sceptacle when our cave had this sort of door and a padlock

There isn’t anything flashy about Cliff Dwellers.  And if you’re driving at any sort of steady clip along highway 59, you would probably miss it.  Our tour guide, Mary Ann was a gem.  And funny!  That lady had really honed her cave humor craft, while being equally informative.  I hate that so much of her subterrane stand-up fell upon deaf ears with my children.  They are a tough crowd Mary Ann and don’t generally laugh at really quality humor attempts.  Now, if you had said something about the cave farting, they would have thought you were golden.  They also hold their cards close when experiencing something new.  You aren’t ever really sure if they are having the time of their lives or dying inside until after the whole experience is over.  I enjoyed every minute of my time underground though I will admit, I touched things even though I was told very firmly at the beginning not to.

More looking

Mumsey doing some cave looking

More cave

I am defiant like that

Me…in the cave

They just saw a bat

I couldn’t help myself, reached out and touched the wall when I knew for sure Mary Ann wasn’t watching.  I’m pretty sure everyone else did, too and because Lila is Lila and believes that to truly experience something you must lick it…..well, if the cave dies in the future you’ll know what happened.

The ladies standing in front of what just looks like a just an ordinary hillside

That little tiny thing that looks like a hairy thumb is a tiny hibernating bat. Cutest little guy!!!! Reese loved those

My favorite part of our cave expedition came at the very end.  Again, remember that we had been reminded not to touch anything (though let me say there were a few “touch points” that we were allowed to man-handle so that was nice) and that nothing was to be removed from the cave.  So when Reese walked over to me, motioned for me to lean down and then said “This fell off” while handing me something tiny and white – I started to panic for just a tiny moment.  Why Reese, Why did you break the stalactite! We need a new washer and dryer, the car still isn’t completely fixed and I really want to redo that silly bathroom upstairs! Now we have to pay for the cave interior that takes 100 years to grow an inch.

Looking into something very awesome

Cave innards

He handed me his tooth.  He just lost a tooth.  Why didn’t you say that, boy?  “This fell off” seems a very peculiar way to say you lost a tooth.

Happy Christmas Eve Eve and make sure to visit a local cave before the holidays are over.

I See You Christmas Grinch, But I Can’t Be Bothered

I spent a good long chunk of time last night composing a very lengthy post.  It was full of all sorts of stories about my feelings towards packing suitcases during the winter months (I am not a fan), the difficulty that is packing when you haven’t been able to do laundry because the dryer is trying very hard to burn your house down.  It still runs like a champ, the whole house just smells like when you turn the heating system on for the first time all season….and your clothes smell a little like electrical burning when you take them out.  We have decided to unplug it for a time and regroup after we’ve given it some time alone.  I was going to talk about how difficult it is to try to pack clothing that can all match only one pair of shoes so you don’t have to take up space packing others, and how that might be easier if you had your washing machine and dryer available, but instead you are using what’s available and nothing matches those gingerbread colored pants……

I was also going to tell you about how my car’s headlights quit working on Monday night while we were driving through the boonies away from Mattie’s sewing school and how Lila and I enjoyed spending the better part of two days at two different auto repair facilities.  The lights got fixed but we also managed to spend an additional $2500 on various other things that our lemon of a car felt it needed.  Oh and lets not forget the lost Ugg boot that I probably spent a good two paragraphs lamenting.  There was a good story about a random stranger old man who took Lila right out of my arms at the post office (which was both horrifying and oh so helpful and I have kind of wished I could run into him again in the days since), that story sort of wound itself into the missing boot saga.

But as I was sitting down to re-write all of that, I decided that though I could have spun an entertaining tragedy…..who really wants to take 45 minutes to read all about that anyway.  Though you don’t have all the gory details, you are caught up on the fact that we spent a lot of money on something unexpected, are wearing those clothes that are usually hidden deep in the back abyss of the closet and I am a little behind on some of my Christmas shopping because they don’t sell Frozen toys at Firestone tires.

So instead I would like to share this happier, more exciting Christmas miracle of a story.

Yesterday, while perusing a new Goodwill store, I came upon a Disney Princess doll wearing a very darling little nightgown.  I knew right away this nightgown didn’t belong on Belle because A) it didn’t fit her and 2) It strongly resembled something that had been shown to be from the American Girl Doll catalogue.  I will admit, I had no shame and I stripped Disney Princess Belle of her clothing and turned that nightgown inside out looking for a clue as to whether or not it might indeed be what I thought it was.  Yes! the tiny tag stated that it was Bitty Baby, which is American Girl’s doll baby line (for those of you that don’t speak AG,  lucky you).  I carried that little night-gown around for the rest of our shopping trip, planning to ask at the check out how much it was because it wasn’t marked.  I wasn’t sure what i was going to do with my newly found expensive toy doll nightwear, seeing as we don’t have a Bitty Baby at our house, Lila’s current doll baby looks like she belongs in some sort of gang with the “ink” scribbled all over her head and face.  For the record, it only happened the one time, it’s not an ongoing pattern of doll abuse.  But just the same, I wanted that little night-gown.

Before leaving, I took one last little walk down the toy aisle to see if just maybe the Bitty Baby who had previously worn the night-gown was strewn in the mix.  I saw a little hand peeking out from a pile of rejected Elmo’s and overly loved carnival prize animals.  But it was just another dolly that looked eerily similar to our tatted up one at home.  Oh well, I had my nightgown.  But then when I went to put the unwanted doll back, underneath her I saw a little cloth body with a string coming from its neck.  American Girl always has a string thingy at the base of their dolls necks.  I don’t know what that’s for or why it’s there, but they do and in that moment I knew that I had just found a treasure.  And sure enough it was that Bitty Baby that went along with that Bitty gown and they were in fantastic condition….except for the giant $1.00 written on the back of her head….but hey, we could work around that….or better yet, she’d fit right in with Lila’s other children.

I washed her nightgown, that is while she is naked. Even though she looked good as new, we don’t know where this girl came from and felt she needed a bath just to start things off sanitary.

These little dolls are currently on sale at the American Girl WEbsite for $70 and then probably more for shipping and what not.  They are normally $80+.  But I found this little jewel for $1.00.  That’s not even peanuts, I don’t think you can buy any form of peanuts for a dollar anymore.  For the cost of two postage stamps, Lila now has a top of the line baby doll and for the record, the $1.00 tattoo came right off.  So take that broken dryer and funny holiday wardrobe my family is sporting.  Take that car that tried to ruin my holiday season.

Mama didn’t even have to try!

Tooting Her Horn

Tooting ones own horn can sometimes feel awkward, but when someone else does it for you it’s much better.  Sure, you may blush and tell them to stop, but everyone likes to feel like they’ve done something just a little bit fantastic.  I don’t brag on this girl enough.

I also don’t take her picture nearly enough and I’m afraid that she’s going to start picking up on that soon.  The main reason is that A) she isn’t with me 90% of the day and 2) She’s wearing the same thing in the 10% of the time that I have her.  Even if I took a million pictures of her, they all look the same.  I’m not sure what it is, that maybe she has reached a stage in her life where we expect more out of her so the small, every day things don’t really seem high-five worthy.  Reese has had a big year, learning to fasten his school pants, actually starting school, starting to spell things and read….starting to play organized sports and not crying even once during the process.  These are all pretty remarkable things in a little (or even a big) person’s life.  And Lila, the past year has been full of game changers for her.  She talks to us  now using words instead of pointing and yelling more and she no longer defecates on herself.  I silently cheer every time that happens.  She puts her clothes on by herself and almost every day tries something she didn’t do the day before.  I toot their horns a lot.

But this girl, I will admit, I have expectations.  She’s supposed to use the toilet and button her own pants.  She actually gets in trouble when she doesn’t make her own bed, while her brother gets a pat on the back when he makes his.  She has shown us what she is capable of and now we are harder and harder to impress.  I know that every day, she too is changing and growing, evolving into the little woman who will be here before we know it or are ready for it.  But we often can’t see those little changes, those tweaks.  But this week, this week so many little tweaks were going off that they made a little fireworks display shoot through and her daddy and I couldn’t take our eyes off of her.  I have broken the proverbial horn by my excessive tooting if you would.

About a month ago, while we were enjoying out pre-Thanksgiving Hallmark movie-fest, Mattie and I watched a movie that involved an angel tree.  You know, the trees at the mall or other shopping centers that have children’s names and ages and a list of things that they might like for Christmas.  Mattie was completely obsessed with us getting a name from the angel tree and it had to be a little girl her same age.  The day came, night actually, and we found our girl.  And I think the big selling point for this particular little girl was that she wanted a doll.  Mattie treasures her dolls (enough to sign them up for pretend extra-curricular activities and to make sure that she has a sitter lined up for when she’s away at school) and I think the idea of getting to share the gift, the magic of a great doll – well she wanted that more than anything.

We had a 9-year-old girl, her little angel tag tucked safely into Mattie’s jacket.  We also had a 6-year-old little boy for Reese, but after he found out we weren’t actually going to a tree made of angels or getting a cool new angel for the top of our tree, he wasn’t really into it.  I also think that I completely mispronounced the little guys name the whole time he was with us.  I’m not going to say his name here just because that feels wrong, but what I called him rhymed with sparkle.  I also have to be honest, I am thankful that my kids were more concerned with the angel tree recipients ages and finding someone who “matched them”, but it would have been nice if they had read the wish-lists and made a mental note that two kids that both wanted bikes might be a little costly.  I wasn’t sure how to say to them, “This is so wonderful guys, but can you find a kid who doesn’t have their heart set on a costly bike.” I will also be honest, that I could kick myself for not just picking an infant to be Reese’s kid when he showed several signs that he wasn’t really interested in the whole thing.

The part of this though that I am horn tooting about came about a week later when we went to Target to make a few purchases for our angel children.  Like I mentioned before, in addition to her bike, the little girl wanted a doll and Mattie wanted to make that happen for her.  She had a plan and she also had her little hippo wallet, filled with every cent to her name.  Not only was she bound and determined to get a Target version American Girl Doll, but she was even more set on purchasing it herself.  With all the money she has saved cleaning the bathrooms for me on Friday and swiping any unclaimed coins lying about, Matilda bought that little girl a lovely doll, an outfit and even a little stuffed dog.  I tried to act like it was no big deal, but at the same time, I didn’t want her to think that it wasn’t a big deal.

Because it was

The nine-year-old Kaylee would not have been so generous with her money.  My time, my clothes, my food, but I was a bit of a tight-wad when it came to my hard-earned cash.  I reminded Mattie that she didn’t have to buy these things if she really didn’t want to, I had fully planned on doing the buying – I just wanted them to experience the joy of picking things out for someone else.  But she was set on it.

And I was so proud

Watching her unzip that little wallet and then happily hand over all her cash just to buy doll for a little girl she will never know and who will never know that another little girl bought it for her, was beautiful to me.  That little girl, she is getting it.  She still fights like a warrior with her brother and has absolutely no sympathy for ANYTHING he might be going through.  She gets an attitude when asked to practice the piano, stomping around and rolling her eyes – but she is generous.  Her little heart for the world is growing.  She is beginning to see that others have needs that she can help to fill, and though her little flame is still just am ember, its growing.

I am so proud and moved and it makes me want to make sure that I’m doing all that I can to fan that little flame.

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She also made this little masterpiece:

It now shows a little wear and tear from being snacked. Maybe squint your eyes a little.

 

Last year we hot glued our gingerbread house to get it to stay together and this year she managed to create an edible evergreen, that also made for a lovely table centerpiece all week – all by herself.  Granted, the tree was just stacking cookies as opposed to creating walls, but still.  I feel like her skills have evolved in the course of just one year.

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And if those aren’t reasons enough to have a whole orchestra of horns tooting away, let me give you one more.  This past Monday was her sewing class.  She was equipped with three different patterns of christmas-y fabric and a pillow fill thingy.  When I dropped her off, I was told she would be making a pillow with three different little christmas tree cut-outs on it.  She hadn’t specified who would be receiving it, if anyone.  When she was picked up, she had something all wrapped up in her Hobby Lobby bag and was grinning ear to ear about her awesome pillow for Mumsey.

Let me see the pillow, Mattie Belle!

But she refused. I would have to wait for the big reveal on Christmas morning.

She held out for about 45 minutes.  That’s probably 42 minutes longer than I would have been able to.

Then she burst into the room saying that the pillow wasn’t really for Mumsey, but for me and she had changed everything about the pattern and created something all her own because she knows I love the letter B so much (Baughman – we have a whole wall of Bs).  She couldn’t wait until Christmas and had to give it to me now, but could I please give her a drum roll.

Of course, every big moment should always be given a drum roll.  I wish there was a drum roll as I made their oatmeal in the morning.  That would really pep up my mornings, really give me a strong motivational push.

And then she pulled this little piece of wonderful out and I think I shrieked.

I was wearing a hoodie, but had it been a hoodie with buttons – they so would have burst.  Again with the proud of my girl.  Sewing skills, creativity, and then the whole generosity thing again.  My girl has a kind heart and a generous spirit and for that, I would like to publicly toot her horn.

And while I’m tooting the horns, I have one other young lady that I think needs a full symphony, maybe even a musical.

Aunt Shannie graduated with her Masters Degree this past Sunday.  I could tell you some horrific stories of what she had to deal with during the process, but she is proud and wouldn’t like a big deal made about her. So I will just say this, Shannie Wilhelm

Toot Toot!

The Angel and The Shepherd Can Be Friends

I have a load of clothes to switch over here in a second.  I know, that’s some pretty intense domestic action to be tended to.  Late nights, intense under the pressure of an upcoming Monday. gotta get that nap mat sheet washed, dryer and back in the cutesy truck bag before the boy leaves for school again.  These are crazy deadlines!  I hope you can read the sarcasm dripping from those last few sentences.  For real though, it’s been a busy weekend that happened to involve a very late night last night and I am more than ready to head to bed.  But I’m waiting for that dryer buzzer to switch loads – and while I wait, I will share some of our weekend.

We were expecting company Friday afternoon.  Company that had never been to our house before and so we wanted to make sure things were clean for their inaugural visit.  Repeat visitors get the bed made and towels washed, but brand-new visitors we go all out.  Anyway, I was sad to hear our company wouldn’t be coming, but I’m not going to lie at all, I had absolutely no problem shutting the door to the guest room and not thinking another thing about it.

Our Advent calendar (our little house with doors that we open every night for the month of December) door for Friday night held a little note that said we would be going to see Christmas lights.  I had spent a good 45 minutes Friday afternoon looking “researching” incredible light displays around the mid-south area and had two really fabulous options picked out.  Options that were supposed to just completely blow your mind and cause even the Scroogiest person to welcome the season.  I was excited!

I presented these two options maybe a little too eagerly to my husband who quickly let me know that though he was thrilled to go Christmas light looking at, he intended to wear his pajamas and would not be exiting the car.  My awesome light extravaganzas encouraged walking-through.  Apparently, the husband and I were not on the same page as far as our ideal Christmas light experience.  And instead, he had some addresses of local neighborhoods that had some festive homes with lights set to music.  Because I was not the one driving and you can’t force feed festive feelings, we went with the husband’s plan.  I will admit, it did the job just fine and really, I don’t know that my little crew can handle a full-on walk through light spectacular.  Not yet, anyway.

We headed to a neighboring suburb of Memphis.  And we weren’t disappointed.  I’m pretty sure that we found ourselves at the same house that we spent a good half hour parked in front of last year.  You might want to go back in the archives and read up on our light show experience last year to get the full review.  Though we all seemed to recall that last year, there were two neighboring houses teamed up together, this year there was just the one doing the job of two.  I would like to know what happened with the neighbors, did they move away?  Did they just change their minds this year and not feel like doing it?  I don’t know how one just goes back to a regular nothing yard after spending years with choreographed light balls and trees dancing across your yard for 25 nights a year.  And if those neighbors did move away, did they disclose to the new family what the previous tradition had been?  I know with each new house I live in/ buy, I have added a few more questions that I ask while doing my “shopping”.  The list now includes things like:

* Has a crime ever been committed here?

* Has anyone died in this house?  And if so, was it in a violent manner?

*Has this home ever been burglarized?

* Are there tons of leaves to contend with in the fall? (Really wish we had known about that situation when purchasing this little gem we currently call home)

*And has this house previously been part of a festive Christmas tradition that people will drive from miles to see and then be disappointed when all they find is a porch light?

All very valid questions to ask when looking for a new home.

It’s a great little show though there in Bartlett, we give it two thumbs up and its a wonderful, free and not nearly as crowded alternative to some of the areas other well-known drive-thru light displays.  For at least another year, we satisfied our customers.

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The next day was our Christmas program at church.  Mattie was to dress like a little shepherd (my mom made this outfit when the girl was in kindergarten and I can’t tell you how useful it has been!  I think that should be on the school supply list just like crayons, new back pack and biblical-looking costume.  We have used it so many times! Fact is, with three kids, we could probably use a few more.  Mumsey?).  And Reese and this rest of his cronies were angels.

The shepherd and the angel

Not one of my children, so far, has felt comfortable wearing an angel costume.  Mattie would act as though her body was rejecting the outfit, like she was actually allergic to the whole idea.  There may have even been a rash.  In her little class at church, it was always part of the lesson to have one of the kids dress up as the little angels to spread the word that Jesus had been born.  I can recall her crawling under her seat, getting behind my seat and once putting her coat over her head to show us that she was not okay with playing this role.  So when it was told to us parents that the Pre-K/K class would be clad in angel wear – I expected the worst.

I will not make this easy for you. I will stand here and take it, but I will NOT make it easy

He wasn’t a fan, and wasn’t the least bit enthusiastic – but Ms. Zory was able to get the garment on his body.

Again, let me emphasize how uncomfortable this whole thing is

And when it came time to go up front and play his part, signing to silent night, he actually went.  Others sitting in the audience probably didn’t realize what sort of Christmas miracle they were actually experiencing.  We have been praying for the Christmas program since this summer.  That Reese would be brave and strong and remember that whatever his role might be, that it was to praise Jesus and celebrate His birthday.  and hopefully by December, he would be okay with the idea of standing in front of people and doing some sort of something whether it be singing or whatever.  The addition of angel costumes – by this point I had sort of a “go big or go home” attitude.  If he was going to have a meltdown in front of hour church family, it was at least going to be epic.

And for just a moment, with their little robes on, even with all my insider knowledge – they even have me convinced

But he did it, and I was so proud.  And on top of that, my little shepherd was their piano accompaniment.  Another little miracle right there, the last thing she would ever want to do was something that might benefit her brother.  But here she was playing the piano for his class.  There were many talks about how she was playing the piano, not for Reese, but for his class.  For Aunt Shannie’s class, for her whole school and for the church.  For Pete’s sake Mattie, you were playing for Jesus get over your ongoing feud with your brother.  Their home time practices had all ended in violence, but for that 30 seconds or so, there was unity with my children.  Silent night, Holy night – just like during World War II wasn’t it that for just a few hours the two sides called a Christmas truce?  Weapons were holstered and there was peace…..until the car ride home.

Angeling is exhausting

Mattie had a sleep over last night and as their Christmas activity in door number 13, Lila and Reese were finally allowed to sleep under the Christmas tree.  Reese took it seriously and he and Brandon constructed quite the nest.  When they first laid down, I have to say, Lila and Reese just looked absolutely Christmas-time precious.  Snugged in their little sleeping bags with the heads peacefully resting on their pillows with the glow of the tree behind them.  So darling.

But after about 15 “This is the last time I’m coming over theres” I had to come and break up the fun and lie down between them. I think Lila was by this point licking Reese’s pillow and he was crying that she had ruined Christmas.  It didn’t take 3 minutes of the power of mom for Reese to go to sleep.  Lila was a different story.  I may have drifted in and out a little bit, but I heard her rustling around the whole time.  At one point she was standing up acting out her own little version of the christmas story with our nativity set.  Another time, she was trying her hardest to get in the tree itself.  Reese was lying on my arm and I didn’t want to wake him, so I resorted to texting Brandon with my free hand to come and “get the Bird out of the tree.”

This morning, Reese was a little disappointed that Lila had abandoned him during the night.  Apparently, he didn’t notice the bags under my eyes due to his sisters midnight romp around the playroom.  And the Bird, she slept until about 10:30 morning, making up for lost time.  Needless to say, as darling as she looked nestled in her little pink bag with her dolly up by her face and the twinkle of christmas lights bouncing in her eyes – she will not be invited to the next tree sleep under.

After the Bird left, things were down right peaceful. I still wound up in my own bed, but for a moment…..

You begged, we tried, you were kicked out of the room.  And I can just about bet you money that one won’t feel comfortable in an angel costume either.

This is Where I Draw The Line

This shady looking character chose my bath tub to have a little soak in last night.

So skeezy!

I tell my children that no matter what their choices in life, mistakes they might make – I will always love them.  I might not agree with their lifestyles.  I might be uncomfortable hanging out with their circle of friends.  I also might be incredibly disappointed.  But they will always be mine and I will love them.

However, if he choses to make this facial hair choice and it happens to be this particular shade of disturbing…..I might have to take all those promises back.

Baby mustaches are disturbing on multiple levels

Even these mustaches aren’t as troubling:

Baby mustaches are disturbing on multiple levels

 

and they are on my daughters.

Where are My Pants?

Reese has been in a basketball league for a little over a month now.  It’s the Pre-K/K league at the JCC and to say that it’s entertaining would be an understatement.  For the first 8 “practices” or so the little guys just worked on basic drills…..things like walking, which are surprisingly difficult when you add a ball bigger than their heads into the equation.  Last Wednesday, the teams were announced and uniforms handed out.  This was when things finally became real.  Instead of just going to practice, Reese was now officially on a team, with a real number on his back and some hard-core swagger.

Like a man after my own heart, he immediately put on his new duds as soon as he arrived home.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked out of a store wearing my new shoes with the old ones in the box.  Or how many impromptu fashion shows Brandon has had to endure when I was particularly excited about a recent purchase.  It really seals the deal that you are official when you have the special outfit.  So the rest of the evening was spent sashaying around (I don’t really think little boys sashay, but whatever….) in his new Black Team #2 jersey and matching shorts.  Life couldn’t get any better.

And then it got all sorts of terrible

Shortly after changing into his pajamas, the boy went to fold up his new uniform and found that though the shirt was right where he had tossed it, the shorts were nowhere to be found.  Panic sat in really quick and turned to full on melt down mode.  I’m a little surprised that the neighborhood patrol man didn’t show up due to all the commotion coming from our house because there was one very upset little person here letting us all know just how upset he was.  Where could those blasted shorts possibly be?  He hadn’t left the living room since he got home!  They just disappeared!!!!

He was thoroughly convinced that our house had somehow eaten his shorts.  Why our house would just now decide to start eating our belongings, I have no idea.  And why would it start with the newest item to be brought into it? Another very good question.  He went to bed with tears on his cheeks and some very intense prayers for the safe return of his basketball shorts were sent up to heaven.

The next morning, as soon as he woke up, Reese asked if I had been able to find his new shorts.  The earth quaked just a little when he let out the most downtrodden sigh I think I’ve ever heard.  I had completely failed him as a mother and master finder of all things lost.  In my defense, that motherly skill skips a generation (so I’ve heard) and really isn’t my strongest super power. He climbed out of bed like he was headed to go do some sort of hard labor, took his school clothes from their laid out perch on the bunk bed ladder and went to the furthest corner to sulk as he got dressed for the day.

And just like that, the clouds parted and this sullen, hallow man-child turned back into Reese again.

“I found my shorts mama, I’m wearing them!” Turns out in the boys rush to get his pj’s on the night before, he had just pulled those fleecy pants right on over the new shorts.  Getting dressed in the dark probably didn’t help much, either.  “No wonder we couldn’t find them!” and even if we had looked all night long and pulled up the floor boards (which he was strongly in favor of us doing at one point) they would still have been lost.  “It’s a good thing I got dressed this morning!” Yes Reese, because I almost let you go to school in your Christmas reindeer pajamas, miracles do happen when you put your pants on.

Sunday afternoon, the new black jersey and shorts were worn for their first official game.  Three on three, and the first time these kiddos worked as a team…..if you can call it that.  They did catch on pretty quickly that everyone wearing the same color was on their side and somehow good, which meant you didn’t try to take the ball away from them.  That didn’t necessarily mean you gave the ball to the same color as you, even if they were right by the goal and had no one from the other color team near them, but you didn’t try to take it from them.

It’s very important to stay behind the line while waiting for the ball to be thrown in

At one point, one little guy had the ball and in a desperate attempt to just do something, tossed it to the ref…..because he was also wearing a black shirt.  I suppose it never hurts to test and see if you have a compassionate ref.  In Pre-k/K basketball they don’t keep score and they don’t take time-outs either, which is really nice because the game goes by really fast.  Technically, there aren’t winners or losers but if you ask Reese, he will very humbly tell you that the Black Team won 38-0.

His form isn’t the prettiest, but he’s only 6

He will also tell you that so far, they are leading in the league and are undefeated, though the Orange Team is looking pretty stacked and might be their biggest competition yet.  I have no idea where he’s picked up this lingo or where he is getting his info regarding the Orange Team.  But I did notice that tonight at practice he bothered to learn his teammates names.  He says he thinks that will give them an edge.  You’re probably right, Reesie B.  Knowing the name of your teammate to yell out when you need them never hurt anybody.  But even better would be considering tossing them the ball.

There’s that intense Orange Team – They don’t scare me

What do I know though?

Everyone warms the bench for a little bit

Mr. Reserved – hard to tell the boy is bursting with happiness over his game

I am very proud of my little guy and his game Sunday, but I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little preoccupied leading up to the big event with my own responsibilities as Team Snack Mom.  I have never been a Team Snack anything and that alone made me a little nervous.  But to be the first one,without having any sort of example with which to follow made me down right anxious.  And then on top of that, this is Team Snack Mom for a Jewish Community Center sponsored team.  They were very clear that any snacks brought must be Kosher.  I know my way around “clean and unclean”, I can do vegetarian with the best of ’em and even vegan doesn’t ruffle my feathers…..by Kosher has some rules that I am just clueless about.  Pepperidge Farm Goldfish crackers are NOT kosher, but Oreos are……I had no idea of this information before!  This was a really big deal.

I googled “popular kosher snack foods for kids” and came up with a few things.  Should you find yourself in a similar quandary, Gatorade is Kosher.  Honey Graham graham crackers are also kosher and so are Motts apple juice/sauce products.  That ought to be enough information to get you through.  Oh and Oreos, don’t forget the Oreos.

There were only 5 kids on the black team, but they seemed very happy with my snack choices.  By happy, I mean they each stuck their little hands out for all 3 of my offerings and no one said, “ew gross” so I felt really pleased.  I didn’t embarrass the boy, I had appeased the kosher police and I wouldn’t have to do this again for a few weeks.

Good game kids, good game.

Sparkles, Dog Drugs, and Mattie the Child Mother

I like to think that if my neck zits were to erupt, the outcome would look something like this:

That is not at all saying that I think my child’s artwork looks like the contents of a dermatological disaster, I’m just saying that at least it would be festive and sparkly and everything is better with sparkles….even puss.

Brandon told me my post yesterday was gross and that I didn’t need to go public with that sort of stuff again.  So for anyone reading that got offended, I offer my apologies.  And I feel like it’s a little better today, I still can’t fit my head through the neckhole of my pullover shirts, but I am feeling optimistic.

Last week, after our day of fun in Kindergarten, Tuesday morning rolled in full of gloom and doom.  My oldest child, the canine one, did not greet me in the kitchen upon hearing the refrigerator door open.  That was clue number one that something might be amiss with him.  Clue number two came when he didn’t make an appearance after his food was prepared.  And Clue number three that Lila and I would probably be spending our morning at the vet came when I found him on his bed shivering.  I have no idea what a shivering dog means, but considering he has a full on undercoat made to keep him warm and cozy while duck hunting (which usually involves swimming in water that is not warm), shivering seemed like a warning sign of some sort.

I hate taking Crosby to the vet, mainly because he also hates to be there.  My kids don’t really like to go to their “vet” either, but at least we can talk about it a little and I can bribe them.  I also outweigh them a whole lot more and can run faster than them, should they decide to make a break for it.  Crosby and I are not quite equals in the weight department, but he is definitely closer to me than my kids are.  I really can’t say that I blame the boy for not deeming it his favorite place because it always involves some sort of prodding in an unpleasant part of his body, he has no idea when I’m coming back or what all is in the docket for the day (it could be a teeth cleaning or a neutering, there’s really no tellin’).  I think he’s justified in his defiant attitude towards the vet.

She can be down right sweet when she wants to be

But the biggest reason that I hate taking him is because at this point in his little life, a few days shy of turning 84 in Dog Years – I’m always afraid they are going to tell me that I can’t take him home.  Whatever the reason that I have brought him in for, it is too much for his little body to handle and this will be our final good-bye.  I put off taking him to get his toe nails clipped and he pranced around here (actually he slipped and slid all over the place because he had zero traction on our wood floors) for months, because I was afraid.  I know he is living on borrowed, even stolen time at this point.  We don’t have years ahead of us and that makes my heart just break.  I will admit, after calling and the vet confirming that he definitely needed to be brought it, I got Lila situated with some Sesame Street and cereal and came upstairs by myself and had a good ol’ ugly cry.  I may have done a little begging to God for just one more day with my pup.  I know that probably sounds silly and in a world full of much bigger heartache and sorrow, where people are suffering far greater losses and fears, the loss of a pet is really small potatoes.  But I love that potato, however small he may be to the rest of the world. It took every ounce of courage I could muster and a reminder from Brandon to put on my big girl panties, it also almost took my back out as I loaded him into the car because let me tell you, that dog does not help AT ALL!  I think it would be easier to put my couch in the car then him.  That right there is what probably helped me the most, as far as calming my nerves on the drive to the doctor.  Instead of fretting about what might be wrong and if he was going to die, I was fretting about how I was going to get him out once I got there.

She loves her old, furry companion and I think he is especially fond of her as well

I will spare you the details of the vet, you don’t need to know every single little detail about everything – though why that didn’t stop me from sharing about my goiter, I have no idea.  We can just skip to the happier part of the day where they let me know that even though it was going to cost another small fortune, Crosby ought to be just fine.  He had pancreatitis, which I guess is really painful – hence the shaking earlier, and still later I would find out that he also had a urinary tract infection.  The boy was loaded up on all sorts of meds for this, that, and the other and even got his special prescription card for the fancy prescription dog food.  I have played pharmacist for him twice a day since last Tuesday, dishing out his gastric happy canned food and potluck of medicinals.  A week later, he seems good as….well certainly not new, but good as he was before and I will take that.

Crosby, I don’t much care for the vet either, says Lila

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I can’t for the life of me remember now which day it was, but sometime last week I came upstairs after getting the big kids off to school and found this:

My grandolls, Natalia and Elizabeth, who before this week, I did not realize I was supposed to be entertaining during the day

These are Mattie’s dolls, Natalia and Elizabeth and they were dressed just cute as could be, perched on a blanket it my room.  And there was this note in their laps, letting me know their mother’s intentions:

Mattie’s little note “This is school (well why wouldn’t it be…it’s also your mother’s bedroom….)

It just made me laugh.  Apparently the reason that Mattie was almost late for her own date with education was because she was getting her “girls” dressed and dropped off.  Priorities, priorities.  My favorite part though is the “…..Elizabeth has gymnastics today, but I will take her.”  Thank you Mattie, that was considerate of you.  I have also been left notes before not to worry, that the girls would be in aftercare today.  Thank you for letting me off the hook Mattie Belle, I had no I idea I was supposed to be picking them up from anywhere otherwise, but at least she lets me know when my services aren’t required.  The little mama is apparently trying, too.

Unclean

I sat down to write this very involved, lengthy post about the events of this weekend and even a few tidbits from the week that I intended to share but never got around to.  But then I got distracted by a huge, HUGE pimple on the side of my neck.  Yes, I actually wrote neck, not chin or that weird spot by your ear that’s still your face.  No, this is on my neck and I’m not 100% sure that it’s not a goiter.  I am even tossing around the idea that it’s some sort of worm, possibly even a pregnant worm, that has made a nest in the side of my neck where she plans to raise her family.

I also have two smaller, but still embarrassingly large pimples on the front of my neck, too.  As though the mother worm couldn’t wait to get to her nest and let two eggs out prematurely.  My lengthy blog post was abandoned to go and ask Brandon if he thought it wise to go to stick a small pin in the side of my neck…just to see what happened because this neck pimples like this just don’t happen to middle-aged woman.  And I keep referring to this guy as a pimple, but that sounds far too lady-like.  If there is a four-letter word for puss filled orifice on you face, this new parasite I’m hosting would get that title.

I just wish that as long as it’s going to be a part of me, that it would be useful.  Maybe it can lick envelopes or something because my Christmas cards ought to be here pretty soon.

My children haven’t mentioned it yet and I am trying to think up a really good explanation as to how and why it got there.  For example, the Ebola scare really took flight around the same time that Reese was getting pretty invested in some nose picking.  We may have hinted that boogers and Ebola were strongly connected and it may have worked out just beautifully that right around the time Reese was hitting the nose picking the hardest, he came down with a little virus.  I realize that Ebola is nothing to joke about and a very serious matter, but my boys fingers are now spending far less time in his nostrils and I call that a win.

So again, back to the matter at hand – trying to figure out a way to use my neck pustule as a teaching experience.  Some parents are using the “Elf on the Shelf” this holiday season to keep their children’s behavior in check.  We are going with the “Defect on my Neck”.  This is what happens when you eat too much candy and not all of your grow food, kiddos.  Or if you don’t go to bed on time, Little Ones, strange things start growing out of you.  Up the stairs we go now!  Brandon has suggested that maybe it would be a fun outing to go and spend a little bit of time at a dermatologist.  Sort of a field trip for Lila, the boils and I.  We have lovely health insurance and I’ve got nothing but time (ha ha ha), but instead I’ve told him I think maybe I’ll just give it a little bit of time….just to see.  Because that method of skin care seems to really be working for me.

I realize now that I have rambled on for an obscene amount of time about acne and that has probably been a waste of all of our time.  So to try and undo that mental picture that I have done, let me leave you with something lovely, precious and pretty darn close to perfect.

My friend Julie, whom I am growing more and more fond of as the days go by, came over this past thursday and took a few family pictures for Christmas cards.  Let me stop and say really quick that she did not do this because she just has ample free time on her hands either.  This is the mama of 4, count them FOUR, kiddos (two of them being of the twin persuasion) and her plate is handed to her every morning already brimming.  But she just picked up another plate and put a big ‘ol helping of me on there when I shot her a text Thursday stating that Brandon would be home for 3o minutes of daylight, could she maybe snap a picture or two.  And snap she did, with her big daddy-I-Mean-Picture-Taking-Business camera with a lens that could have probably captured us easily had she taken the pictures from her house.  She not only snapped, but she even edited them nicely and I love them.  I would have been happy with a selfie on the phone, but Julie came over and made a little art project.  Thank you so much Friend!  And I think my own mama really thanks you, because I had just put on my big girl pants to tell Mumsey that I wouldn’t be sending out a Christmas card this year due to us just not getting around to a family picture and I could tell that she was not happy with my little announcement.  One knows when they have said something that is not pleasing to their mama.

But I have restored favor with my mama once again, and Christmas has been saved.  And thank goodness by abscess welled up 24 hours later.  There’s only so much editing that can be done.

Happy start of a new week and tomorrow I promise to get over myself and my blemishes and get you caught up with stories and pictures.

I’m Loving Kindergarten….So Far the 3rd Time’s My Favorite

Reese had a Field Trip on Monday.  I have been on most of Mattie’s Field Trips and so far, haven’t missed one of Reese’s……having only been in school not quite 4 months, that’s not necessarily saying a whole lot. The plan was to drive down town in our little “Party Bus” (saying mini bus or short bus just doesn’t have a good ring to it) where Mrs. Wilhelm had not one, not two, but 3 THREE activities for us.  It was a challenge, especially for a group of kindergarteners, newbies to the whole Field Trip thing.  But we rocked that Field Trip.  It probably helped that on the drive downtown, some of us (not saying any names) took a little pre-adventure snooze.

Being awake for 3 hours on a Monday can really tucker a guy out.

Our first stop was Maggie Moos, a precious little ice cream place that makes all their treats right on site – which is actually incredible because their store is tiny!  Our host/tour guide/ etc was Jessica and she did a fantastic job with our little tribe.  Really, I have never gone on a field trip to an ice cream store before so she didn’t have a whole lot to compare to, and the end result was that the kids would be getting ice cream so she really couldn’t do a bad job.  But she did awesome!  The kids loved every thing about their time at Maggie Moos, getting to actually make the ice cream, craft their own waffle cones, tour the freezer which was absolutely hilarious to them, and then decorate an ice cream cake.  That right there would have been enough to call it a day, and a good day at that.

So excited!!!!! We’re making cotton candy ice cream

It smelled incredible in there!

He sorts the laundry, vacuums, and is honing is cake decorating skills

But there was still more to come.

Our next stop was the Peabody Hotel.  The Peabody here in Memphis is famous for having real, live Mallard ducks swimming in the fountains in their lobby.  Every morning at 10, the ducks come down the elevator in a grand parade – walking on a red carpet, led by a duckmaster – and enter the fountain.  They will stay there all day, swimming happily, until 5 when their leader comes back for them.  They will once again draw a crowd of admirers as they walk back down their red carpet, with musical accompaniment of course, get into their elevator and ride back upstairs to their luxurious Duck House on the top of the hotel, overlooking our fine city.  This little procession happens every single day, yet most of the kids had never actually seen even the ducks before.  Most of them don’t spend a lot of time in swanky hotel lobbies either, so everything about this particular stop was crazy exciting.

The kids loved the ducks.  That was to be expected.

That’s a duck in the background

“There’s a duck in the floor Ms. Reese’s mom!”

They thought the Christmas trees were dreamy and my three little ones begged me to ask the Desk Lady if they could please lie down under one of them for just a little while.  Not this time kiddos.  A room here at the Peabody is pretty pricey I am sure, but maybe a rest under the trees in the lobby……?

More selfies with mom

They loved getting to ride the elevator……we even went all the way to the top.

These two little men, they look SOOOOO old here to me! Hangin’ out on the roof of the Peabody

They thought going out onto the roof was just unheard of……..but loved every second of it.  That experience made me a little nervous because it was windy, these kiddos were small, and they darted about all over the place.  Next time, I think we need to handcuff each kid to an adult….just to be safe.

Taking selfies with moms

They were also dazzled by the completely edible (except for the working train) Candy Land.  It was everything the name implies.  Once the kids realized that there weren’t going to be samples though, they seemed to lose interest pretty quickly.  But the one thing, out of all this grandeur, that dazzled them the most was (drum roll please)

The phone booths.  My little group had the BEST time just sitting in their own little booth and chatting away to the recording on the other end of the house phone.  Funny to think that most 6 year olds don’t come from a home that has an actual “house phone” with a land line.  The phones that they are used to don’t even have buttons and I don’t know that my kids have really even used to key pad before.  It just so happens that I have everyone who they have ever needed to talk to already programmed into my phone.

I was interrupting his conversation

Who knew a phone could be so fun? Even without apps, or pictures or the internet.

Our last stop of the day, was to the Fire Museum.  If you live in Memphis and have never been to the Fire Museum, I would advise you to make plans to visit soon.  It’s informative of course, historical about fire fighting in general, but in Memphis specifically.  We learned that our school was built the same year that their oldest truck was used – the one the horses pulled.  Not every group of school kids that comes through can say that.  The actual museum is in what used to be one of Memphis’s first fire houses, one that even housed horses.  The original subway tiles are still on the walls and there are several old trucks to check out.  And Ol’ Billy – I’m not going to ruin that surprise, but you’ll know what I’m talking about when you see him.

The kids learned how to stop, drop and roll thanks to Izzy the Deaf Dalmatian.  And just for future reference, they’ve added another step to that plan.  From now on, it’s stop, drop, cover your face, then roll.  I think most everyone did that anyway, but just in case, now it’s in the official step-by-step plan.

Izzy can’t hear, but that didn’t stop her from coming to say hello

All decked out in her Christmas finest

Stop, Drop, Cover your face, Roll

They braved the “Hot Room” and experience a real-life fire simulation, complete with smoke (behind a glass) warm temperatures, and the scarring of our children. I’m sure my children aren’t the first to start to have a little bit of a panic attack when their mother turns on the stove top to start dinner after a visit to the fire museum.  “No mama, that’s how the house burns down, the pan gets left on and then the mini blinds catch on fire from the oil right next to the sizzling pan.” My son specifically asked if we could have dinner via the microwave after his visit and I over heard him telling his sisters that mama and daddy love us and want to keep us safe and that’s why we don’t use our fire-place.  I’m not sure that we’ve ever actually had that conversation before.

The best part about the Fire Museum though is the play area.  Where the kids get to deck themselves out in kid-sized fire gear and pretend that they are part of Memphis’s finest.  They slide down poles, drive the big trucks, climb on every square inch of those trucks and even get to play with hoses and put our pretend fires.  I think they could easily have stayed there for the rest of kindergarten.  December through May, completely skipping the holidays, weekends and meals – because they were doing some intense playing.

Fireman Reese

The kids sang on the way back to school, working on their songs for the Christmas program.  Their little voices were strong at first, but with each stop at a light, the choir got weaker.  And when we finally pulled into our parking lot, we found that over half of the little adventurers had fallen asleep.  They had played, and learned and laughed.  Best. Day. Ever.  Until tomorrow…..