Is It Really Over?

Either I rush through the Christmas season or it just simply is too short.  I can't decide which.

I look forward to this time of year with almost as much anticipation as my little people and I promise myself at the beginning of each holiday season that I will sllooww down and fully savor the sounds, sights and the people. 

Instead, I usually find myself at a ToysRUs two days before Christmas getting a "few last minute" things, along with every other maniac in town.  Or I rush to the Harris Teeter the afternoon of Christmas Eve, thinking I surely do not have enough sugar or chicken stock in my pantry.

I did get the whole family to church more this year and I did remember to say Merry Christmas to more people.  But I am sad at the prospect of taking down the tree, removing my candles from the windows and turning off my Christmas music.  Of course come June, I will be saying "Less than 6 months to Christmas!  How can that be?"  On to Valentine's Day.

My kids had a great Christmas-lots of smiles and squeals and super cute pics.  Too bad Mommy had her settings set for something other than a low-lit room Christmas morning but oh well.  Memories, right?  Even darkly lit ones.  I will have to narrate.

Um, stockings?

Going for the stocking grab.

D, enthralled with a Lego game.

Agent P, writing secret messages to parties unknown.

Lord, I hope she got some hair product in her stocking.

Santa's BIG GIFT to the older ones was a Nintendo DS.  The basic one, not the one that allows for skyping and God knows what else.  Apparently GoGo missed that memo though, because I caught her "taxting" her friend Julie several times on her DS.  Love that girl.

D received a Nerf gun that would put Rambo to shame.  It comes with a tripod, for the Love of Pete.  I am waiting for him tell someone to "Say Hello to his Little Freend".

Agent P is just happy playing with the boxes stuff came in and everyone elses' presents but her own. 

Go figure.

And then it SNOWED.  Could this Christmas get any better?  I was able to put Agent P's hot pink boots on and let her romp in the snow for the first time.  She was a bit uncertain but my older 2 had a non-stop snow party for about 36 hours with the neighborhood kids and were flat wore out.  Good times.

Now.  When can I get my flip flops out, again?

Counting Down

To Christmas break being over.
NO!  I mean until CHRISTMAS, of course.

Counting down to...
the hum of the oven baking dozens of fresh Christmas cookies
hot cocoa made from scratch
Honey-Baked Ham                                                                    
a glowing Christmas tree
bright presents and bows
stockings filled to the brim
children screeching with glee
family just hanging
Christmas music blaring
Joy and Peace.

Merry Christmas!

You Have to Believe to Receive

 The Elf has landed.  The one on the shelf, that is.
My kids are really into the idea of Santa, and for that I am thankful.  I think I will be incredibly sad the day they no longer Believe in the Magic.
So the first morning we woke up with the Elf in our house, GoGo could not wait to find Kramer.
In fact, she forgot one of the golden rules as it relates to the Elf and TOUCHED HIM.  Ugh oh.
So daddy reminds her of this cardinal sin and big tears well up, she freezes with the Elf in her hand and nearly has a breakdown.

Later that day when the Elf was safely back in his viewing spot, GoGo tells me NOT to come into the dining room as she is going to be talking to Kramer, not touching him. 

So of course I spy on her and that is what I saw/heard.
GoGo - I'm sorry if I hurt you earlier when I picked you up.  I hope Santa isn't mad at me.
Kramer the Elf - curious silence.
GoGo - Here are some Hershey kisses for you.  Love you Kramer.  (as she lays 6 kisses next to him, which Mommy ate later to prove the Elf was real).
Now how could Santa be mad at such sweetness??

Or my handsome D, when I explain to him we're gift shopping for a family that doesn't have much money and no insurance and are just in a bad way, as my grandma would say.  He suggests to me that we do 2 things:
1.  Give them a Target gift card so they have more money (Ah, Tar-jay...the medicine that cures all)
2.  Buy them some medicine at Target, of course, so they will have some if they get sick again.
Who can argue with such a simple but clear perspective?

This one is really too young to appreciate any of this but did figure out how to open Hershey Kisses and consume them while on the short drive to preschool this am.  Love her.  And the bandaid on her bottom lip is due to a shaving mishap.  Big times at 17 months.

Meanwhile Mommy caves in to Christmas Card Pressure and creates and mails a sub-par card but is ok with it because she Believes In The Magic, anyway.

A Few Things

Know what this is?  Something very special! from GoGo, for Mommy.  She ran up to me, barely able to contain her pride and excitement, and handed me this "piece of artwork".  Hmm.  Love that she thought to add the heart and peace sign, as if that somehow mitigates it all.

This would be the 234th outtake from our annual Christmas Card Photo Extravaganza. 

God Help Us, everyone.

If I could have somehow wrangled obtained this picture with all 3 little people, I could sleep easy.

Ever, the escape artist.

And on a completely different train of thought, the other night I was asked to help with a 6th grade Faith Formation class.  Ok, fine-just don't ask me any hard questions.  Let me pass out markers and smile alot.

Wow.  What a HARD age.  The boys were on one side of the room, girls on the other.  The "cool boys" were snickering during the whole thing.  One girl re-did her updo at LEAST 10x during the class.  And all of this was going on during PRAYER.  About MARY, for the love of pete.  At then at the end they were to draw a picture of Mary (using the markers I so helpfully passed out). 
One boy turned one in with a green squiggle.  A GREEN SQUIGGLE. 
I gave him my best eyebrowup-dartsforeyes-whatthehellareyouthinking look.  All moms have one.
And I think it worked.  He looked mighty small for a minute and told me "that wasn't his REAL picture.  He can't find that one."  Right, kid. 
Now.  I am far from a Puritan and oh so far from perfect.  I could have been any of these kids once (except for the girl actually named Mary, as she was the only participating). 
But Oh.My.Word.  It gave me cold chills, thinking of what I have to look forward to with my own 3 little people.  Had this been my own class, I would have reminded them of CONFESSION and how they all needed to go.  Including the teacher.
Oh, Happy Advent.

Trim a Tree, Embrace the Crazy

Did I mention I love Christmas?  As in, everysinglething about it?
Well, I do.
I love the music, lights, decorations, being with family/friends, the gift giving/receiving and the food. 
I am speaking of Christmas cookies.

I come by this adoration naturally, as my dad lives for Christmas.  It is his most favorite time of the year, as it is mine.  Growing up Christmas was a really big deal in our house.  Just like it is in my own, now.

He grew up in a house where my grandpa would spend ALL DAY on Christmas Eve working on the tree from behind french doors covered with newspapers so the 3 boys could not peek.  It was unveiled to them on Christmas morning, complete with a real Lionel train going around the base, mercury globes, bubble lights that really bubbled! and real tinsel hanging from most every branch.  Oh, and lots of presents!
I have only seen b/w pictures of this tree but it brings to mind a Norman Rockwell scene straight out of a magazine.  Magical.  Stunning.  What kids imagine when they dream of Christmas.

So my dad bumped the date up a bit but we never had our tree up any earlier than December 15th.  He would spend an hour on a tree lot, picking the perfect one.  Symmetrical, full and tall.  Sometimes too tall.  Hence, the wood shavings on our living room floor every year.
He then would bring it home and spend an ENTIRE DAY just doing the lights. 
I simply cannot emphasize enough to the average person just how important the lights are.  He usually has about 800 lights on his tree and you better believe there is some serious POTTY TALK going on to get it done.  My dad has a mouth on him that would make a sailor blush sometimes but truly, he is in his full glory while decorating the Christmas tree.  If you have met the man, you can imagine what this scene must sound like.

The next day is for the ornaments.  He collects them and has inherited some beautiful ones from my grandma so this is an ordeal.  As kids we would sometimes switch 2 around, just to test him.  And by God, he would come right behind us, curse under his breath and put them back in their proper places. 

Then, the garland.  In the 70's it was either gold or silver "furry" stuff.  My, how he wresteled worked with those long-ass streams of shine, for what seemed like hours.  They had to hang just so or he got all pissy.  Now he just does red bows, which still can bring on a bit of wrestling on the higher branches.

So by day 4 we had us a tree.  A huge, bright, beautiful Christmas tree that is still the tree of my Christmas ideals.  As children, we only had a few battle scars on us, watching the decorating drama unfold.  Nothing a little therapy couldn't cure later in life.

So now I am the adult, picking the perfect tree for my little people.  Making memories, people.
This is where I embrace the crazy. 
I go a teensy-bit crazy when decorating...just like my old man.  God Love Him.

The tree has to meet certain imaginary standards that I carry with me.  This could take a while, picking a tree.  No "holes", gaps or other unsightliness?  Check.  At least 7 feet?  Check.  Smell-fresh test?  Check.
I have to have the lights JUST RIGHT and have been known to rip them off the tree and start all over again on multiple occasions because it didn't glow from the inside-out. 
I collect vintage ornaments and guard them with my life, if need be.  This makes it a tad bit dicey with small children around.  I try often to remind myself that it is more important that the children not cut their little fingers than it is to cherish for another year, that beautiful vintage mercury glass ornament that it took me 3 years of scouring antique shops for.  Bitter, party of one?  Not here, my friend.

I will admit to cursing under my breath AND outloud, noticing when ornaments have been messed with and adjusting the tree skirt too many times.  I will also admit to blasting Christmas music, making too many sugar cookies and having Christmas decorations on anything that can't move.
See?  Embrace the crazy and move on.  Merry Christmas.

If All Else Fails

I love Christmas.  Way more than is probably healthy or necessary, but there you go.
I would really, really loovvee to have a super sweet picture of all three of my little people TOGETHER to put in our annual Christmas card.  I want this for a few reasons.
1.  To commemorate another fantastic holiday together (just like the commercials, people)
2.  To showcase their uber-cuteness
3.  To prove to nay-sayers than I CAN get organized enough to send out cards in a timely fashion
4.  To prove to myself that I can get the shot. 
As in, the picturethatcomeswiththeframeyoubuywhereeveryoneisSOpretty shot.  That one.

When my older 2 got off the bus from school the other day, I had treats and goodies for them.  Small festive boxes for each laden with seasonal pencils, silly bands, candy, puzzles, etc.  You get the idea.

Putting on my best 1950's mom voice, I told them we were going to a new park! with lots of rocks and trees to climb!, a creek and even a bridge!  Snacks will be on hand!

Within 5 minutes of getting there Agent P dropped a diaper bomb, GoGo informed she needed to pee but refused to do so outside (since when does she have inhibitions?) and D ran off to climb rocks unattended.
I could tell this was going to be tricky.  I could also feel another Christmas card like last year's coming, with 3 separate pictures because getting all of my little people together in one would be humanly impossible. 
And drive me to drink more Blue Moon.

So begins another cycle of bribery in my house...creeks! trees to climb! candy! trinkets! more candy!  And oh, by the way...we're taking Christmas card pictures today.  And maybe again next week.
Oh, I can feel the holiday joy already. 
It will be a regular LOVEFEST.

Snippets

Wrapped up a delightful first field trip with GoGo last week.
Conversations amongst 5-year old girls are both hilarious and unbelievable.

Friend to GoGo: "I like your headband."
GoGo to Friend: "Thanks, I like yours too, today."
Friend to GoGo: "I like holding your mom's hand. She's nice."
GoGo to Friend: "I don't like you."

WTF

Agent P and I met some horses we just had to chat with...she through the window of the van and me through my lens. Wish I had just one more acre to add a horsey to...

Trying hard not to over-do the Christmas spirit too early around here. I haven't put one single thing up but we have been jamming to Christmas music for a while now (say, 3-4 months off and on) and we are scheduled for a Christmas movie double-feature tomorrow night. I hate to see the decorations and lights up in stores before Thanksgiving but for some reason the same doesn't apply to my own home. Go figure.

D made an Advent wreath at Faith Formation last night and begged me to stop at Target on the way home to "buy the special little candles that go inside".
I had to remind him that Advent hasn't started yet and you can't just run around lighting things on fire all willy-nilly. I clearly got the "Whatever, Mom" look. Go figure.

GoGo attempted to self-decorate by using markers creatively on not only her own skin, but the skin on her sweet face. She made a peace sign on each cheek (Daddy thought it was a pentagram at first but further inspection concluded it was indeed a sign of peace), 2 hearts on either side of her forehead and a big red dot in the middle.
Why the dot, you may wonder? According to GoGo it is what "Indians wear".
D informs her it is most certainly NOT what they wear. Oh, contraire, my friend. It is what "Indian girls wear". How she came by this particular piece of information, I simply have no idea.
Apparently my children are far more multi-cultural than their parents AND far more than we have ever given them credit for.

The power of public school?