Recap 12/30

1. Maybe you’ve noticed.  I took a mental vacation this week.  Just above the minimum got done.  No thank you notes.  No emails.  No blogging.  But almost all the presents are put away.

2. I’m coming out of it though.  I spent 30 minutes working on the garage.  And I’m eyeing my desk and my office walls.  How would one hang a bulletin board that is just cork?

3.  After 30 days of scrubbing my language back to G-rated, (Because PG language does not sound cute out of a 4 year old’s mouth) I slipped.  I have a toddler.  He repeats.  It was a stronger word than safe for PG.

4. Another successful movie night.  And when one mom suggested maybe one day she’ll host one and I replied I didn’t mind because I had the space and nothing to break, you could see her whole body sag in relief.

5. I have “made the biggest pile of leaves EVER,” which makes me “The Best Mommy In The Whole World.”  Until I wouldn’t let them play video games the next day, and then I was “The Worst Mommy In The Whole World.”  I want a plague.

6. My therapist does not get how cleaning and child raising takes all day.  She doesn’t have children.  Could you guess that?

7. Evan and Sean are thrilled with their ninjas, knights, and samurais.  I’m glad we decided to get them what they really wanted.  Though Christmas morning, Evan changed his list right before we went downstairs.  That’s cheating.

8.  Yes, I’m crazy enough to start shopping for next Christmas.  Several stocking stuffers were purchased on the 26th.

9. The guilt of not seeing or talking to several friends in a long while is eased since I have left several text messages and phone calls to get together with them.  Ha.  I’m not that big of a flake.  I knew it.

10. In one of the few conversations that I had with my mom that didn’t include nagging, yelling or shutting out, we have decided we really need to start on this Christmas thing much sooner.

Happy New Year!  Stay safe!  I will be doing my tradition, watching movies and filling out calendars.  Maybe I should add eating some sort of treat . . . .

Hustle and Bustle

The Christmas recap

- Christmas specials.  I heart Shrek the Halls.

- A photo card site should not be down for 24 hours.  It should not take three trips to Target to get photo cards.  I should have had them out sooner.  At least I saved money in the deal.

- I have great uncles.  Dispensing out presents to the boys slowly throughout the night.  The fart putty though.  That was a little much.

- F-king (Enter The Clan name).  My cousin handed off his white elephant gift to someone to look at and then bolt out of the room.  The victim would hunt him down and hand the gift back.  It was hilarious to watch.  Until he gave it to Evan.  Now I have a two foot tall red Christmas tree candle.

- Homemade tamales.

- Me: D. It’s not that big of issue to get ice in your cup if you’re using tongs.

D: I’m not a woman.  (looks in my cup)  Three ice cubes.  Jesus.

Me: I’m drinking this for the caffeine, not the ice.

D: Then get some more sleep.

SIL: Here that, Fae.  D. just volunteered to take the boys for a weekend.

Me: He did!  Thanks, D.

D grumbles.

- Star meringues, holly, and haystacks.  What diet?

- Aidan tackling and holding a teddy bear his size.

- 2am I finally finished being Santa.  I stargazed.

- Oops.  My mom forgot to give me my stocking stuffers.  A quick dash to fill the stocking with something in case the boys notice.

- The boys.  Christmas morning.  7:15 wake up call.

- Video of Christmas morning.

- Alas no caffeine dispenser with a year supply of caffeine from Santa.

- Cinnamon bread, pumpkin bread, banana bread, date-nut bread.

- My parents gave me a shovel, a hoe, and a rake.  My dad wrapped them.  Without a box.

- Mash potatoes.

- An hour on the organ.

- Boys were excited about every gift.  Even clothes.

- Hours of playing in imaginary lands.

- Two hours at a Chinese restaurant.  My brothers and I planned on dining and dashing.

- A gift card to Hot Topic and a sale on t-shirts.  Sweet.

Recap 12/23

1. I’ve worked my butt off for a clean house for Christmas.  I’m near the end.  I miss reading.  I miss writing emails.  I miss relaxing.  I miss blogging.  But next week . . . .

2. Evan told me how he wanted to get me the blue diamond ring and necklace for me for Christmas because I like blue.  His father said no.  Evan didn’t think that was fair.

3. I’ve been letting Aidan help me cook.  I think I opened a can of worms.

4. I find I am happier with a house filled with loud, energetic children.  The more running around causing chaos, the happier the house seems.

5. Sean has no patience for little brothers.

6. Due to unforseen circumstances, Christmas cards aren’t going out until tomorrow.  That’s cool, right?

7. It has taken everything I’ve got not to rearrange the Christmas tree after my helpers were done.  I didn’t realize I was so . . . A personality . . . .anal retentive . . . crazy controlling.

8. I just learned that the post office has a grace period of seven days to deliver something.  Am I the only one that thinks that’s BS?

9. My mom has had my dad drag out all my old toys.  I’m assuming she doesn’t want to store them anymore.  My dad has decided to bait the trap with honey instead of nag me to death.  Do you remember how cool Lite Brites were?

10. I’ve been conned into hosting a movie night next week.  But with a clean house, loud, energetic children, and the chance to wow friends with a few of my favorite recipes, I’m kind of excited.

Happy Holidays!  Enjoy the weekend!

A Letter to my Little Fire

Dear Aidan,

You’ve been in toddling for quite some time, making you a toddler for quite some time.  Congratulations.  The battles of wills begins.

Yes, you are so smart and clever to pull out my cooking and baking tools instead of those small, often plastic, toy ones.  You are creating masterpieces.  You need large canvasses.  You know the difference between being soothed and being taken seriously.  But, no, the oven and stove are off-limits.  You must use your imagination.

Yes, you are quite clever and strong to be able to climb like you do.  To watch you slide down the stairs is like watching waterfalls.  You climb over the arms of chairs and couches to sit; you climb up chairs and tables to cook; you climb up the ladder to the top bunk to be like your brothers.  You need to learn to climb when supervised and learn to climb down.  You owe me a mug, by the way.  Not any mug, an exact replacement.

Yes, you are very cute when you tried to read books.  Like your brother Sean, you can’t get enough of pulling out books and staring at their pages.  But you can’t rip books out of people’s hands, and you cannot rip books.

Yes, you can run fast.  But you’re not allowed to run down the street without me or take the toy your brother is playing with and run off with it.

Yes, you talk very well for your age.  It is a delight to communicate with you.  I love hearing you repeat after me.  I love you babbling at me.  I love you pointing, pulling, gesturing to get what you want.  But when you want what you can’t have, the crying is not going to get it for you.  Neither is the arching of the back.

Thank you for cleaning your plate.  I get it.  When you’re done with the meal, your high chair, your part of the table, must be cleared immediately to let all know that you will no longer be eating.  But it is unnecessary to throw your plate, cup, or crumbs when they are not removed quickly enough for you.

I know my jewelry is tempting.  It’s bright, shiny, pretty, and fun to hold.  It’s why, much as it pains me, leave to drawers of costume jewelry for yours and your brothers’ enjoyment.  You don’t need in the top drawers.  Those are Mommy’s pretties.  When you go for the top drawers and hold on with your weight, the natural consequence is the jewelry chest is going to fall.  You’re getting better at dodging the chest, but the clean up is a bit of a pain.  Please stick to the lower drawers.

My littlest love, thank you for reminding me what a joy the world is as you take it on with such glee and enthusiasm, with the belief that what ever your brothers can do you can do better, with determination and intelligence.  Thank you for being excited to see me even if I only left you with your grandma for an hour or just opening the door to get you out after a short drive to the grocery store.  We have so many years of exploring the world and butting heads in front of us.

Your Mama

Off her meds

Me: Hi-

My Mom:  Did you get a hold of your father?!  Why didn’t you call right after I called?!  If he doesn’t buy it now, he won’t buy it at all!  I want that iPod!

Um, hi Mom.  How are you?  How was your nail appointment?  Guess what your grandsons are doing.

Breathe.

Me: I didn’t call right away because I was in the middle of making breakfast and scouring the kitchen.  Since you asked me to talk to Dad about your Christmas present, let me do it my way.  If he doesn’t get it today, there are other days.  If he doesn’t get it at all, you can buy it after Christmas.

My Mom: I need it for line dancing classes!

I think she growled.

Breathe.

Me: Ok, Mom.  I’ll take care of it.  How are-

My Mom:  I have to go.  I’m going to help your Grandma make pizzelles.  I’ll talk to you later.

Me: Ok.  I lo-

Click.

What the f-k was that?  I didn’t give a sh*t about her Christmas present.  She should have made a list weeks ago.  And if she wanted my help, then she should let me do it my way.

I dialed my cell phone.

My Dad: Hel-lo

Me: Hey.  I’m calling about Mom’s gift.  I was going to be sly and subtle and awesome, but she’s nagging and yelling.  She’s set on bitch-

It clicked.

The pieces all fit together.

The nagging.

The picking of fights.

Her need to dictate a solution for whatever problem I was facing.  Forcefully.

Expressing her every opinion about every subject.  Forcefully.

The last time I noticed this I told my dad, “She’s set on bitch.”  She overheard.  She was unhappy.  But it turns out she had gone off her antidepressants.

Crap.

Me: She’s off her meds.  Again.  Isn’t she?

My Dad: (sighs) Yes.

Me: Why?

My Dad: She hates taking so many pills.

Me: I get that.  But she can’t be happy this way.  She makes us miserable.  She’s miserable.  Doesn’t she see she has a problem?

My Dad: She does.  She just doesn’t want to take pills for the rest of her life.

Too late for that.

Me: Then she needs to see a therapist.

Silence.

That was the problem.  She wouldn’t.  And she would keep hurting, following dark paths that I had already traveled.  With any luck, she would never go as deep and dark as I did.  But I hurt for her.  She’s my mother.  She didn’t deserve to be in a dark place.  But she wouldn’t seek help.  She didn’t think “talking to someone” (said with a sneer) would help.

Me: So want to know what she wants for Christmas?

Mail Call

I stared at the envelopes.  Three Christmas cards arrived in one day.  They all had something in common.  It took me a moment to realize it.

My maiden name.

The first one was addressed to me.  It was from my best friend.  She always used my real name.  She knew from the beginning of our friendship.  We discussed our reasons why we didn’t change ours.  Feminists that we are, it was obvious.  Our reasons were the same.

The other two cards.

My maiden “And The Boys.”

How fitting.

The first was from a friend who had a son in Evan’s class last year.  We walk as often as we can together during the week.  With our busy schedules. We make it once or twice.  I couldn’t remember telling her my maiden name, but I talk so much, it wouldn’t have surprised me if I had said it and forgot two minutes later.  Or she could have asked one of our mutual friends.  Or looked it up on Facebook.  Whatever the reason, it was an acknowledgement.  She might have known a few weeks after it happened, when I told my friends so they would understand if Evan acted a little odd and cut him some slack.  They did.  They also created a net to catch me if I fell.  I didn’t.  I dance a tight rope well.

The third card.

My maiden name “and Sons.”

My grandma.  She knew I never changed my name.  “Hollywood actresses don’t.  They keep their maiden names for professional reasons and use their husbands’ for personal business.”  I shouldn’t have been shocked.  This was the matriarchal side of the family, after all.  There hadn’t been a weak-willed woman born into that family in living memory.  But she had always addressed mail and checks to my married name.  Even my last birthday check.

Someone had told her.  At first, it was held a secret because we were “suppose” to be working it out.  It didn’t take long for me to realize I was foolishly hoping, and it all became permanent, just not legal.  Why not tell then?  But how and when?  With my mom going through chemo.  Without a set legal date.  With the worry of what would be said to my sons who regressed in their bathroom habits.  With his asking to keep it secret, just for a little while.  And then a year came and went.  The Clan knew.  But only because they guessed and gossiped.  My father’s mother gave me oh-so-not-helpful advice.  Quite similar to her oh-so-not-helpful marriage advice.  My mother’s family did not know.  I had asked for respected silence because I didn’t want to be gossiped about, because I felt like a failure, because of all the things mentioned before.  It’s easy to hide things when chaos reigns.

My maiden name “and Sons.”

When did she learn?  Was that why she stuffed so many leftovers in my hands at Thanksgiving?  Was that why she reminded me over and over how she could watch the boys if I needed it?  Was there a certain awe in her voice (much like my mother-in-law’s voice held) when she talked about how I did so much with the boys, by myself?  (Keep in mind that for the first year of our move, the ex was only in town half the month, spent football Sundays at the bar, and was gone on business and guy trips more frequently than the family deemed appropriate.  Not that I cared; that was my life, taking care of the house and boys without help.)  Does that mean I get an extra gift like The Friendly Giant at Christmas because I don’t have a spouse?

My maiden name “and Sons.”

An acknowledgement.

Yes.  My family.  My no-name household.  My boys and I.

 

It was a more fitting acknowledgement than the other’s Grandma writing how Christ will watch over me.  Um, thanks.

Recap 12/16

1. Can you guess?  It’s been an insanely crazy week with volunteering and appointments. My mom watched the kids for some period of time for four days in a row,

2. Yeah, I’m lucky to have a mom like that.  All I have to do is put up with the mood swings and nagging.  “I know, Mom.”

3. Playing light saber fights with Sean, while he’s Count Dooku, is like bringing a knife to a gunfight.  I think force lightning is cheating.

4. I strung up holiday lights for the boys in their room.  The first Christmas decorations up.

5. I can’t take Aidan anywhere without someone cooing how adorable he is and then noticing how wild he is.  I don’t need your pity.  Maybe money for the babysitter/medical bills/therapist fund.

6. So I’m thinking I probably should get the tree up soon.  Though The Friendly Giant hung up outside lights for me to please his nephews.

7. I’m starting to suspect I may be a little behind on the Christmas prep.  There really is only one solution to this.  Who needs sleep?

8. Evan is chafing under the rule “No buying for yourself from Thanksgiving to Christmas.” So much so that when I received a gift in the mail, he accused me of buying it for myself.  Loudly.  Thanks, unicorn.

9. Don’t you hate when you have a partial gift and you need to get more but your stuck and you can’t go hunting because you have three little tornadoes in tow when you do?

10. Nothing smells like winter like cinnamon and cloves simmering on the stove.

Recap 12/9

1. I found my ornament project!  Now to finish getting supplies and start.

2. I finally found the perfect gifts for a few friends.  I have to still find the perfect gift for one person. Their gifts will be late.  Happy Epiphany!

3. I escaped for several hours last Saturday.  (I love you, Kat!)  I forget that I’m on duty 24/7, often by myself, because I’m in the thick of it.

4. On St. Nicholas’s Day, Aidan removed all the candies from his shoe, one by one, and replaced them back, one by one, several times.

5. Growing up in the clan these last few years has taught Evan to play along with jokes.  He would like two front teeth for Christmas.

6. After meeting with Sean’s teacher, we all can’t figure out if Sean is ambidextrous because he is and so his fine motor skills strength is lacking or is his fine motor skills strength lacking so he’s ambidextrous.  Where’s that chicken?  And egg?

7. Where are all the binkies?!?!?!?!?!?  I swear.  Aidan’s hiding them.

8. Is Christmas around the corner?  Am I behind?  Am I ahead?  Or am I just confused?

9. My heaters keep going out, but since I can bring them back online in a half hour, no one is worries.  Except me.

10. I’m dreading holiday clothes shopping.  Because I have boys.  And I hate sweaters.  Oops, there goes all the options. Stupid stores.

The apple

“Did you hear about this?”

I looked up.

Me: Huh?

My attention had been split between telling Sean “no, eating your soft pretzel is not dinner; you have to eat the stuff shells and green beans too” and telling Aidan “no, leave your sippy cup alone; stop experimenting with gravity and liquid.”  He was supposed to have his attention on Evan.  Zone coverage at its best.

Evan turned his body towards me.  I turned my attention to him.

Evan: I got lunch detention today.

The first I had heard of it.

Me: Why?

Evan: Well, Conner was talking to me.  And that attracted me to talk to him.  So *I* to talk back to him.

Me: When its class time, you can’t.  You have to tell him to wait until break, recess, or lunch.

Evan: We were passed break.

Me: Then tell him to wait.  And if he doesn’t listen, ignore him.

Evan: I can’t annoy him.  He’s my friend.

I turned my face because I couldn’t hold back the smile any longer.  My mother’s curse struck again.  “You’ll have a child just like you.”  I wondered how many times I explained my detentions to my parents.  For the very same reason.  This is going to be a long 12 years.

At least I didn’t laugh over his word choice.

Christmas Trees All in a Row

Every December, Sean’s (and Evan’s old school) has the four-year-old’s class decorate paper Christmas trees to decorate the outside of the classrooms, giving the trees no grade.  (It was such a cute craft, I added it to the holiday craft section.)  For both boys, I had them paint the trees green.  Then I cut them out and gave them all kinds of stuff to glue on their trees.  Evan did a lot of shells and confetti.  This year Sean did buttons and beads. A lot of buttons.  With one look, it was easy to see the boys did their trees by themselves.

Looking at the display of Christmas trees, I had to smile.  Some trees were a chaotic mess of stickers, beads, scribbles, or glitter.  One tree was covered with pom-poms.  These were trees made with love, creativity, and energy.  I loved them.

Then there were a few that are perfect.  As in perfect.  Painted without paint strokes, one tree was decorated with a garland of popcorn and dried cranberry pieces.  After every third popcorn piece, a dried cranberry piece was glued in perfect symmetry.  Little pipe cleaner bows fill the rest of the tree.  Another tree had a garland of ribbon looped this way and that, making it look like it was gliding along non-existent branches.  Perfect, beautiful round beads grace the paper tree to make it look balanced.  The bird feed tree was decorated with different types of bird seed and small plant seeds in a stripped pattern.  All so very lovely.

I wondered if the kids did anything to help.  Anything.  Maybe they were allowed to help with the glue or did the parent just do it all.  Did the child stand watching, with his/her head propped on hands that rested on the table, a bored expression, waiting to do something fun?  Or was the child even aware of the art project?  Was she playing outside, was he watching tv, or was she sleeping; while Mommy worked on her art piece?

It’s such a simple thing.  To decorate a paper tree.  Are these the parents who will march into the school with the perfect book report poster or the perfect science fair display?  Have these kids learned when something is complicated, possibly hard, mommy or daddy will do it?  The children are four.  They may never remember this.  Their parents may only step in this once.  But those parents did just rob their kids of doing something fun and creative so that the project would look perfect.