Things You Shouldn't Do

Feed the zoo animals. You shouldn't do that.

Mix ammonia with bleach.  That's bad.

Shave and eat cereal while driving.  True story. I used to see a guy do this on the beltway at least once a week. 

You also shouldn't get the stomach flu and decide to forgo taking your meds and then forget to take your meds for almost a full week.  It can cause withdrawal.  Me, being wicked smot, did just that this Christmas and spent Christmas Eve and Christmas day in bed sick with what I thought was the flu.

Again.

Except, yesterday, after days of jittery nerves, total exhaustion (I slept 19 of the 24 in Christmas) and a sick stomach I had a thought.  A break in the fog that had become my brain.  I hadn't taken my Celexa in days.  Holy shite. 

I'm going through withdrawal.  So I popped a pill and a few hours later felt a bit better. I'm still not myself and its weird. I still feel breathless, sick to my stomach, completely exhausted and jittery.  I'm hoping that is what was wrong and not that I just have some ridiculously bad bug in me that will cause everyone else around me to get sick too.  From what I 've read though it is the lack of this drug in my system that is causing all this.  To think I was weaning myself off it anyway. 

Here's to a detoxed 2012!


*Image courtesy of soberinanightclub.com

It Ain't Christmas Shoes

At many houses, I presume, there are holiday songs being sung and listened to all throughout the days. Christmas songs, Hanukkah songs, Kwanzaa (Oh my God, I could listen to this woman all day, she soothes me...) songs, you get the idea.

I know my ears already started bleeding hearing the song, " Christmas Shoes". Actually, I almost took an axe to my radio hearing that just one time. I freakin' hate that song. It doesn't make me cry or feel bad. It just makes me want to hit stuff. Is that wrong? It is just so manipulative.

I digress.

In our house I don't hear "Jingle Bells" or "Away in a Manger", I hear this. Non-stop.

 

TD, slumps to Jim Parsons perfection each time she belts out his portion of the song. I had no idea her normally high-pitched squeals could go so low. At least, it's not "Christmas Shoes" or "Same Old Lang Syne".

Shark Attack!

I might need to ask the man in the red suit for this for Christmas-

AIR SHARK!!

How awesome would this thing be floating around your house this holiday season?!

Maybe this is better for the woman of the house though-

Yeah, those are cats intertwined with the word, "HUGS".  Makes me feel kittenish just thinking about it...







Happy Valentine's Day!

I could so easily turn this into some saptastic post about how much I love Valentines Day.  I do.  Bite me, about the commercialization.  It's my Dad's birthday (say 'Happy Birthday!' to my Dad, Internets!) and I just love sending Valentines to people. I'm a dork, I know. Go ahead and say it.  Plus, red is my favorite color. 

I could fill you in on all the non-crafty craft projects I've done with my kids that include giving them heart post-it's because I'm that lame.  You want a craft kid?  Here! It's paper that sticks to things!  Here's a red nub of a crayon. Have it!  Isn't this fun, huh?  Heh. 

There are hearts.  There are flowers.  There's even candy. Now above the fridge because some two year-old felt it was in her best interest to commander a giant heart-shaped box o'chocolates and eat them under the kitchen table and on the couch. Before 7 a.m.

We like it cliche in this house, I suppose.

Nevertheless, Happy Valentines Day!

The Parents Have Left the Building

Cross-posted and archived from DC Metro Moms.  Original post date December 28, 2007.  I find this post fascinating now about three years later. My family is closer geographically and things aren't like this so much anymore. 

It is inevitable that the holidays bring not only massive doses of overindulging of food, gifts, food and ah yes, family time. Don't get me wrong, I love it. I really do. I love having all the family over to our house for the holidays. They get to see the tot open up gift after gift and I even love the winding up to the holiday/family time. What I don't love is the unsolicited advice.


I know it is well-meaning. I know it is meant to be helpful too. I also know that it will grate my nerves and that I must brace myself for it with each visit. I know that I will be astounded that after all this time there is still so much of it too.

What am I talking about? The advice of mothers of course. This year I learned that -

I should be washing my dryers lint tray in the dishwasher because clearly picking the lint out by hand is not sufficient. Funny that. I don't recall my mother ever washing the dryer tray at our house when I was growing up.

Oh! I also should remember to clear all beaded necklaces (given by said mother to grand-daughter) from the house because they are both a.) choking hazards and b.) strangulation devices. Silly me!

My kitchen is never clean enough. How could I forget to clean the hood of my stove? Or not clean it enough? Why does my oven smell like that by the way?

Did I know that there is sticky substance on my pantry floor? What caused it? Will I be cleaning that sticky goo now or do I intend to let lint (possibly from the dryer) coat it and make it harder to clean in the long run?

Do I always allow my child to scream like that and drink that much juice and eat that many cookies? Uh no. Grandpa gave them to her and so did you grandma!

Shouldn't the gingerbread house (also given by my mother and created by her with above mentioned grand-daughter) be placed somewhere high up so my child won't choke on the haphazardly placed jellybeans and gumdrops that are glopped on with zeal and cement like royal icing?

My mother is well-meaning. She means well so much that if she dares speak ill of anyone despite them not even being in a five-mile radius she will speak of them in a whisper. Maybe then it doesn't count? I know that years from now when she is gone I will miss these tidbits of helpful advice and nuances of her personality. I will. Just for now I wish that I did things more to her liking. I try so hard and it just never seems to be enough. I fight the urge to not lash out with a smart remark that in my childhood would have been rewarded with a smack on the mouth or being sent to my room with no TV for a week. She means well. She really does but does it have to be so much?

My parents left my house today for their long car ride home. I miss them already but I do not miss the unsolicited advice that never fails to make me feel not like the confident woman they raised, but instead like a child. Forever a child in their eyes and one that seems to need so much work. The holidays are over and I can finally relax.



Comments






oneincollegetwoinmiddleschool said...


Everytime I drop my mom off at the airport or see her off for the drive home, I always sing Handel's Hallelujah Chorus. I can't help it.


Reply December 31, 2007 at 08:14 PM Los Altos Mom said...


Wow! I thought it was just my mom. Every time we visit my parents, I get so much advice I can't take it. I know she means well. But after 20 years of living on my own, I know that I should: drive carefully, make sure the children brush their teeth, avoid transfats, and on and on and on. Sometimes it's not even verbal. My mother believes I should lose weight (OK, she's right, but it's my waistline, right???). When she brings out the dessert after dinner, she offers cake to my father, husband, and kids, but doesn't even offer any to me. She just makes the decision for me that I shouldn't have dessert. Drives me crazy.

Cats are the New Elves

Cross-posted and archived from DC Metro Moms.  Original post date December 5, 2007.

Despite the blustery winds and newly cold weather we decided last night would be the night to get our Christmas tree. Weez wicked smaht in our house I tell ya! Wicked smaht. We bundled ourselves all up to fight the cold and our daughter suffered her first bout of starfish syndrome. You know the starfish syndrome. It's when you get all bundled up as a kid and you suddenly find your arms and legs stiffly sticking out, your head in it's hat is the point of the star and you are in effect a starfish, unable to move your limbs. Her little eyes looked out at us as we laughed ourselves silly at her plight.


When we got to the nursery where we purchase our tree each year I saw something dart across my path but paid it no mind. It was windy after all, it was probably just some trash blowing around the parking lot. A few minutes later I found my daughter bending down to look under a table of plants and meowing. Hm... She only does that when she sees a cat. I didn't see a cat though just some freezing in the breeze pansies. We pressed onward deeper into the tree lot looking for that perfect Frasier Fir. Out of nowhere a large (OK downright tubby) tabby cat came out from under a tree. Suddenly, I became aware of the fact that throughout the tree lot there were many little eyes looking out from under trees. Cats. They surrounded us. What was going on here?

Each time I looked around a corner to view another 6-7 ft Christmas tree I saw another cat. It was downright eerie. Where were all these cats coming from? Is this nursery secretly run by cats? Were the workers actually cat people in disguise? If I pick the wrong tree will the cats come out and get me? Will I ever be seen or heard from again? Quick! Get the kid and run to the car! All these crazy thoughts began to run through my mind as I encountered orange cats, tigers, fluffy angoras and a few more rather mangy ones.

Then, my husband proclaimed he had found our tree. Did a cat lead him to it, I asked. Maybe that is the point? The cats are your guide in the tree lot. What an interesting concept. He told me to go pick out our free poinsettia in the greenhouse and we would be done. I scooped up our starfish-child and headed for warmer climes. As we entered the greenhouse I noticed Santa's sleigh in the corner. The big guy wasn't there though. When I approached the sleigh I realized we were not alone. Inside the sleigh was a rather large orange cat taking a nap. I got the distinct feeling we were interrupting something here. I guess when the big guy is off-duty the cats keep his seat warm and guard the sleigh? I quickly picked out a plant and made my way to the register. That's when it hit me. Cats are the new elves.



Comments

Erin said...


Love this story, and the picture is hilarious. Great blog.

Thanksgiving Day is Here. Gobble, Gobble.

Traveling over the holiday?



Why don't we have a Thanksgiving song?


Happy Thanksgiving y'all! I'll be watching the Macy's Day parade, running a Turkey Trot and filling myself with cornbread stuffing. I cannot wait!

Finding My Holiday Spirit

You would think with all the snow we just had, which has effectively made our street a winter wonderland, complete with tons of black ice, I would be ecstatic.  "It's a white Christmas, everyone! Ho, ho, ho!"  Bah.  I still have cookies to make, presents to put together, and to wrap and lay lovingly under the tree. I say 'lovingly' because right now they are about to be chucked under it while taking a few ornaments off the tree as they find their landing space. 

I am positively dreading the grocery store today.  I imagine after the blizzard and it being the week of Christmas the place will be prone to riots over honey-baked hams while other duke it out for the last wedges of brie.  While I go find my holiday spirit (Does Target still have some? Is it on sale yet?) today I give you this- My Black Heart from December 2006. It's vintage Mummy.  Oooh....


You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel.
Mr. Grinch.


Ooh I'm feeling awfully Grinch-like the last few days. I tried in vain to get into the Christmas spirit by wrapping presents. We've decorated our tree. I've baked cookies, made candy and tied it all with a bow. All to no avail. I just can't seem to pump some well-needed holiday cheer into my now tiny, hardened black heart.


Maybe it's our insane, disjointed schedule. Maybe it's the fact that H and T.D. are always sick lately. Maybe it's the overtime without pay I keep putting in, the endless meetings and rounds of changes at work and lack of gym time. My body hurts from lack of movement. If I don't get my yoga class asap I might snap. Either that or my shoulders will. I am literally on the verge of having a massive temper tantrum the likes of which have not been seen in anyone over the age of three. Unless of course your friends with Paris Hilton perhaps.


It all just came to head today when I realized I still have to buy some gifts, I can't find time to buy groceries again, and I'm already sick of wishing holiday goodness to people. I would rather box their ears. After which I will then crawl into my cave above the town and frown.


I don't know the remedy for this. It might be some vacation time. I have some but I can't take it. Maybe I should just say to hell with it and do it. Just one day. One day to find my holiday spirit and make my heart that has become two sizes too small go back to normal.

It's Just Sad

Blatantly stealing from Jodifur's post today because I can't crawl out from under my own conundrums here is what is "Crazy Sad".

- I asked for a Polder meat thermometer for Christmas. I would rather it not be a gift but since I can't cook a chicken to save my life, I might actually need this thing.

- Asking for a meat thermometer makes me feel like I'm 87 and should be named Pearl. I think patent leather box-shaped handbags are all the rage.  My best friend's name is Madge and she smokes Salems.  My 14 cats hate her and our long games of Canasta.

- I can't for the life of me think of what to buy a one year-old at Christmas.  Still I would feel just awful if years from now she didn't see any photos of her unwrapping a present, just photos of her eating the wrapping paper.  Hm.. I think I see a roll of green colored paper under the tree for her.  Sweet! That stuff is wicked cheap!

At least I solved one problem for the day. 

A Barbie Dream House for Me

A reprint of a post from the past- all about a Christmas past.  Enjoy!  Be sure to check out MPR's Holiday Gift Guide- new items have been added!

There it sat. Huge and under the tree. The tag insisted that I was correct, this big box from Santa/my grandparents was intended for only me. My five year-old brain was buzzing with ideas. I could barely contain my excitement. My mother kept warning me to stay away from the tree, "It's not time to open presents yet. Stop touching things and back away from the tree!" I think I might have done a little dance of protest before I backed away.


I sat on my grandmother's paisley and floral couch and wondered, what could it be? A pony? It was certainly a large enough box. Then my mind settled on it. The only thing it could be. The only thing I really wanted. A Barbie Dream House. A Barbie Dream House! That had to be it! Satisfied with this idea I got off the couch and joined the rest of my family for dinner.

All through dinner and dessert I couldn't sit still. I squirmed this way and that in my seat at the dining room table. Dinner went on forever! Turkey and all the trimmings. Fine. Shovel it in. C'mon! We've presents to unwrap! They drank wine and then coffee! Would this dinner ever end? My grandfather lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. The nerve of him! It was never ending. Didn't these people know that a BARBIE DREAM HOUSE was less than two rooms away?! What was wrong with them? How could they not feel the ants in my pants excitement that I did? Didn't they want or need to unwrap their own presents? I NEEDED to unwrap that present! My brained screamed, "Time is of the essence here people!" Finally, my grandmother rose from the table and asked us if we wanted to sit by the tree and look at the lights. Yes! At last! We're going to get to the good part.

I watched my cousins and some of the adults unwrap presents. I received a few smaller items I can no longer remember. Then, my grandparents with big smiles on their faces, pushed the big box out from under the tree. Everyone speculated on what could be in such a large box. I nearly shredded the wrapping with my tiny frenzied hands. Huh. Wait. What's this? This is not some pink full of pictures Mattel box. It's just a regular old cardboard box. Uh.. heheheh something isn't right here folks. Slowly I opened the big box hoping against all hope that inside it was another box. The right box. The Barbie Dream House box. As I lifted the lid I noticed something red and wrapped in plastic. It was a coat. A winter coat. My heart seized. The wiring in my brain misfired and I swear I saw stars. This was all devastatingly wrong. A coat?! Who gives a little kid a coat for Christmas and smiles about it? What fun is a coat? It's not a toy! I have to wear this to school too? For the love of...

My heart just sunk. I lifted the red coat out of the box as my grandmother, all smiles, removed the plastic wrap. Oh look! It has a giant fur trimmed hood. Great. A belt too? Wonderful. I don't even think I tried to smile at my mother's prodding. I just remember the room feeling darker. I was so disappointed. How could they not remember to buy me the one thing I really wanted? Surely this coat costs as much as the dream house. It had fur for goodness sake! I hated that coat instantly. I wanted to throw it in the back of my closet banishing it to the dust bunnies forever. Scowling and refusing to mask my extreme disappointment and at the insistence of my mother, I thanked my grandparents. This was the worst present ever! The worst Christmas ever!

Weeks later and still playing with my cardboard box Barbie dream house. At least with the addition of the brand new giant box that the coat came in I had added an addition onto her house turning it into an apartment complex that her other friends could live in. To me that was the only consolation. No dream house. Just a giant red coat with fur on the hood that got in my mouth all the time. Awesome. I vowed never to forget this error in judgement by the adults in my life. I knew for sure that my parents were involved and had ok'd this gift. What was wrong with them?

Then one day as I stood in line waiting for my school bus a boy in my class began to make fun of my red coat. Being only five about all he could make fun of was the fact that it was big and red. Big Red he called me. Ha Ha. This kid was destined to be class president. He started pulling on the fur and telling the other kids it was a dead animal. Slowly, I turned around to face him and said in the most haughty voice I could muster, "If you must know that is REAL fox fur your hands are pawing. It was a gift from my grandparents and it is VERY expensive. It came in a GIANT box." Oddly, that shut him up. Then little girls began to crowd around me and they wanted to come and touch the soft fox fur. They admired the cute little belt and the fashionable buttons on my new coat. They wanted one just like it! It was a rather beautiful shade of red. Very complimentary to my hair color. Suddenly, I felt like a princess in my new red coat.

From that day on I loved that little red coat with the "fur" trim. I was sad when I outgrew it. I kept it for longer than necessary in the back of my closet. We had some good times me and that red coat. I believe it was the first lesson I consciously remember about finding the best in something and looking at the brighter side of things. A Barbie Dream House I came to realize was just a bunch of plastic. My coat kept me warm and regal. I could take it everywhere, something I couldn't do with the Dream House. Besides, I had a whole apartment complex to manage now with my imagination and that was better than just a single Barbie Dream House.

Rudolph Gets the Axe

The holiday season is upon us.  Cards are arriving in the mailbox, we have broken out the advent wreath, candles and calendar.  I'm dreaming of not just a white Christmas and sugar plum fairies but homemade marshmallows, snickerdoodles, fudge, peppermint bark....mmm peppermint bark...marshmallow goodness...

Wait. Where was I?  I was busy wiping my saliva off my keyboard before I shorted out my laptop.

I truly love this time of year for quite a few reasons.  I like shopping, I like giving, the songs, that special glow from the lights.  Home Alone.  The Muppet Christmas Carol.  Emmett Otter's Jugband Christmas.  I love them all.  They never fail to put me in the mood of the season. 

Notice something missing though? That would be Rudolph.  Don't get me wrong. As a kid I was convinced that those red lights on the high electrical towers that ran along I-95 just had to be Rudolph making the early Christmas rounds.  But those 1960s specials they replay ad nauseum each December make me feel all stabby. I want to claw my eyes out and smash the TV. With an axe.  A special Christmas axe.  Yes, indeed Virginia, Rudolph and the Abomidable Snowman make me violent.  Like Jack in 'The Shining' violent. The holidays are stressful enough. I don't need to wreck it with my twisted tendencies.  I cannot be the only one who loathes these specials. Right?

Tell me internets that I am not alone on this one.  Can we form a club, perhaps?

I'm Thankful

I'm thankful for the safe car ride down to my parents house last night and the nice barista at SBUX who made me a tasty Espresso Truffle for the road. 'Tis officially the holiday season so I will partake of that creamy, whipped drink.

I'm thankful for cranberry relish, turkey with gravy and stuffed celery. I so can't wait for those tomorrow!

I'm thankful for a spouse who is home and not away. For all my friends and family who are not deployed.

I'm thankful for two healthy children and their two smiling faces. They drive me to drink some days but I love them anyway.

I'm thankful H is a free-range parent like myself. Because if he was all into hovering like a helicopter I would have left him by now.

I'm thankful for the drizzling rain that made for an excellent run this morning. My rain-slicked face felt fantastic as I pounded the pavement.

Finally, I'm thankful that my father stayed up late last night re-installing his Wi-Fi connection so that I could put up this post.

And now....a Thanksgiving Confession.

For a bit of Christmas come early, visit this site.

How to Have the Best Christmas EVER!

1. Begin by ignoring the pain that has begun in your left breast. Instead, press on with your night of gift wrapping and your Master Plan. Then realize that it's Christmas Eve and everything closes early but it's too late. You are already out driving around looking for that perfect cup of joe. Which seems can now only be made at the hands of a gas station employee. Who doesn't know how to make a latte to save his life. Throw in a squirrely looking old lady behind the counter making sandwiches and the evil eye and you have the start of your night.

2. Make comments throughout the night about the pain in your chest but continue to ignore it while you wait up for company and fight your body's urge to curl up into the fetal position. Pop two Tylenol instead and finally head to bed about midnight just as your body begins to shiver - just a bit.

3. Wake up Christmas morning to find that a white hot dagger is piercing your left breast. Not one to be outdone the breast has decided to adorn itself with red streaks of searing pain and infection. "Yippie!" it says, "It's Christmastime! I'm giving you the gift of mastitis!" You double over in pain as breast tries to do the Christmas wave. Fight back tears of frustration and agony as your loved ones cheerily open presents and you begin to feel feverish and freezing.

4. Next, make the call to the midwife hot line, tears at the ready if she tries anything beyond prescribing you meds over the phone. Wish you could kiss the woman through the phone line as she tells you about a 24-hour pharmacy that will have your antibiotics in an hour or less.

5. Then, thank the greedy corporate bastards to high heaven for thinking, "Christmas Schmistmas! Let's suck some more money out of the fools who forgot to buy Great-Aunt Ethel her annual jar o' peanut brittle and economy-size bottle of Jean Nate perfume and keep our Consumer Value Store open! Let's make the pharmacists work too! (Insert evil laugh here.)"

6. Finally, down a massive dose of antibiotics and spend the rest of the holiday in and out of an aching, shivering sleep, tightly curved into a ball, wishing for the pain, sweet Jesus make the pain go away already! Wake up the next morning and realize you missed one kids first Christmas and the others first realization of how fun the day can be. Thank your family for being there for you and go back to bed.


Seriously. I wouldn't wish mastitis on my worst enemy. Holy Unholy Searing Pain with a pitchfork continuously lodged like the brander of death in my chest people!

The Master Plan

My parents have decided to come for Christmas. We are overjoyed. No, really we actually are overjoyed. You just can't feel my holiday goodness coming through the WiFi. They will be arriving very late and stay up I must. Plus, there's that whole Santa thing going on at our house now and I actually have to stay up and wrap gifts and place them lovingly under the tree. So I've concocted this "Master Plan" on how I will stay up late. I'm wicked smot.

At precisely 8 or 9 p.m. - see nothing is actually precise in my world anymore- I will jaunt out to SBUX land and fill myself with commercialized Christmas wonder (ever notice how it is all red, white and green in there?) and stock up on the necessary supplies to get me through the night.

Originally, I thought I would only purchase a Venti-sized Espresso Truffle. The sugar and espresso combined not only tastes good but it's good for you. If you are trying to wrap gifts, stay up and be chipper then this drink is for you. Then, I remembered the Salted Caramel they have... hm... choices. My addiction grows stronger each day. I quickly nixed it as it contains no caffeine. Then a friend tells me about mixing. That is getting me into a dark world now. I can haz Espresso Truffle and Salted Caramel combined? Holy Christmas Holly with a side of Egg Nog people! This is insanity! Yeah, I'm not getting out much these days, obviously.

Now however, I tweaked the "Master Plan" and I think I'll go with the best choice of all! A Venti Latte please with another Venti Espresso Truffle combined with the Salted Caramel. Just IV that sucker into me and I'll take it to go! KTHXBYE! By the time I start wrapping gifts I might be shaking or twitching just a bit but I'll be alright. Give me a chaser of water and those gifts will be wrapped in no time! They may look like a bunch of cracked out elves did the wrapping but really- will a two year-old notice such things? I think not. Plus, the mess from my head exploding from that drink concoction will just look like Christmas confetti!

Christmas Came Early

Santa came to our house early this year. He brought three things with him. All for me.

1. Ankles! Folks, I can see my ankles and there are bones in them! No more puffy feet either. I have huge feet but I love them and my bony ankles and I'm so happy to have them back!!

2. A new couch. Words cannot express how much I love this microfiber, eco-friendly stain resistant object. It's contemporary, new and yet to be touched by dog butt or toddler hands. Oh yeah, that's because it won't be delivered until Friday.

3. PANTS! Glorious pants! My post-TD pants were lost but now found along with a slew of others from last year. While they don't all fit- the bigger ones do and they are not maternity pants! I tried on a few pairs this morning and voila! They fit! I screamed, "This is the best day ever!" quite a few times and pranced around in non-elastic waist glory. Whoo hoo!!

Now if only I could get those pesky hospital bills paid for by Santa I would be overjoyed. However, I think the absence of cankles, a new couch and PANTS! Glorious PANTS! is enough.





Also, a big THANK YOU to Lattes and Life for sending me this award. Pass it on to those you know and sorry for taking so long for me to say thanks. It's been a bit of a quagmire over here the last month or so.

Random Questions #195- The Holiday Edition

Yes, it is 65 degrees and sunny but 'tis the holidays and all that good stuff so let's begin with the Random Questions shall we?

1. What's your favorite holiday song?

I have a few - Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, Wonderful Christmas Time (my all time fave actually. I dig Linda's Jazz hands) and Jingle Bell Rock. Pretty secular, n'est pas?

2. Is there a holiday tradition that you have or had with your family now or in the past that you simply must do each year?

H and I like to run around the house yelling, "Christmas Time!!!" while throwing our arms in the air above our heads. This year TD has begun to do it. Once one person starts it we just keep going. Pretty corny, I know but it stems from us being alone one Christmas with no family and we were feeling no holiday love so we did it to psyche ourselves up. Call it a the Christmas Wave if you will.

3. Is there a must have holiday food or treat?

H likes Snickerdoodles, my father eats Chocolate covered cherries and I like fudge. Chocolate fudge. mm... I have two batches in my house right now.

4. Is there a holiday food or treat that absolutely disgusts you and yet always shows up at your house each year? (Fruitcake is not an option.)

Um... head cheese. Kidding we do not eat that here. My grandmother used to make a fabulous looking Buche de Noel. Fabulous looking...and then you eat it's dry cakiness. Blech. Yet, each year I still want it. Ah, memories.

5. Holiday flick?

I'm partial to Home Alone, A Muppet Christmas Carol and Home for the Holidays. I know they are not classics but they put me in the spirit and I like wrapping gifts to family dysfunction.

Have You Seen My Marbles?

Yeah... soo... I'm officially insane. All cracked out. Incredibly dumb even.

I bought Christmas cards. And the stamps to go with them. I actually created and ordered these things and really thought- "Yeah, sure, I'll have time to do these." Um.. when? When I'm pumping and trying not to fall asleep? At the 1:30 a.m. or 4:30 a.m. feeding? How about while I'm answering TD's 800 questions while feeding Dash Two and trying to make dinner? I have another hand to stuff those envelopes I'm sure of it! Hm.. so many choices I don't know if I can possibly decide. I just have so much free time on my hands.

Hey wait! Maybe, I'll make H do them this year! So instead of talking to his Fantasy Football BFF's he can address envelopes and make some fudge while he's at it. Maybe he can even pick up TD's teachers gifts and wrap them up with the homemade peppermint bark I was planning on making too.

I think I just peed myself from laughing.

One Step Closer to the 'Burbs Way of Life

I feel as if I've been initiated one step further into the whole parenthood thing this weekend. We did the whole mall Santa thing. H & I were convinced the guy would be reminiscent of 'A Christmas Story's' (and can I just say, I identify with the father of this film a bit too much.) Santa or the incredibly scrawny guy we see at the tree farm each year but nope, this guy was pretty legit.


What was disconcerting, besides the line and vacant glazed over looks all the parents possessed, was the freakin' options for photos. Sure, you could use your own camera but you had to make a minimum purchase. These were no Polaroid shots either. No, Santa's village, which came complete with two dreary looking "elf" helpers, (don't call them Santa's helpers or Elves for the love of God! The death ray glares alone would cut you.) had so many alphabetized options and packages to choose from it was all a bit daunting. A bit more daunting than keeping a two year- old in line for forty minutes. In the end we opted for the ultra modern I-can't-believe-this-is-an- option option of a USB drive with our photos on it. Ain't we slick?


When we got home H couldn't wait to upload it all onto his Facebook account (I should have never introduced him to that quagmire on the web) and I discussed how soul sucking the experience all felt with a friend. She likened it to, "Gray. It all just sounds so depressing in a suburban sense. I think of the mall Santa and just feel depressed." I have to say, I agree. The five seconds of cuteness with TD and Dash Two was great but over all? I'm fine not ever doing it again. And keeping my $30.

Grandma Scares Me

My first holiday with H and his family was one I'll never forget. It was Thanksgiving 2001 and we traveled to Arizona to spend a few days. It's where I learned that my spouses family is REALLY into games too.

True, I had a taste of it on a ski trip we had taken a few years previous. But, I had chalked all those games of domino's and Monopoly up to the fact that it was freezing and snowy outside and not everyone wanted to be a ski bunny 24/7. What else was there to do but raid the rented chalet's game closet, right?!

Me? No, I'm not much a of a game person myself. I'm an only child. We don't 'do' games that well. Every Christmas I would get board games for gifts and look at my relatives like they had three heads. "Thanks so much! Who the hell is going to play this with me? My four imaginary friends?!" Really.

That Thanksgiving though I realized that not only does H come from a family of gamers but they are hard core. It's out for blood time. It is very 'take no prisoners' and it comes in the form of a game called, Spoons. Have you heard of it? Yeah, I hadn't either. Now? I'll never forget it. See, H's family is uber-competitive and when they play this card game with actual spoons it's a knock down drag out fight. Literally. The worst perpetrator of this game is Grandma. She started the family and she is the queen of games. I've seen her knock her four year-old granddaughter to the floor just to grab a teaspoon off a table and kick that kid out of the competition. When I was pregnant with TD I opted out of this fun-fest in fear that my unborn child might sustain injuries from elbows being thrown or across the table jabs. That same year I heard the now five year-old grand-daughter say, "No thanks, I don't want to play. Last year Grandma knocked me over." She watched from the side lines instead as the rest of the family hip-checked, elbowed and slammed their way to winning a game played with utensils and a deck of cards.

I can't make this stuff up people. You don't want to play domino's with this group and especially slap-jack. You could lose an eye.

Does your family play any holiday games? Read about more family gaming traditions over at PBN and see the latest from Electronic Arts.


Check out my latest review (great holiday books for kids!) and a host of others from PBN over here.

The tree is up. Half the lights don't work this year so decorations are being put off for a bit. If I have to say, "No! Don't touch that!" one more time I might go insane. I think the Grinch has visited me this year in the form of sleep deprivation.

I almost committed 'cellular homicide' this morning. Meaning, H kept hitting the snooze button on his cell phone's alarm and I was mere seconds from grabbing it and smashing it into electronic bits. After being up every two hours all night and having only one more hour of sleep before TD woke up with her million question quota to fulfill I was not about to lose one precious second of sleep.

All I want to consume is an obscene amount of chocolate and coffee. And maybe some marshmallows covered in salty caramel (William Sonoma is the devil and if you buy these for me this holiday season I promise to love you forever). If I could live in a Starbucks right about now just sniffing the caffeinated air I would be in a state of bliss not to be believed.

I just finished my first jaunt into the 'Twilight' series hemisphere and I find Bella to be ridiculously annoying. Is it just me or does she complain a bit too much? I can see the appeal of these books but at the same time I'm not diggin' the whole non-real vampire thing/Edward as a bad boy scenario. It's like my Dad always says, "If you say your are crazy, then you're not. If you think you are sane. Well, you're probably a freakin' psycho." So Edward? You sir, are no bad boy. I'm just sayin...

I found Sweetney/Mamapop's piece on extra theatrical trailers for the film to be spot on.