Christmas Vacation

Ok listen. This vacation I am on, is the stuff dreams are made of.

1. The scale here doesn't work.

2. I got to nap and wake up on my own accord more than 3 times.

3. I got to shower until my fingers were pruney AND I was in total privacy.

4. I got to read an entire book that doesn't have pictures, and I've started on my second one.

5. I ran an actual 5K, outdoors, in my best time ever (into the wind, uphill both ways, with no water or HGTV show to watch)

6. Let's not forget that I got to spend time with my peoples.

7. I ate an entire one pound bag of M&M's (ok-and maybe two cheese balls, a box of turtles, three batches of pancakes with real syrup, 2% milk instead of skim, chocolate covered raisins, movie theatre popcorn and two bottles of wine) and didn't gain one pound. (see number 1)


We start our return trek home in two days. Then this blog will be back to it's regularly scheduled ramblings. Until then, Happy New Year to you all and may the force be with you while you determine you annual resolutions.

Little Sleepers

Last night, as I was sitting next to Maggie's bed, tickling her palms and waiting for her to fall back to sleep, I started to think about what a blessing it will be that she is such a light sleeper. For instance, should our home come under attack by a pack of very stealthy ninjas, Maggie will be the first line of defense with her inability to sleep through the faintest of noises.  Not that I would expect her to fight ninjas, but surely the sound of a screaming toddler would scare even the bravest of home invaders.

I blew a very quiet air kiss to my guard dog, and tried to sneak out of her bedroom without my ankle cracking. One hour and three attempts later, I finally made it to my own room; where I found a large, snoring sack of preschooler sleeping upside down in our reading chair.

As I grunted to pick up her 50 pound body and lug it into her own bed, I knocked her sweet noggin' on the door frame and tripped over a mess of toys and dirty clothes. As I kissed her emerging goose egg and soft cheeks, I was thankful that she is such a hard sleeper. I snuggled in closer to her to feel her hot breath on my face and to plant subliminal messages in her head.  I whispered in her ear how important her role as a big sister was. That she should watch out for little Maggie in school, at the park, and any other time Mom and Dad weren't around. I told her that when she's old enough for college or to live on her own, that she should talk Maggie into moving in with her. I told her that if she would take Maggie under her wing, Maggie would in turn protect her from home invading ninjas.

A short list about a long road trip

One week from today, my little clan of crazies will pile into the car and start our 21 hour journey to rural Kansas to celebrate Christmas with my side of the family.
So today's "List" is in celebration of our 7 day countdown:

Reasons We Thought It Would Be a Good Idea To Drive A Gagillion Miles

with Two Small Children

1.  Flying would cost our family of 4 about the same amount as we could get for Bear Cub on the black market.  I was about to call Delta, but right as I picked up the phone, the wee one asked me to snuggle and I had a change of heart.

2. We love all the Chevy Chase "Vacation" movies and want to  provide our own children with painful, character building, memory making trips.

3.  We are straight up c.r.a.z.y.

4. They are so cute when they sleep in the car.

5. We know a pharmaceutical sales rep that has offered an "emergency" sample of "copers" should things get hairy.

6. Road trips are a valid excuse to eat McDonald's, Twizzlers, Oreo cookies and Pringles.

7. Now that Prozac and I are BFF's, I have an everything's-coming-up-roses attitude

that makes things like

Two Screaming Children in a Small Confined Space for Two Straight Days

seem kind of like

A nice way to spend some quality time together.


8. The children will have a better understanding of traditional Christmas song lyrics like:
I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas
Dashing Through the Snow
The Weather Outside is Frightful
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

if they are in an environment where it's too cold
to wear tank tops, shorts and go shoe-less to sit on Santa's lap.

My thirtysix and a half year old body

It's taken just about two and a half years, but as of Monday, I finally hit a goal I set for myself.  My goal was to be at such a weight that no BMI calculator, scale or body chart could call me names like: overweight, obese or just plain fat.

I stepped off the scale and sized up my not-considered-fat self in the mirror. It's been close to ten years since I'd seen those numbers.  I stood up a little taller and started to compare my 36 year old body to my 26 year old body.

I'm the healthiest I have been in my entire adult life.  My stomach is no longer flat and hard, but then again, neither is my heart.  My legs are strong enough to press 300lbs, but my resolve seems to be even stronger. My skinny jeans fit, but more importantly, I am comfortable in my own skin. And as for the laugh lines that tend to linger after my smile has faded, well, I'll keep those because I've earned them.

My 36 year old body may never see a bikini again. Her mini-skirts are no so mini. And things still jiggle in places that make her feel weird. But do you know what my 36 year old body is going to tell my 26 year old body?  Eat your heart out.

Preschool Vocabulary

When preschool started this year, I became aware that my little Tazmanian Princess would be learning as much from her new friends as she would from her teacher.  During our first open house tour, a fellow classmate's mother came up to me and asked if I was Rylee's mom. Yes, I say. She says "Rylee taught Nora the funniest thing....Tickle Tickle Cut the Pickle."  I laughed for three reasons:

1. I thought it was funny.
2. She learned it from school and then taught it at school, and I had no knowledge of this new knowledge...which made me nervous.
3. Sometimes I laugh when I get nervous.

I took a deep breath and was thankful that it was still preschool and I would have a few years to research (aka: asking friends on facebook) how to discuss different topics that children will learn about at school and want more information about when they get home. But as with All Things Parenting, things come up before you are ready, and you learn as you go.

When I picked up The Taz from school on Friday, she beamed ear to ear as I was buckling her seat belt.

"Momma, I learned a new word today?"
"Oh yeah? From Ms. Connie?"
"No, from Angelique."
"Oh?"
"BUTT HOLE! Bwaa haaaa haaa haaa haaaaaaaaaa"
"Oh honey. Let's not say that."
"What? BUTT HOLE?"
"Yes. It's not a nice word to use."
"I'm gonna tell Dad that BUTT HOLE isn't a nice word when we get home."
"I think he already knows."
"He knows BUTT HOLE isn't a good word to use?"
"Yes."
"Mummble mummble mubbble BUTT HOLE mumbble mummmble."

As so begins our education, hers and mine, with vocabulary.

The Season of Giving

A few days ago, My Chef sent me this link to a story on 60 minutes. I had to ask him if he meant to send it because it wasn't a video on car stunts or stupid human tricks. He got all somber and told me to watch it.

I watched 30 seconds of it before I wanted to turn it off. I was in a joyful mood. I was full of the Christmas spirit. I didn't want to hear tragic stories about suffering (Whoa, wait a minute. Isn't that backwards?)  I watched anyway because, if My Chef felt it was important enough to forward it to me, then it must be important, right?

I tucked this story in my heart, but at the waaay back of it.  In fact, I didn't think of it when we were organizing the garage and My Chef said "I guess we can sell the single stroller now." I didn't think of it as we piled up 3 totes full of toys the girls had outgrown. All I was thinking about was how much money we could bring in if we sold all of these things at a garage sale in the spring.

But it seems like that story was put in my heart, even at the way back of it, to start to soften it a little. A planted seed, ready to grow a giving spirit, waiting for the ripe moment of opportunity.  The opportunity came when a woman spoke at church yesterday about donating to a shelter for women and children. She spoke of their need for clothes and diapers and strollers. My Chef looked at me and said "Let's just forget about a garage sale." And I could feel my heart swell with joy at the thought of how many babies we could clothe.

Boy, I thought I was in the Christmas spirit before.....

Pine Cone Christmas Tree

I don't know if it's the holiday spirit, or the Prozac, or the need to do anything besides housework, but I have been craftin' up a storm lately. 

The girls and I made these Christmas tree wreaths. We bought a kit at The Boutique.

$5.

Enough to make three.

When you live in Florida, you need all the help you can get to make it feel Christmasy.

Especially when the sun is shining and the grass is green.

(Not that I'm complainin')

Then, Thanksgiving weekend, we went on a nature hike, and got bored after only seeing one butterfly and one squirrel, so we gathered pine cones.

The only craft I've ever done with pine cones is to slather them in peanut butter, then roll them in bird seed, tie a piece of yarn around it and call it a bird feeder.

But somewhere I had seen a picture of a pine cone Christmas tree. So I thought I would give it a whirl.

After two attempts on my own, I had to consult the interwebs.

This is what I came up with.

It kinda looks more like a jumbled pile of pine cones than a tree,

but that's not the point.

I'm not sure there is a point....

Anyway,

I think I have one more project to show you tomorrow, and then we'll go back to our regularly scheduled ramblings.

Life Through the eyes of My Tazmanian

Sometimes it becomes necessary to hand our phones over to the children.
For peace.
For quiet.
For the love of Peter.

These are photos that The Taz took one morning last week.

Every time Mom asks me to put on my shoes, I'm going to junk up her phone with pictures of Elmo.

(There were exactly 16 pictures of this same shot on my phone.)

Oh look, a movie.

"Wook at my shurt, Yiyee." Said the Bear Cub to the Taz.

On my way to The Club with my fancy sparkly shoes that make me go fast.

There's that lady.

When I'm done with her phone I'm gonna tell her she parks like a sausage.

Toilet Paper Roll Art Project

It's not like I just sit around and obsess about things. But now that the whole kitchen bar stools obsession is taken care of, I have kind of moved my focus onto this huge bare wall that my desk faces. And taking the que from my little Tazmanian Artist, I decided to do my own art project last week.

About 6 months ago, my BFF pointed out this project on some blog (maybe it was Hi SugarPlum?) that was made out of empty toilet paper rolls.  The gal just cut up some toilet paper rolls, glued the pieces together to make a "flower" and then glued them onto a canvas and then spray painted the whole thing white.  I figured this was something I could actually do, so I started saving those rolls.

Since this isn't really a How-To-Craft Blog, I won't go into the step by step. And I think that if you Google Hi SugarPlum you would find the how-to details there. But, here's my finished project:

(this desk here is where the creative magic happens. cough cough)

 ( a little bit closer now)



Family Portrait

We FINALLY had our family portrait done.

Since we can't seem to sit together for more than 5 seconds to pose,

The artist did individual pictures.

I love them.

Tiny Dancer

I love this kid so much it hurts.

Also, I taught her everything she knows....

The Kitchen Bar Stools

Sometimes I have too much time to think about things. Like when I'm waiting for Maggie to get out of the car because she takes twenty minutes to inspect the floor for any treasures she might have dropped. Or when I am scrubbing marker off the couch, or waiting for the carpet cleaner to soak in so I can "dab it with a moist sponge" (who really does that anyway?).  A lot of times I will fixate on something to take my mind off of the frustration of the current moment. Lately, (and by that I mean, for the past year) I have been kind of obsessing about kitchen bar stools.

As I'm mopping the floor where I'd like the bar stools to sit, I have this conversation with myself:

Man, it'd be nice to have some bar stools here.
Yeah, but the kids would probably ruin them.
I know. But I could get the all-wood kind so I can buff out and stain any marks.
Yeah, but this is a rental house, you probably shouldn't spend money on furniture to fit this house.
When you're right, you're right, Nikki. But I could peruse Craigslist and maybe find something cheap.
We've been talking about this for a year now. And you still haven't found anything decent there.
I know, maybe I should just buy some sturdy ones and then we can sell them on Craigslist if they don't fit our next house.
Remember Sunday's sermon about where your heart is? Maybe you shouldn't be so consumed with these bar stools.
Yeah.
Then, for just a few minutes longer, I allow myself to daydream about parties and dinners with people sitting at my kitchen counter, while I wear my frilly apron, before putting the bar stools out of my head for a while.

So last Saturday, we loaded up the family to head to Sea World. Two blocks from our house, we pass a really nice set of chairs and a table. There's a "Free" sign taped to one of the chairs. My Chef and I look at each other like we can't believe our eyes.  We circle back and sure enough, it doesn't appear like there is any damage. We quickly decide that we can use this table. As we are loading up the chairs, I say to My Chef "Well, now we won't need any bar stools. This can go in the kitchen."  I am smiling ear to ear about this when the owner of the house comes out.  We chat it up for a few minutes to find out she is moving into a smaller home and ended up not needing the table and didn't want to bother with selling it. Then she looked us up and down and asked if we lived in her development.

"Yes, yes" we say.
"Then you must have the same kitchen counter as I do?" she inquired.
"Uhm. Maybe. It's pretty tall." we say.
"Well, do you need some bar stools?"

I couldn't help but feel the lesson God was telling me. When I take up less space in my heart with worries about money and material things, He will show me that He will provide and pour out blessings in ways we would never imagine.

The "free" table:

Fancy new bar stools:

It might seem silly to think about chairs and a table being a blessing. But come Thanksgiving, when I have a house full of people I love, sitting around talking and laughing, I will be counting the chairs and the people sitting in them as blessings.

Adrenaline Junkies

I think the beauty of children is that they have absolutely no fear; that is, of course, until they fall off their first literal or proverbial horse. As parents, it is our job to either nurture this character trait until they soar (hopefully with a parachute or above a pile of pillows) or to nip it in the bud so as to protect our precious wee ones from ever harming one little tiny hair on their beautiful un-scathed bodies.

I fall under the "nip it in the bud" category.

I married a "nurture-er"

The kind of guy who would lead my babies up three stories of netting

While I wait at the top, with open arms, ready to console my scared little chickadees

Ready to tell them they never ever ever have to climb up that high again or swing around on tires suspended a hundred feet in the air

Yes. That's it. Run to Momma.

 

Wait. No, why aren't you stopping? You don't have to go up there again.

Please

Pleeeeeeeeeeease.

Stay with Momma.

Daylight Savings Schmavings

It doesn't feel like Daylight Savings time so much as it does the Ground Hogs Day, the movie.  I'm taxed. I'm spent. I'm tuckered out. But worst of all...I'm all out of ideas for keeping those children of ours busy. Case in point:

Tuesday, we woke up and ate breakfast. Then we made play dough "things", then cleaned up. Then we got out the crayons and colored until the Wild One started breaking them all. Cleaned that up, got out the markers and colored with those until they started coloring their fingernails. Cleaned that up, baked blueberry muffins and had a tea party. Cleaned that up, and  went upstairs to build towers. Cleaned that up and worked on some puzzles.  When I finally looked at the clock, it was only 10am.

Wednesday, we repeated what we did on Tuesday, but we threw in a trip to the park.

Thursday, we repeated what we did on Tuesday, but we threw in a trip to the YMCA.

Friday, we repeated what we did on Tuesday, but we threw in a trip to the library.

Mess, Wash, Repeat...sixty two times a day.

I'll be hiding in the laundry room pretending to fold clothes, but secretly eating what's left of the candy, if anybody needs me.

The Beginning of Thanks

Growing up, every year my family would travel to Des Moines, Iowa to spend Thanksgiving with my mother's side of the family. My mother is the youngest of 10 children. I am the youngest of 36 first cousins. We would rarely see each other throughout the year, but come Thanksgiving, we were thick as thieves and just as mischievous.

When I was small, our brood would take to the streets surrounding Mercede Drive and throw snowballs at oncoming cars. My biggest, most responsible cousin always scooped me up when the heat came and we had to make a run for it. Fast forward a few years and you'd see my brother and cousins rearranging those lawn ornament deer into risque positions.  It was over Thanksgiving break that I learned that you always tell a new bartender it's your birthday for a free drink. The first time I sang (so bad it was good) karaoke was with my cousin.

Now, on the rare occasion some of us get together, we rock each other's babies. We reminisce with a wink and a nod when our children run after one another.  We may not know the day to day detail of each others lives, but we share the same chin, the same laugh, the same love of good story telling.

This year, I am not waiting for stuffing and turkey to count my blessings. Today I am thankful that My Peoples recently came to visit me. I am thankful for the history we share and the comfort of just seeing their faces. Listening to them talk about about their children and grandchildren and being wrapped up in their laughter. Today I am thankful for family...and tea parties.

A Fashion Plea

Dear Producers of What Not To Wear,

Today I saw a color challenge on Facebook. You can take the test here.  Apparently, Zero is the best score. The two people I saw that took the challenge got a 15 and a 16. I took the test thinking that I would ace it. I mean really, I have 20/20 vision right!

I got a 260. 

I think this may be part of my problem.

Sincerely,
Does This Brown go with This Brown?

Four Year Old Antagonism

Tuesday's List

Mean Things The Taz Told Me This Week

1. Me: "Rylee, please come pick up these toys you threw down the stairs."

Her: "Yes Stepmother."

2. "I don't like your shoes Momma, even though they are really really cute."

3. Her: (to me and My Chef during dinner when we told her we would take her plate away if she pushed it away and called it "disgusting" one more time)

"I'm not in the mood for you!"

4. Snuggled in bed, just before falling to sleep.

Her: Momma, I love you

Me: Oh Roosker, I love you too

Her: Momma, your breaf is ahhhhful.

All Saints Day

It's All Saints Day.

Do you know who was born on this very day?

My Mudda

Sometimes we like to call her Ma.

Only we say it like we're from Boston.

Only we've never even been to Boston.

Some of us call her Ga-ma.

Some of us call her Gramzy.

But I will go ahead and call her

A Saint.

A New Development

Now look what's happened.

"There must be a weakness in the bag" she said to herself.

"Who are you callin' a Bag?" she replied.

And she went back and forth like that for a while, well, at least until the candy was finally unwrapped.

Wicked Little Sweet Tooth

If I were a dog, I would NOT be the kind of dog that you could put it's entire day's worth of food out in a dish and expect there to be any left for a mid morning snack.  I would be the kind of dog that you'd have to ration out each meal, and limit it's treats to only after it went for a walk or after letting the kids tug on it's ears without biting them.

That's why I put all that Halloween candy in a bag on top of the fridge. That's also why I tied a knot on the bag. Because I'm the kind of dog that can't self-ration. If I didn't tie a knot in the bag, do you know what would happen? I do. It'd go like this:

At first, I would just open it once and take one little fun sized bar. That'd be it. I'd knot the bag back up and put it on top of the fridge.

Then I'd come back ten minutes later and take just one more fun sized bar, but in a different flavor.

Then three minutes later, I'd come back and grab one of each flavor, and keep one on the counter so I wouldn't have to un-knot the bag again.

Then two minutes later, I'd come back and grab two pieces of candy and leave the bag open.

Next thing you know, I've thrown caution to the wind and the bag of candy is in my lap and I'd unwrap the next candy before the first one is even chewed up.

Theoretically speaking of course, that's what could happen.

Meet My Nemesis

There she is. Up in that white plastic boutique bag on top of the fridge.

Her name is

Halloween Candy

and

I love her

and

I hate her

and

she's the reason I'll be hiding in my closet while the children fight over which cartoon to watch

and

she's the reason I'll have to go to The Club two extra times this week because while I was

hiding in my closet eating of her bounty, I tried on a pair of pants that fit two days ago, and now they won't button.

That's My Kind of Retirement Plan

This one is kind of out of left field:

What seems like a lifetime ago, certainly before kids (which is really two lifetimes), I used to live four blocks away from a retirement living community. Looking back now, I think it may have been more like a senior center that had apartments attached. Anyway, people kept telling me about this Donut Day there.

Every Thursday, the seniors would make fresh donuts. Apparently, they were super delicious and very cheap.  Being the one in my office that lived closest to the senior center, I was the designated donut picker-upper. My first time going, I had a warm fuzzy feeling. What a great program. Keeping seniors active, providing a place for them to meet. A little way to make some money for new programs and activities.

I walked up to the women with the cash box and told them I'd take a dozen donuts. I smiled at them, imagining my best friend and I together at that age. Chatting it up over coffee while manning the front door and handling the cash. I handed one of them a ten dollar bill. It was one of the "new" ones with the different colors. She took it with a suspicious eye and turned to her friend. "Are they taking these yet?"  "Nope" the other one replied.  As she handed the bill back to me, she asked if I had any other bills explaining "The slot machines at the casino don't recognize these yet. You got something else on you?"

I left a little less warm and fuzzy, but definitely with a different picture of my retirement.

Show Stopper

I put a show on at The Club today.

I didn't mean to.

There I was just minding my own business

when WHOOSH

a lady pulled open my shower stall curtain.

I tried to act all nonchalant.

I mean it does happen to me all the time,

at home at least,

by people wanting to know where their Dora doll is,

but never by a small woman who would ask me

"How's the water pressure in there?"

Depression isn't just for the suicidal

12 Things I Didn't Know About Depression....Until I figured out that I had Depression

I want to predicate this post with just a few thoughts. I do think that untreated depression can spiral out of control to fatal outcomes. I am thankful I haven't seen that kind of darkness. For me personally just getting to a point of recognizing there was a problem took a very long time. Maybe even up to a year. Tracking feelings and behaviors was a good start. Having a loving husband and supportive mother willing to help sort things out was and is key. I personally had a lot of preconceived notions about what "depression" was, so for a long time, I wrote it off as not being applicable to me. This post is just about that: addressing my own preconceptions about Depression.

1. You don't have to have suicidal thoughts to have depression

2. You can still think things are funny when you have depression

3. Depression and Anxiety are good friends and like to show up to the party holding hands

4. You don't have to sit on a couch and talk about your parents with a guy in an ugly cardigan to be treated for depression.

5. You can have a perfectly sweet life and still have depression

6. Depression isn't something to be ashamed of, even though it is really hard to talk about

7.  Feeling angry can be a symptom of depression/anxiety

8. Being told you have Depression is depressing, but telling people who love you about it creates a necessary support system

9. You don't have to figure out the "source" (if one even exists) to begin to move out of "that place"

10. There are times when drugs are better than hugs; seasons of depression/anxiety are one of those times.

11. Depression / Anxiety does not feel like that bummed out lady in the commercials that just walks around under a rain cloud so much as it does a really tiring wrestling match.

12. Keeping even a semi-clean house is virtually impossible with untreated depression. (Surely there's a study out there that can confirm this for me.)


My hope for you friends, is that when seasons come into your life when things are a real and constant struggle, that you be honest with yourself about how you are feeling. That you not let scary labels like "depression" and "anxiety" keep you from seeking the counsel of friends, family, therapists or medical professionals. 


"Oh God, grant that I might feel your strength this day. May I have the courage to face what is before me. Keep my heart light and filled with love. Amen."

Vacation Smaycation

Last week, our little brood was handed a 3 night stay at the Waldorf in Key West. It was a part business, part customer appreciation event that My Chef's co-worker had to cancel on at the last minute, so we gladly filled in.

When our Tazmanian Princess was just a wee little bundle of fat rolls, we used to go to "the lake" for long weekends. Inevitably during our 3 or 4 days away from home, My Chef would say something like "this vacation isn't very relaxing."  It was around this time that we realized that just because we didn't have to go to our respective jobs, didn't mean we'd get to be on vacation from all of our duties. The term "family vacation" really just meant that we'd be parenting in a different location.

Well, we had sort of forgotten this little anomaly. I mean just a few months ago, we'd spent two gloriously relaxing weeks in Minnesota. It was so dreamy. So last week we filled our car with sand toys and life jackets and snacks. We filled our heads with dreams of beach side massages and hammock naps. We were ready to have a mini version of our Minnesota vacation.

Eight minutes into our 7 hour car ride, the eye twitching started.  Twelve minutes later I was starting to doubt that we would even make it to our destination, little lone be able to enjoy three days on an island with two savages. 

We ended up having some serene moments. Some moments when our vacation really did seem like a vacation. Some moments sandwich in between the fighting and screaming and havoc wreaking, that we thought would be enough to fuel us on our 7 hour return car ride home.

But the next time we want our family vacation to be relaxing...we'll bring a grandma along.



There's Glitter Everywhere

Last year, I made a promise to myself and my children that I would put just a hair more effort into the holidays this year.  That we would get into the spirit of things by putting up those window cling skeletons and actually carve our pumpkins.

Well, it's a tad too early for the pumpkins.

But a few days ago, because it was raining non-stop,

because I couldn't bear to go to The Club one more day,

because My Chef was out of town for three whole days...

We bought our halloween costumes.

We entered The Boutique with the full intention of purchasing pirate costumes. The Taz had been talking about being Pirate Izzy and Daddy would be Captain Hook and Maggie could be Cubbie. All from Jake and the Neverland Pirates cartoon. I apparently was going to have to duke it out with her BFF for the role of Mr. Smee.

But then,

we entered the store

and there were dresses

they were shiny and had pearls on them

and tiara's and wands

and no,

they never wanted to be pirates

they'd always wanted to be

PRINCESSES!!

and yes,

Maggie needs the same exact dress

and WINGS!

everyone knows princesses have wings

And everyone knows The More, The Merrier

So we had an impromptu princess par-tay.

And everyone knows that princesses need mice to turn into horses to pull thier coach....

And since they got glitter everywhere, I turned into the Wicked Witch and made the wee-est one do chores.