Sweets and Smells

Sometimes this man of mine really makes me swoon ~ even if I giggle a few moments later.

Ryan came home from Germany bearing gifts. Last time he brought back T-shirts. This time it was something way more practical - chocolate!!!! Good stuff too. After he finished handing out small bites of candy to tiny hands, he told me there was one more present and to consider it an early Valentine.

It was a very large bottle of expensive perfume. He explained it was the only stuff he found that wasn't available in the United States. It smells wonderful! Then he made the mistake of looking it up on the internet. It is scheduled to be sold in the States by mid-March. I told him it was still special and I love him!

But dang it, now I can't send him those ruby ring links I have been gathering . . . although my birthday will be around the corner soon . . .

-Sara

No School Today, Yay . . .

These sentences literally came out of my mouth today, Martin Luther King Jr. Day, while eight kids roamed my house.

"Get that block of cheese out of your mouth! We slice it first!" - spoken to the 16 month old

"Who taught the baby how to open the fridge???"

"We have 47 weebles, are you really going to freak out because you can't find the yellow knight?" - spoken to the first and second graders

Through a door - "You will have to wait. I can't get the mp3 player away from the baby until I am done in the potty."

"In this house we don't draw initials into our peanut buttered toast. Sorry, it is just one of my rules."

"Absolutely no moon sand while babies are awake!"

"Nap time . . . . alright alright alright . . . bust out the moon sand"

"Yeah, you are right, not enough moon sand for four people, go grab the play doh too" - they were in heaven

"What do you mean your underwear got sucked down the toilet" - my poor niece had a meltdown, I promised her we would get her new ones (she was changing clothes in the bathroom).

- Sara

Silent Tears on Belated Christmas

Sometimes it is the small stuff that restores my faith to full force.

I could go into great detail about the first Christmas without my father. We all know I am excellent at the long winded blogs. However, it was mostly story free. Christmas Eve was spent with his extended family like usual. In the past ten years we only got him every other year at this function, so it wasn't too painful to not see him at Aunt B's. Christmas Day is always spent with Mom. Easy again to think of Dad as not there this year.

Early or Belated Christmas with Dad was special because we would have it anywhere between December 15th and January 5th. I thought I made it through the holiday season without a freak out moment, but it was a false hope. My Mom-L (a term we coined because Step-Mom just doesn't sound nice) tried to have us over last weekend, but she was ill and rain-checked until today.

Still I had it under control. We hung out for a few hours at the house. No gifts this year. We were to eat hot wings and watch the kids do crafts.

Then she pulled out unwrapped "gifts." We were mad at her until we figured out they weren't gifts at all, they were three bags of Dad's stuff. He was a pack rat. The bags were filled with random items that she drug out of a closet. I almost lost it, but I still held it together. I even fought back the tears as I came to a photo album filled with pictures of my dad with my kids at various ages. I had to fight the tears harder when I reached the spiral notebook filled with his college aviation notes. His handwriting was amazing. Left-handed block print so small it looked perfect.

But what got me was the song on the radio driving home - one of our songs. Four kids in the car, Ryan at home sick, and I was bawling in the front. The type of crying that has no noise. My face wasn't even horribly pinched, just an overwhelming amount of tears sliding down my cheeks faster than I could discreetly wipe them away.

I pulled into the gas station near Dad's house and did my best to look put together before walking into the store. This is the moment I will remember forever.

A very nice looking guy (for those who remember the 90s, think Color Me Badd's Bryan Adams, yes I am a sucker for a guy with a goatee) behind the counter rung up my soda and even though I thought I was masking my dismay fairly well, he said, "Oh darling, don't cry, it will get better."

I lost it. Again, no noise, no scrunched face, just tears streaming down. As he took my debit card he did a good job of trying to ignore the tears since he noticed I was trying my best to keep them at bay. He read my last name aloud and said it was familiar. Since he pronounced it correctly, unlike most, I knew he must know one of us. My tears stopped as he mentioned my aunt's name and I confirmed I was related to her. As I signed my debit card receipt, he told me again things will look up. At that point I felt I should say something about my sorrow. I didn't want him thinking I was a battered woman or victim of some crime. In a near whisper I said, "It's the first year without my dad."

Immediately his face changed and said, "Oh honey, I am in the same boat. My brother died last February." What is it with February? His brother died on the 18th; my father died on the 16th. He was so sweet. He didn't have to talk to the crazy crying lady, but he did. It was enough to make me feel a little less alone and I only cried half as hard the rest of the way home.

It sort of makes me wonder why I didn't just grab an extra Dr. Pepper out of the fridge at Dad's house. Or why I didn't go the short way home past the other gas station. Or why turned on the music radio station instead of my usual talk radio or mp3 of Harry Potter. I guess somethings happen for a reason.

-Sara

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree!

Here it is. My lovely tree as it stood on Christmas day at 3:00 AM. When we first put the tree up it had beautiful gold bows all lined up in a corner about three feet off the ground care of my oldest. There were also dozens of mismatched ornaments scattered by kid hands. Those lasted about three days. A Monday hit and a group of two year olds had fun pulling them off and sorting them into buckets. When our angel was placed at the top, she stood up straight and proud. About two weeks later while I was plating lunch, the "triplets" tried to use the top of the toy box as a sled. They propped it up against the tree and tried to climb aboard. It didn't work so well. Ryan wanted to fix her, but I asked him not to touch her. Although slightly crooked, she seemed to be looking down on the kids as they played.

Notice that small red bag near the top? Yeah, I didn't either. It wasn't until I told the kids I saw something in the tree (referring to their MP3 players I hid in it) that my oldest spotted the red bag for Mommy. Sometimes that man of mine tears me up!


This beautiful tree was sent to us by our loyal listener Shawn. The gate cracks me up! The last time I used a gate was to keep three 11 months old in my family room. It wasn't long before the triplets figured out they could use their combined weight pry it from its spot. Next I tried using furniture to help reinforce the gate. It wasn't long before they were scaling it! That was the end of our gate phase.

I have to mention Shawn, I am super jealous of your gorgeous fireplace and red wall! I really do need to pull out some paint around here and have fun. Oh, and I dig the blue tree skirt. I love blue :)

And on to my FAVORITE tree this year! Andrea from Minnesota sends us this picture, and I have to admit, at first it confused me. It was one of those days where I was only half paying attention to the screen, but then it hit me - it's her tree! I will let her tell the story herself as she is the self proclaimed reigning champ of pathetic Christmas trees:


"I came to know my first pathetic Christmas tree when I was 19 years old. I had finally taken the plunge into true adulthood by leaving home and becoming roommates with my very best friend who was renting a 1 bedroom apartment. My friend and had both just been laid off from our jobs and had absolutely no money for Christmas that year. In an effort to be creative and different my friend and I took a tall house plant that I had gotten as a house warming gift when I first moved in, and attempted to decorate it. Unfortunately the only thing we could use as decorations was tinsel. When we tried to put anything heavier than that on our "Christmas Plant" The poor thing would tip over spilling dirt on the table it was placed on.

My next encounter with the pathetic tree happened in 2002. I had been in my own place with my daughter for a little over a year. I had just met and began dating my husband that fall, and this was our first Christmas together. We were given a tree by uncle. He had gotten the tree as a hand me down from one of his neighbors. We knew the tree was fairly old but nothing prepared us for what happened when got it set up and ready to decorate. The some of the plastic pine needles would fall off every time we place and ornament on it. Pine needles falling off is something I would expect from a live Christmas tree not from a fake tree. My uncle was not kidding when he said the tree was old. This tree was ancient. To add to the "antique" charm of this tree were the hand me down ornaments that were without hooks to hang them with. My husband, the creative man that he is, ran out and bought a couple boxes of paper clips and we used those as hooks for the ornaments.

Now we come to the lovely tree that you see in the photos. Once again we were given a hand me down tree. This time our tree came complete with missing parts for the tree stand. My mom tried to rectify the situation by purchasing a tree stand from a local thrift store. Unfortunately the stand she purchased was intended for the wide trunk of a live tree. No matter how hard we tried we could not get the skinny trunk or our imitation tree to fit. My daughter was totally heartbroken and had fears that without a tree Santa would not be stopping at our home on Christmas Eve night. The mom in shot straight into action. While my kids were in my daughter's room watching a movie and my husband was out getting more tape to wrap gifts, I got out all the construction paper we owned and got to work. When my husband came home and saw what I was doing and how hard I was working at it. He hugged me, called me creative and proclaimed my paper tree the best Christmas tree he has ever had.

I call all my unique Christmas trees pathetic purely for the humor factor. In all honestly there is something beautiful about each pathetic tree that I have had. The first symbolized my independence as an adult on her own. The second is a symbol of the first and many more Christmases to come with my husband. The last tree shows that a mother will do just about anything to ensure that their child/children have the happiest holiday possible."

I LOVE it! Thanks to the listeners for sharing their tree pictures!

- Sara

I AM READY!!! ~ almost . . .

This is the most prepared for Christmas I have EVER been five days before the big day. With that being said, I still need two gifts for Ryan's side of the family (we did another drawing, don't get me started on drawings . . . ), my mother, my stepmom, the white elephant gift for the extended family party and a few gifts to even out the oldest two kids. That isn't too bad.

Although I also need to get the stocking staples: underwear, socks, toothbrush, hairbrush, toothpaste, earrings for one, matchbox cars for the other, and candy. I already covered the carebears, the lipsmackers, the quarters, makeup, and superballs. I am doing good.

Then again, I should go grab something for the BFFs. I haven't gotten them anything in three Christmases. Sounds horrible, but I prefer to give gifts when the moment hits me. Don't feel sorry for them. They get gifts about eight times a year. So I am still okay.

And Ryan, ugh. Buying him a gift is the hardest thing in the world. Some people are hard to buy for because they have everything. This isn't Ryan. Some people are hard to buy for because they are picky. That isn't Ryan. What makes him hard is he comes up with GREAT ideas. He will go on and on about what he wants. Then, he goes out and periodically buys everything on his list for himself. Ugh.

I guess this means I don't look prepared at all, but really, I swear I am. The two babies are done (assuming their ebay purchase gets here Friday like scheduled), the top of Santa's wish list is covered, 12 out of 14 blankets are completed, and my gift is done.

And really, aren't those the important ones :)

- Sara

TSO Tradition

Ryan and I have a Christmas tradition. For the past three years he has taken me to the TSO concert when it comes to town. The first year was hard. My baby daughter was only four months old and I didn't want to leave her. The only reason I went is because Ryan seemed so excited to go AND since I had left her a few weeks earlier to go to the Paul McCartney concert, I couldn't really pull out the "I can't leave the baby" card. (Hey, he's a BEATLE!!!! It's different) We went and it was amazing. Had I known lasers and shooting fire were involved, I wouldn't have whined so much.

When we went for the second time last year, my baby boy was even younger, but I knew how fun the show was going to be, so I went without one complaint. There were even MORE lasers and lights. Super fun.

This year I was looking forward to the Christmas concert, but I had already seen it twice, and thought it might be fun to take the older two kids. Ryan wasn't sure if they would sit through a three hour show on a school night, but he bought the tickets. It was my turn to be the overly excited one for the concert. It nearly broke my heart when my oldest was being a brat. She didn't WAAAAANT to go. She would be BOOOOOOORED. My defenses went up. "Fine," I told her. "If you don't like it and you are bored, next year your sister can go instead." This seemed to be a fair deal to her and she got in the car.

I am pretty sure the sight of the auditorium is the moment my kids began to realize this trip might be fun. They had only gone to events at the older and smaller auditorium in town. This one is much bigger. As we were headed to our seats, we ran into my ex-in-laws - small world!

Now the kids were extremely excited. They got popcorn and our seats, although a tad high up and further toward the back, were front row in our section. The kids wouldn't have to miss any moment behind some tall person's head.

The lights dimmed and the first song began. The instant the lasers hit, my kids let out a scream of amazement. It was the best!

Three hours was a bit long. Ryan even bought them some cotton candy midway to perk them up a bit. I told him it was horrible, but he wanted to make sure they got to see the finale. At one point, as my son began to drift out during a slower song, I put him in my lap. I began to tear up. It was the first time in a LONG time I got to snuggle with him. Before the second set of rugrats came along, he was my cuddle baby. I missed it. I took a moment to enjoy the moment and file the memory and hoped it wouldn't be the last time he crawled into my lap. Of course two songs later my daughter asked for a turn. Man, she is nearly as big as I am at this point, but I made it work.

All in all it was a great night. During the finale I asked my daughter, "Are you bored?" She looked at me with wide eyes and shook her head no.

I can't wait for next year.

- Sara

Blanket update

Ten blankets down, four to go!

Now I am trying to figure out what order to do them in case I run out of time. I could keep the new baby blanket last and claim I didn't know someone was pregnant (in our family, this happens a bunch). But at the same time, a newborn would benefit most from a baby blanket!

I suppose I will finish the baby one today sometime and work on the 10, 11, and 12 year old blankets next. I will keep you posted :)

- Sara

Cute Costumes~!

Thanks to Jennifer in Arkansas for sharing this adorable photo of her Annies on Halloween. She gets an award for most detailed outfits. Those are authentic Sandy dogs, red wig, and although you can't see them, Annie lockets. WAY TO GO JENNIFER! Don't worry, I already yelled at her for not going as Grace.

I have tried for the past four years to get Ryan to dress up with me. I was spoiled with a father who did. Can you believe my mother made those? I will have to ask my mom her secret. Maybe instead of asking Ryan to dress up, I should make him an outfit and cry about how important it is to me if he refuses . . . . man I am evil.

- Sara

Sara's Santa Story

And speaking of Santa . . . I don't know why more adults don't simply commit. I understand having trouble committing to relationships. The divorce rate is so high it is scary. I even understand the problems committing to a car. Shiny new models can easily turn very resonable people away from the idea of using a car until it won't run anymore - I get it.

But Santa? We can't commit to Santa? Santa is real and I am beginning to feel like I am the only adult out there defending him.

I vividly remember Christmas Eve when I was five or six years old. My older cousin, who was the smartest girl I knew, wanted to tell me a big secret. She led me into the entry way of my Grandparents house and told me Santa was really her parents. I couldn't wrap my brain around the concept. I wondered how my aunt and uncle could be Santa when they clearly didn't live at the north pole and were way too skinny! She tried to clear it up by saying she had seen them wrapping presents and my parents did the same thing. I didn't believe her. I knew MY parents didn't do such things.

Maybe it was the same year, or possibly the next Christmas, Santa came early. We had been at the Christmas Eve pageant at school followed by Grandmas house. When we got home, Santa had already come! We were able to open our presents before leaving for out of town. It COULDN'T have been my parents. They were with me all night.

As I got older, I am sure I had my doubts, but even by the age of 11 I still had a 6 year old brother who needed assurance that Santa would come to our house. There were a few years of trying the snoop method at Christmas, but I always came up short. He seemed real. He always brought the gifts my mother SWORE she would never get us. Nintendo was banned in my household, that is until Santa brought one.

In high school I was ready to get confirmation from the one person who always told me the truth. My brother, sister and I went to our mother to force the truth out of her. "Come on mom, we know about Santa, you can tell us. Seriously, admit it."

But she wouldn't budge. Finally she looked at the three of us very seriously and said, "Santa is real. He is the spirit of giving. Without him, no one would get presents. If you choose not to believe, I guess he will stop coming." That was all it took for me. I BELIEVE! My mother wasn't like my best friend's mom and dad. They got toys from the store all year round. In my house, presents and toys were only received on birthdays and from Santa. Since Santa was so generous, we never even got gifts from mom on Christmas. I BELIEVE! I know he is real because he hasn't stop coming. I still get presents under my moms tree.

Nearly 15 years later, after a serious conversation about school work, my daughter continued to linger around me with a weird smile on her face. I asked her if she had a question for me. "Is Santa really real?"

I grabbed both her hands and looked her straight in the eyes, "Yes, he's really real."

We went on to talk about how he is one of the few magical beings in this world. I was surprised at how little it took to assure her. Kids want to believe, and who wouldn't.

Do I feel guilty? Absolutely not. I have heard horror stories of kids scarred for life when they walked in on mom and dad. There were kids who hated their parents when they fessed up the truth. I even knew a girl in elementary school whose parents never had Santa visit. They didn't feel it was right to lie under any circumstances. I can respect that ideal.

What irks me to the core is the ones in the middle. Santa is so special, but he takes effort. Even my kids understand how busy Santa must be. He needs his helpers like the ones in the mall. That is where the commitment comes into play. Last year Santa's helpers weren't as careful as they should have been. A few gifts would have blown their cover, so they had to go back. I suppose next year Santa's workshop will have to move to Grandma's house to make sure his magic stays magical.

I know one thing that IS true across the board. When you stop believing, he stops coming. Since I don't get my kids presents on Christmas, I am guessing they will believe as long as I have.

And thanks Mom, for keeping the magic alive. In hind sight, the commitment was noticed. And it was greatly appreciated.

- Sara

Dear Santa, 2007

This is the first year my son has been able to write a Christmas list. I love Love LOVE how writings reflect the child. This is straight from his word document -

Dear Santa,

I would like Spy gear.
An I pod.
Moonsand.
A webkinz that is a monkey.
wood shop motor shop.
Electric guitar
Tommy 20
A car that has three wheels that can drive almost anywhere.
A phone.
A truck and you haft to pack be for it pops.
A trap that goes in your room.
A toothbrush that can make music in your head.
A reel snake.

Personally, I enjoy all the periods at the ends of the "sentences." It made me giggle when he was whining about his misspellings. I tried to tell him that Santa will know what he means, but he was still upset. "There are still words with wavy red lines! That means they aren't RIGHT!" He is a little perfectionist just like the rest of the family.

And literal! I love that he added "drive almost anywhere." Don't say it if you don't mean it. You can't drive it on the ceiling! The last line is also classic. With half the family allergic to pet dander, we have the rule - No pets with fur. I was trying to leave it open for fish. No, my child finds the lizard and reptile loop hole. I should have made the rule - nothing that breathes air.

It amazes me how high tech the lists are getting. Ipod, electric guitar and a phone? Seriously? A six year old? My seven year old daughter's list was simply - Ipod, camera, phone, video camera, and computer. I was waiting for her to ask for a car. I remember my parents saying things like - "kids these days grow up too fast," but this is ridiculous.

And what is with the stupid toys this year. A game where you have to pack the trunk of the SUV before the timer runs out? Sounds more like 2 AM as we are leaving for Colorado, not a game.

Color streaks for your hair? I understand the appeal, but really? You are going to sell a tube of colored hair gel along with a cheap plastic straightener type object? Yes, because that will get the results they show on the TV! Let's not leave out the bedazzeler for your hair. Save yourself some money and go get the hair jewels that have velcro on the back. You don't need a special contraption to attach them, and they slide right out.

Thank the LORD above they recalled the Aqua Dots. I was not looking forward to those all over my house. I am going to have a wonderful time as it is with the moon sand and play doh.

Or my all time favorite this year. A puppy who, over a few days, becomes a full grown dog. It also responds to the name you give him as well as yours. Okay, cute idea, but who is the moron who came up with the name for this toy? Puppy Grows and Knows Your Name. Trying to find it on google, yes, it works out, but come on! You are toy makers for crying out loud. Be creative!

"What are you going to name your baby?"
"Baby Sleeps and Nurses and Poops and will Eventually Hate You for Raising Him Wrong"

"Is this your husband?"
"Yes, his name is Big Tech Geek Who Pays the Bills and Keeps the Mamma Happy. This is our daughter Girl Eats Alot and Stays Up Late and Asks Too Many Questions. Our son Tiny Boy Who Doesn't Stop Talking and Thinks He's Sneaky."

Yes, this toy had me laughing for hours one slap happy night. Ryan was ignoring me, but I had my self so amused I had tears running down my face.

Okay, enough nonsense. I better go email Santa.

- Sara

Blankets Keep Blogger Busy

I am in the middle of a blanket marathon. My father's side of the family is fairly large - seven brothers and sisters. With that many aunts and uncles, there are 18 cousins. The next generation of cousins is growing every year as well. We are up to 17 with one on the way.

About four months ago I found myself in the midst of a dilemma. I was at my favorite craft store, standing in the middle of the yarn department knowing I was banned from buying more yarn until I had utilized more of my reserves at home. It was HORRIBLE! Skeins of super cute yarn were marked down to 99 cents. What is a crafter to do!? I simply needed a good reason to buy the fabulous yarn. Ta Da! The blankets for cousins plan was hatched.

I was able to buy enough colors for all the cousins under the age of four (including the one on the way): pink, light pink, blue, light blue, purple, light purple, yellow and peach. It was hard to keep the blankets a secret at Thanksgiving dinner, and I could have done it except for one minor detail - DJ. My cut off line was perfect, but he is pretty close. I asked my aunt if he would like a blanket.

Stay with me, this is how my mind works. If I make one for DJ, then I will also need to do one for his 11 year old sister. If I make one for her, then that only leaves my older cousin's kids, that is three more. Now I am up to 13 blankets. Who is missing? My four, they already have blankets . . . MY NIECE! I can't very well give all my second cousins blankets and leave out my niece. I made her one when she was an infant, but surely she doesn't remember. I went to my second favorite craft store on Black Friday to pick up more yarn.

Yes. I am trying to crochet 14 blankets. I picked a baby blanket pattern that takes four 3.5 oz skeins per blanket. Cross your fingers for me. Yesterday I hit the halfway mark. I am done with five baby blankets and two of the bigger kid ones. As long as I do one skein a day from now until Christmas (with a few days of two skeins thrown in there) I am perfectly on track.

I promise to bump up the blogging as my fingers heal :)

-Sara

Real Pain in the...

On Sunday, we did what thousands of other families do the weekend after Thanksgiving. (no, we didn't sleep off our turkey hangovers with our hands in the waistband of our pants while snoring on the couch watching football...) We put up our Christmas decorations. Our little Jelly Bean was quite fascinated with the whole process. She thought the multicolored lights were "really pretty", the glass balls were "really shiny", the snowman that I put around the house were "really sparkly"...I think you get the picture. Any-who, as we were assembling the Christmas tree, which by the was "really scratchy" I tried to get her to work on one of her wooden puzzles that usually keep her occupied for a few minutes at a time, allowing her dad and I to get something quick finished up without her underfoot. She was working on one that had shapes on it. It included a hexagon and an octagon, which when put back into the wooden board in the exact way they were cut out, fit quite nicely, but if you happen to get them turned around a little, you have a tough time wedging the little suckers in. (The puzzle maker didn't make all the sides exact) The conversation we have while I'm putting up the tree goes something like this...

her: "Mommy, this puzzle isn't playing nice"
me: "It isn't? Keep trying, you'll get it figured out"
her: "(some kind of moaning groaning sound and a big sigh)"
me: "Are you getting it?"
her: "This is a pain in the butt, Mommy."
me: (after trying not to laugh out loud) "Who did you hear say that?"
her: "Me. I said it. Silly Mommy..."
me: (directed to the hubby) "We really need to start being careful what we say. That could have very easily been a little worse."
him: "Heh, yeah, but at least she used it in the right context."

Proud papa, all the way. Way to go Jelly Bean!