Kyle mentioned to me that TAMN just blogged her best post ever. I was shocked he kept up on her blog, but that is beside the point. He said she had selected finalists for a weekend getaway make-over. "Oh! Did she pick me as one of the finalists?" I asked.
"No, Michelle, you are not a finalist. Tell me you didn't nominate yourself."
"Look at me? Don't I look like I need a makeover?"
Kyle did the smart thing and didn't answer the trick question.
Yes, it's totally embarassing that I did nominate myself. All I did was e-mail TAMN this picture and that pretty much sums it up. Of course when I read all the finalists' stories I slumped into my chair and hid my face in shame. For criminy sakes, I just wanted a weekend away to have someone get me out of my frumpy and fashion-less rut. You know, in the name of new years' resolutions--which reminds me, I have more confessions to make! I didn't mean to try and get Tamn to take pity on me without really having much of a reason to do so, especially when there are real women out there with REAL struggles. I really should get over myself.
In an effort to repent of my ways, I want to encourage you all to vote for Emily. She was my sister's nurse's aid when she had her baby last June. I'll let you do the reading to let you discover what makes her so incredible. Just click on this link and scroll down to the voting box and select next to Emily's name! All of the finalists have touching stories. It's just neat to have a connection with one of them. Hurry! The voting closes at Thursday at 11:59 pm!
Here's a little about her story:
"I'm Emily and I'm in total need of a makeover! I had two babies, 1 year and nine days apart. Our first, sweet Lilly, only lived 5 1/2 miraculous and amazing weeks. Such a joy that we decided to get pregnant again. Our next was a little boy, Ryker, born with a different birth defect, and lived 7 weeks at Primary's before passing. We are both in school, both work full-time, and are hoping to adopt. The makeover, the pictures, all that, could really help with our adoption and help me to feel good again (more human!)."
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
And we're outta there!
I never thought it would happen.
We really sold our house.
We really signed on the dotted line; rather we signed the 76 different documents and initialed in 17 other places. After gulping down a considerable loss and bartering our firstborn, we handed over the keys.
Those of you who believe in the Secret: I am living proof that living the opposite of what the Secret teaches is the way for the universe to succomb to my desires. After 3 weeks of living in a 70% packed up house, I decided to to hang up some pictures again, unpack the bathroom mats, and take a spontaneous trip to Alabama. (the secret would have me pack up my entire house and wait patiently with my forwarding adress form in hand. )
While we were away, whom should we get a call from but none other than our attorney to let us know that closing for REAL would happen on Thursday the 22nd.
CRUD!
We weren't due back into town until Tuesday afternoon. That gave me 36 hours to finish packing, load the truck and clean the house.
Somehow, it all happened. Actually, I know exactly how it happened. We had a lot of help from great friends that made it possible, and if I were to say any more about that I think I'd just start to cry.
{{brief sob session}}
I'm beyond grateful for the dear friends that came to my rescue in every possible way. From taking food out of my fridge and freezer to your own so I wouldn't have to waste food, to delivering a slice Portillo's chocolate cake to keep me going. From dropping by with toys for the kids' car ride, to helping me pack up my kitchen.... from showing up un announced to scrub my toilets to letting me use your washer and dryer when mine was loaded on the truck.... my heart is full of gratitude. Thanks from the bottom of my heart.
Once we finally pulled out of the driveway, I was really ready. We have so many fun memories in that cute little cape cod, but I was ready to leave it.
Ten things I WON'T miss:
1. The crazy neighbor lady. I swear, everyone else in our neighborhood is awesome, but we got stuck with these weird hippie/recluse -type people next door. She has something like 8 dogs and was always hollering at them to come back to the house, or screaming a string of profanities at her husband. It's a wonder either of them came back to her at the end of the day.
2. Closet-less children's rooms. I want to be selfish and have my own closet. Though I wonder if sharing one with the kids is better than sharing with Kyle. He has more clothes than I do...
3. Not having a garbage disposal. Darn well and septic...
4. Not being able to use the hose. Not sure why Kyle enforced that one.
5. Not being able to park under the tree in the front yard (Kyle was always afraid the dead branch was going to land on it. )
6. Leaves! LEAVES! Leaves! I will not miss those darn leaves.
7. People crashing into my front yard. It happened again just before we left the house. This time instead of taking out a tree, they just ran into the snow bank.
8. Steep stairs. If nothing else about our house screamed 1940's era, the stairs sure did. They were so steep. Cade fell down them and got a concussion and that sealed it for me.
9. Brown water. There is so much iron in the water that it's brown. Oh, except we bought an iron filter for it 2 months before we sold it that took care of the problem.
10. Blagojevich. Need I say more?
I am grateful it sold, but it does stink that we had to sell it for less than we bought it. It really hit me when we were given the check at closing. I nearly choked. I remember how much we came to closing when we bought the house because I was the one who went to the bank and withdrew the amount some 2 1/2 years ago. To see money vanish like that made me almost ill. Then my attorney, understanding my state of shock, told me to be grateful. He has witnessed many a closings where the seller had to come to closing with check. I am glad that is not me. But dang....
There's lots more that I will miss, but focusing on these things just makes leaving so much easier. That and the fact that we are coming back to the area in the spring. Just a different house.
We arrived this evening in Idaho after braving a harrowing, adventurous, and fun journey in wintery weather. Sure missed my Subie. I can't wait to be reunited with her!
Tomorrow we pick up the keys and sign our 3 month lease.
Stay tuned for:
Alabama Update
Savvy's birthday pics
Christmas pics (yes, Christmas)
Thanksgiving pics (yes, Thanksgiving!)
and of course, a good dose of Hilarious Cadeisms.
Savannah will also be making her debut on the side-bar. She is quite the talker and has cracked us up with some of her own thoughts.
In the mean time, cross your fingers someone in our new neighborhood has an unsecured wireless network so we can post. Otherwise, I am sure it will be at least a week before we get internet.
Good night!
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Bar Stool Economics
I know this is an oldie but a goody. I think it explains our tax system very well:
Suppose that every day, ten men go out for beer and the bill for all ten comes to $100. If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go something like this:
The first four men (the poorest) would pay nothing.
The fifth would pay $1.
The sixth would pay $3.
The seventh would pay $7.
The eighth would pay $12.
The ninth would pay $18.
The tenth man (the richest) would pay $59.
So, that's what they decided to do. The ten men drank in the bar every day and seemed quite happy with the arrangement, until on day, the owner threw them a curve.
"Since you are all such good customers," he said, "I'm going to reduce the cost of your daily beer by $20."Drinks for the ten now cost just $80.
The group still wanted to pay their bill the way we pay our taxes so the first four men were unaffected. They would still drink for free. But what about the other six men - the paying customers? How could they divide the $20 windfall so that everyone would get his 'fair share?'
They realized that $20 divided by six is $3.33. But if they subtracted that from everybody's share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would each end up being paid to drink his beer. So, the bar owner suggested that it would be fair to reduce each man's bill by roughly the same amount, and he proceeded to work out the amounts each should pay.
And so:
The fifth man, like the first four, now paid nothing (100% savings).
The sixth now paid $2 instead of $3 (33%savings).
The seventh now pay $5 instead of $7 (28%savings).
The eighth now paid $9 instead of $12 (25% savings).
The ninth now paid $14 instead of $18 (22% savings).
The tenth now paid $49 instead of $59 (16% savings).
Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued to drink for free. But once outside the restaurant, the men began to compare their savings.
"I only got a dollar out of the $20,"declared the sixth man. He pointed to the tenth man,
" but he got $10!"
"Yeah, that's right," exclaimed the fifth man. "I only saved a dollar, too. It's unfair that he got ten times more than I!"
"That's true!!" shouted the seventh man.
"Why should he get $10 back when I got only two? The wealthy get all the breaks!"
"Wait a minute," yelled the first four men in unison. "We didn't get anything at all. The system exploits the poor!"
The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up.
The next night the tenth man didn't show up for drinks, so the nine sat down and had beers without him. But when it came time to pay the bill, they discovered something important. They didn't have enough money between all of them for even half of the bill!
And that, boys and girls, journalists and college professors, is how our tax system works. The people who pay the highest taxes get the most benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being wealthy, and they just may not show up anymore. In fact, they might start drinking overseas where the atmosphere is somewhat friendlier.
David R. Kamerschen, Ph.D.
Professor of Economics
University of Georgia
Suppose that every day, ten men go out for beer and the bill for all ten comes to $100. If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go something like this:
The first four men (the poorest) would pay nothing.
The fifth would pay $1.
The sixth would pay $3.
The seventh would pay $7.
The eighth would pay $12.
The ninth would pay $18.
The tenth man (the richest) would pay $59.
So, that's what they decided to do. The ten men drank in the bar every day and seemed quite happy with the arrangement, until on day, the owner threw them a curve.
"Since you are all such good customers," he said, "I'm going to reduce the cost of your daily beer by $20."Drinks for the ten now cost just $80.
The group still wanted to pay their bill the way we pay our taxes so the first four men were unaffected. They would still drink for free. But what about the other six men - the paying customers? How could they divide the $20 windfall so that everyone would get his 'fair share?'
They realized that $20 divided by six is $3.33. But if they subtracted that from everybody's share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would each end up being paid to drink his beer. So, the bar owner suggested that it would be fair to reduce each man's bill by roughly the same amount, and he proceeded to work out the amounts each should pay.
And so:
The fifth man, like the first four, now paid nothing (100% savings).
The sixth now paid $2 instead of $3 (33%savings).
The seventh now pay $5 instead of $7 (28%savings).
The eighth now paid $9 instead of $12 (25% savings).
The ninth now paid $14 instead of $18 (22% savings).
The tenth now paid $49 instead of $59 (16% savings).
Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued to drink for free. But once outside the restaurant, the men began to compare their savings.
"I only got a dollar out of the $20,"declared the sixth man. He pointed to the tenth man,
" but he got $10!"
"Yeah, that's right," exclaimed the fifth man. "I only saved a dollar, too. It's unfair that he got ten times more than I!"
"That's true!!" shouted the seventh man.
"Why should he get $10 back when I got only two? The wealthy get all the breaks!"
"Wait a minute," yelled the first four men in unison. "We didn't get anything at all. The system exploits the poor!"
The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up.
The next night the tenth man didn't show up for drinks, so the nine sat down and had beers without him. But when it came time to pay the bill, they discovered something important. They didn't have enough money between all of them for even half of the bill!
And that, boys and girls, journalists and college professors, is how our tax system works. The people who pay the highest taxes get the most benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being wealthy, and they just may not show up anymore. In fact, they might start drinking overseas where the atmosphere is somewhat friendlier.
David R. Kamerschen, Ph.D.
Professor of Economics
University of Georgia
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Would you
rent a house if this was in your 4 year-old son's room? Actually it's not Cade I'm worried about. 
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Bacon Explosion: The BBQ Sausage Recipe
Since my wife has had several rants/posts recently, I have had several requests to post something manly. This is as manly as I could muster and hope you like it. Your heart won't, but I know you'll hit the gym after consumption.
2 pounds thick cut bacon2 pounds Italian sausage1 jar of your favorite barbeque sauce1 jar of your favorite barbeque rub
To kick off the construction of this pork medley you’ll need to create a 5×5 bacon weave. If the strips you’re using aren’t as wide as the ones pictured, then you may need to use a few extra slices to fill out the pattern. Just make sure your weave is tight and that you end up with a nice square shape to work with.
Now that you’re pork is well seasoned, it’s time to add more pork. Take two pounds of Italian sausage and layer it directly on top of your bacon weave. Be sure to press the sausage to the outer edges of the bacon creating a patty that is the same thickness all the way across. Most grocery stores carry loose sausage, so just pick out one you like. I chose to go with a mild sausage, but spicy would work just the same. If you really want to get crazy, take a stab at making your own homemade sausage.
Sprinkle some barbeque seasoning on the outside of the bacon weave, and now this bad boy is ready for the smoker. Cook your Bacon Explosion at 225 degrees in a constant cloud of hickory smoke until your Thermapen gives an internal temperature reading of 165 degrees. Normally this will take about 1 hour for each inch of thickness, but that could vary depending on how well you maintain your fire and also how many times you open the smoker to take a peek. Mine took about 2.5 hours, which was right on target with its 2.5 inch diameter.
Now that our Bacon Explosion is fully cooked, we need to add some finishing flavors. Remember that barbecue sauce we used for inner flavor? We’ll be using that same sauce to glaze the cooked bacon weave. Using a basting brush, coat the entire surface with a thin layer of sauce. Sweet sauces are loaded with sugars, so they’ll give your fatty a nice glossy finish. Spicy and vinegar based sauces don’t contain as much, so they won’t set up as well. If you’re dead set on using those sauces, just cut them with a bit of honey and you’ll get the same effect.
Slice the Bacon Explosion into quarter to half inch rounds to serve. If your roll was good and tight, you should now see a nice bacon pinwheel pattern throughout the sausage. Obviously pork is best served by itself, but if you feel the need to make this meat monster into a sandwich, try placing a couple Bacon Explosion slices on a warm Pillsbury’s Grands Biscuit. You’ll reach pork Nirvana is no time flat!
2 pounds thick cut bacon2 pounds Italian sausage1 jar of your favorite barbeque sauce1 jar of your favorite barbeque rub
To kick off the construction of this pork medley you’ll need to create a 5×5 bacon weave. If the strips you’re using aren’t as wide as the ones pictured, then you may need to use a few extra slices to fill out the pattern. Just make sure your weave is tight and that you end up with a nice square shape to work with.
Now that you’re pork is well seasoned, it’s time to add more pork. Take two pounds of Italian sausage and layer it directly on top of your bacon weave. Be sure to press the sausage to the outer edges of the bacon creating a patty that is the same thickness all the way across. Most grocery stores carry loose sausage, so just pick out one you like. I chose to go with a mild sausage, but spicy would work just the same. If you really want to get crazy, take a stab at making your own homemade sausage.
Next up is bacon layer number two. Take the remaining bacon slices and fry them up the same way you would for breakfast (or lunch, or dinner, or a midnight snack). If you like soft bacon, make it soft. If you like crunchy bacon, make it crunchy. If you like your bacon burnt to hell so the smoke detectors go off, then burn it to hell so the smoke detectors go off. These pieces are going to be a major part of the inner flavor of our sausage fatty, so cook them your favorite way. Personally, I like my bacon right at the point when it starts to get crispy, but hasn’t quite lost all of the softness yet. Regardless of how well done you like yours, you’ll need to crumble or chop the cooked strips into bite size pieces and place on top of the sausage layer. (Note-It’s okay, and encouraged, to snack on these pieces while your chopping/crumbling. But keep in mind that once those bacon morsels touch the raw sausage, you’ll need to resist all temptations to nibble. This can and will be difficult, but hospital trips are no fun, so stay strong.)
At this point we can start to see the final shape of our Bacon Explosion, but we’re missing one key item. To complte the constuction process, roll the sausage forward completely wrapping it in the bacon weave. Make sure it sits with the seam facing downward to help keep it all sealed up.
Sprinkle some barbeque seasoning on the outside of the bacon weave, and now this bad boy is ready for the smoker. Cook your Bacon Explosion at 225 degrees in a constant cloud of hickory smoke until your Thermapen gives an internal temperature reading of 165 degrees. Normally this will take about 1 hour for each inch of thickness, but that could vary depending on how well you maintain your fire and also how many times you open the smoker to take a peek. Mine took about 2.5 hours, which was right on target with its 2.5 inch diameter.
Now that our Bacon Explosion is fully cooked, we need to add some finishing flavors. Remember that barbecue sauce we used for inner flavor? We’ll be using that same sauce to glaze the cooked bacon weave. Using a basting brush, coat the entire surface with a thin layer of sauce. Sweet sauces are loaded with sugars, so they’ll give your fatty a nice glossy finish. Spicy and vinegar based sauces don’t contain as much, so they won’t set up as well. If you’re dead set on using those sauces, just cut them with a bit of honey and you’ll get the same effect.
Slice the Bacon Explosion into quarter to half inch rounds to serve. If your roll was good and tight, you should now see a nice bacon pinwheel pattern throughout the sausage. Obviously pork is best served by itself, but if you feel the need to make this meat monster into a sandwich, try placing a couple Bacon Explosion slices on a warm Pillsbury’s Grands Biscuit. You’ll reach pork Nirvana is no time flat!**disclaimer: this isn't my recipe and I didn't create it. Just found this on Stumbleupon.com and thought it was great material for a post**
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Working Overtime and Revealing Secrets
So how did I do yesterday with the speaking sweetly and being patient?
Fairly well, actually. And then 6 o'clock hit and the Beast Mom emerged for a split second when Cade was told for the sixth time to stop teasing his sister. I was so close. Just an hour shy of bed time and I could have claimed a victory. Alas.
The cyle remains the same: After the moment of frustration/anger/exasperation passes, the guilt quickly sets in, and I reflect upon my decision to become a parent, and all the responsibilities that come with it and once again I promise to myself I am going to be better and do more.
Approaching and passing through different seasons of young-motherhood, I snicker at myself as I stumble so much along the way. Five years ago I was pregnant with my first child. FIVE YEARS! Have I changed much in five years? Honestly? Not nearly as much as I'd like to have. I still have old habits I've wanted to break since I was 16, and personality defects that I wish to reprogram. I still am not a morning person, I am chronically tardy, hopelessly un-cool when it comes to style (i've struggled with that all my life. see picture below), and when I'm upset rarely is there an in-between. I either fly off the handle or give the silent treatment. When I think that FIVE years have passed and how LONG that really is, I get this pit in my stomach. Part of me wishes I could turn the dial on Marty McFly's DeLorean and start over again. Cade's almost in school and I feel like I've failed the poor kid. I've not cherished his time home. I've wished away way too many moments, and have so much still to teach him before I let him loose in the wide, wide world of bigness.
Homeschooling is sounding better each day.
I hate having that pit in my stomach. That pit says, "You are losing the battle against time, Michelle. Think of all you could have done. All the fun places you could have taken him, all the great games you could have played with him, but instead--- this is the place you are in. A place of remorse, regret, and a place that can never buy you back those years."
Is this what parenting is all about? Regret? Wishing time would slow or turn back? Are we always wishing the kids to stop growing? I feel like I am. Cade's first year was such a blur it makes me cry. I was still in college at the time. His second year was fun and I did enjoy that, however I kept looking toward that next stage in life. The stage of permanence and being done with school and not moving around so much. (haha. oh the irony. I guess we are destined to be nomads) The year after that was miserable because I was pregnant, then once that was over, Cade hit the horrible threes and I spent much of my time wishing those days away.....and here we are and I am in a place again where I love this sweet little boy and now it's almost time for me to give him up.
Kyle loves to tease me and talk to me about when Cade gets married. He thinks it'll make me cry, but honestly, that just seems so inconceivable that I can't even register the thought. And then I bring up to him about Savvy going on her first date and that usually keeps him quiet. But still, if these last 5 years has passed so quickly, before you know it, I'll be blogging about my son's upcoming wedding. Oh my.
Like anyone else when a new year begins, I am always ready to commit to be a better me. I want to study my scriptures more diligently, pray more earnestly, speak more lovingly, do more for others, keep a better house, cherish moments with my little ones, develop new talents and resurrect old ones. My list is the same almost every year, it just gets a little longer with time.
And then January 2nd hits and I'm back to the old me.
Of course I am still desiring all of the same things, but I am not getting the results I'd hoped for. I get discouraged, and I don't do a good job of dealing with reality (such is the case right now. Clearly I am not dealing with the state of Limbo as well as I'd like!)
Each time I have a conversation with my parents, I am always reminded that being a parent truly is a life-long job that does not end when your kids fly the coop and tie the knot. And bless my parents' hearts, they are always working overtime. Each of us are out of the nest and married. While they should be off relaxing, enjoying the extra space, reaping their rewards for years of sacrifice on behalf of my siblings and I, instead they spend their time counseling, advising, and cheering me on. My mother sent me an e-mail yesterday with a wonderful talk enclosed. It was beautiful, and just what I needed to read. My father e-mailed me the Joy-school nativity coloring sheets and promised me a lesson on sticky buns the next time I visited.
I think I shed a few tears when he told me that.
---
Part II.
Although I don't own a T.V., I have quickly became a huge fan of the Biggest Loser. (It may have started because it was one of the only clean primetime shows with full episodes available to watch on the internet, but I was soon hooked) In fact, I am a fan of any program that enlists people to set a goal to lose weight. I appreciate the vulnerability a weightloss challenge plagues each contestant with. It is raw and real. These people are overweight. They know it, and they want to change it. And they are willing to do it, vices and all, in front of the world. The amazing thing is, they DO it!
If I were invited to go on a show that was attempting to break me of all my bad habits and sins of omission, I'd probably run away from the chance. But the contestants are brave and set aside their pride and walk into a big wide world of unknown. And as the weeks go by, pounds are shed and a new person emerges. It is the most incredible sight. I am empowered by those people, and yet, discouraged at the same time. My vices are not quite so visible. Many of the things I want to change and work on are entirely personal and take place in my home in front of no one.
So in order to achieve my goals, I guess I need to do the same thing as Michelle Aguilar (a coincidence that this season's biggest loser shares my namesake AND age? I think not!). Admit to the world, rather the blogosphere which contains my small circle of loyal followers, my weaknesses and my plan to overcome them.
Yes, I am going to share my shortcomings (not all of them! Are you crazy? I still have to have my secrets!) and then the goal I am going to shoot for to help rid me of them.
#1 I am going to work on my style. (okay guys, STOP laughing!!! Seriously.) I'm going to be more polished in my appearance and try and shed the frumpies. I will stop wearing the clothes in my closet that are "okay" and only wear what I love and feel good in. I will put those make-up tips that I learned from the gay guy at the Mac counter to use instead of swearing next time I get ready I'll allow for more time so I can really try out the new eye shadow I bought.
I know you're probably thinking, "Woah, that's kind of a shallow goal to start with, Michelle." Yes, my friends, it is. It is also more encompassing than you realize. I feel like in order to really get a jump start in working toward some goals, paltry or lofty, I need to feel good about me. If you're still not convinced, look at this:
This picture totally sums up who I need to stop being. It was taken right before I went to college. Notice the sore thumb at the end on the right sticking out? Yeah, that's me. All those other cute girls have updated 'dos and digs. They are all cute in their jackets and skirts while I am wearing a hand-me-down dress (it was from one of the pictured girls actually! She had the sense to part with it, while I still clung to the long, floral dress look because.... because it was free??? I have no idea. Just simply because I didn't really know better and I thought it looked good).
Sadly, this pattern remains. I am about 3 years behind what is considered stylish. Once I got married my hip friends have had to leave it to Kyle to try and keep me in style, and while he is far better at keeping up with what's hot and hip (on a budget. this guy loves to shop at thrift stores!), he's just too nice to tell me the brutal truth. (That's one of the many reasons why I love him) For some reason I still cling to styles that are....less than flattering. Every once in a while I find something off the rack (at Target no less, because I don't go clothes shopping unless I happen to be grocery shopping too) that is outside of my comfort zone and I'll wear it once or twice, and then it collects dust.
Beyond clothes and makeup, I am stuck in the rut of perpetual bad hair days. I rarely love what I see in the mirror simply because I don't take the time to do anything about it! That is what I hope to change. I don't plan on going on a shopping spree or anything. I've got clothes in my closet. I just need to ban myself from wearing the sweats all the time and put more effort into me. I find that when I reeeeally get ready for the day, I am much more productive and optimistic. And I'm probably more patient, too.
With this so-called style I am hoping to achieve also assumes the responsibility of shedding the "softies" as I like to call them. I may be happy with my weight, but I am certainly far from the tone girl I was back in the High School Glory Days. Time to hit the pavement (or the gym) and let the softies go. Don't kid yourself, you guys. I am not parting with my Oreos. I'm not even attempting to cut down. I'll just try to eat more veggies than I do chocolate.
In closing, I wish to apologize to Kyle's faithful male followers of this blog. I'm sure he'll write a more man-appealing post soon.
Fairly well, actually. And then 6 o'clock hit and the Beast Mom emerged for a split second when Cade was told for the sixth time to stop teasing his sister. I was so close. Just an hour shy of bed time and I could have claimed a victory. Alas.
The cyle remains the same: After the moment of frustration/anger/exasperation passes, the guilt quickly sets in, and I reflect upon my decision to become a parent, and all the responsibilities that come with it and once again I promise to myself I am going to be better and do more.
Approaching and passing through different seasons of young-motherhood, I snicker at myself as I stumble so much along the way. Five years ago I was pregnant with my first child. FIVE YEARS! Have I changed much in five years? Honestly? Not nearly as much as I'd like to have. I still have old habits I've wanted to break since I was 16, and personality defects that I wish to reprogram. I still am not a morning person, I am chronically tardy, hopelessly un-cool when it comes to style (i've struggled with that all my life. see picture below), and when I'm upset rarely is there an in-between. I either fly off the handle or give the silent treatment. When I think that FIVE years have passed and how LONG that really is, I get this pit in my stomach. Part of me wishes I could turn the dial on Marty McFly's DeLorean and start over again. Cade's almost in school and I feel like I've failed the poor kid. I've not cherished his time home. I've wished away way too many moments, and have so much still to teach him before I let him loose in the wide, wide world of bigness.
Homeschooling is sounding better each day.
I hate having that pit in my stomach. That pit says, "You are losing the battle against time, Michelle. Think of all you could have done. All the fun places you could have taken him, all the great games you could have played with him, but instead--- this is the place you are in. A place of remorse, regret, and a place that can never buy you back those years."
Is this what parenting is all about? Regret? Wishing time would slow or turn back? Are we always wishing the kids to stop growing? I feel like I am. Cade's first year was such a blur it makes me cry. I was still in college at the time. His second year was fun and I did enjoy that, however I kept looking toward that next stage in life. The stage of permanence and being done with school and not moving around so much. (haha. oh the irony. I guess we are destined to be nomads) The year after that was miserable because I was pregnant, then once that was over, Cade hit the horrible threes and I spent much of my time wishing those days away.....and here we are and I am in a place again where I love this sweet little boy and now it's almost time for me to give him up.
Kyle loves to tease me and talk to me about when Cade gets married. He thinks it'll make me cry, but honestly, that just seems so inconceivable that I can't even register the thought. And then I bring up to him about Savvy going on her first date and that usually keeps him quiet. But still, if these last 5 years has passed so quickly, before you know it, I'll be blogging about my son's upcoming wedding. Oh my.
Like anyone else when a new year begins, I am always ready to commit to be a better me. I want to study my scriptures more diligently, pray more earnestly, speak more lovingly, do more for others, keep a better house, cherish moments with my little ones, develop new talents and resurrect old ones. My list is the same almost every year, it just gets a little longer with time.
And then January 2nd hits and I'm back to the old me.
Of course I am still desiring all of the same things, but I am not getting the results I'd hoped for. I get discouraged, and I don't do a good job of dealing with reality (such is the case right now. Clearly I am not dealing with the state of Limbo as well as I'd like!)
Each time I have a conversation with my parents, I am always reminded that being a parent truly is a life-long job that does not end when your kids fly the coop and tie the knot. And bless my parents' hearts, they are always working overtime. Each of us are out of the nest and married. While they should be off relaxing, enjoying the extra space, reaping their rewards for years of sacrifice on behalf of my siblings and I, instead they spend their time counseling, advising, and cheering me on. My mother sent me an e-mail yesterday with a wonderful talk enclosed. It was beautiful, and just what I needed to read. My father e-mailed me the Joy-school nativity coloring sheets and promised me a lesson on sticky buns the next time I visited.
I think I shed a few tears when he told me that.
God uses your faith to mold your character. Character is the manifestation of what you are becoming. Strong moral character results from consistent correct choices in the trials and testing of life. Your faith can guide you to those correct choices. Clearly, it is what you do and what you think about that determine what you are and what you will become. Therefore, the choices you make need to be inspired by the Lord. Others can encourage you to make the right decisions, but those choices must not be prescribed by them. You need to ponder, pray, and exercise faith to willingly make choices consistent with the teachings of the Master. Such choices are made with trust in things that are believed and when acted upon will be confirmed. Only enough guidance is given to lead you aright and not to weaken your growing character. That guidance will solidify your trust in Heavenly Father and the Savior.And that, my friends, is just what I needed. A little love and encouragement from my earthly parents and I feel like I can get back on my two feet and try again, and then fall to my knees and turn to my Heavenly Parents for the strength to do it again, even if I fail.
Faith will forge strength of character available to you in times of urgent need. Such character is not developed in moments of great challenge or temptation. That is when it is used. Character is woven patiently from threads of principle, doctrine, and obedience. In James we read: “The trying of your faith worketh patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.” The bedrock of character is integrity. Worthy character will strengthen your capacity to obediently respond to the direction of the Spirit. Righteous character is what you are becoming. It is more important than what you own, what you have learned, or what goals you have accomplished. It allows you to be trusted. Righteous character provides the foundation of spiritual strength. It enables you in times of trial and testing to make difficult, extremely important decisions correctly even when they seem overpowering. I testify that neither Satan nor any other power can weaken or
destroy your growing character. Only you could do that through disobedience. {The Sustaining Power of Faith in Times of Uncertainty and Testing byElder Richard G. Scott}
---
Part II.
Although I don't own a T.V., I have quickly became a huge fan of the Biggest Loser. (It may have started because it was one of the only clean primetime shows with full episodes available to watch on the internet, but I was soon hooked) In fact, I am a fan of any program that enlists people to set a goal to lose weight. I appreciate the vulnerability a weightloss challenge plagues each contestant with. It is raw and real. These people are overweight. They know it, and they want to change it. And they are willing to do it, vices and all, in front of the world. The amazing thing is, they DO it!
If I were invited to go on a show that was attempting to break me of all my bad habits and sins of omission, I'd probably run away from the chance. But the contestants are brave and set aside their pride and walk into a big wide world of unknown. And as the weeks go by, pounds are shed and a new person emerges. It is the most incredible sight. I am empowered by those people, and yet, discouraged at the same time. My vices are not quite so visible. Many of the things I want to change and work on are entirely personal and take place in my home in front of no one.
So in order to achieve my goals, I guess I need to do the same thing as Michelle Aguilar (a coincidence that this season's biggest loser shares my namesake AND age? I think not!). Admit to the world, rather the blogosphere which contains my small circle of loyal followers, my weaknesses and my plan to overcome them.
Yes, I am going to share my shortcomings (not all of them! Are you crazy? I still have to have my secrets!) and then the goal I am going to shoot for to help rid me of them.
#1 I am going to work on my style. (okay guys, STOP laughing!!! Seriously.) I'm going to be more polished in my appearance and try and shed the frumpies. I will stop wearing the clothes in my closet that are "okay" and only wear what I love and feel good in. I will put those make-up tips that I learned from the gay guy at the Mac counter to use instead of swearing next time I get ready I'll allow for more time so I can really try out the new eye shadow I bought.
I know you're probably thinking, "Woah, that's kind of a shallow goal to start with, Michelle." Yes, my friends, it is. It is also more encompassing than you realize. I feel like in order to really get a jump start in working toward some goals, paltry or lofty, I need to feel good about me. If you're still not convinced, look at this:
This picture totally sums up who I need to stop being. It was taken right before I went to college. Notice the sore thumb at the end on the right sticking out? Yeah, that's me. All those other cute girls have updated 'dos and digs. They are all cute in their jackets and skirts while I am wearing a hand-me-down dress (it was from one of the pictured girls actually! She had the sense to part with it, while I still clung to the long, floral dress look because.... because it was free??? I have no idea. Just simply because I didn't really know better and I thought it looked good).
Sadly, this pattern remains. I am about 3 years behind what is considered stylish. Once I got married my hip friends have had to leave it to Kyle to try and keep me in style, and while he is far better at keeping up with what's hot and hip (on a budget. this guy loves to shop at thrift stores!), he's just too nice to tell me the brutal truth. (That's one of the many reasons why I love him) For some reason I still cling to styles that are....less than flattering. Every once in a while I find something off the rack (at Target no less, because I don't go clothes shopping unless I happen to be grocery shopping too) that is outside of my comfort zone and I'll wear it once or twice, and then it collects dust.
Beyond clothes and makeup, I am stuck in the rut of perpetual bad hair days. I rarely love what I see in the mirror simply because I don't take the time to do anything about it! That is what I hope to change. I don't plan on going on a shopping spree or anything. I've got clothes in my closet. I just need to ban myself from wearing the sweats all the time and put more effort into me. I find that when I reeeeally get ready for the day, I am much more productive and optimistic. And I'm probably more patient, too.
With this so-called style I am hoping to achieve also assumes the responsibility of shedding the "softies" as I like to call them. I may be happy with my weight, but I am certainly far from the tone girl I was back in the High School Glory Days. Time to hit the pavement (or the gym) and let the softies go. Don't kid yourself, you guys. I am not parting with my Oreos. I'm not even attempting to cut down. I'll just try to eat more veggies than I do chocolate.
In closing, I wish to apologize to Kyle's faithful male followers of this blog. I'm sure he'll write a more man-appealing post soon.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Being in control of your life is so overrated
You guys are the best. I feel like I have my own little corner cheering section as I read through your comments of my last screaming post. Thanks. And if I had a camera right now I'd take a picture of what I am staring at to let you know just what exactly your words of optimism are up against. Oh, the frustration of living sort of, mostly but not really all packed up. All my books are off of the shelves. Any decor that once held some notion of "I make a house a home" is stacked up against the wall on the floor, and there are empty and full bins and boxes everywhere.
Calgon, take me away.
As I sit on the couch and ponder what I have (or have not) ahead of me in the coming days (oh heavens, even weeks, months, YEARS!) I am choosing to dream myself back to this moment:
By the way Mom and Dad, thank you! This was their Christmas present to Kyle and I. They didn't know it at the time, but this is what I chose to get for us. Not fair? I know. I spent about 70% of the Christmas money on surfing lessons. Kyle didn't want to take them for some reason. Probably because he loved me so much he wanted to make sure he got some awesome shots of me riding the waves to show our posterity for years to come. Thanks, hon. The remaining 30% was all yours. ;)
Oh, to be propped up on a surf board in Hawaii, looking across the picturesque horizon for the perfect wave sounds really, really good right now. Instead I await our future with ZERO control of the outcome:
A. Closing on our house totally falls through. I stay here and unpack home as much as I dare, rehang the curtains and the pictures, and single mom it while Kyle travels. House goes back on market and I pull out my hair again every time I have a showing.
B. Closing happens. I finish packing up, cleaning, and spend an unknown amount of time consoling my four year-old and explaining why I ripped him away from his school, friends, and everything good and right in his life up to this point. We move to an unknown location. I'm not saying its an undisclosed location. I'm saying it's UNKOWN. Ugh.
C. Closing does happen, but it takes another 2 weeks and we don't know closing will happen until the day before. In the mean time, we hang out here living out of boxes, eating off paper plates (sorry, Earth), and telling everyone we don't know what we're doing. Again.
I realize I've been doing a lot of grumbling and much, much less being grateful for my current circumstances. Maybe I just need another trip back to the Ecuadorian orphanages to remind me of all I do have. Life is hard, we are supposed to experience trials and through all, we are to enjoy the journey. Heavens, I've poured out that line of advice dozens of times-- even in the last 12 months. And I meant it. I felt it. I believed it! And all things considered, this isn't really that bad of a spot to be in. But the 13 year-old in me wants to scream, "I don't want to handle this maturely! I don't feel like taking it in stride right now!" So, in an effort to ward off the self-absorbed, pre-menstrual, pouty-faced 8th grader inside of me, I've decided I need some sort of goal to work through until everything pans out. A good, wholesome, enjoy-the-journey promoting goal. Of course if I think about it, there's a zillion things to work on. But what takes the very most of my energy?
I mentioned to my Mom my big decision I made for the morrow and she admitted it was a pretty lofty goal, but wished me luck anyway. All this angst and frustration I have--- well, I am going to channel that into focusing on the way I communicate with my kids. I vow to answer every single "MOOOOOOM!" with a sweet, "Yes, dear?" and every single "Why does ____ ____ ____?" with a gentle, informative, and valid answer. I will refrain from answering even the most obvious of why questions when I'm at the end of my rope with unintelligable words and phrases to try and get my children to lose interest in their question (come on, you've done it before.... haven't you?).
I will have patience for a sick, whiny child (I hear Savvy coughing and whaling now.... dang. Should've taken her to the witch doctor when she was still open). I will smile brightly and bounce out of bed when the sun (or son) wakes me up long before my body wants to. I will not mind the sticky crud under my feet in the kitchen floor when I realize someone didn't clean up their spill. I will not grumble under my breath when I smell pee in the bathroom. I will not steam at the sight of dirty socks (other than my own of course) on the floor.
I will rejoice in motherhood, all aspects of it. I will sing praises to Kyle for providing me a life full of adventure and sponteinaity. I will eat cake. I will work out. I will smile. I will laugh. I will.....um...er...
I'll endure.
Keep you posted on the all other stuff I guess.
Breathing in.... breathing out..... breathing in...... breathing out......
Friday, January 2, 2009
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Whew. Well, I wish that made me feel better, but there is something about a typed out scream that just doesn't get out the inner frustration the way a real scream does. But instead of focusing on what is making me scream, indulge me for a moment (or an hour) while I share our holiday happenings....
At about 4:59pm on Christmas Eve I finally stopped packing and proclaimed the next 24 hours to be a vacation. We piled in the car and headed for IHOP, a great place for a Holiday Meal. You might not pick it as your A#1 place for a traditional holiday meal, but you do have to consider that it is very family friendly, my kids love, love, LOVE pancakes, Kyle loves himself an omelet, and I as you know, love a plate of anything set before me. So it wasn't your traditional Christmas Ham meal, but it was a meal, and we all were happy to be eating. After licking our platters clean Kyle gasped and said he locked his keys in the car and told me to look in my purse for a spare. Well whaddaya know? I found a remote to the Honda! I've wanted one for so long!!! To be able to lock and unlock the car or pop the trunk from a distance has been a dream of mine for a very long time. What a luxury!
With our kids high on syrup we headed to neighbor Barb's for the remainder of our festivities. (she was out of town and told us we were welcome to it since our own house is a disaster of boxes). We had the intent of watching the Nativity, but I couldn't find the remote to the DVD player so instead of scrolling down two titles, we watched the first one selected: Mr. Krueger's Christmas. It was a great movie, though growing up as a little girl I always thought it was such a depressing one and it made me sad thinking of all the lonely folks there must be on Christmas. This time around it didn't seem like such a melancholy movie. Perhaps I am more mature? Or maybe my heart has been hardened ove the years and I am more self centered. Hmmm. Considering Savannah's attention span, the 5 minute Nativity movie would have been a better choice. Krueger's story was a little long, but the continued appearances of the cat George kept her vaguely interested and excited.
Following the movie (boy is it nice to watch something on a big screen as opposed to our laptop. It's kind of dangerous. One of these days Kyle will come home to a flatscreen and we'll be stuck in front of it for 2 weeks straight) we headed upstairs for cookie baking, nativity coloring, and santa gluing. I just had one sheet of cookie dough that was perfect for 3 cookies. We baked them, and while they cooled we followed Sheppard tradition of coloring, cutting out, and displaying in a box the nativity. Problem was I didn't have THE nativity worksheets that I've colored from for the last 23 years. That was sad. I could have sworn I had a scanned copy on the computer somewhere, but alas, I was stuck googling "pre-school nativity coloring sheets" and getting a random, non-1980s=Joy-School version of the nativity. Tragedy. But hey, I continued with tradition as best i knew how. This is where Kyle learned first hand how much Cade HATES to color. It was so sad. The kid was so nervous to color out of the lines it caused him to break down in tears whenever he did. Savannah, of course, loved the coloring, lines or no lines and went to town. Kyle tried to boost Cade's confidence and get him excited about coloring, but Cade really really didn't want to finish for fear of going outside the lines. I was so heart broken that I tried to psycho-analyze the whole situation afterwards while lying awake after everyone was in bed. These were the possible reasons as to why Cade has such a hard time using a crayon on paper:
1. I have been too hard on the poor kid in other areas of his life so now his forced perfectionism is borderline extreme that it's hindering his ability to be creative
2. I haven't been building his confidence artisticly speaking, and did not provide him with enough opportunities while he was still young and impressionable to express himself; thus the tears and the fear.
3. I didn't watch any art or painting shows while he was in the womb.
4. The poor kid was just born this way and time will only heal his anxiety.
Back to Christmas Eve. So Cade was melting down over the Crayolas and Savannah was borderline lethal with crayons she was so excited. It came time to glue the cotton balls on the worksheet of Santa's face Cade actually got into that, since there weren't lines involved. Well, until Savannah starting teasing him and taking his cotton balls. I gently directed their attention to the cookies and we iced and decorated them. Once there were more than enough candy corns on them I said, "Great! Santa is going to love these cookies. Let's go find a plate to put them on!"
Cade instantly had a melt down. He fell to the floor screaming "I hate Santa! I hate Christmas. I don't want any cookies!" Translation: YOU TRICKED ME! I thought these cookies were for me. I am NOT sharing these with Santa. THAT'S NOT FAIR!!!
Poor kid. Granted, I probably should have picked one of the three crafts to do and put them to bed. It was wayyyyy past their bedtimes, but in the name of Christmas traditions, I HAD to do them all. Kyle was a great sport, very supportive of handling the meltdowns, (he knew 90% of their cause was sleep deprivation), and that meant a lot to me.
Once the little ones were nustled in their beds (Cade fell asleep in 2 minutes flat) I reminded Kyle that Santa had contracted him out to put together Savvy's gift. The look of realization on his face was priceless. Kyle was exhausted. From what, I don't recall. But he was pooped, and he wanted nothing more than to eat those sugar cookies and go to BED. He had totally forgotten about the work ahead of him. But out he went, near tears I might add, and retrieved Savvy's gift and pulled out the instructions, the screws, the doo-dads, the boards, and began assembling a darling little kitchen for his princess. (if it was for me, I don't think he would have done it. But for Savannah--- he'd do anything for her!) Meanwhile I set out the sticky buns (another tradition). Kyle finally finished the kitchen, ate a sugar cookie and nearly gagged. That's the price you pay for buying the Pillsbury sheets of cookie dough and not baking them from scratch. Yuck. After Kyle went to bed, I stayed up for a bit cleaning, and setting out a few more things and helping Santa fill the stockings. I don't think my kids caught me kissing him.
Christmas morning Cade ran into my bedroom screaming "MOM! Santa came down the chimney and brought me a THOMAS TRAIN!!!" He then proceeded to bring in all his gifts one at a time and show me. It was so cute watching his enthusiasm. Finally Savannah woke up and Cade led her to the Promised Land. The girl didn't skip a beat. As soon as she saw the kitchen she squealed with delight and began whipping up breakfast for us. That was my first time in the living room and boy was I delighted. I got an ice cream maker attachment for my Kitchen Aid! My husband knows me better than I do. For nearly a year I have been asking for a wheat grinder attachment for my kitchen aid. In the name of being prepared and having something to grind my wheat with, I thought this was a very responsible and reasonable request. Well, Kyle knows that if we are in a crisis the first thing I'll need is a sugar boost. Not bread. It was a big surprise and I bet Kyle wasn't planning on getting it until he saw it either. (I found the receipt. It was purchased at 4:12 pm on Christmas Eve. )
I was beyond disappointed when I noticed the sticky buns weren't like my mom's. They looked hard boulders with sprinkled sugar. I don't know what happened, but the last 3 tries, my sticky buns have been a total failure and I think I have scared Kyle away from even desiring them. Kyle was polite and ate one before finishing off the IHOP leftovers. The kids didn't even try one. "Come on, they taste like donuts, only better!" I said. But to no avail. They just wanted hot chocolate. Maybe next year???
We then headed to the tree where Cade proved to be a master gift unwrapper. His enthusiasm was priceless. The kids were spoiled rotten. Between grandparents, neighbors and cousins, we would have been perfectly fine filling their stockings with coal. At one point, Kyle and I were cancelling their birthdays and next Christmas to make up for in influx of inventory. It was nice to lounge in our jammies, take in the day, and forget about the pending move, toys and all. (as much as you can when everything is in boxes around you!)
We all (except for Cade of course.) took a nap, and before we knew it, it was time to head to our dear friends for Christmas dinner. (You can't go to IHOP twice for Christmas). It was so nice to eat around a big table full of traditional yummies with great company.
Althought my attempts in carrying on family traditions turned out less than ideal, I learned that is one of the most important callings as a mother. I am in charge of making sure they happen. Whether the traditions play out as perfect as a Norman Rockwell painting or end in disaster, it will add to the memories years to come. It was indeed a Merry Christmas, tears, fits and all.
Pictures to come... eventually. Now I will return to screaming. More later!
At about 4:59pm on Christmas Eve I finally stopped packing and proclaimed the next 24 hours to be a vacation. We piled in the car and headed for IHOP, a great place for a Holiday Meal. You might not pick it as your A#1 place for a traditional holiday meal, but you do have to consider that it is very family friendly, my kids love, love, LOVE pancakes, Kyle loves himself an omelet, and I as you know, love a plate of anything set before me. So it wasn't your traditional Christmas Ham meal, but it was a meal, and we all were happy to be eating. After licking our platters clean Kyle gasped and said he locked his keys in the car and told me to look in my purse for a spare. Well whaddaya know? I found a remote to the Honda! I've wanted one for so long!!! To be able to lock and unlock the car or pop the trunk from a distance has been a dream of mine for a very long time. What a luxury!
With our kids high on syrup we headed to neighbor Barb's for the remainder of our festivities. (she was out of town and told us we were welcome to it since our own house is a disaster of boxes). We had the intent of watching the Nativity, but I couldn't find the remote to the DVD player so instead of scrolling down two titles, we watched the first one selected: Mr. Krueger's Christmas. It was a great movie, though growing up as a little girl I always thought it was such a depressing one and it made me sad thinking of all the lonely folks there must be on Christmas. This time around it didn't seem like such a melancholy movie. Perhaps I am more mature? Or maybe my heart has been hardened ove the years and I am more self centered. Hmmm. Considering Savannah's attention span, the 5 minute Nativity movie would have been a better choice. Krueger's story was a little long, but the continued appearances of the cat George kept her vaguely interested and excited.
Following the movie (boy is it nice to watch something on a big screen as opposed to our laptop. It's kind of dangerous. One of these days Kyle will come home to a flatscreen and we'll be stuck in front of it for 2 weeks straight) we headed upstairs for cookie baking, nativity coloring, and santa gluing. I just had one sheet of cookie dough that was perfect for 3 cookies. We baked them, and while they cooled we followed Sheppard tradition of coloring, cutting out, and displaying in a box the nativity. Problem was I didn't have THE nativity worksheets that I've colored from for the last 23 years. That was sad. I could have sworn I had a scanned copy on the computer somewhere, but alas, I was stuck googling "pre-school nativity coloring sheets" and getting a random, non-1980s=Joy-School version of the nativity. Tragedy. But hey, I continued with tradition as best i knew how. This is where Kyle learned first hand how much Cade HATES to color. It was so sad. The kid was so nervous to color out of the lines it caused him to break down in tears whenever he did. Savannah, of course, loved the coloring, lines or no lines and went to town. Kyle tried to boost Cade's confidence and get him excited about coloring, but Cade really really didn't want to finish for fear of going outside the lines. I was so heart broken that I tried to psycho-analyze the whole situation afterwards while lying awake after everyone was in bed. These were the possible reasons as to why Cade has such a hard time using a crayon on paper:
1. I have been too hard on the poor kid in other areas of his life so now his forced perfectionism is borderline extreme that it's hindering his ability to be creative
2. I haven't been building his confidence artisticly speaking, and did not provide him with enough opportunities while he was still young and impressionable to express himself; thus the tears and the fear.
3. I didn't watch any art or painting shows while he was in the womb.
4. The poor kid was just born this way and time will only heal his anxiety.
Back to Christmas Eve. So Cade was melting down over the Crayolas and Savannah was borderline lethal with crayons she was so excited. It came time to glue the cotton balls on the worksheet of Santa's face Cade actually got into that, since there weren't lines involved. Well, until Savannah starting teasing him and taking his cotton balls. I gently directed their attention to the cookies and we iced and decorated them. Once there were more than enough candy corns on them I said, "Great! Santa is going to love these cookies. Let's go find a plate to put them on!"
Cade instantly had a melt down. He fell to the floor screaming "I hate Santa! I hate Christmas. I don't want any cookies!" Translation: YOU TRICKED ME! I thought these cookies were for me. I am NOT sharing these with Santa. THAT'S NOT FAIR!!!
Poor kid. Granted, I probably should have picked one of the three crafts to do and put them to bed. It was wayyyyy past their bedtimes, but in the name of Christmas traditions, I HAD to do them all. Kyle was a great sport, very supportive of handling the meltdowns, (he knew 90% of their cause was sleep deprivation), and that meant a lot to me.
Once the little ones were nustled in their beds (Cade fell asleep in 2 minutes flat) I reminded Kyle that Santa had contracted him out to put together Savvy's gift. The look of realization on his face was priceless. Kyle was exhausted. From what, I don't recall. But he was pooped, and he wanted nothing more than to eat those sugar cookies and go to BED. He had totally forgotten about the work ahead of him. But out he went, near tears I might add, and retrieved Savvy's gift and pulled out the instructions, the screws, the doo-dads, the boards, and began assembling a darling little kitchen for his princess. (if it was for me, I don't think he would have done it. But for Savannah--- he'd do anything for her!) Meanwhile I set out the sticky buns (another tradition). Kyle finally finished the kitchen, ate a sugar cookie and nearly gagged. That's the price you pay for buying the Pillsbury sheets of cookie dough and not baking them from scratch. Yuck. After Kyle went to bed, I stayed up for a bit cleaning, and setting out a few more things and helping Santa fill the stockings. I don't think my kids caught me kissing him.
Christmas morning Cade ran into my bedroom screaming "MOM! Santa came down the chimney and brought me a THOMAS TRAIN!!!" He then proceeded to bring in all his gifts one at a time and show me. It was so cute watching his enthusiasm. Finally Savannah woke up and Cade led her to the Promised Land. The girl didn't skip a beat. As soon as she saw the kitchen she squealed with delight and began whipping up breakfast for us. That was my first time in the living room and boy was I delighted. I got an ice cream maker attachment for my Kitchen Aid! My husband knows me better than I do. For nearly a year I have been asking for a wheat grinder attachment for my kitchen aid. In the name of being prepared and having something to grind my wheat with, I thought this was a very responsible and reasonable request. Well, Kyle knows that if we are in a crisis the first thing I'll need is a sugar boost. Not bread. It was a big surprise and I bet Kyle wasn't planning on getting it until he saw it either. (I found the receipt. It was purchased at 4:12 pm on Christmas Eve. )
I was beyond disappointed when I noticed the sticky buns weren't like my mom's. They looked hard boulders with sprinkled sugar. I don't know what happened, but the last 3 tries, my sticky buns have been a total failure and I think I have scared Kyle away from even desiring them. Kyle was polite and ate one before finishing off the IHOP leftovers. The kids didn't even try one. "Come on, they taste like donuts, only better!" I said. But to no avail. They just wanted hot chocolate. Maybe next year???
We then headed to the tree where Cade proved to be a master gift unwrapper. His enthusiasm was priceless. The kids were spoiled rotten. Between grandparents, neighbors and cousins, we would have been perfectly fine filling their stockings with coal. At one point, Kyle and I were cancelling their birthdays and next Christmas to make up for in influx of inventory. It was nice to lounge in our jammies, take in the day, and forget about the pending move, toys and all. (as much as you can when everything is in boxes around you!)
We all (except for Cade of course.) took a nap, and before we knew it, it was time to head to our dear friends for Christmas dinner. (You can't go to IHOP twice for Christmas). It was so nice to eat around a big table full of traditional yummies with great company.
Althought my attempts in carrying on family traditions turned out less than ideal, I learned that is one of the most important callings as a mother. I am in charge of making sure they happen. Whether the traditions play out as perfect as a Norman Rockwell painting or end in disaster, it will add to the memories years to come. It was indeed a Merry Christmas, tears, fits and all.
Pictures to come... eventually. Now I will return to screaming. More later!
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