Top five things I loved about this Christmas:
5. Spending time with family
4. Eating Christmas dinner outside by the pool while listening to steel drum
Christmas music
3. Seeing ICE at the Gaylord Palms on Christmas Eve
2. Seeing the Rawls Road Christmas Lights on Christmas night
1. Swimming in my pool with my kids on Christmas Day
Top five things I hated about this Christmas:
5. Not having my dad or my dog with us
4. Having all of the stress catch up with me at 10:30 pm on Christmas Eve
3. No stores open at 10:30 pm on Christmas Eve that sell toy ponies
2. Having my Ipod blow up on Christmas morning, taking with it all of my playlists
1. Having sick kids on Christmas
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men...
...and even to that woman in line in front of you at the store that just had to price check every other item and only AFTER she gets the total does she begin to search her too-big-to-carry-on-a-plane purse for her checkbook. And then she starts to write the check "Who do I make it out to?" while you stand in line imagining ways to quietly and discreetly dispose of this woman.
Seriously...I love that part in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" where Linus goes into the spotlight and explains what Christmas is all about. (Yes, I KNOW it's really from the bible, but it's more fun from the cartoon, and kids - and pseudo immature grown-ups - can relate to it better from Linus.) Anywho... that Linus part always makes me tear up a little.
I actually had a Verizon cell phone Rep wish me a "Merry Christmas" on the phone yesterday. How fabulous is that? I still haven't gotten the whole can-we-celebrate-Christmas-and-say-Merry-Christmas controversy. The majority of the US population is Christian, so most of us do Christmas. We have co-existed with the Jewish folks for what seems like forever, and we've had no problems. I send "Christmas Cards" to many people who are Jewish. It's not an attempt to run my religious choice in their faces or to try to convert them. It's just a way to reach out once a year and say "hey - we're thinking about you, and we hope you are doing well. Here's some cute pictures of our kids." Most of my Jewish friends send cards to us too (although they are much more conscientious and usually seek out Christmas specific cards. So thoughtful.) I mean really - what is all the fuss about? Christmas - once you get past the commercial trappings - celebrates GOOD things that EVERYONE should want: peace, goodwill, generosity, giving, friends, family. Who doesn't want that stuff?
So for the next few days, I'm going to task you with a mission: spread peace and goodwill. Take 30 seconds today and realize how much you have to be thankful for. Stop wrapping for 20 seconds and look at your pretty Christmas tree. When you are out shopping, and you are in a line of traffic in your car, let someone in front of you. Or maybe even 2 or 3 people. Take all of the change you have in your house and dump it into the red Salvation Army tin at the grocery store. Spend 5 minutes sending an email to a few people who have helped you get through the year. Hug your spouse, kids, fiance, whoever. Don't let the stress and the crowds and the noise and the cranky in-laws get you down. Realize that any gift - even if you hate it - is nice. I mean - hey! Someone thought about you and got you something. Isn't that gesture nice in and of itself?
So you little elves - get out there and try to be happy. Try to ENJOY the next few days. To any and all who read this: I wish you a very Merry Christmas, a Happy Holiday season, and a super-duper blessed and prosperous New Year.
(You can pick yourself up off the floor now. Yes - I am being uncharacteristically upbeat and positive today. Look for the likely post-script to this tonight after I've braved the grocery store and attempted to find a box big enough for the Barbie house...) ;)
Promised post-script...11:38 pm on 12/23...not too bad. Wonderful, loving husband did all the grocery shopping and cooked dinner too. I had to clean house (which I do anyway), and then I spent 4 somewhat successful hours in the kitchen baking. I had one batch of my fail-safe cake cookies that turned out well (no fancy shapes or decorations - that would just be asking too much of me.) I made a bunch of buckeyes (chocolate covered peanut butter balls), which were a family tradition until my Nanny passed away. Unfortunately, I didn't come anywhere near her results. Maybe the recipe I have needs a little tweaking. I also made a mega batch of Peanut Butter fudge and a regular sized batch of regular fudge. Jury is still out on those - won't be able to taste them until tomorrow. (Although Bart poses this interesting question: if there's no chocolate in the fudge is it still really "fudge"?) Still doing laundry and dealing with sick kid, but otherwise all is well...Ho Ho Ho
Seriously...I love that part in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" where Linus goes into the spotlight and explains what Christmas is all about. (Yes, I KNOW it's really from the bible, but it's more fun from the cartoon, and kids - and pseudo immature grown-ups - can relate to it better from Linus.) Anywho... that Linus part always makes me tear up a little.
I actually had a Verizon cell phone Rep wish me a "Merry Christmas" on the phone yesterday. How fabulous is that? I still haven't gotten the whole can-we-celebrate-Christmas-and-say-Merry-Christmas controversy. The majority of the US population is Christian, so most of us do Christmas. We have co-existed with the Jewish folks for what seems like forever, and we've had no problems. I send "Christmas Cards" to many people who are Jewish. It's not an attempt to run my religious choice in their faces or to try to convert them. It's just a way to reach out once a year and say "hey - we're thinking about you, and we hope you are doing well. Here's some cute pictures of our kids." Most of my Jewish friends send cards to us too (although they are much more conscientious and usually seek out Christmas specific cards. So thoughtful.) I mean really - what is all the fuss about? Christmas - once you get past the commercial trappings - celebrates GOOD things that EVERYONE should want: peace, goodwill, generosity, giving, friends, family. Who doesn't want that stuff?
So for the next few days, I'm going to task you with a mission: spread peace and goodwill. Take 30 seconds today and realize how much you have to be thankful for. Stop wrapping for 20 seconds and look at your pretty Christmas tree. When you are out shopping, and you are in a line of traffic in your car, let someone in front of you. Or maybe even 2 or 3 people. Take all of the change you have in your house and dump it into the red Salvation Army tin at the grocery store. Spend 5 minutes sending an email to a few people who have helped you get through the year. Hug your spouse, kids, fiance, whoever. Don't let the stress and the crowds and the noise and the cranky in-laws get you down. Realize that any gift - even if you hate it - is nice. I mean - hey! Someone thought about you and got you something. Isn't that gesture nice in and of itself?
So you little elves - get out there and try to be happy. Try to ENJOY the next few days. To any and all who read this: I wish you a very Merry Christmas, a Happy Holiday season, and a super-duper blessed and prosperous New Year.
(You can pick yourself up off the floor now. Yes - I am being uncharacteristically upbeat and positive today. Look for the likely post-script to this tonight after I've braved the grocery store and attempted to find a box big enough for the Barbie house...) ;)
Promised post-script...11:38 pm on 12/23...not too bad. Wonderful, loving husband did all the grocery shopping and cooked dinner too. I had to clean house (which I do anyway), and then I spent 4 somewhat successful hours in the kitchen baking. I had one batch of my fail-safe cake cookies that turned out well (no fancy shapes or decorations - that would just be asking too much of me.) I made a bunch of buckeyes (chocolate covered peanut butter balls), which were a family tradition until my Nanny passed away. Unfortunately, I didn't come anywhere near her results. Maybe the recipe I have needs a little tweaking. I also made a mega batch of Peanut Butter fudge and a regular sized batch of regular fudge. Jury is still out on those - won't be able to taste them until tomorrow. (Although Bart poses this interesting question: if there's no chocolate in the fudge is it still really "fudge"?) Still doing laundry and dealing with sick kid, but otherwise all is well...Ho Ho Ho
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
A Borrowed Blog...
This was written by Jenny Runkel, wife of Hal Runkel of the "Scream Free Parenting" program. For those of us (like me) who have (as recently as last night) felt like sleeping until Jan. 2nd, with an occasional break to yell at someone, this might make you feel a little better. Enjoy!
The Grinch That Stole Mommy
By Jenny Runkel
I hate the Christmas season. Ok, maybe hate is too strong a word. That's the problme with being a writer. Everyone pays really close attention to your words and if you're not careful, they come back to haunt you in one way or another. So which word really pinpoints my feelings about Christmas? Bitterness? Melancholy? Cynicism? Dread? Hmm…that has a nice ring to it. Yes, I think that just might be it. I dread Christmas.
Sad, but true. I dread “the most wonderful time of the year.” I should be traipsing around town spreading cheer and drinking Peppermint Lattes, but I just can’t. To tell you the truth, I feel more like curling up into the fetal position and trying to sleep my way through the craziness. There is just something panic-inducing about the month of December. I have never sat down to try and outline what makes me so anxious whenever I hear Bing Crosby dreaming of a White Christmas, but with another yuletide quickly approaching, it’s high time I did just that.
Maybe it’s the catalogs that arrive before I’ve even finished sneaking the KitKats out of my kids’ Halloween bags. Those things are relentless. The catalogs, I mean. They clog my mailbox daily, promising lifetime guarantees on “gift solutions that make life easier.” Let’s think about that for a moment. Does a chocolate fondue fountain really make my life easier? What about a hand-held gnome that repeats phrases you give it in a “gnome accent?" You know what would really make my life easier? Not getting any more catalogs! Maybe it’s the supermarkets. I went to the grocery store on November 1st this year to do my weekly shopping. I expected the Halloween candy to be on sale and I knew Thanksgiving trimmings would greet me at the door—stacks of cranberry sauce, perhaps even rows of Indian corn. What I didn’t expect was to be hit in the face by Christmas. Literally. A gigantic inflatable Santa smacked me in the head just as I walked down the greeting card aisle. On November 1st! The clerk hauling Jolly St. Nick to his appointed spot apologized profusely, saying that she didn’t see me around the corner, but I know better. I saw the look on Santa’s face as they headed down aisle 14 to meet up with the candy canes. He was definitely smirking.
Maybe it’s the magazines lining the checkout counters. While I’m wrestling my kids away from the Skittles (and remembering that one of them hasn’t had a dentist appointment in ages), I’m faced with photos of darling children in precious Christmas sweaters making their own ornaments and baking cookies while Mom is scrapbooking the moment as it happens. AUGH!!!!
And then it hits me. I don’t really dread Christmas itself. It’s the pressure of the Holidays that make me woozy. All the glitz and glitter that the stores and commercials try to sell us has left me feeling empty and small. Real holidays, at least the holidays I’ve experienced, usually involve hurt feelings and awkward conversations. The catalogs, stores, and magazines don’t show you that side of things. They show the plastic side of Christmas.
It’s not the decorations or shopping that make me crazy, it’s the expectations that I’ve attached to those things. I’ve been listening to my inner “Should” without even recognizing it. This voice tells me what I’m supposed to do, how I’m supposed to look, how my children are supposed to behave. Apparently, it doesn’t stop there, though. It also tells me what the Holidays are supposed to be like. It tells me that I should bake cookies and put up Christmas lights. I should get the perfect gifts for my kids’ teachers, crossing guards, and coaches (not to mention friends and family). I should decorate the house and create a warm, cozy environment. I should write the perfect holiday letter and take the perfect holiday photo. I should catch up with all my long lost friends who send those same perfect letters and photos to me. I should record all these fantastic moments for eternity with pictures and videos. And I MUST do it all in precious Christmas sweaters.
I’m exhausted just thinking about it all. I am paralyzed by the sheer volume of things that need to be done. What am I doing to myself? To my family? This is Christmas, not the Mommy Olympics. Although sometimes it feels like it, there is no one watching my every move and waiting to give me a score, The loud echo of The Should doesn’t have to govern my actions and attitudes
No more! I am a smart, successful woman. I have the power and ability to overcome the lure of The Should and start enjoying the winter wonderland along with the best of them. From now on, I will listen to a new voice in my head. One that is a little more gentle, a little more wise and a lot more sane. I will call this my Maya Angelou voice. She sits on a windowsill in my mind waiting to comfort me with a smile and a nod. When I feel the urge to deck something other than the halls, I will hear her say to me in her warm, buttery voice,
“It’s ok to say no. You don’t need to attend all those parties and volunteer for every activity.”
“Put your feet up and take care of you for a change. When’s the last time you had some peace and quiet?”
“You are not alone. Just about everyone gets stressed around the holidays.”
“Be creative. There is not one right way to do everything. Revel in your unique approach.”
“Work smarter, not harder. Figure out what you’re not great at and let someone who is lend you a hand.”
“Enjoy the little moments. You will one day miss the way your child furrows her brow when writing to Santa.”
“Be gentle with yourself and with others. That is a gift worth giving.”
My inner Angelou. She makes me feel better already. There’s one problem with my plan. The Should won’t go away easily. It’s comfortable in my head. It’s been there for a long time and if I’m not careful, it will choke out Maya at the first sign of stress. I’ve got to think up a way to take that annoyingly persistent whine out of my head before it ruins yet another Christmas.
An epiphany! I know what I will do. I will order the Talking Gnome. I can give my Should another home and this time, instead of sounding like me, it will have a “silly gnome accent”. Maybe that Gnome really will make my life easier, after all.
The Grinch That Stole Mommy
By Jenny Runkel
I hate the Christmas season. Ok, maybe hate is too strong a word. That's the problme with being a writer. Everyone pays really close attention to your words and if you're not careful, they come back to haunt you in one way or another. So which word really pinpoints my feelings about Christmas? Bitterness? Melancholy? Cynicism? Dread? Hmm…that has a nice ring to it. Yes, I think that just might be it. I dread Christmas.
Sad, but true. I dread “the most wonderful time of the year.” I should be traipsing around town spreading cheer and drinking Peppermint Lattes, but I just can’t. To tell you the truth, I feel more like curling up into the fetal position and trying to sleep my way through the craziness. There is just something panic-inducing about the month of December. I have never sat down to try and outline what makes me so anxious whenever I hear Bing Crosby dreaming of a White Christmas, but with another yuletide quickly approaching, it’s high time I did just that.
Maybe it’s the catalogs that arrive before I’ve even finished sneaking the KitKats out of my kids’ Halloween bags. Those things are relentless. The catalogs, I mean. They clog my mailbox daily, promising lifetime guarantees on “gift solutions that make life easier.” Let’s think about that for a moment. Does a chocolate fondue fountain really make my life easier? What about a hand-held gnome that repeats phrases you give it in a “gnome accent?" You know what would really make my life easier? Not getting any more catalogs! Maybe it’s the supermarkets. I went to the grocery store on November 1st this year to do my weekly shopping. I expected the Halloween candy to be on sale and I knew Thanksgiving trimmings would greet me at the door—stacks of cranberry sauce, perhaps even rows of Indian corn. What I didn’t expect was to be hit in the face by Christmas. Literally. A gigantic inflatable Santa smacked me in the head just as I walked down the greeting card aisle. On November 1st! The clerk hauling Jolly St. Nick to his appointed spot apologized profusely, saying that she didn’t see me around the corner, but I know better. I saw the look on Santa’s face as they headed down aisle 14 to meet up with the candy canes. He was definitely smirking.
Maybe it’s the magazines lining the checkout counters. While I’m wrestling my kids away from the Skittles (and remembering that one of them hasn’t had a dentist appointment in ages), I’m faced with photos of darling children in precious Christmas sweaters making their own ornaments and baking cookies while Mom is scrapbooking the moment as it happens. AUGH!!!!
And then it hits me. I don’t really dread Christmas itself. It’s the pressure of the Holidays that make me woozy. All the glitz and glitter that the stores and commercials try to sell us has left me feeling empty and small. Real holidays, at least the holidays I’ve experienced, usually involve hurt feelings and awkward conversations. The catalogs, stores, and magazines don’t show you that side of things. They show the plastic side of Christmas.
It’s not the decorations or shopping that make me crazy, it’s the expectations that I’ve attached to those things. I’ve been listening to my inner “Should” without even recognizing it. This voice tells me what I’m supposed to do, how I’m supposed to look, how my children are supposed to behave. Apparently, it doesn’t stop there, though. It also tells me what the Holidays are supposed to be like. It tells me that I should bake cookies and put up Christmas lights. I should get the perfect gifts for my kids’ teachers, crossing guards, and coaches (not to mention friends and family). I should decorate the house and create a warm, cozy environment. I should write the perfect holiday letter and take the perfect holiday photo. I should catch up with all my long lost friends who send those same perfect letters and photos to me. I should record all these fantastic moments for eternity with pictures and videos. And I MUST do it all in precious Christmas sweaters.
I’m exhausted just thinking about it all. I am paralyzed by the sheer volume of things that need to be done. What am I doing to myself? To my family? This is Christmas, not the Mommy Olympics. Although sometimes it feels like it, there is no one watching my every move and waiting to give me a score, The loud echo of The Should doesn’t have to govern my actions and attitudes
No more! I am a smart, successful woman. I have the power and ability to overcome the lure of The Should and start enjoying the winter wonderland along with the best of them. From now on, I will listen to a new voice in my head. One that is a little more gentle, a little more wise and a lot more sane. I will call this my Maya Angelou voice. She sits on a windowsill in my mind waiting to comfort me with a smile and a nod. When I feel the urge to deck something other than the halls, I will hear her say to me in her warm, buttery voice,
“It’s ok to say no. You don’t need to attend all those parties and volunteer for every activity.”
“Put your feet up and take care of you for a change. When’s the last time you had some peace and quiet?”
“You are not alone. Just about everyone gets stressed around the holidays.”
“Be creative. There is not one right way to do everything. Revel in your unique approach.”
“Work smarter, not harder. Figure out what you’re not great at and let someone who is lend you a hand.”
“Enjoy the little moments. You will one day miss the way your child furrows her brow when writing to Santa.”
“Be gentle with yourself and with others. That is a gift worth giving.”
My inner Angelou. She makes me feel better already. There’s one problem with my plan. The Should won’t go away easily. It’s comfortable in my head. It’s been there for a long time and if I’m not careful, it will choke out Maya at the first sign of stress. I’ve got to think up a way to take that annoyingly persistent whine out of my head before it ruins yet another Christmas.
An epiphany! I know what I will do. I will order the Talking Gnome. I can give my Should another home and this time, instead of sounding like me, it will have a “silly gnome accent”. Maybe that Gnome really will make my life easier, after all.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Why I Love Christmas in Florida
OK - so I was going to write this a few days ago, BEFORE the so'easter from hell blew through and brought with it the sub-zero temperatures. So, just for fun, let's pretend I wrote this 3 days ago, when it was 85 degrees and sunny...
I love Christmas (and Winter) in Florida, and in Tampa especially. I love it that when my alarm goes off, it happens to be when the DJ is usually giving the day's weather forecast. I love it when, day after day after day, the DJ says "man, it's going to be another unseasonably warm day, sunny with highs up to 85 degrees." (This DJ always follows the weather with Britney news, which I also love. Really - how can you not feel better about yourself after listening to what other trouble this train wreck has gotten into this time?) I love that yesterday (no - really yesterday, not yesterday 3 days ago...) we spent a large bulk of the day in the pool. I love that most days, my biggest fashion decision is which pair of flip flops to wear. I love palm trees with Christmas lights on them. I love that some of my friends send cheery photos of themselves in their yard in the SNOW, and I think "cute - but you can HAVE that." I love it that I can flip back and forth between NFL games on TV, and in Tampa (GO BUCS!) the cheerleaders are practically wearing bathing suits, while in Buffalo (sorry Nancy), it is snowing so freakin' hard that you can't really even see the game, and the cheerleaders are ice sculptures.
One of my bestest friends put it very well a few months back. I sent out an email to my pals, seeking vacation suggestions. I said that we'd like somewhere warm and tropical, with great beaches, fun drinks, and great seafood. By friend sent back a simple email that said "Ummmmmm...don't you live somewhere like that?" And she's sooooooo right. Tampa rocks - the 3 months of searing makes-hell-look-comfortable heat in the summer is worth it to get the other 9 months of super-fantastic-paradise.
Cheers - I'm going flip flop shopping...
I love Christmas (and Winter) in Florida, and in Tampa especially. I love it that when my alarm goes off, it happens to be when the DJ is usually giving the day's weather forecast. I love it when, day after day after day, the DJ says "man, it's going to be another unseasonably warm day, sunny with highs up to 85 degrees." (This DJ always follows the weather with Britney news, which I also love. Really - how can you not feel better about yourself after listening to what other trouble this train wreck has gotten into this time?) I love that yesterday (no - really yesterday, not yesterday 3 days ago...) we spent a large bulk of the day in the pool. I love that most days, my biggest fashion decision is which pair of flip flops to wear. I love palm trees with Christmas lights on them. I love that some of my friends send cheery photos of themselves in their yard in the SNOW, and I think "cute - but you can HAVE that." I love it that I can flip back and forth between NFL games on TV, and in Tampa (GO BUCS!) the cheerleaders are practically wearing bathing suits, while in Buffalo (sorry Nancy), it is snowing so freakin' hard that you can't really even see the game, and the cheerleaders are ice sculptures.
One of my bestest friends put it very well a few months back. I sent out an email to my pals, seeking vacation suggestions. I said that we'd like somewhere warm and tropical, with great beaches, fun drinks, and great seafood. By friend sent back a simple email that said "Ummmmmm...don't you live somewhere like that?" And she's sooooooo right. Tampa rocks - the 3 months of searing makes-hell-look-comfortable heat in the summer is worth it to get the other 9 months of super-fantastic-paradise.
Cheers - I'm going flip flop shopping...
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
I just want to thank the Academy...
No, seriously...but I do want to say "HI!!!" to the 3 whole people that actually waste otherwise productive time by reading this blog! Hello A, N, & S - you know who you are! Thanks for telling me I make you laugh! And that I should be a writer! And that you're gald we're friends again!
(Or, in the words of my drunk-ass self at a holiday party last week: "I love you man!")
(Or, in the words of my drunk-ass self at a holiday party last week: "I love you man!")
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Where are all the REAL "Christmas Classics"???
OK - I'll admit it. This time of year, I like a good Do You Hear What I Hear by Vanessa Williams, or anything Christmasy by Nat King Cole or Bing Crosby. Truth be said, I L-O-V-E anything Christmasy by Harry Connick Jr., and anything rockin' by Transiberian Orchestra. My daughter's new favorite is "Last Christmas" by perennial favorite WHAM! And Mariah Carey put out a great Christmas album back before she became "Mi Mi" and purchased larger boobs and an extensive collection of skin-tight mini-dresses. But I digress...
Driving around Tampa, you can tune in to 94.9 FM and hear all-Christmas-all-the-time. So, in the spirit of things, I tune in. But it's Dec, 9th. I've been listening for 2 weeks. I hear LOTS of Winter Wonderland, and White Christmas, and Chestnuts Roasting on a Open Fire and Silent Night. I hear multiple versions of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Jingle Bells and O Holy Night. I hear Frosty the Snowman and Silver Bells and Joy to the World. I'm pretty sure most everyone could agree that these all qualify as bonafide "Christmas Classics", yes?
But what I want to know is : Where are all the REAL Christmas Classics? Where are all of the super great, super funny songs that we children of the 70's and 80's grew up with? Where's Grandma Got Runover By A Reindeer? Where's The 12 Pains of Christmas? ("The Lights! Why are they blinking?" you guys remember that one?) What about Women's Underwear? (sung to the tune of Winter Wonderland: "walking round in women's underwear...") Where's Jingle Bells barked by dogs? Where's all the GREAT stuff by Adam Sandler and Weird Al Yankovich?
These are the silly songs I really miss hearing. Has the world become so possessed by the Politically Correctness Police that these songs aren't allowed to be played anymore? I really hope not. Maybe that's why so many people get depressed this time of year - they don't get a chance to hear these silly-ass songs and LAUGH. I mean, who doesn't love to hear Jingle Bells "sung" by dogs? And most of us can relate to The 12 Pains of Christmas - the lights, the in-laws, the crying kids. It makes us fell better to know we're not the only ones who feel that way.
If I can ever figure out how to hook up a $#*&%@ link in these things, I'll post some of MY favorite Christmas Classics. In the meantime, find the website for your town's all-holiday-music radio station, and barrage them with emails. Power to the People - Damn the Man!
On a slightly related note...have you noticed that the ONLY Christmas cartoon special that have survived the times are the ones made in the late 60's and early 70's? What do you see every year: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, narrated by Burl Ives, aka the snowman. Frosty the Snowman. Of course, The Grinch. A Charlie brown Christmas. Last time I checked, there's no annual re-playing of the Spongebob Christmas Special. No Flintstone Christmas story. No South Park Kenny-comes-back-to-life-it's-a-Christmas-miracle show. Not even Mickey Mouse or Bugs Bunny have made the cut. The lesson here? In the words of Fillmore (George Carlin) from the Pixar movie Cars: "Respect the classics, man!"
Driving around Tampa, you can tune in to 94.9 FM and hear all-Christmas-all-the-time. So, in the spirit of things, I tune in. But it's Dec, 9th. I've been listening for 2 weeks. I hear LOTS of Winter Wonderland, and White Christmas, and Chestnuts Roasting on a Open Fire and Silent Night. I hear multiple versions of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Jingle Bells and O Holy Night. I hear Frosty the Snowman and Silver Bells and Joy to the World. I'm pretty sure most everyone could agree that these all qualify as bonafide "Christmas Classics", yes?
But what I want to know is : Where are all the REAL Christmas Classics? Where are all of the super great, super funny songs that we children of the 70's and 80's grew up with? Where's Grandma Got Runover By A Reindeer? Where's The 12 Pains of Christmas? ("The Lights! Why are they blinking?" you guys remember that one?) What about Women's Underwear? (sung to the tune of Winter Wonderland: "walking round in women's underwear...") Where's Jingle Bells barked by dogs? Where's all the GREAT stuff by Adam Sandler and Weird Al Yankovich?
These are the silly songs I really miss hearing. Has the world become so possessed by the Politically Correctness Police that these songs aren't allowed to be played anymore? I really hope not. Maybe that's why so many people get depressed this time of year - they don't get a chance to hear these silly-ass songs and LAUGH. I mean, who doesn't love to hear Jingle Bells "sung" by dogs? And most of us can relate to The 12 Pains of Christmas - the lights, the in-laws, the crying kids. It makes us fell better to know we're not the only ones who feel that way.
If I can ever figure out how to hook up a $#*&%@ link in these things, I'll post some of MY favorite Christmas Classics. In the meantime, find the website for your town's all-holiday-music radio station, and barrage them with emails. Power to the People - Damn the Man!
On a slightly related note...have you noticed that the ONLY Christmas cartoon special that have survived the times are the ones made in the late 60's and early 70's? What do you see every year: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, narrated by Burl Ives, aka the snowman. Frosty the Snowman. Of course, The Grinch. A Charlie brown Christmas. Last time I checked, there's no annual re-playing of the Spongebob Christmas Special. No Flintstone Christmas story. No South Park Kenny-comes-back-to-life-it's-a-Christmas-miracle show. Not even Mickey Mouse or Bugs Bunny have made the cut. The lesson here? In the words of Fillmore (George Carlin) from the Pixar movie Cars: "Respect the classics, man!"
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Why I Love an Elf...
It's really all about FEAR. You know, that terrifying fear that if you misbehaved between Thanksgiving and Christmas, that all you would get for Christmas from Santa would be a stocking full of coal and a bundle of sticks. I had that Fear. Most of you had that Fear. But my kids? NO FREAKING FEAR. They must think that they are totally exempt from the Fear. Or maybe they just already have too much stuff that they don't even care. Who knows. The lack of the Fear, though, has been resulting in some really nasty, unruly behavior out of my two little offspring, usually towards each other. I threatened to call Santa - that worked last year. I threatened to call Christmas off - they didn't buy it. That's when I found out about The Elf.
My friend (one of the ones who's abandoned me to go back to work - see earlier post) happens to be working at a toy store. She told me about The Elf on the Shelf, and I had her get me one. Let me just TELL YOU that the Elf is a bonafide MIRACLE WORKER. I do believe in Christmas miracles now, thanks to the Elf. Here's how it works: you get the Elf and it comes with a book. The book basically explains how this Elf is here to spy on you and report your doings to Santa. You have to give your Elf a name, and then he flies back to the North Pole each night to report to Santa. Each morning, he reappears in a different spot. The only rule? You can't touch him, because he'll lose his magic if you do. You register your Elf's name, and then you can get a letter from Santa about your Elf's adoption, and even an adoption certificate. Our little Elf - Giggles - has brought back the Fear. Since he arrived yesterday, the kids have been saying "please" and "thank you". They have helped clear their dishes. They have gotten baths without complaint. They have even played a game together right in front of Giggles so they could make sure he saw them. Upon waking this morning, Karlin was shocked and amazed that Giggles was out of the box, and that he had moved to the Christmas Card holder. Chase is a little more skeptical because "well - he has a face like a TOY", but he's going along with it because Karlin is.
The Elf now rules the roost. If you have kids, you have GOT to get one of these. Check it out at www.elfontheshelf.com. Now if only I could find some way to manipulate the husband and the dog...
Happy Holidays!
Friday, November 30, 2007
Goodbye, Evel Knieval
Goodbye Evel Knieval - died today at age 69. I feel like a part of my childhood died today. I loved Evel. How many Friday nights did my family gather around the TV to watch that crazy bastard try to jump over something else? In his sparkling red, white, and blue outfit, Evel was a hero. How many of us almost killed ourselves trying to jump our bikes over stuff? How many of us "played" Evel Knieval on the playground? How many of us had the Evil Knieval action figure and poster? Probably too many to even count.
Fly on Evel - may there be many rocket-powered motorcycles wherever you are.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
It's begining to look a lot like Christmas... has exploded in my dining room
My husband has a broken foot. This means nothing to you really, but effects me in some really profound ways. Like driving. I had to drive the entire 11 hours home on Sunday (normally a 7 1/2 hour trip.) And I had to climb up into the attic to get down the Christmas stuff (thank God no one was around to see me haul my fat ass up on top of my truck, then pull the same fat ass up into the attic). This was a real eye-opening experience for me. I had NO IDEA we have so much - as we've dubbed it - "Christmas shit." 10 bins, 2 boxes, 1 tree stand, 1 light up dolphin, a giant bag of wreaths, and an 6-foot artificial tree. AND I went yesterday and bought MORE. Because we have a third tree now (I'll explain that in a minute) and a new pool lanai (a hidden expense of putting in a pool - you must decorate the sucker for the holidays).Tree #1: live tree, usually ungodly expensive. Preferred tree type: Noble Fir. Noble Firs are notoriously difficult to find in Florida. Preferred tree shape: big and fat - I relate to them better. As a kid, we had pets, so we always had the "fake" tree. It was a great fake tree, but once I was all grown-up, I decided it was real trees from now on.
Tree #2: when we lived in Georgia, our family room was at the back of the house. (It's the same deal in our house now - family room to the back, but dining room up front.) I decided that we needed a tree to be seen from the street. I also wanted what I call a "pretty tree" - something color-coordinated that I could could put special ornaments on. So I bought the 6-foot artificial tree mentioned above. I put this tree in front of the big window in the dining room each year. It has red and gold ornaments and perfect little twinkling white lights and is my closest rendition of a "Southern Living" tree. I love this tree. I won't get rid of it, even though when it's in the dining room you can't pull the chairs out from the table because there's not enough room.
Tree #3: the newest member of the family. We put a pool in this year, and with it a screened lanai. Of course I have to decorate it. So my sister and I were out yard-saling in October, and this one house had an artificial tree - 7 feet I think - in a storage bin for $10. I mean really, how could I pass up that bargain? So I brought it home and put it in the garage (along with the leopard print storage ottoman that I got for $5, but that's another story...) I don't really know what it looks like yet, but I'm hoping to put it together today. We're going to hang white lights around the top of the lanai (Target - $16), and put blue and white lights on the tree (Target - $6). I had to also buy little adhesivey clips to attach the lights with (Target - $9.98), and 2 new extension cords (Target - $10). Once I get it up, I plan to decorate it with the tropical sea life ornaments I bought on Ebay ($22), and homemade seashell ornaments my daughter and I hope to make (clay - $6; seashell mold - $5; paints - $3.) I think I also have some tropical fish ornaments that someone gave me last year. It's going to be fabulous, as long as foot-boy doesn't figure out how much I spent.
In the meantime, though - Christmas has thrown up in my dining room. It's full of bins, boxes, trees, along with Christmas gifts (wrapped and unwrapped), and my scrapbooking stuff it buried under there too. If you don't hear from me in a week, send for help...
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Why I Hate The Mall: Obesity, Mu-Mus, and the Language Barrier
OK - I made the H-U-G-E mistake of trying to sneak in some holiday shopping time at the Mall before the big rush. Apparently, everyone else on the planet had the same idea I did. I hate the mall.
Even though I hate the Mall, it does sometimes make me feel better about myself. I'm not skinny-minny. According to my doctor, I am about 45 pounds overweight, and my BMI indicates that I am technically "obese." But I consider myself just a little bit too big - about average I guess. I am proud to say that - outside of pregnancy - I weigh the same that I did 7 years ago, before kids. I'm not any smaller, but hey - I'm not any bigger either. I think there's something to be said for that. And I still fight the good fight (most of the time.) I can swim 2 miles non-stop. I can run 4 miles at just over a 10-minute mile pace. I would say that puts me ahead of most average people fitness wise.
So back to why the mall makes me feel better about myself. The mall - like Disney World - is where you get the chance to see some of the worst America has to offer. I mean, you will occasionally see the stick-thin girl with the $300 highlights clicking into Ann Taylor on her 4 inch Jimmy Choos. But for the most part, you see really large, really unhealthy overweight people. I don't have anything against being overweight. I AM overweight. But when you walk through the mall, you see SO MUCH of the following: Caucasian woman, probably 35-ish, wearing a yellow t-shirt that is so tight it shows 4 or more rolls of fat. She also has on a pair of $5.99 Wal-Mart capri pants that are literally about to split at the seams. (For goodness sakes - cheap clothes just aren't made for that level of abuse!) She is so heavy that she looks like she's having trouble putting one foot in front of the other. The has her hair in a bun, no make-up and no jewelry. She is eating a extremely large pretzel covered with some sort of stuff that is supposed to resemble cheese. Behind her are 2 extremely overweight kids, age 9 and 5. They are also schlumping along with a lot of effort while they eat their oversize cookies from the Great American Cookie Company. They are walking outside so mom can - you guessed it - light up a cigarette. I literally saw DOZENS of scenarios just like this one today, and it makes me sad. You're already unhealthy, and you're compounding it by SMOKING? And in front of the kids, no less, who are also unhealthy thanks to you. As I mom, I realize that I am fully and 100% responsible for doing what I can to raise my kids healthier than I am. You won't find chips or cheetos or pop-tarts or cookies in my house. The kids aren't allowed sodas. If they grow up fat, it will be MY FAULT, so I'm trying so very hard to teach them the right things, and to set a decent example for them. But the large, large number of large, large people is alarming. And it's not necessarily a weight thing - it's a health thing and a presentation thing. I mean, lots of people are overweight, but present themselves well. Just look at celebrities like Oprah, Sarah Ramirez, America Ferrera, and Queen Latifah. Not skinny by any means of the imagination, but still gorgeous. The whole thing just boggles my mind (and this all was so much more eloquent when I composed it in my head at the mall...) Anyway - I look around at the people at the mall and think "You know what? I'm OK. I'm doing OK, and I'm teaching my kids to be and do better than OK." And that makes me feel a little better.
Mu-Mus. I don't even know if that's how you spell it. That's probably not even what they are called, but that's what they look like. Mu-Mus. I am referring to the god-awful, busy-printed, flowing smock-like things that are all the rage in the stores right now. NO ONE LOOKS GOOD IN THESE THINGS. If you are thin, you look like you were just swallowed up by a giant bag of red and purple faux-satin. And if you're not thin, you're going to look even bigger in these things. (Trust me on this - I have first-hand experience.) Not preggers? People will think you are in these things. I don't care if they are supposed to be worn as dresses or with leggings or with jeans - they are hideous and they have got to go.
The Language Barrier. I am all for cultural diversity. Really. But how weird is it to be standing in a suburban mall in mainstream America, and no one - I mean no one - within earshot is speaking English? At one point in JCPenney's, I actually thought there might be a Brazilian tour group in the store. (Former Orlando theme park workers will especially appreciate that reference...) I think it's great to speak 2 languages. I hope to learn Spanish myself. However, I am fairly certain that I heard more English spoken in Mexico the last time I was there than I heard in the mall today. Not to go all Bill-O'Reilly-Culture-Warrior-ish on you, but is this Country turning from a "melting pot" into black bean soup?
Food for thought....(ha ha ha - excuse the pun there.)
Even though I hate the Mall, it does sometimes make me feel better about myself. I'm not skinny-minny. According to my doctor, I am about 45 pounds overweight, and my BMI indicates that I am technically "obese." But I consider myself just a little bit too big - about average I guess. I am proud to say that - outside of pregnancy - I weigh the same that I did 7 years ago, before kids. I'm not any smaller, but hey - I'm not any bigger either. I think there's something to be said for that. And I still fight the good fight (most of the time.) I can swim 2 miles non-stop. I can run 4 miles at just over a 10-minute mile pace. I would say that puts me ahead of most average people fitness wise.
So back to why the mall makes me feel better about myself. The mall - like Disney World - is where you get the chance to see some of the worst America has to offer. I mean, you will occasionally see the stick-thin girl with the $300 highlights clicking into Ann Taylor on her 4 inch Jimmy Choos. But for the most part, you see really large, really unhealthy overweight people. I don't have anything against being overweight. I AM overweight. But when you walk through the mall, you see SO MUCH of the following: Caucasian woman, probably 35-ish, wearing a yellow t-shirt that is so tight it shows 4 or more rolls of fat. She also has on a pair of $5.99 Wal-Mart capri pants that are literally about to split at the seams. (For goodness sakes - cheap clothes just aren't made for that level of abuse!) She is so heavy that she looks like she's having trouble putting one foot in front of the other. The has her hair in a bun, no make-up and no jewelry. She is eating a extremely large pretzel covered with some sort of stuff that is supposed to resemble cheese. Behind her are 2 extremely overweight kids, age 9 and 5. They are also schlumping along with a lot of effort while they eat their oversize cookies from the Great American Cookie Company. They are walking outside so mom can - you guessed it - light up a cigarette. I literally saw DOZENS of scenarios just like this one today, and it makes me sad. You're already unhealthy, and you're compounding it by SMOKING? And in front of the kids, no less, who are also unhealthy thanks to you. As I mom, I realize that I am fully and 100% responsible for doing what I can to raise my kids healthier than I am. You won't find chips or cheetos or pop-tarts or cookies in my house. The kids aren't allowed sodas. If they grow up fat, it will be MY FAULT, so I'm trying so very hard to teach them the right things, and to set a decent example for them. But the large, large number of large, large people is alarming. And it's not necessarily a weight thing - it's a health thing and a presentation thing. I mean, lots of people are overweight, but present themselves well. Just look at celebrities like Oprah, Sarah Ramirez, America Ferrera, and Queen Latifah. Not skinny by any means of the imagination, but still gorgeous. The whole thing just boggles my mind (and this all was so much more eloquent when I composed it in my head at the mall...) Anyway - I look around at the people at the mall and think "You know what? I'm OK. I'm doing OK, and I'm teaching my kids to be and do better than OK." And that makes me feel a little better.
Mu-Mus. I don't even know if that's how you spell it. That's probably not even what they are called, but that's what they look like. Mu-Mus. I am referring to the god-awful, busy-printed, flowing smock-like things that are all the rage in the stores right now. NO ONE LOOKS GOOD IN THESE THINGS. If you are thin, you look like you were just swallowed up by a giant bag of red and purple faux-satin. And if you're not thin, you're going to look even bigger in these things. (Trust me on this - I have first-hand experience.) Not preggers? People will think you are in these things. I don't care if they are supposed to be worn as dresses or with leggings or with jeans - they are hideous and they have got to go.
The Language Barrier. I am all for cultural diversity. Really. But how weird is it to be standing in a suburban mall in mainstream America, and no one - I mean no one - within earshot is speaking English? At one point in JCPenney's, I actually thought there might be a Brazilian tour group in the store. (Former Orlando theme park workers will especially appreciate that reference...) I think it's great to speak 2 languages. I hope to learn Spanish myself. However, I am fairly certain that I heard more English spoken in Mexico the last time I was there than I heard in the mall today. Not to go all Bill-O'Reilly-Culture-Warrior-ish on you, but is this Country turning from a "melting pot" into black bean soup?
Food for thought....(ha ha ha - excuse the pun there.)
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
T-Shirts Say The Funniest Things...
Since my last blog was basically a big rant session, I decided to supply a little comic relief. (Ignore this statement if my rant WAS your comic relief...)
Is anyone else getting - literally - 10-12 catalogs a day in the mail? This is the price you pay for doing your Christmas shopping on-line. Anyway, I was thumbing through one of the catalogs, and it had the funniest t-shirts in it. I don't know if I'd actually wear any of these - OK, maybe I would - but I wanted to share some of the better t-shirt sayings (typed as they are shown in the catalog):
Is anyone else getting - literally - 10-12 catalogs a day in the mail? This is the price you pay for doing your Christmas shopping on-line. Anyway, I was thumbing through one of the catalogs, and it had the funniest t-shirts in it. I don't know if I'd actually wear any of these - OK, maybe I would - but I wanted to share some of the better t-shirt sayings (typed as they are shown in the catalog):
- what i really need are minions
- Sometimes I wonder..."Why is That Frisbee Getting Bigger?"...and then it hits me.
- My hockey mom can beat up your soccer mom
- Do not meddle in the affairs of Dragons...for you are crunchy and good with ketchup!
- Honorary Ooompa Loompa
- Life is way too short to cook for you people.
- Am I getting older, or is the supermarket playing really great music? (laughed out loud at that one, 'cause it's so true...)
- Some days, it's not even worth chewing on the restraints.
- Are you a side effect of my medication?
- National Sarcasm Society. Like we need your support. (another good laugh at that one.)
- Don't Make Me Poison Your Dinner (on an apron)
- If you met my family, you'd understand.
- What part of MOOOOOAHAAHAHAHA don't you understand? (say it out loud, then you'll get it)
- It's not nice to laugh at other people. It's just fun.
- Do you know the Muffin Man?
- Mom. Dad. I'm Gaelic. (b-i-g laugh at that one)
- They say I have A.D.D. but they just don't understand. Oh look! A chicken!
- My Indian Name is Runs With Beer (I may buy this one)
- i have no idea what i am doing out of bed
- Shalom, ya'll (on a welcome mat)
- Vader was Framed
- Crap. Crap I say.
And the piece de resistance - the Hillary Clinton nutcracker! That's right, folks, you put the nut in between her legs and "crack!"
In the event you are interested, the address is http://www.whatonearthcatalog.com/. Happy shopping.
Monday, November 12, 2007
I suck at being a Homeroom Mom...
Yes - it's true. Much to the shock and dismay of all of you out there who buy into this whole "I'm supermom" thing...I suck at it. Big time.
It started today with a sore throat and an off-and-on low grade fever. So right off the bat I'm crankier and less-tolerant than usual. Throw in one super-high-maintenance son, and we're off to the races. I went in to help Karlin's class with reading today, even though I feel pretty crappy. (I had not had a fever at that point, so felt that the whole contagiousness risk was minimal.) The kids love seeing me, and I feel as if I might be contributing to the future success of the human race, seeing as the stupid people are rapidly outnumbering the smart people. Anything I can do to change the tide just might be a good thing. So I go in and help with reading. I make it through, but decide that I am unable to haul my increasingly tantrum-prone son to the grocery store. We have no food in the house. I mean no food - no milk, no bread, no cereal - staples of life with kids. Chase and I practically ate Popsicles and butter for lunch. Anyway...there's no working out today either, cause I feel crappy.
Karlin comes home with the normal, weekly newsletter from the teacher. The newsletter makes a note that the class will be "making sun catchers this week." Shit. The teacher sent home 22 sun catcher frames and 6 pieces of tissue paper last week and asked me - as a homeroom mom - to have them put together and back to the class by today. Shit. Now normally, this would not be a hugely catastrophic event. But this isn't the first time it has happened. The week I was in Vegas, Bart forgot to send in apples that the teacher requested. Clearly not my fault, but still... Then there was the $4.00 for the Reading supplement magazines. I forgot that too, until 2 days later. I think there was one other thing too, but my fever is on-again and I can't (HA) can't remember. (wait - I need to compose myself after that one...
In an attempt to fix my problem, I even bought this nifty cool Family Planning calendar. (It sounds like some sort of birth control or ovulation tracker, I know, but it's not...it had cutesy little cartoon characters on it, and comes with cool little stickers that say things like "school event" and "meeting" and "practice".) I also have my standard day planner, which seemed to serve me well as a working professional, but falls short in my mush-headed mommy life.
So, in the midst of frantically stapling tissue paper to construction paper frames, I stop to check my email and receive notification of the School Advisory Council meeting today at 4:30. (I'm on the School Advisory Council at Deer Park Elementary.) Shit. Meeting? What meeting? I missed it. This particular situation has been somewhat vindicated since I started typing this blog. I emailed the Council members asking if an email had been sent out, and letting them know I had no idea that there was a meeting today. Another member emailed us all to, saying "Ditto" to my email. So he email made me think that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't entirely losing my mind. I went to my Day Planner: no notation of a meeting. I checked my email: no notification of a meeting. I checked my notes from the last meeting - ah HA! The meeting was scheduled for Nov. 27th!!! Vengance is mine!!!
Shortly after more-or-less resloving that situation, I checked my messages. My co-Brownie Troop leader wanted to make sure: 1. we were still going skating tomorrow night (shit - skating?) and 2. I was still going to be able to attend the Girl Scout Area Meeting Wednesday night. Shit again. Needless to say, I had forgotten that our troop was joining the rest of West Central Florida Council for roller skating tomorrow night. I had also forgotten (even though this is in my Day Planner) that I was supposed to go to a meeting Wednesday night, so I gave Bart the all-clear for an overnight business trip that day.
In the middle of all of this, I also got an email from my co-homeroom moms, letting me know that I am personally financing approximately 1/3 of the class's Thanksgiving Feast on Friday, including sliced Deli turkey, 20 water bottles, 20 juice boxes, 1 can of whipped cream, 1 box of ginger snaps, 10 1-quart zip lock bags, and possibly ginger. Huh?
Oh - and I am supposed to be having my girls over Thursday night for some fun and liquid therapy. Meaning I'll likely be hungover for the "Feast" on Friday. Not to mention I'll probably have to feed the poor gals Popsicles and butter with their tequila.
I feel like the Pig whose brain is out and asking for a cold one. (see comic below)
So the next time you see me, expect me to be wearing the banner of my new title: "Mrs. Sucky Homeroom Mom 2007".
POST SCRIPT: After I finished writing this blog, I went downstairs to finish stapling the 22 sun catchers. I assumed that the frames were all cut from the same template, so I picked one up and traced my tissue paper squares from it, then cut out the squares. Alas - only a few of the frames were that size...most were larger, meaning my tissue paper squares were too small. I had to scrounge up tissue paper in colors close to the ones the teacher sent, then I had to smooth the tissue paper out, then I had to re-do about half of the sun catchers. Oh. My. God.
It started today with a sore throat and an off-and-on low grade fever. So right off the bat I'm crankier and less-tolerant than usual. Throw in one super-high-maintenance son, and we're off to the races. I went in to help Karlin's class with reading today, even though I feel pretty crappy. (I had not had a fever at that point, so felt that the whole contagiousness risk was minimal.) The kids love seeing me, and I feel as if I might be contributing to the future success of the human race, seeing as the stupid people are rapidly outnumbering the smart people. Anything I can do to change the tide just might be a good thing. So I go in and help with reading. I make it through, but decide that I am unable to haul my increasingly tantrum-prone son to the grocery store. We have no food in the house. I mean no food - no milk, no bread, no cereal - staples of life with kids. Chase and I practically ate Popsicles and butter for lunch. Anyway...there's no working out today either, cause I feel crappy.
Karlin comes home with the normal, weekly newsletter from the teacher. The newsletter makes a note that the class will be "making sun catchers this week." Shit. The teacher sent home 22 sun catcher frames and 6 pieces of tissue paper last week and asked me - as a homeroom mom - to have them put together and back to the class by today. Shit. Now normally, this would not be a hugely catastrophic event. But this isn't the first time it has happened. The week I was in Vegas, Bart forgot to send in apples that the teacher requested. Clearly not my fault, but still... Then there was the $4.00 for the Reading supplement magazines. I forgot that too, until 2 days later. I think there was one other thing too, but my fever is on-again and I can't (HA) can't remember. (wait - I need to compose myself after that one...
In an attempt to fix my problem, I even bought this nifty cool Family Planning calendar. (It sounds like some sort of birth control or ovulation tracker, I know, but it's not...it had cutesy little cartoon characters on it, and comes with cool little stickers that say things like "school event" and "meeting" and "practice".) I also have my standard day planner, which seemed to serve me well as a working professional, but falls short in my mush-headed mommy life.
So, in the midst of frantically stapling tissue paper to construction paper frames, I stop to check my email and receive notification of the School Advisory Council meeting today at 4:30. (I'm on the School Advisory Council at Deer Park Elementary.) Shit. Meeting? What meeting? I missed it. This particular situation has been somewhat vindicated since I started typing this blog. I emailed the Council members asking if an email had been sent out, and letting them know I had no idea that there was a meeting today. Another member emailed us all to, saying "Ditto" to my email. So he email made me think that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't entirely losing my mind. I went to my Day Planner: no notation of a meeting. I checked my email: no notification of a meeting. I checked my notes from the last meeting - ah HA! The meeting was scheduled for Nov. 27th!!! Vengance is mine!!!
Shortly after more-or-less resloving that situation, I checked my messages. My co-Brownie Troop leader wanted to make sure: 1. we were still going skating tomorrow night (shit - skating?) and 2. I was still going to be able to attend the Girl Scout Area Meeting Wednesday night. Shit again. Needless to say, I had forgotten that our troop was joining the rest of West Central Florida Council for roller skating tomorrow night. I had also forgotten (even though this is in my Day Planner) that I was supposed to go to a meeting Wednesday night, so I gave Bart the all-clear for an overnight business trip that day.
In the middle of all of this, I also got an email from my co-homeroom moms, letting me know that I am personally financing approximately 1/3 of the class's Thanksgiving Feast on Friday, including sliced Deli turkey, 20 water bottles, 20 juice boxes, 1 can of whipped cream, 1 box of ginger snaps, 10 1-quart zip lock bags, and possibly ginger. Huh?
Oh - and I am supposed to be having my girls over Thursday night for some fun and liquid therapy. Meaning I'll likely be hungover for the "Feast" on Friday. Not to mention I'll probably have to feed the poor gals Popsicles and butter with their tequila.
I feel like the Pig whose brain is out and asking for a cold one. (see comic below)
So the next time you see me, expect me to be wearing the banner of my new title: "Mrs. Sucky Homeroom Mom 2007".
POST SCRIPT: After I finished writing this blog, I went downstairs to finish stapling the 22 sun catchers. I assumed that the frames were all cut from the same template, so I picked one up and traced my tissue paper squares from it, then cut out the squares. Alas - only a few of the frames were that size...most were larger, meaning my tissue paper squares were too small. I had to scrounge up tissue paper in colors close to the ones the teacher sent, then I had to smooth the tissue paper out, then I had to re-do about half of the sun catchers. Oh. My. God.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Galaga Never Changes
All my friends are going back to work. OK, not ALL of them. Some of them never left work. Some of them still have little kids. But a LOT of them are going back to work, and leaving me.
When I first moved to Tampa, I had the great fortune of lucking into a "playgroup" that was just starting up. This group of fabulous women have become like sisters to me. They make me laugh. They make me have fun. They make me realize that I am NOT insane. Or at least that I'm not insane by myself. They take my money (Bunco bastards.) This "playgroup" that originally started as a way for our CHILDREN to interact has actually become a way for ME to interact. And now...they are going back to work. Two of them moved away. :( One is back at work full-time. Two are now working part-time. One has her kids in school full time now, and she's the community super volunteer - she's busier than most people I know that have paying jobs. Anywho, all of this has made me think about about my social circle.
Before you have kids, you have friends. Then you have kids, and suddenly most of those friends don't really want to hang out with you anymore. It must have something to do with the fact that the non-kid-ers are not at all interested or fascinated by how many poopies your kid had today, or the debate over which kind of diaper you use, or your bitching because your husband bought the wrong kind of strained peas - again. So, you eventually lose touch with some of those friends. Other hang tough, and one day will tell you wonderful things like how you are the "rock start example of parenting because you get a babysitter and still party" and how you "haven't changed one bit in 6 years". I love those friends. However, in light of your new, baby-obsessed station in life, you tend to gravitate to other people in your same situation (known jokingly as "mush-headed mommies".) These people watch your kids for you when you have had ENOUGH. They take you to Orlando and Sand Key and get you drunk. (Like THAT'S hard - the drunk part, I mean...) They call when they haven't seen you for a few days to make sure you are OK. They send you emails when there are going to be good yard sales. I love those friends too. But now they are leaving me.
Don't get me wrong. I get the whole miss-being-a-grown-up thing: real clothes, grown-ups to talk to, lunches at places where there are no play areas, adult validation. I also get the whole I'd-really-like-a-little-more-dough thing: vacations, real clothes, pedicures, paying off some bills. I have basically built my entire day-to-day social structure on my stay-at-home mom friends, and now they are going back to work. And leaving me.
So it has dawned on me that in the very near future, I may have to re-build my social structure on something else. Maybe a hobby (I want to take golf lessons - any hobby where you get to drink beer and drive a golf cart has GOT to be a good thing.) Maybe work-related (if and when I go back to work.) This thought is scary to me. I don't like change very much. I like things to stay the same. But they never do, do they? I hope my sisters-in-insanity stay nearby - I think most for them will. I hope I get to spend more time with my non-kid-ers who have stuck with me. But it's still scary.
I wish I had some brilliant, appropriate quote to close this historic blog #2 with, but I don't. I'll just tell you that I had the BEST time today playing Galaga! Yes - the old-fashioned Galaga. They have one at this pizza place that we went to. Since it's such a lame game for kids nowadays (spoiled punks - they can't appreciate a great thing when they see it), I was the only one playing it. And I kicked ass! Level 27 - Almost 170,000 points. Some things change, but I guess some things do stay the same. Like Galaga.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore...
I'm a fan of "The Wizard of Oz", and I had to start somewhere, right? OK - So I consider myself to be relatively Internet and computer savvy. Less so since leaving the working world, but still...I can handle most normal tasks. So my friend Amy suggested I try blogging. I'm not sure why I'm blogging - maybe to see if I can? - or who on Earth will even want to read it, but here goes. I've only done the bare essentials on this blog page - give me a few days and I'll see if I can spice it up a bit. In any event, I feel like I'm heading down the yellow brick road of blogging. Three life lessons: Flying monkeys are bad, ignore the man behind the curtain, and if a house falls on your sister, she probably deserved it. Or in other words "Dear Auntie Em: hate Kansas, took the dog." Wish me luck...
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