PHOTO UPDATE: Christmas Day Shenanigans

What began as a perfectly normal, delightful Christmas day, quickly turned into one head-shaker after another. See if you can tell when the day took a turn. It was hard to tell when I was living it, but--man--by the end of the day, I was whooped and ready for bed.

1. Bryn slept late, but fortunately Santa didn't mind. That allowed me to start some "breakfast" (also known as Pillsbury quick bread) to cook while we opened gifts.

2. We opened gifts. Glee abounded.



3. We ate the "breakfast"--but I had to be stingy with the milk because I only had about an inch of it left in the jug (more on this later). If anyone older than 3 asked for milk, I had to quickly assess if they really meant it--and by how much--as that affected my choice of glasses. Luckily, we made it through breakfast without incident.


4. Bryn received an electric car for Christmas. Naturally, she wanted to hit the road in it. After grazing both of our cars, she made it to the "open sidewalk" and when she went to turn---one of the wheels fell off. OK, that's a slight exaggeration, but it did slip off the axle in such a way that the car wouldn't turn properly. Soooo, within 3 minutes of having the thing---it was back in the shop. The adage that a car depreciates dramatically when you drive it off the lot apparently holds for Disney Princess convertibles as well. But...Dad and Papa got her up and running again pretty quickly, so she took a quick spin around the sidewalk. (technically, we have A LOT of work to do on steering, lest we take out the neighbors' landscaping more noticeably.)

5. GG and Papa left to drive back to Florida.

6. We lounged for a bit while deciding what to do for lunch. Our Christmas lunch will require a separate post--mainly because I'm still a little traumatized and can't speak of it just yet. Suffice it to say, it was a head shaker, too.

7. As imagined, Bryn wanted to ride her car when we returned. As I mentioned, I was traumatized a mite, so I thought resting was a better idea. We cracked into her Cinderella movie that she got for Christmas--with the promise that she didn't have to sleep. I took my cell phone to the playroom to make some holiday calls while we were at it. As Bryn sat transfixed at the sight of her favorite (a word that somehow doesn't seem adequate) princess, I decided that it was rude to talk through her first viewing of such a classic. So I promptly fell asleep.

8. Following Cinderella, we (read: Beau) made good on the promise to take Bryn and the Princess convertible to the parking lot of the neighborhood school for a little joy ride/steering lesson. While they were gone, I attempted to pick up the house from our guests and Christmas morning, etc.

9. Beau and Bryn return. Bryn was wailing; Beau was steaming; my "hey-how-much-fun-was-that" grin was suddenly very inappropriate. As I helped her out of the truck, Beau told me that she needed to go straight to her room. EEK. Was getting the impression that it was, in fact, NOT a fun trip to the parking lot. Apparently, Bryn declined Beau's "request" to put her jacket on in the sharp wind, and when Beau required it, she basically made a run for it in her car. (Beau still cannot speak of the fit-of-epic-proportions, so I can't confirm any of this....but my mind's eye pictures Bryn driving around erratically in circles with Beau chasing her like a little kid trying to catch a football that doesn't bounce straight. I'll be sure to correct this image if I'm way off--when he's up for it.)

10. Back to Bryn in her bedroom...very upset...she knows that she's in trouble because she didn't listen and wouldn't put on her jacket...she basically proposes a "do-over" which isn't going to happen since dad's still steaming and the whole affair required loading up the electric car into the truck and hauling it elsewhere. I leave her to calm down on her own and go to try to calm Beau down.

11. Bryn gets very quiet, and Beau decides that they should make up. Next thing I hear is "Honey, what are you doing?". My gut says "grab the camera," and I head upstairs. Bryn has a small aquarium in her room. When I turn the corner in her room, I hear: "The fish were hungry. ... Look, Mommy! It's snowing! Only it's not snow, it's food!" She was so proud of herself. In the quiet of her mind, she had decided that the fish really needed some food---all of the food. It truly was a blizzard of orange flakes, and little "food drifts" were forming on the bottom of the tank. The fish (although you could hardly see them for all the "snow") were swimming around in seeming ecstasy. I can see how she thought they would just LOVE some extra food for the holiday. Beau proceeded to siphon out all the food, but in the process had to take out more water than is good for the fish. Basically, we were going to kill them with too much food or too much new water. Don't know which is the worse way to go. (I can happily report that all seven fish are alive and well at print time, however.)

12. After our big lunch, we weren't really hungry, so we poked around for dinner. And afterwards, I decided to get back to making my phone calls to family. Remembered my cell phone up in the playroom, so off I went to retrieve it. Didn't see it on the couch or on the blanket I was using, so I started to feel around in the cushions. I kind of, sort of felt something WAAAAYYYY back in the cushion--but it could have been anything....a pen, a piece of Bryn's plastic food, or a telephone. My fingertips aren't highly calibrated...and I just barely caught a feel of the thing before it fell off the back of the cushion. Geez, I thought. So I moved the couch to see what fell behind there. That's when I realized that whatever it was had fallen INTO the couch, not behind it, and that the bottom was sealed up with fabric. I called down to Beau to call me...I wasn't up for retrieving any fake eggs or pancakes. While I waited for Beau to call, I just stared at the couch...waiting for it to ring. And it did. ARGH! Went back to the top of the stairs and asked Beau to come help...and bring a knife. Minor surgery (and the creation of a cool hiding place) under the couch and my telephone was reborn.

13. 10:00--I was exhausted and ready to call it....try to start again the next day. I put on my pjs and just went to bed.

Merry Christmas to all....and to all a good night.

How Not to Behave at a Funeral

I’m sure there are plenty of parenting resources out there that explain how one should approach the subject of death with a three-year old. Having none of those resources around, I found myself incredibly short of words and ideas the week of Thanksgiving. We had a death in the family—a great uncle whom Bryn and I had never met—so we loaded up the family and traveled to Oklahoma for the funeral. I tried to explain where we were going and why, and why Daddy and Grandmother were sad and would appreciate us being as helpful and nice as we could be. But in saying the words “Grandmother’s brother died,” I realized that those words—to a three-year old—probably sound no different than an explanation about why the batteries in the remote control don’t work anymore. Obviously the implications are dramatically different.

The Southern rule book indicates that you always attend funerals and weddings to support your friends. Attending funerals—I believe—is all about empathy, and I’m not sure when people hit that developmental milestone. Some people never develop much of it, I guess. But three years old may be a little early to have a robust empathetic bent. I was pleased when Bryn showed some signs of understanding, telling Grandmother one time (unprompted) “I’m sorry your friend died.”

In other cases, she was just taking it all in the festivities with seemingly no grasp of the weight of the situation. After we filed into the chapel for the service, she was settled preemptively between me and Beau’s mom. Her response to my request to be very quiet can only be described as a poorly executed stage whisper. As the last of the family was seated, Bryn whispered, “Is the show about to start?” Me: “Yes, honey. Now, please. You must be very quiet.” Bryn: “oh-KAY.”

But, being very still is clearly a different request than being very quiet. I hadn’t covered that in my “how to behave at a funeral” crash course that morning. She wanted to stand in the pew (to better see the show—no doubt) and was quickly yanked back into my lap. So began the struggle to stay seated without too much hub-bub. I tried to sit very still to compensate for her movement, but that worked about as well as when my sister and I would get the giggles in church and try not laugh and instead our heads would bob uncontrollably and the entire pew would shake. I’m sure—to those behind us—we were a bonafide mess. I’d be surprised if all the extended family that we didn’t know weren’t thinking “who brought the zoo and elected to sit up front?”

I had promised that I would take her out if she needed to go, so I had to debate the exact moment that her behavior in the service was so intolerable to justify the shrieking that was inevitable if I were to forcibly remove her. Oh, and I forgot to mention her unbelievably inappropriate outfit. It’s really most important at this point in the story. She received a dress for her birthday that was navy blue corduroy with a sweet white turtleneck underneath. The weather was quite cold and rainy so I thought it would be our best option: dark color and relatively warm. I hadn’t had Bryn try it on, but when I put it on that morning, it was REALLY short—as in barely covering her bottom. Ok, I’m rounding up…it really didn’t cover her bottom all that reliably. Add to that the fact that she “declined” the tights that I brought to keep her warm-ish. So, as I escorted her out of the service—shrieking for GG and other family members—her pink princess panties were on glorious display.

At the end of the day, our real comfort in times of loss is the next generation. I would like to think that Bryn’s spirit brought some comfort to people in the room, (she says hopefully). At any rate, I’ll still be tiding up my “rules of behavior” manual in the meantime.

A New Trick

I think--without question--this photo speaks for itself.

Happy Birthday!

Today is my sister's birthday. And since I have generally not been able to pull together a package (or even a card) in a timely way, I will substitute a birthday haiku in honor of my sister.





Hope today serves you
Pampering, remembering
You are loved by all.

Happy Birthday, Sis.
Many years in the making--
Funny, Smart, Older.



Honestly, my sister is my best friend--always has been. Even when we were growing up, I can remember only ONE fight that we ever had. I still have the note of apology that we were required to write to each other. Even though I could have easily been the annoying younger sister, she never treated me that way. I was welcome to hang out with her and her friends even when she was in high school and I was a dorky junior higher.

Wendy, I want you to know that you are hilarious, brilliant, creative, an incredible author, mother, wife, friend--an inspiration. I know lots of people have been blessed by having you in their lives, but I am incredibly fortunate to trump nearly everyone on "time on task". I've had the joy of your company for most of your years. Thank you for being such an awesome sister to me.

I love you.

In the WORLD???

I've had many heart-warming moments as a mother. Among them, Bryn's first smile at me, her first "I love you, Mommy," and the first time she picked up after herself without my having to ask.

Yesterday topped it all. My first "heart-in-the-throat-mouth-open-cannot-believe-you-said-that" moment.

We had our big day yesterday. First, the friend's birthday party at the jumping place. Bryn was having a blast as expected, but at one point she just gave me the sweetest, not-at-all-hurried hug (which was delightful, in itself). About halfway through the hug, she said, "You're the best mommy in the whole world."

I told her that I was so happy that I thought I might cry--a reaction that delighted her so much, she elected to say it a couple more times that day (just to get the big payoff, I'm sure.)

Not usually one to toot my own horn (and I'm technically thankful that Bryn's experience with mommies worldwide is somewhat limited--as it makes my chances a little better), but since I think she's the coolest kid in the universe, I appreciate the title while it lasts.

**Note: it was just last week that she announced that I wasn't her friend anymore (repeated about six times in rapid succession so I REALLY got that I wasn't her friend). So I do understand that all is vanity, as Ecclesiastes suggests.

Menu Plan Monday

I may have mentioned that I like to make lists. In particular, I like to make lists of things that I can actually accomplish. There are a few things that I get around to that aren't on a list, but those few things won't win a person any medals (i.e., shower daily, wash clothes, go to work). Generally, I have to plan things or life just happens to me....one day at a time...and then I look back and think, "geez, where does the time go?" I've had to get a lot more organized about running the household so that I can enjoy life more or else all of my time is taken up just getting the bare minimum done. SO... I've started really planning meals.

I love to cook, but have a really difficult time planning to do it. In the past month, I've started planning meals for the week, going grocery shopping either Saturday or Sunday, and basking in the mindlessness of coming home and starting to cook without fretting about what or where.

Laura at www.orgjunkie.com hosts Menu Plan Monday and if you head over to her blog, you'll see jillions upon jillions of plans. She (and probably all others participating) plans from Monday to Sunday. Since my deal is Sunday to Saturday, I'm a little out of step, but I'll see how it goes.

Sunday 11/11: Tuscan Tilapia, angel hair, and salad. I am in love with this dish. Have to put Bryn to bed but I'll type up the recipe next time. MMMMM. and EASY... my favorite combination.

Monday: Baked Spaghetti, salad, corn, rolls

Tuesday: Pork Chops, peas, parmesan noodles (noticing a "P" theme tonight--and also that I've fed my folks noodles for three days)

Wednesday: Hamburgers, beans, oven fries

Thursday: out--I'll be out of town for most of the day, then need to bake some pies for an office potluck and school bake sale.

Friday: sandwiches, but haven't thought beyond that (Technically, Beau will be working cattle some evening this week, so I'll have a left over meal that will likely substitute.)

Saturday: piece something together because we have a big day with a friend's birthday party, fall festival, craft fair, and some other stuff that will surely NOT be making a grocery list for next week or planning for Thanksgiving.

Trick or Flashlight

Halloween has never been a big deal to me. Now that we have a child, however, I feel considerable pressure to "do" all the holidays. There's only one problem (okay, there may be more problems, but one really big one.).

We have a little policy at our house. Perhaps I've mentioned it. Limited to no unnecessary sugar consumed by people for whom the grown-ups of the family have assumed responsibility for their dietary and dental health.

It's fairly easy policy to abide by in normal life, and the rule has relaxed somewhat in the past few months--for those of you who are close to calling us un-American or cruel. But Halloween is one of those days (are there more?) that exist for nearly the express purpose of encouraging people to beg for and consume large amounts of unnecessary sugar. That's the whole entire point. Nothing more to it to come close to redeeming the holiday.

So this is Bryn's third Halloween (fourth if you count being three weeks old). Each of the three years, she has dressed up even though we didn't go trick-or-treating, usually for a party at school.

At one, she was a duck, thanks to a homemade, puffy costume that my mom made that has passed down through all the grandkids. She happened to be taller than the earlier guys, so the pants rode up a little bit. But, c'mon, can you get cuter than that?

At two years old, she was a giraffe (again, a hand-me-down, that was a "smidge" too small, although you would never know by the sheer delight that the costume brought the sweet thing.)

She is definitely learning the holiday customs and norms, so I was starting to wonder how long we could get away with not trick-or-treating. So we decided on a compromise. She could get dressed up, and we would take a walk around the block. The kicker--which nearly trumped it all--was that we were going to carry flashlights. Mom, Dad, and Bryn all had mini-flashlights of their own. She thought that was the coolest.

So, at three, Bryn was a princess. I'd have to say, the most beautiful princess ever there was to be. Some of the neighbors were sitting in their driveways handing out candy and would offer it as we walked by. Beau would simply say, "no thanks, we're just walking." I felt compelled each time (again with my issues) to explain: "See, we're just taking a walk around the block in her costume with a flashlight because we don't really let her eat candy. No, no, it's okay. It's just our thing. You know. Might not last, but she's fine with it one more year. ... She's really enjoying her flashlight." Then I'd run to catch up with the family.

The one drawback I see to not associating more closely the dress-up walk with Halloween in particular, is that Bryn asks to do that nearly every day now as we drive up to the house. So far, we've managed to talk her down each time to just carrying the flashlight.