I'd Wish You a Merry Christmas if I Wasn't so Freakin' Tired

Holy cow!

I had no idea how exhausted my mother must have been during the holidays when I was a kid.

I have my three boys, the husband, my parents and brother in town. Not THAT many people, and I'm bushed.

My mom worked as an ER nurse when I was Santa-believing age. She regularly hosted twice as many people in a smaller house on a much smaller salary and never let us see her crack--not even once.

I am not worthy.

I'm 39 years old and it's taken me this many years to get all of my presents wrapped before Christmas Eve...to have a dinner prepared the night my parents arrive (what? I take them to restaurants with cloth napkins!).

Mom hasn't had to cook one thing so far this holiday (sure she just arrived this afternoon), I have all the groceries purchased for meals through Friday (even stuff for lunches) and I'm almost done with my cooking (yeah, so I'll be up REALLY late).

But I'm kinda proud of myself.

I also can't see straight let alone carry on a conversation with anyone.

So if you don't hear from me for a few days, it's not because I don't love you. I do. But the torch has been passed and I'm the "mom" of the family now, and pretending to be organized is EXHAUSTING.

Merry Christmas!!!

I Woke to #snOMG

So the other night I had a few quiet hours--a calm before the storm if you will.

Last night I was out trying to cram in some errands before the snow hit.

It started a little earlier than the meteorologists expected.

At midnight, the roads were littered with people who spun out, drove into ditches or couldn't get up a hill. My 13 yo and I toodled around picking up detergent, getting gas, watching the light show at the gas station (seriously. You tune into a specific radio station and all the lights are choreographed to the music. Without the music it just looks like a 3 yo is in control of the nobs.)

We probably had 3 inches on the ground by 1:00 a.m.

This morning I woke up to this.







(the last two were taken UNDER my car port)

The kids couldn't believe their eyes.

We haven't had much snow in the past few years, but the accumulation overnight was nothing compared to what it was by 4:30 p.m.






I tried to take a few of the same shots so you could see the difference.

It's dark now, but I just let the dog out--our 70 lb black lab. The snow is up to her back. Poor thing didn't know where to pee. Once she figured it out though, she was off bounding through the snow.

Little P asked me if the snow was going to be here when he woke up in the morning.

I think it's a pretty safe bet.



Hope you all are keeping warm on this December night.

**************
If you'd like to see the rest of my photos from today, hop on over to my Flickr page.

The Still Hours

I love this time of night/morning--3:41 a.m.

One week until Christmas. Family plans to organize. Work projects to finish up. The next seven days will be crazy.

But now...right now. Everything is still.

I can hear the deep sigh of the dog, the muffled mumbles of a child deep in his dream. When I step outside the air is clear, the stars are crisp and no cars or wind or animals are heard.

We're expecting a big snow storm tomorrow night. The kids will be home with wet boots and jackets thrown everywhere. I'll be running to the store to finish my shopping; beginning my cooking for the family that will arrive soon.

But now...right now. Everything is still.

Bedtime Stories (without Adam Sandler)

Bedtime has arrived again and I haven't recorded any grand thoughts, figured out which came first--the chicken or the egg--or even found some mildly funny words to make at least myself giggle.

In exchange for the prophetic, I leave you with some little nuggets of late.

As I sat in the doctor's waiting room today--the foot and ankle surgeon--I looked up and took in the image of the man in a wheelchair sitting across from me. He had no legs from the knees down. WHAT THE HELL WAS HE DOING SEEING A FOOT AND ANKLE SPECIALIST?? HE DIDN'T HAVE ANY.

First grader came home from school before the holidays with a 3-D paper creation. The hubs complimented him on his dreidel. Son gave him the hairy eyeball and proclaimed, "Duh, it's not a dreidel dad, it's a lantern. The Jews use it to celebrate Ramadan."

My first activity of the new year was so incredible that I don't know how the rest of the year is going to be able to compare. I woke at 7:00 a.m. to the sounds of a whining puppy. I tried the time-tested approach of putting the pillow over my head to make her stop, but that approach was a failure. I rolled out of bed, threw on the closest items to protect any still-partying neighbors from the sight of my pale flesh and shuffled down stairs. And what was I greeted with?? A nearly six month-old puppy covered in her own poop looking up at me from her crate. So weird how the rest of my family was so tired they didn't hear any of the whining.

There I was trying to get her out into the backyard and the crate...well somewhere without getting covered myself. Crate unceremoniously deposited in the carport awaiting some other sleeping ass's attention, the puppy was brought upstairs for a bath--AT 7 FREAKING 30 on New Year's Day. Oh yeah, it's gonna take a lot to improve on the start of this year.

The Mamma Loves Halloween Tradition

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

And no, that's not me. I still can't get all of the paint off from the balloons I had done for the hub's birthday.

A Pumpkin Pictorial (with commentary)

Like all Great Pumpkins, our's started out something like this.

Though I just photographed this one and left it for someone else to pick.

Ours actually looked more like this:

Don't mind the warts (on the pumpkin, not my son) he had a very nice shape--until I performed the craniotomy...

Now if you're new here you might not know that I am surrounded by males. I'm currently shacking up with four men--okay three sons and one husband. Semantics.

Anyhow, I thought boys liked gross things.

But apparently not.

At least he wasn't as sad about pumpkin guts as he was about his lack of a black nose a few Halloweens ago.


And yes, despite the break from traditional Muppetry, I did give the poor kid a black nose--using make-up--so he could look like his brother. I mean wouldn't you? Look at that face.

But back to the pumpkins...and the wimpy boys in my house.

Like most men, he only wanted to help if he could use tools.

And soon he abandoned me when I refused, for the sixth time, to allow him to wield the knife. What? I think all 10 of his fingers may come in handy later (that was a bad pun and not at all intended when I wrote it, but now it's cracking me up so it stays).

And I don't know what's so gross about this anyway?

Doesn't everyone love the way pumpkins seeds feel when they're all wet and clean in the strainer?

What's with the crickets??

Whatev.

So abandoned to my pumpkins and with seeds separated from their stringy friends, I set forth to carve.

Hours later I ended up with this:

Why didn't anyone tell me how hard it is not to carve all the way into a pumpkin? There's GOT to be a trick I don't know. Should have googled it.

By the way, that's a white pumpkin, which makes the BOO more appropriate but I'm still figuring out all the settings on my camera.

And...my masterpiece:

Sure I used a stencil, but her nose?? I don't mean to be a witch or anything but that was a bitch to cut out.

Please don't focus on the wax pencil 12 above her. Why did the pumpkin patch mark the best side?? Oh and let me know if you have a trick for getting that off.

To top off the project, Vaseline has been applied and cinnamon has been sprinkled. We're ready for Friday night.

Hmmm...that didn't exactly come out the way I meant it to.

Why I Love St. Patrick's Day--It's Not What You Think

I have a fondness for this day we celebrate our collective Irish heritage--both real and imagined.

I don't necessarily imbibe in green beer, though I have, and I did enjoy corned beef and cabbage today (a first). I don't love St. Patrick's Day because I'm particularly fond of bagpipes or long lines at Irish Pubs.

I love St. Patrick's Day because I'm adopted.

I've always known I was adopted. I went straight from the hospital to my parents. I'm taller than both my parents, but I am a brunette like my mom. Like many modern families, my parents divorced and my mom remarried when I was 10, so I mainly grew up without anyone questioning if I was adopted because they knew the guy I called my dad was actually my step-father.

In my sister's case, the fact of her adoption was a little more obvious. My first real memories are of the events surrounding her adoption when I was 3 1/2. She actually went home with her biological family for a few months before coming to us and we know that she is of Puerto Rican descent.

My sister and I look nothing alike--but I tend to forget. As a matter of fact, when my nephew (now my eldest son--different story for a different day) was born he looked so much like my sister that I cried when I met him because I finally felt like I looked like someone I knew.

So what does this all have to do with St. Patrick's Day? I'm getting there.

In my twenties, I requested the non-identifying information about my adoption from the agency that handled it. Honestly, I wasn't looking for much information, though I did discover I had been given another first name at birth (my mom swears she told me this--I contend that's not something I would have forgotten) and that my birth parents weren't related by blood (Phew! Dodged that bullet! Shit I hadn't even contemplated the possibility.) I was interested in a totally different piece of information. There was only one thing I wanted to know--one little thing that has always bugged me.

I want to know my ethnic background.

As an adoptee, I've never been too interested in finding my biological parents, but I have wanted to feel some connection to those who have come before me. To be able to stake a claim to an ethnic "home country" feels like it would give me a sense of my place in the chain of human events.

So there I was, scanning through the documents I received from the agency, finding out that my name had been Emily for a few days and my birth parents were young and probably "made" me in the back of a Trans-Am with Led Zepplin blaring on the AM radio, when my eyes found the box containing the information I had been searching for.

Ethnic heritage: American

AMERICAN??!!

My blue eyes, dark hair and plethora of freckles suggest that this didn't mean Native American.

My physical characteristics suggest I'm Irish. I once dated a self-proclaimed "black Irish" guy and it was somewhat awkward to kiss in public, because people often thought we were siblings.

Does it make sense now why I love St. Patrick's Day?

It's the one day a year I get to have a nationality--even if I don't have proof.

Love, Mamma Style

The ever-lovely Heather from Oh My Stinkin Heck is inspiring us once again to spread some blogging love with a pre-Valentine's Day exercise. With just minutes to spare, I wanted to get in on the lovin' and I'll start with our gracious hostess.

I never actually had a chance to sit down and talk to Heather at BlogHer--a situation I hope to rectify this year--but that didn't stop me from noticing this beautiful women furiously typing away at her Mac. She had the warmest smile and most gorgeous eyes that I just knew she would be friendly. And I can attest through following her for the last eight months she is. She is constantly looking for ways to help her fellow bloggers out with useful advice and linky love--even little ole bloggers like me.

Next, I'm sending out big, gigantic smooches to the wonderful woman who put up with me as a roommate in Chicago. More than a year ago, I started reading the words of Canape at Don't Take the Repeats as she chronicled the heartbreak of a recent miscarriage. The bravery of honestly sharing her emotions hooked me immediately, so you can only imagine the pure joy I felt when just weeks ago she delivered the beautiful Little Bird. I can't wait to meet him, because I know he'll be just like his amazing parents--kind, sincere and loving. And as further proof of Canape's beautiful heart she is also the founder of Team WhyMommy.

Speaking of WhyMommy...how could I spread some love without mentioning the brave and beautiful Susan of Toddler Planet? The forthright chronicles of her battle with inflammatory breast cancer over this past year have brought attention to the disease throughout the blogosphere and beyond and inspired many of us to value our lives just a little bit more. Thank you Susan for sharing your story with us.

I don't want to lead you to believe that all my blog reading is so serious. There are a number of bloggers who make me laugh out loud on a daily basis. Neil and his talking Penis over at Citizen of the Month is so worth the read. He's recently shared his blog with his therapist--brave huh? Among the guys too there are Whit, Dorky Dad and Mitch McDad (who loves to blog about vibrators) who provide me with the dude side of parenting. Their blogs make me wish they would each move their families into the houses on my cul-de-sac. The neighborhood cookouts would be classic. As for the girls, Jessica, Jenny and Lotta may be responsible for buying me a new monitor in the not so distant future for all the diet coke that has shot (shat?) out of my nose while reading their posts and comments. Not only are they hysterical online but they are each the kind of chicas you want to hang out with once you meet them in real life too. I haven't met Kristi yet but she too is going to need to pay up.

And of course there is no way I could be throwing around my love without mentioning a number of women who are near and dear to my heart. Have you ever met someone and known immediately that you would be friends forever?? Kristie and Lisa and I had been exchanging comments for some time by the time we met up in Chicago, but with that long weekend behind us, they will never be able to shake my stink. Real, down-to-earth, funny, smart and caring don't even begin to describe these amazing women. Love you girls!! And though I haven't met Sara, Megan, Andi, and Jennifer yet I just know I'm going to be stalking them for years to come. Consider this a warning girls.

If you would like to participate in Heather's festivities, you still have a half and hour or so by my clock. Thanks again Heather for giving me an excuse to let just some of the terrific bloggers in my community how wonderful they really are.

PS--If you aren't on this list and you regularly leave me comments, please don't think I don't love you. I do. I do. If you're not on this list and you DON'T leave comments, why should you be on here?? just kidding

For You

I am grateful for so many things today--and everyday even if it seems like I forget.

Things great and small.

It is so easy to lose sight of the many blessings we have, and I love the fact that we take at least one day each year to ensure we don't.

The community of incredible people I've come to know through blogging was most unexpected when I started throwing my words to the wind a little more than a year ago. I am tremendously grateful for the friendships both online and in real life it has brought me.

I hope each of you has a wonderful Thanksgiving. Please know you are in my thoughts today.

Leftovers Are Important

Three years ago I had an eight year-old and a two year-old, and a nine month-old who I was nursing. I had been back at work for six months at a job I really hated and my husband's family decided that we would be celebrating Thanksgiving at his sister's house--and frying the turkey!

I panicked.

Dinner at his sister's? Fried turkey? How would I get my fill of my mother's stuffing? What if they served cornbread dressing?!

And what about leftovers?!

I just knew my Thanksgiving was going to be a bust, but we were tied into the plans. So, I did what any other stressed-out, hormonal, sleep deprived woman would do. I went to the grocery store at 8:00 p.m. on the night before Thanksgiving and bought all of the makings for a Thanksgiving dinner.

Dammit! I was going to have leftovers.

Somehow I managed to find a fresh turkey, sweet potatoes, white potatoes, Pepperidge Farms dressing mix (just like mom's) and the ingredients for both apple and pumpkin pie.

As soon as I got home, I pulled out the giblets and boiled them up to ready them for the stuffing. I chopped them and mixed them in with the breadcrumbs and seasoning and stuffed that turkey. Warmed up the oven and shoved the whole mess in.

Then it was upstairs to nurse the little guy. As typically happened with the late evening feeding, I fell sound asleep next to the baby.

At 2:30 a.m. I woke up to the most delicious smell. And then I panicked! How long had the turkey been in the oven. Way longer than it was supposed to be. I was sure I was going to have a dried out bird.

I raced downstairs to find my turkey monitor sound asleep on the couch. Harumph! I sent him up to bed and peeked into the oven. Unbelievably, the turkey was perfect! So I set about peeling and boiling white and sweet potatoes. Mashing and stirring and seasoning to perfection. I cut shortening into flour for pie crusts and peeled apples and mixed pumpkin mush into pie filling. Sweet potato casserole and mashed potatoes complete, pies baking and filling the house with even better smells and it was only 4:00 a.m.

So I started cleaning up after myself.

Stored the "leftovers" in the fridge, washed up the dishes and went to wipe down the counters. That's when I noticed the gunk around the edge of the sink. So I scrubbed and I pulled out an old toothbrush and I scrubbed some more. And then I worked on the faucet and the backsplash and then OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN THE STOVE! The burners were filthy. I dug under the sink for the SOS pad and got to work. Fantastik and 409. SOS and a toothbrush.

Oh how that kitchen shined!

Pies were done, and I noticed I was getting a little tired. It was 6:00 a.m. Thanksgiving morning. We didn't have to be at my sister-in-laws until the afternoon, so I thought I might put my head down for a few minutes.

When I woke three hours later, I came downstairs to find a husband staring at me in disbelief.

And all I could say was, "I needed to have my mother's stuffing."

Turns out, it's my mother-in-law's stuffing too.

When You Got Nothing, Talk to the Kid

I'm laying with Mr. 5 tonight trying to get him to fall asleep. We're chatting about our day, and so goes the conversation.

Me: What one thing do you think you're going to ask Santa for Christmas?
Mr. 5: I don't know. Maybe a car. You know a big one.
Me: The kind with a remote or one you push with your hands?
Mr. 5: The kind that goes on it's own. You know.
Me: ??
Mr. 5: Like the kind our friend has, that you can ride in.
Me: Oh does she drive it?
Mr. 5: Not anymore it broke.
Me: We don't have room for one of those.

Changing the subject...

Me: You know there are some kids who don't get gifts from their parents on Christmas?
Mr. 5: Why?
Me: Their parents don't have money to buy them.
Mr. 5: holds up his hands and begins spreading some of his fingers apart
Me: I was thinking we might buy some presents for those kids, you know so they can have presents too on Christmas.
Mr. 5: nodding to his hands Do these look like chameleon hands to you?
Me: Were you even listening to me? I'm trying to talk to you about something.
Mr. 5: Yeah, yeah. Kids don't get Christmas presents.
Me: Yes. I think we should buy presents for them.
Mr. 5: I heard you, but now it's time for me to talk. Don't you think these look like chameleon hands?

Trying another approach...

Me: What do you think we should get Daddy for Christmas?
Mr. 5: I don't know.
Me: What do you think he'd like?
Mr. 5: Something boring. You guys always get boring presents.
Mr. 5: Can you make chameleon hands?

I tried...

Eeeeeek!

What? You said trick, right?

Do They WANT the Easter Bunny to Come?

It would means they actaully need to GO to sleep!

The Bunny's getting tired, and she still has baskets to fill!

Got to get to bed early so I have enough energy to meet the early morning sugar high.

Woohoo! Easter candy.

Help me!!!!!

Summer Lovin'

Happend so fast. Summer lovin'. Someone was having a blast.

Actually a number of someones.

Something about the pre-Fourth of July weekend must have been damn sexy in the late 60's/early 70's, because, as I've discovered cruising the blogosphere this week, there are a ton of last week of March babies running around.

For instance, there's my British friend, a Pissed-Off Housewife and then Kristin's husband. Speaking of husbands, Deb gets to celebrate hers with a husband who has culinary skills!

And there's been some recent additions to this prestigious club as well. Check out the link. The sextuplets are ADORABLE!! And one of the kiddos over at the Circus is celebrating as well this week.

All fabulous people of course. You know how I know? Cause I'm one of them!

Thirty-six years ago tonight I was all warm and cozy, ignorant of the cold cruel world. Some time during the next 24 hours the kid--who I like to say was conceived in the back of a Trans-Am most likely to Led Zepplin--was brought into this world. Lucky for me there was an incredible women waiting for just such a baby to be born and ten short days later I was hers.
She's been stuck with me ever since. Seriously, you should feel sorry for my mom.

Okay, enough pitiful attempts to garner some birthday wishes...we have some real love to talk about.

First, I still haven't been asked to the prom, BUT I do have a date to BlogHer. I am going, and I'm happy to report that the southern darling Canape (pronounced in her language as can-I-pee?) has asked me and I have gladly accepted.

Are you so jealous or what?

I got the cutest girl at the event to invite ME. Can you believe it?! Yeah, me either. I'm so excited I can barely stand it, but more on BlogHer and my fabulous date later.

What I'm jazzed about at this particular moment is that we are just hours away from our first annual blog prom weekend!

Over the next three days the folks on the guest list to the right will be blogging about their prom experience, or lack of prom experience, or about proms in general (hey it's the blogosphere--and I'm not that into rules). So join us if you'd like! And don't worry about getting a date. You'd just dump them as soon as you got there so you could hang out with us anyway.

Tell me you're coming and I'll add you to the guest list. And Leah--there was no link to your blog in my comments. Email me the address and I'll add you.

Oh, and there may be a prize, but don't tell anyone.

Now dig out those pictures. Make new ones. Tell us about prom. And get around to meet all of the guests. Mingle dammit! That's an order!

You wouldn't want to disappoint a girl on her birthday. Would you?!

A Valentine for Me?! You Shouldn't Have!

I found this fun widget through Slacker-Moms-R-Us. Looked sort of fun and since it's the season and all.

Only a few days to go before the florists' all-nighter. Are you prepared? Did you get a card for your mom? Hurry, you better get going!

Oh, and feel free to send a little love my way, cause hey, Mamma Loves Love!!

And don't tell anyone, but she's really hoping JJ might get wind of this and send her one!!


Get your own valentinr

HA-PPY New Year!

Happy New Year everyone (all five of you)!

Here at Mamma's house we've had a fun-filled holiday of one illness after another. I think it's a hint that no family should spend 10 days cooped up in the same house together (can you tell I'm ready for school to start again?). Currently we have Mr. 2 recovering from a misdiagnosed case of Hand, Foot, Mouth (doc thought it was just impatigo) and now Shakey's nursing a full blown episode of it himself. Of course, Mamma had herself a little case of strep the week before Christmas just so as no one in the family thought she couldn't empathize. So far Mr. 4 and Mr. 10 are symptom free, but there's still time!!

We're on our third viewing of Cars today--Mr. 2 loves to rock out to the music and has started the trek down the long road of the male tradition of quoting movie lines. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he demands to watch Fletch over and over again.

We may be in trouble with Mr. 2 as he's already figured out how to read the directions for his transformers so that he can insist that we change their shape over and over again. He just came up to me directions in hand to show me how to make the change that I swore couldn't be done.

He was right. I'm sure that won't be the last time.

So we're off to friends for the second annual New Years Eve Fondue Extravaganza. Cheese, meat and chocolate...who can't love that?! I'm trying out the new Mike-aritas tonight. I'm determined to have fun!

Hope you have a safe, happy and healthy new year!!!!

Can We Get Back Together?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Days posting in a row: 40
Number of posts ever: 100

Mood: Feeling pretty darn proud of myself

Harry's seranading me with Christmas tunes, the smell of fresh pine is in the air, I'm sipping egg nog and the tree is decorated!!! To top it all off, this is the 100th post I've put up on my blog. Who would have thunk it?!

Way back in June when this all started I never knew how long I'd keep it up. I had no idea if anyone would be interested in my take on life. I had no idea how anyone would ever find this little piece of real estate, but that was before I got to know some of my favorite bloggers and couldn't resist adding a comment or two. Of course, that was also before anyone had ever heard of NaBloPoMo which is responsible for nearly half of the posts on this here blog. What fun! What fun!

Back to Christmas.

With the help of two small elves, one medium elf who got bored and one large one the tree's up, the lights are on and it's mostly decorated. I've been waiting for the elves to go to bed to finish up. The clumping of ornaments on the bottom third of the tree only gave me visions for what the tinsel might look like. I had no idea you could actually get that many ornaments on one branch. Mrs. Claus must go around after everyone is asleep and spread them out a bit.

I love seeing people's holiday decorations. From the choice of the outdoor lights (colored v. white, steady v. flashing, strands v. figures) to the tree (real v. artificial, white v. colored lights, theme v. a collection of ornaments, tinsel v. no tinsel, garland, v. none, angel v. star on top) you can tell a lot about a person by their decorations. Think about it. Have you ever really driven up to a friend's house at the holidays and been surprised by how their house was decorated (or not)?

If you grew up in a real tree family, you probably can't imagine having an artificial one. If you grew up with artificial, you probably can't imagine why anyone would go through the hassle of buying a real one. Shakey and I are enjoying a marriage of these two backgrounds. They all said it would never work, but I think we've done a great job of adapting our traditions. We have a real tree every year--just like I had growing up.

Actually the tree isn't the only difference in our background. Yeah, people used to walk on the other side of the street when they saw us coming. You could hear them whisper, "I can't believe THEY are together. Such a shame!" You see, his family opens their presents on Christmas Eve--mine on Christmas morning. I know, it's shocking! But America is just going to have to learn to accept diversity in all its forms.

Frankly, our children are growing up living the best of both worlds. Christmas actually begins for them at 4:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve when we sit down to our dinner at my in-laws, then to church (yeah, my family--not so much) and then back to their house to begin the present fest. We then all open presents at the EXACT SAME TIME, bundle them back up, clean up the wrapping and bows and head home to get in bed and await Santa's visit. The next morning they start all over again. First to see what Santa delivered, then to open their stockings, then a little breakfast strudel and over to the tree for present fest v.2. In this version however we all take turns opening gifts so we can see what everyone received (I told you, Shakey and I came from very different backgrounds). Somewhere around noon we clean up the paper and bows and then get ready to stuff our faces once again. Whereas my husband was all done by Christmas morning and I had nothing to do until Christmas morning, our brood gets to enjoy both.

Who says inter-Christmas marriages don't work?

Happy Halloween

Hope you don't get any treats like this!!

*And for the record, I'm happy to say this isn't a self-portrait.