Dear Santa

In the time-honored tradition of many greedy children in this wondrous land, I started today not by taking stock of my blessings, but by working on my Christmas wish list. 

(Full disclaimer, I actually started today by letting the kids pop in a movie and then cuddling back up to my husband, who is only off today before working the rest of this long weekend.  So that was more in the thankful mode.)

I've said for several years now, I don't really need more STUFF, and most of the stuff I do need is too expensive to ask others to buy for me, like a new roof, or a 4-door car for our family of four.  So this is what I came up with:

• kahlua
• vodka

This, combined with the garage full of wine, makes me sound like an alcoholic.  But I suspect true alcoholics just buy the alcohol themselves.  I splurge on all sorts of silly things, but it always makes me cringe to think of shelling out twenty bucks or more for liquor.  Still, I like to drink things besides wine sometimes.  For instance, as you might have guessed, White Russians.   The last time I bought these two items was three years ago, when my mom died.  You don't worry too much about expenses, or even alcoholism, when that happens.  Then just when that supply ran out, I went to last year's White Elephant party and scored a new bottle of vodka.  It's running low, and besides, it's citrus vodka, which is useless in the White Russian department.  Hence my list.

After much thought, I added a few more items to the list.

• suet (I love watching the bird feeder outside our kitchen window)
• a date night
• a family trip to the mountain this winter

This is why Christmas gifts for adults is silly.  I could pick up suet next time I'm at the grocery store, and really, it's up to the Winemaker and I to arrange (and pay for) the two outings.

My sisters will find something sweet and personal and possibly useless but nevertheless appreciated.  It's the in-laws who literally ask for a list.

I don't think I can give this list to them.

Suggestions?

Hiding out in my room. Only coming out if someone is bleeding or on fire.

It's 5:00 and four children are racing around my tiny house playing "Escape from the Pirate."  It involves a lot of shrieking.  

I can't believe it's only 5:00.  So far today we've hosted our social worker for our 18 month check-in, made mini catapults out of popsicle sticks and rubber bands, "experimented" with Halloween candy (mostly a matter of pouring different types of candy and sprinkles into water and seeing what color it changes into), finished two pages of math homework each, played soccer with dad, made those melty bead things with mom, used the rare appearance of the iron to have a short lesson in ironing napkins, played "tickle monster," invited the two neighbor kids over to see if we could learn how to finger knit,

and I'm done. 

But it's only 5:00. 



Send help.

"Self Control." Use air quotes to get the full effect of my sarcasm.

I've developed a Pinterest addiction.  This is not a joke.  Nor does it imply that I'm doing a lot of baking and crafting,  Instead, I spend hours scrolling through the "humor" section, clinking on links, and viewing  things like a list of Joey and Chandler's 25 best friendship moments (despite the fact that I did not own a TV during Friends' entire run) or 96 amazing animal photos.  During these hours I am neither grading papers, planning classes, talking to my family, nor getting to bed on time.  I finally downloaded a program that lets me block webpages from myself.  Yesterday I had Pinterest and Facebook blocked until 11:00 at night.  Then I stayed up until 2:00 getting my fix anyway.

I am 44 years old.  I am a responsible adult.  I have to download a program, sarcastically called "Self Control," in order to get myself out of the labyrinth of Pinterest time wasting.  I'm pretty sure this is not a good sign.  So,  Zoloft.  You're doing awesome on the "Less Rage" thing.  But I need you to back off on the "Zoning out Takes Precedence over Life" thing. 

In which my kids make me feel good.

Yesterday I was singing in the car, making up some nonsense song to entertain myself.  "Linden did this at you!" announces Oak, twirling his fingers near his ear.  I laugh.

"I didn't say you are crazy," she says, "I just said you're weird."

"Mama's not weird; she's AWESOME!" exclaims Oak. 

Some of the conviction in his voice came from the fact that he was arguing with his sister--and was on the parentally approved side of the argument for a change--but I'll take it. 

-------------------------------------------------------
We read a story about a kitten going to school as a Show-and-Tell item.  Linden says, "If they do show-and-tell in 2nd grade, I'm going to bring you!"

"What would you tell?"  I ask, genuinely curious.

"I'd say, 'This is my Mama Doll.  She's the biggest toy ever!  She likes to wear earrings, and hug me, and read."

That about sums it up. 

Doing my son's laundry

Pairs of pants: 12
Pairs of socks: 13
Pairs of underwear: 3

Seriously?  I guess we need to start micromanaging that. 

A Few More Things Parenting Has Taught Me

1.  If a kid lays down during the day, even for a few seconds, that kid is sick. 

2.  Costco is a restaurant.  Sweet Tomatoes is a fancy restaurant.

3.  The evening allows enough time for two, maybe three of the following: making dinner from scratch, eating dinner as a family, doing dishes, listening to each kid read aloud for 20 minutes, supervising each kids' 20 minutes of homework, any of us getting any of our chores done.  Yet all of these things should be happening.  Plus, I hear some people bathe their kids occasionally.  I have no idea where they get the time.

4.  In event of soccer practice, there is time for soccer practice and Taco Bell.  That's it.  Oh, and you're supposed to bring a chair to soccer practice.  I didn't know that the first time I went.  On the plus side, soccer practice = Mom's reading time. 

5.  Saturday morning cartoons (or DVDs) exist so parents can sleep late and/or get it on. 

6.  Minecraft is a thing.  Applesauce in a little tube is a thing.  I knew that My Little Pony was a thing, but I didn't know they have Cutie Marks (gag). 

7.  Barbie movies don't suck as badly as I thought they would.  I'm not saying I make them an option on family movie night, but I think I prefer them to the movies where live action dogs make fart jokes.  The books based on the Barbie movies, however, are garbage.

8.  If you have the right kind of friends, with the right size of kids, you basically never need to buy any clothes for your kids besides socks and underwear. 

9.  The library has always been one of my very favorite places in the world.  Since having kids, I've discovered what the item check-out limit is (100), and that today's library offers free events like Lego Time and Game Night.  Add to that the fact that our library backs onto a park with biking paths around a lake, and you've got an entire day's free outing right there.  I honestly can't love the library any more than I do already, but if I could, I would.

10.  Zoloft makes me a better mom.

If you're wondering where the mushy stuff is, well, I did know going into this that there would be moments of awesome, times when I loved my kids so much I could physically feel my heart trying to pop out of my chest.  And I knew there'd be lows.  This list represents things I was just oblivious to in The Time Before Kids. 

Hops like a bunny

Oak tells me, “Mom!  My friend at school is going to bring me a tarantula tomorrow!  She says I can keep it!”

My eyes bug out, and with admirable restraint, I manage to not quite shriek, “No!  You may not get a tarantula.”

“No, Mom, it’s okay!  She says I can really have it!”

“No.”

“But it already has a little house to live in, and she’s giving me that too.”

“No.”

“But Mom!  She’s bringing it tomorrow!

“Nope.  No spiders.  Besides,” (in a lame attempt to apply logic and/or push the blame elsewhere) “she can’t bring a spider to school.  It’s against the rules.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I read it in the Parent Handbook.  No poisonous spiders at school.” 

“But Mom, why don’t you want me to get it?  Are you afraid or something?”

“Yes.  Exactly.”

“But Mom, it’s so cute!  It just hops, like a bunny!”

Okay, if you can think of something more disturbing than a tarantula that hops, then please do NOT tell me about it.  The fact that he thought this would make me more amenable to his suggestion, plus the general hilariousness of comparing a gigantic spider to a fluffy bunny made me burst into laughter, which just hurt his feelings. 

And then he tried to convince me to let him get a monkey instead. 

We are really cat and dog people, all four of us, but the Winemaker has serious allergies, even after five years (!) of weekly shots.  Husbands who are perpetually stuffed up, and occasionally have to go sit on the porch to catch their breaths, are one thing.  Winemakers who can’t smell are another problem altogether. 

Anyone know much about turtles?