Memories of Christmas Pasts

Do you remember sneaking out and taking a quick peek at the magical bounty left by Santa Claus? Remember delicately lifting that one loose corner on the tantalizing wrapped gift, hoping to have a hint of what treasure hid inside?
Well I do, which is why I am trying to be understanding....
My boys came out at 2:30am and not only perused their Santa gifts, but proceeded to open family gifts as well.
The world revolves around my camera (the 11,000+ photos on iphoto will attest to that) and I didn't get one shot of the excitement around the tree. I'm at a loss for words (imagine that!), other than: Sorry Mom and Dad, for being an insatiably curious child and sneaking a peek at my new coat (oh, and the Barbies... and the bike...) when you were out at a Holiday Party.

My message today

Merry Christmas!

Gotta love the Military...

The hubby is STILL not home. The contracted bus that was supposed to bring him on the 15 hour journey home apparently broke down before he ever got on it. At this point, you'd think the Air Force would just put these tired, homesick folks on one of the many military planes flying straight here, but no-- that's not how it works. Instead, they waited around for a few hours and now are slated to arrive around 3 or 4 am. That wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have 5 kids here and his drop off point wasn't an hour away. But, since it is the busiest traveling day of the year in this part of the world and there's freezing fog scheduled (freezing fog, it's amazing to see), I am not even getting worked up over this. I figure I'll pick the man up tomorrow.
And just for your enjoyment,
here's a shot of normal fog on our
little country road.
Do you see the horses?
You may have to click on the image :-)

Christingles and Ambulance Rides

The kids celebrated with their second Christingle service yesterday in the beautiful church in Shipdham .
They prepare their Christingles in advance and practiced their parts diligently. This is A2 LAST year when he participated with his Pre-school. There's something about small children and fire that frightens me, but over all, this is a pretty neat experience.
Now the reason you are seeing LAST year's photo is because THIS year I had my hands full. The #1 son is home, but incredibly jet lagged, so he watches movies all night and sleeps all day (yeah, I'm not buying the jet lag thing either). Dad is due home TOMORROW NIGHT, but that's after all of the main events have been completed by me, the chauffeur, aka:pack mule . So, I am tired, I am overwhelmed and I don't feel like I can be everything to everybody right now (or anything to anybody), but the show must go on, right?

Let's back up a bit, shall we? On Sunday night, J2 was participating in the local Church's Carol Services. A woman had knocked on our door a couple of weeks prior and told me that she had 'heard he plays a mean trumpet and would he be willing to participate?' I told her he would, and then added it to the monster-sized white board in our kitchen.
So, Sunday night after popping a pan of cinnamon rolls into the oven, I glanced up at the board and said, "OH NO! We have to go!" It was 5:30 and the Carols started at 6pm. I gathered the little missy up from her high chair, bundled her up for the cold church, sent the boys all in to add another layer of clothes for warmth, grabbed the video camera and my SLR and loaded everyone into my husband's beater (because my car was holding the Jolly Old Elf gift stashed under a blanket). I ran back in to pull the rolls out of the oven and then off we went. Miraculously, we made it in time. However, Miss Ky was wound up by the excitement and spent the service trying to wriggle out of my arms while I desperately tried to video J2. Most of the service we were outside in the cold, listening to the trumpet through the painted glass windows.
It would've been a beautiful experience, standing there under the clear, crisp sky with the stars twinkling, basking in the glow from the candles flickering in the windows while Silent Night echoed through the stillness... but it wasn't. I was mad. I was mad at her for making me miss yet one more thing of the boys'. I was mad at their Dad for leaving me to handle everything on my own yet again. I was mad that I was in England to experience these beautiful traditions and wonderful cultural experiences, but couldn't because I was chasing a toddler around. I am ashamed to say that the sentiment is recorded for all time as I turned the camera on this fuzzy little pink thing and said, "and here I am outside, missing J2's performance because of this one...." I am adding this picture of her in her fuzzy coat so that you can really think poorly of me (who could be angry at this face?).

So, back to the Christingle. J2 would be playing again. So I took the push chair (stroller), maybe to keep her in--which is a joke, video camera and SLR.
I managed to get quite a bit recorded of his playing, while she toddled around some other children in the back of the church. I then held her under one arm while I escorted A2 up for his song, video'd A1 in his human representation of a huge Christingle (he was the orange) and even managed to watch A2 have his Christingle lit. After watching all of the flames be extinguished without any mishaps, I breathed a sigh of relief and A2, Miss Ky and I made our way back to the back of the church for the prayer.
While the children were leaving the church with their teachers, the rest of us were
asked to stay behind to make the exit smoother. I stood by with the SLR ready to shoot a couple of shots for Dad.

I managed to get a couple taken when I heard it. To my left I heard the smacking sound-- like plastic hitting hard concrete and my mind instantly had several thoughts: Miss Ky and A2 were sitting at the little children's table colouring, they were sitting on plastic chairs. Miss Ky LOVES climbing and often tips chairs over.
So I turn around and immediately hear her scream. She's face down (all I can see is her little pink fuzzy form) with her head located on a hard concrete step. I am not sure what all happened in what order, but I know that my digital SLR went down hard, I lifted her and before I could get her up three inches, saw blood dripping on the step. I also know that I turned her over, hoping the blood was coming from a lip or maybe even her nose (yeah, like a broken nose is a good thing...) and saw that her forehead was split.
Bystanders are telling me that at that point I went white as a sheet. I know that I yelled, "Somebody help me!" as I locked eyes with a woman still standing in a pew a few feet away from me (she later had to go looking for her house key that she threw as she rushed to us). She led the two of us running through the church to the back where there was a kitchen. I was just about hysterical watching Miss Ky bleed so heavily, it was pooling around her eyes whenever I tried to hold her back where I could see her.
Well, several kind and calm people ended up huddled there in that kitchen with me, as someone called the ambulance. They arranged the retrieval of my other children at the school, drove my car to the surgeon's and someone pushed the stroller all the way there since they couldn't figure out how to collapse it.
It was quite an experience. I later took a picture of her coat and mine, covered in blood, but I'll spare you those pictures. She's ok, a VERY resilient baby with a hard head like her momma. My SLR seems ok and I am back on track with what matters in my life. again. Until next week when I need the lesson again....
And as a little add-on note:
My "neighbor" (a woman about a mile from me, whose children play with mine and gather at the same bus stop) met me on the road home. She flagged me down with a panic stricken face. The news was out through the bus people, the Head Teacher etc... and she was mortified. She was hoping that the story had just been growing and there really wasn't an ambulance. She had been there at the church, but had somehow missed all of the commotion because she was dealing with her own. Her little 3 year-old had set fire to a little girls' hair.

A Moving Story of one Incredible Father

Get out your tissues. Still reeling from my most recent pity party, I found this. I pictured my Father in Heaven, pushing me through some of life's races...

STARDUST IS NEARLY HERE...

... which means so is kid #1. I say that while looking up, waiting for the sky to fall because no matter how carefully I choreographed the school runs with the airport pick-up, something will have to go wrong. I am not a fatalist, but I am a realist. I'm actually tracking his flight now and it's 2 hours and 15 minutes late-- which will put him in his connecting airport ten minutes before his international flight leaves.
Yeah.... and the next flight via the same airline leaves nearly 24 hours later.
This is the kid that chose not to pack clothes... to prove a point to his grandma I think, since she filled his bags with stuff to bring ("Mom, I feel like a carrier pigeon!").

The Hubby is finishing up his training and is in the heinously stressful part of it (and the sadist in me isn't feeling the sympathy) (sorry, Hon), but I am anxious for him to do well so that he can be pleased with what he's accomplished.

I am thinking about what all I have accomplished, but I think I'll leave that post for another time.
(Here's a hint): 1. taught my boys that moms do cry for things other than coffee commercials and Hallmark movies. Like when something falls out of my overloaded arms and I know there's no way to retrieve it without dropping everything else; when the stupid Air Force-issued oven burns two dozen cookies you've been making all of your adult years with no incidences until now, and when a day of the week ends with "y".
2. I can move bunk beds across a carpeted room by myself.
3. I can let the laundry go unsorted and no one seems to notice, or....
4. I have taught my children to say only positive things around me (see accomplishment #1)

Holiday Blu.. I mean Greys

Blah.
If I don't see sunlight soon I may scream.
I normally don't mind grey days and absolutely love the rain, but man, I am draggin' (and a dragon, if you ask my boys).
Maybe it's short-timers' (the hubby and the kid will be here SOON). Or maybe I really was about to fall off the steep side of reality, but today was the pits and I stated several times that I just couldn't take another thing. I about melted in my driveway over being late for a birthday party while my kids just held their breath (all except Miss Ky--the fact that her mother was in the front seat about to have a nervous breakdown was lost on her and she screeched on as normal).
All day yesterday I kept thinking how relieved I was that it was Friday and I wouldn't be doing school runs for TWO WHOLE days. However, today we got in the car at 9:15 to take J2 to his Carol Service rehearsal and came home at 5:30 --after getting lost twice, going to the wrong place for a birthday party and having to drive 20 minutes home to get the invitation (and 20 minutes to the right place), grocery shopping, etc--
The real kicker was picking up my mail. Our base is an hour away from where we live, so I don't go to the Post very often. I go enough that they don't send my mail back (which is around 10 days). So my cards that I was so thrilled to get out (about half of what I normally send)... all came back to me. For some reason, our lovely USPS didn't think 41¢ was enough for a dinky little envelope. Nope, they do measurements now-- which is great for people who can actually be served by a face, but with my schedule that is impossible. My cards are small, I don't get it.

You know, I once heard about a man that whenever asked, "How are you?" his reply was "This is my best day yet!"
I want to be that person, I really do. I want my kids to remember me as the mom who laughed a lot, but lately they just see a babbling idiot in the front seat of a car (which really isn't THAT far from laughing I guess).
So, if you're feeling less-than-special because my long-awaited hand-crafted card isn't showing up at your door, I'm sorry. I'm having my grey-ist day yet! This would be soooo much funnier if you could hear it being said by my little boys with the Norfolk accents they've acquired.

YIKES! The star skeleton in the Christmas Nativity

I almost forgot to mention, A2's Nativity was today! I have to hand it to the teachers. This group of Reception to 2nd Years were terrific. All behaved famously and no one forgot their lines. To top it off, there was the dearest little sheep singing his heart out without a single thought to the skeleton he wanted to be instead. I am proud of you A2!

He's the little guy standing next to the kid holding his nose... and that spot of light, could it be a halo?!
--Proud Mum

Snogging

My kids are at that age... and apparently I am my mom's age now.
You know it, it's the exasperated, "You two would argue with a brick wall!" and
"Don't make me come in there!" as well as all of the other things Mom said that I swore I wouldn't.
AND to make it worse, there's the Grand Canyon appearing between my eyes. I used to think those faint lines were from years of sunbathing at beautiful Lake Powell, but I haven't seen the sun for about a year (The U.K. opted out of having summer this year) and they're much deeper now. Sunglasses can't save me now.
I'm afraid these lines are the Don't-make-me-kill-you-can't-you-see-by-this-look-on-my-face-that-you're-
living-on-the-edge-mister?! lines.
I realized tonight during our dinner prayer that I make this face almost on a permanent basis . Do you know how irreverent a room can get when one little boy lets one rip? It's hard not to laugh right along with them, but I have to teach them how to behave in public right? I mean we wouldn't want him trying to fart along to the elevator music would we?
Tonight J2 told me, "I like your hair... I like how it goes back on this side and it's poofy on that side (??my hair is poofing?!)" My lines are showing again, but they've taken on a lopsided, confused look. "...and you've made it go up (I curled it today), it doesn't usually do that, I like it".
"Well," I stammered "I am letting my grey grow in and I thought I should at least look like I cared about my appearance, so thank you". He's observant. He's complimentary. I am molding the perfect future husband!
Then he adds. "Most old people keep their hair short".
But the biggest issue here (causing Mom to grow old quicker) is the bickering. They WOULD argue with a wall, I know now why that phrase has lasted through the ages.
"You like Emily."
"No, I don't."
"J2 loves Tabitha."
"So."
"J2 and Tabitha were snogging".
Hmmm, now they have MY attention. "You and Tabitha been snogging?"
"No! Gross!"
Ahhh, the answer I want to hear from a 9 year old.
Snogging here is kissing. Serious kissing. I'm not naive. I know that there is a huge difference from his 9 and my 9--only 20-some-odd years ago (stop)-- but I like that he still thinks like a little boy. I know it won't last much longer. Probably about as long as my remaining tan lines will last here in England.

Elfin' Good Time!

I've been making elf videos. Who knew so much time could be wasted in one day? At least it's kept the kids entertained. If you haven't been "Elfed" yet, you will. Apparently it's an epidemic.

On a more serious note. I watch the news every day. I try to keep up on what's happening on the other side of the pond, but I had no idea about the floods in the Northwest. What really makes this ironic is that my sister lives in Washington and my in-laws in Northern California. You'd think SOMEONE would've mentioned it.
It's a terrible, terrible thing to lose your home. You come out saying "Well, we're all safe and that's what matters", and really, at the time, you mean it. But the loss does matter and it matters for the rest of your life when you reach for that one photo, one video tape, letter from your Grandma before her death, etc...
I know this because we lost our home in 1991. The day after Christmas. We all got out safely, wearing only pajamas, and watched the house burn completely down while it snowed.
I know it's only stuff, and time does heal, but I ache for those people! I hope they are surrounded by good, selfless people. For info on how you can help, check out the blog by daringyoungmom

Flood Washington with Relief

The Man Cold

And another thing... Happy Birthday Lori

I grew up in a small town (can you say "Horton Hears A Who" small?) and my closest friend for most of my growing up years was Lori. When I first met her she was wearing pigtails and horn-rimmed glasses and I can still see her that way 30-something years later.
We played "Ding Dong Ditch", held tennis matches in the street, played hooky from school (to paint ceramics-- how pathetic is that?) and sang along with Shaun Cassidy into a cassette recorder. She made Shrinky Dinks and had the Little People and Barbies I always wished I had. I cried with her when her dog Dinky died because she had been left unknowingly in the car. We went our separate ways about the time that she met the man she would eventually marry. Every once in a while, some news will trickle my way about her, but for the most part I have no idea what she's doing with her life or whether or not she's happy. However, not one December 11th has gone by in all of these years that I didn't think to myself "Happy Birthday Lori".

Another Day in Happy Happy Land

That's it, I quit!
Oh, yeah, there's no quitting when the husband's away. Miss Ky has been good enough to share her cold with me, but while she naps, I am still picking up the destruction left in her path. You see, this serves me right because I was dancing lightly through the daffodils with my rosy vision of motherhood just yesterday and so today-- the world came to a halt (for 3.5 seconds-- the time mothers are allowed to take a break) when my head suddenly gained 20 pounds (about a stone and a half if we want to have our All Things British lesson for today).
I already type in the dark (one of the little vultures will know I am down here and join me if I switch on a light), but now I have to sit a little like Eliza Doolittle in training to keep my nose from running off on it's own. What a great life....

Charlie Brown Christmas

My Prodigal Son

My Stardust counter IS counting down the release of the DVD (which has become my favourite movie to date) but it's also had another meaning (I hinted in an earlier blog).

Well, one week out and I am more excited than ever.
J1 is coming home for Christmas!
In one week I will own the dvd (hopefully, the BX could sell out) and will have my little boy(!) home. When he left in June (just a couple of days after graduation), we really didn't think we'd see him until our family Disney trip tentatively slated for September 2008. So, imagine how excited we were to hear that his job was giving him so much time off for Christmas!
Having one child grown and gone really makes me realize how quickly the others are growing up. When the house is at it's most chaotic, I try to stop and really look at these mini-people and see them for who they are. Like J2, who has already fallen for a girl and he's only 9! (It's mutual and has lasted for almost year... can you believe that?!); A1 who tries so hard to keep everyone in line for Mum's sanity; A2, the blissful little Nativity Skeleton (see blog below) and Miss Ky: Kidzilla, Destructor, Princess-climbs-a-lot, who grew into a toddler between naps. I cherish them all and am looking forward to our Christmas together.
P/S Don't breathe a word of this to my husband. When he calls to check on us, I tell him I can't stand another day of this... I don't want him too get to comfortable being gone on these deployments all the time-- he may start volunteering!

A Christmas Nativity to Remember

Son # 4 will be appearing in his first Christmas Nativity next week. He's four and only attending Reception half time until January (Reception is equivalent to our Kindergarten). He will be the all-important sheep (which I thought it was cool and had visions of him bleating and stealing the show), but he said, "No way Jose! I'm gonna be a skeleton". His exact words.
A couple of weeks have passed since he was given his role and despite my sudden interest to point out sheep in the fields and talk about their importance on the Earth and doing every "Baaaaah Baaaah" I get a chance to, he is still determined to be a skeleton.
I am wondering whether to tell his teacher that this Nativity may be one to remember.....

Here Comes the Sun....

This is what I woke up to today. Stunning.

Thank you everyone for your kind comments (including the ones I received by email). The break was actually VERY productive and while NOT staring at my comp-oo'er monitor, I got a lot done. Doesn't it feel great to have those nagging "To Do" lists completed?
And no, my Christmas cards aren't handmade this year, but my kids attended every birthday party they were invited to. I lived in my car for two days trying to drive these country roads from one party to the next-- why can't all of my kids be invited to the same party? Why can't these parents get together and have one massive party for my sake?
I also addressed half of my BOXED cards (but they have the cutest little red British post box on them), got the tree up with the top half decorated (you can forget the bottom half with Miss Ky living here). Woo Hoo, Holiday Chaos, bring it on!

Cheers!

I really have been enjoying blogging, it's helped jump start my tired brain cells.
I am raising my kids alone while my husband is deployed. He's been deployed since April, with a short break in October. If you do the math, that means he has not been present for several holidays and will be absent for even more. I begin the day running and end it the same way. I really thought I was losing it and needed to read about other people's lives and maybe talk myself through mine (I didn't care if anybody was reading it, I just needed to put in words what I couldn't share with a four-year old).
But something happened yesterday. I woke up and first thing I did after getting the kids off to school was check my email for any news from my husband. Instead, there was a comment to my other blog and I went out to see what it was. It was a writer's critique. I don't remember applying for a job as an author, so I really didn't understand why someone felt the need to correct me publicly for my spelling. But that's not all, she was kind enough to write a whole blog on how she found my mistake and then linked back to my blog! I thought I was being oversensitive, but when I discussed it with my husband later, he said "Holy crap, what kind of person would do that?" It ate at me all day. Not the fact that I misspelled something (who kares?), but that she felt the need to humiliate someone she didn't even know. And the point is, I AM over sensitive right now and I deserve to be.
I have mentioned on my blog that I am In The Gutter trying to look back up at the stars (maybe you missed that while you were busy checking out my punctuation), maybe this is just NOT the place to do it. I can't see stars if I'm staring at a computer screen.
author's note: In the time it took to type this blog, my child unpacked her diaper bag and began eating her Desitin. Maybe this is not the best time to explore my creativity.
So, I am saying "Cheers" for a while, and if you want great reading, check out the blog that inspired me to start this whole process . GetInTheCar

What I learned today.... again

I spent the morning grumbling about how busy I am and how I am so tired of people (who aren't surrounded by earth-dwelling sea monkeys) that want to schedule my days with some 'unimportant' thing or another. Today's 'unimportant' thing was going to visit a young mother from my church with two young children (living in an unfinished home). The night before, instead of putting away my dinner dishes, I baked brownies (always a big hit over here).
So this morning when I woke up late (Thing 3 said, "I've been up since 6:35." "You didn't think it was strange that I wasn't out here?" "no"), the school bus was out of the question.
I packed lunches--oh yeah, another something I probably should've done before baking brownies-- dressed kids, bundled the baby and off we went, driving quickly down our little country roads.
Our little roads.... I want you to imagine the narrow little one-way street near your own home. Now cover it with deposits left by tractors (mud, rocks and fertilizer), line both sides with irrigation ditches or hedges of blackberry bushes (nice firm, thorny branches that stick out every which way and love car paint). Expect this to be used as a two-way road.
When you meet another car/tractor/horse-- whatever, one of you needs to back up to the last area you saw that was semi-safe to pull off. Sometimes that means into the blackberry bush that has the most give--oh, and both of you have somewhere equally important to be (there's a dark blue van that I hate and one day I am going to sit there until it backs up). Six miles take about 15 minutes.
When I get back home from this relaxing drive through the country, I am about an hour behind on my day and due to make this dreaded visit in an hour. Miss Ky says "no way" to nap time which really fuels my pity party. My dishes are multiplying in my sink, the daily cereal explosion has already occurred, and the laundry hangs in every doorway of my house and the tornado is still spinning (envision my daughter the Energizer Bunny--she just keeps going and going...).
When this (far-more-than-I) altruistic woman arrives to pick me up for the visit, I stand with my tired daughter, a plate of brownies and a pasted smile.
What I learned today came next.
She sat down at my kitchen table and told me how she's amazed that I baked and how she can't even seem to drag herself to do the things she needs to be doing, much less show any thought to bake something for the woman we're visiting. She proceeds to tell me some of the things she's struggled with for the last few months and how glad she is to be going out with me today to get her mind off of herself. (ouch). The young mother we visited, fed us lunch and kept thanking us for coming over and telling us how she loves visitors and wants to keep them over as long as possible. (ouch again). I had a really nice time and still managed to stay as behind on my day as I usually am-- no more, no less.
So did you miss what I learned? First: it's really true that when you put your self aside, sacrifice a little of your time, everything else works out. Second: you have no idea what is going on in another person's life-- especially those smiling, happy people you see at church. You have no idea of the life challenges they've faced or are facing now. Third: if it's not painful, it's not really a sacrifice is it? I mean, how much of a sacrifice is it to sit down and eat a bag of oreos? But now give that bag of oreos that you've thought about all day to a hungry kid...oh wait, now I've gone too far.

Tis the Season

Sugar Plums

Background

This recipe appeared in an issue of Saveur Magazine. I did a search and came across a blog that had the recipe. I want to try sugar plums this year!

Recipe

2 cups whole almonds
1/4 cup honey
2 tsp grated orange zest
1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground allspice
1/2 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
1 cup finely chopped dried apricots
1 cup finely chopped pitted dates
1 cup confectioners' sugar

Preheat oven to 400. Arrange almonds on a baking sheet in a single layer and toast in oven for ten minutes. Set aside to cool and then finely chop. Meanwhile, combine honey, orange zest, cinnamon, allspice, and nutmeg in a medium mixing bowl. Add almonds, apricots, and dates and mix well. Pinch off rounded teaspoon sized pieces of the mixture and roll into balls. Roll balls in sugar and refrigerate in single layers between sheets of wax paper in airtight containers for up to one month.

Pudding

All blog sites hate me today. Is it the wind up of Nov blogging keeping sites from loading?
I just wanted to upload a picture and call it done, but now you get to hear (see) me winge instead.

Ok, maybe I won't whinge. Maybe I'll share.
I made proper Yorkshire pudding for dinner tonight. When I was younger and devouring any books set in the UK, I would salivate when "tea" was mentioned. Ahhh, crumpets, cakes and puddings. Visions of lovely sweets adorning dainty china plates. I guess I was envisioning petit fours and layer cakes... wow, now I'm hungry.

Anyway, that is NOT the case.

The first thing I tried to pick up in the store that resembled the pudding I'm used to (picture Bill Cosby saying "yum"), was actually pretty nasty. Pudding here is a bread, in every form you can imagine. There's Christmas pudding, which is a lot like our fruit cake, but add every kind of alcohol and let it cure for a year or so. There's Spotted Dick (I joke you not), that even though I didn't care for the taste, I have bought it for every American that has come to visit. But I regress, the subject of today's post is Yorkshire pudding (wait 'till I bend your ear (eye?) about clotted cream...).
I had some (pudding--my, you get lost easily) in a restaurant. It was a little bread-ish bowl with steaming roast beef and loads of dark, rich gravy. I decided this was one thing I needed to learn how to make. So, I got out my handy British cookbook and there was a recipe! But it was only for the bread part, that's no good. So I asked a friend, "Do you make Yorkshire pudding?" "Oh, no!" she replied like I was daft, "I buy them at Tesco's and pop them in the oven."
Well, I'm liking this more all of the time.
She told me the brand she uses (Aunt Bessie's) and off I went. Well, Tesco's carries LOTS of brands of Yorkshire pudding, but they have no meat, no gravy, nada. What the heck?
So I ask another friend (I can't look too stupid to the same person), "What is yorkshire pudding?"
I discover it's the batter/bread thing (like an American pop-over I'm told), you add what you want to it.
So tonight, I popped in the Aunt Bessie's and topped it with my own beef and gravy. Delicious. I LOVE this country!

handbook?

I think I was ripped off when I became a mom. I never received my free guidebook on how to parent Things One thru Five. So my question for anyone out there is: Is it written anywhere that it will be detrimental to my children's mental well-being if I leave socks in the hamper until they're worn? It just seems like a lot of bother to separate them, match them, put them away etc.. when they are just going to be worn again and will end back up in said hamper.
Just a thought.

Love This

NERD ALERT

Ok, before you pass judgement on how little a life I have, my Stardust countdown is actually representing something really special about to happen in my life... I'll share when it happens. :-) (ooooh, a mystery).
For now,
A1 has been in trouble several times today. So tonight when we got home, he decided to put on his robe. I bought him a fleece camouflage robe weds. but only just gave it to him yesterday. Today I showed him how you tie the inside tie and then when it's wrapped around you, you tie the outside belt. Well, I found him outside in the rain with the robe, scissors and some packing tape.
"What are you doing?!"
"I'm trying to fix it...this bit broke"
"You're standing outside, in the rain, in your socks, trying to fix what?!"
"It came off......"
I pulled him inside and took the scissors and tape away and showed him how there are belt loops for the belt to go through. :-)

While typing this, A2 (4 years old) came to show me how to tie his robe belt (in a bow-- he rocks).

Yikes, New technology..

I've officially been tagged (thanks Lilypotter and ~Kathryn~). My first NaBloPoMo meme and I have to thank Momisodes for helping me sort this technology stuff out. Here are the rules:

1- Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.

2- Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.

3- Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.

4- Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.


So now I have to tell you 7 random things about myself (yea, more self indulgence).

1. I am eating my four-year olds' left-over happy meal while writing this (hey, you snooze you lose).

2. I love thunderstorms. I see them as God's way of telling me he's looking out for me.

3. Have NO idea what I want to be when I grow up.

4. I have a degree that is completely outdated and useless now (I'm trained to make computer animations on a computer that takes up a whole stinking room. (see #3)

5. Not a huge jewelry fan (yikes, I know I just lost friends). I prefer gifts that show you know who I am. Oh wait, I did get a piece of jewelry last year from my husband that had an inscription that made me cry. Nice touch to have Mom crying by the Christmas Tree on Christmas morning.

6. I secretly wish my husband would blow the 4 grand (ouch) it would take to get my dog over here and back with me where he belongs.

7. I would be hugely peeved if my husband blew $4000.00 without consulting me first.


I want to apologize-- I enjoyed getting this, but if it's like the passed-around-for-ages forwards you hate getting in your email, I don't want to be the cause of it and everyone the randomizer came across had already been tagged within the last couple of weeks. So, I am breaking the rules... I really want to know more about people out here, but have run out of "free" time. If you want to play, I would love to hear your list! :-)

Another pretty day

Um, help?

Ok, this is going to really prove that I have been living under a rock... I've been tagged. What do I do? I mean it, seriously... are people annoyed when you tag them (like getting forwards on your email)?. And how do I link to them-- do I show their whole link location?

Used tissues

Well, today I wanted to share that I am now going GREEN with the rest of the world! I have recycled Puffs Tissue. Oh, I don't mean I bought tissue that was made from recycled materials, I mean, I refolded each one of those babies all by myself.
It started with my desire to see some American news. We only get Fox and CNN over here (and the CNN is world news, not U.S.), so I like to turn on the telly in the morning to see what has happened in the Motherland.
Couldn't find the remote control. So the search began...
Thinking like a 7 or 9 year-old, I immediately went into the boys' rooms and began the search. It wasn't among Pokemon cards or in J's blankets, but I did discover several dirty underpants and socks tucked away in a shower cubicle. On the way to the laundry room, I realized that Miss Ky was again in her favorite cereal cabinet. Not a day goes by that I don't sweep about a half of a box of cheerios or Lucky Charms off the kitchen floor--and before you say "why don't you move the cereal into a higher cabinet?"--I live in England. I am just lucky to have cabinets.
So, I remove her from her toasted oats heaven, drop the underwear into the laundry room and begin the search again.
The remote is not in A1 and A2's bathroom, but I do find that all the cleaning I did in there at 10:00 last night was in vain. Sigh. They can kick a soccer goal from a half a mile away, but no one can seem to pee INTO the toilet bowl.
Danger Girl has gone off again to explore the stairs, so I sit at the bottom to watch her practice her ascent and descent and offer the appropriate "atta girl"s and clapping, but
I really want to know what's happing in the states....

I move the couch, I move the love seat, I check behind the drapes and find a small stash of cheerios. Apparently from yesterday's raid. I check inside the freezer/laundry hamper (home of the misfit socks)/trash bin (Miss Ky's favorite place to put things). No remote. But during my search through the trash, the little beastie's trail leads me to my living room that now looks like a winter wonderland. She's decorated with a brand new box of Puffs tissues.
Can you imagine? When someone asks me for a tissue, I am going to hand them a previously played with sheet and smile. I will have done my part to stop Global warming. I just wish I knew the latest news....

saturday in my part of the world

Today began with a phone call at 3:05 am. It wasn't one of those dreaded calls where your life changes forever, it was the welcomed call. My dad just arrived home after a four hour drive from the city where he had emergency surgery. He had suffered a heart attack while in the hospital for observation and was flown to Salt Lake City. I can't even begin to tell you what a nightmare this week was.
30 years ago, my mother came home alone from a bowling tournament my dad was competing in. She told me later that he had just bowled and when he turned around, he had the funniest (not as in "ha ha funny") look on his face and she knew something was wrong. He sat down beside her and she began to take his pulse. She said she knew something wasn't right so she called an ambulance. He was angry with her for doing so, and refused to get on the gurney. He made it to the door of the bowling alley when he collapsed. My dad died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital from a massive heart attack. He was 47. I was an adolescent.
So here we are 30-some years later and my step-father (who has been my father on this planet longer than my bio dad was able to be) returned home with my mom. It's amazing how quick a mind that can't keep track of soccer schedules (or parent conferences) can remember in vivid detail how the room looked when awakened to be told Dad wasn't coming home. I am sure in thirty years I will remember the relief I felt when my 'other' Dad called to say, "Are you sure you want to be called in the middle of the night just to hear I'm home?"

November 16th 2007

Well I've abandoned my old blog since my husband chose to give out the link to HIS whole family and everyone else he met along the way. The blog was for ME to try to recapture a little of who I used to be, you know, the creative, happy-- did I say creative?--person who seems to have curled up and died these last couple of years.
I recently went back to the States to spend time with a friend. Unfortunately, between home schooling and working, she was a busy woman and I honestly feel like a phone conversation might have worked best for us. I emailed her when I got home to thank her for her time and her response was, "I think we're both at very a very low point in our lives". She then suggested we go white water rafting to snap out of it which I found very funny--not that the rafting is funny--I'd love to go, but I know it will never happen. She's the mother of EIGHT kids (ok, three have started their adult lives) and I have FIVE (we're building our own country), and we both have husbands that would be described by others as "wonderful, supportive men" (however we know they are sneakily controlling). Yeah, we're not going anywhere in this decade.
So, a low point. Which brings me to the heading of this blog site. I heard a quote last year by Oscar Wilde and it made me contemplate where my life was heading. The quote is "We are all in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars".
Right now I just see the clouds and I'm out here desperately looking for the stars.