YoU DeCiDe…………

I have this little polling option on my blog hoster. So I thought I would try it.

Not to sway your decision – but please keep in mind that this current dotty one is a work in progress. I am teaching myself CSS and have to learn a few more things to “fix” the design. So if you are leaning towards to dots – think potential.

Let me know what you think.

Schmesolutions……………

Yep, the ball is about to drop and I am once again without a list of things resolved. Well, there is plenty worth resolving – but I always fall short on the following through side of things. So this year I am going to make it simple.

I will try (very hard) to be a better person. There is a lot of room for improvement for me in all things regarding being a better person. So, I am going to do my best to be

Healthier
A better wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, neighbor
More spiritual
More thoughtful
Funnier
Nicer
A better recycler
More understanding and forgiving
More generous
More gracious
More appreciative
A better writer
A better listener

My list has offers me quite a few opportunities to “get it right” – which will also give me a chance to mask some of my certain shortcomings. That way, I can do better in at least a few resolution arenas and not look back a year from now and say “dang, not even one?” I am sure to see some improvement somewhere. At least I know moving to India is sure to make me more appreciative of the United States – I am off to a good start.

I am also going to try to give up caffeine. Again. For the 4th or 5th time in my life. I am not starting this one right away. I have to pace myself. SHHHH! My head hurts already.

Happy New Year!

WHaT’S NeXT……………….

Honestly, they have a smiley face icon for everything. And, I hope this one comes through. It is a smiley face on a rug with a turban in front of the Taj Mahal. Seriously, was that necessary?

DiD YoU SaY SHoTs???????????

Yeah, I am not a big fan of the shots. And I only like fun surprises – so, here is what you need to think about if you are planning to visit us in India – make a few doctors appointments. (And remember, I am not a medical professional – nor do I play one on this blog – check with a real doctor to see what s/he recommends.)

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You will want to at least consider…

Hepatitis A
(a two-part series – oh goody a shot with a sequel)
Hepatitis B
Polio
(a three-part series – even better)
Rabies (this might come in parts as well)
Flu (you should get this one anyway)
Tetnus
Typhoid (can be an oral vaccine)
Chicken Pox

There is a lot of controversy over whether people who “live in” rather than “visit” India should take malaria pills. If you are just visiting – you probably will want to take them. Our doctor recommends it – the school does not. The concern is the potential for depression and nightmares with long term use. Couple that with some kids nearing their teenage years and this could be really fun!

So, anyshot – I have either gotten all of these or am scheduled to get them in the very near future.

On the absolutely nothing to do with India side of vaccines – but by the way, there is now a vaccine for shingles. If you have ever had the chicken pox, you are a potential candidate for shingles. Number one hubby has had shingles – not so much fun if you want to know the truth. So, I highly recommend this vaccine – especially for your parents, shingles generally hits people later in life.

DePaRTuRe DaTe………..

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We will be
heading to
Delhi, India
on Monday,
Jan. 26th.

Roger that.

PaRT B……………………

Don’t worry – if you are just reading this blog for the first time, there is no Part A. Just Part B. You didn’t miss a thing – I know, big heavy sigh of relief. Whew.

My children will do what I ask them (okay usually). I try really hard not to brag about my kids in this blog – because I know it’s annoying, but they are part of my every day, so you get to hear about them – a lot – I know, a  lot. They are smart kids – at least smart enough to do chores. But, for some very unclear reason,  they never take their chores to Part B.

Part A: Empty the trash.
Part B: Replace the trash bags.

Part A: Take the trash to the curb.
Part B: And the recycling (but only on Tuesdays).
Part B of Part B: after the trashmen empty the trash containers – take them back to the side of the house – and push them all the way up against the wall.

Part A: Empty the dishwasher – including the silverware.
Part B: Fill it up (with all those dirty dishes right beside you in the sink).

Part A: Help bring in the groceries.
Part B: No – not eat them – but help put them away.

Part A: Stop yelling, fighting, and screaming at your brother/sister. If you are frustrated ask me for help. I was on the debate team – I can intervene. Plus I have parent power that actually works. Okay, usually.
Part B: This does not mean standing at the furthest corner of the house from wherever I am and screaming for my help at the top of your lungs. This means walking calmly to wherever I am – unless I am on the phone or in the bathroom – then give me a minute – and ask me in person for help without yelling at me. I will understand you better if you talk slowly and calmly from within the same zip code.

Part A: Take these clean clothes (that I have turned right-side out, washed, dried, separated, hung, and folded) to your room.
Part B: Put them away. Neatly. Where they belong. Not in the corner of your closet.

Part A: Clean out the car – don’t worry, the driver’s area is clean – it’s the rest of it that is a disaster – you know, the places where you sit and eat and change clothes and have trash fights.
Part B: Dump the trash in the trash can, put the coats/shoes in the (appropriate closet), and put the rest of the c-r-a-p away in the appropriate c-r-a-p repository – and, yes, sometimes that is the trash can. Leaving it all on the floor right by the garage door does not a complete cleaning make – it just gives your aging mother one more place to trip and break her hip. And, trust, me that would take chores to a whole new level of annoying – you don’t want that to happen.

Part A: Start your homework.
Part B: Finish it. Yes, all of it.

Anyway, they may never learn the art of Part B – I guess that is what I am here for. At least they know this one…

Part A: I love you
Part B: That’s it – no strings attached. Always. No matter what. No. Part. B.

YeS, ViRGiNia, THeRe iS a SaNTa CLauS………………..

Or at least there might be and that is good enough for me.
Bear is thoroughly confused. Yippeee.
Angel and Flower have no doubts whatsoever. Santa is the best.

Very long story short, Santa normally comes to our house on the night of the 23rd. This year, I explained to my kids that asking him to come early was just too much and we weren’t going to do that again.

Let the reindeer games begin.

On Dec. 24th, we went to my mother-in-law’s house for our Christmas celebration with number one hubby’s family. While we were gone – and in the middle of the day full of bright sunlight – Jolly ole St. Nick snuck into our house and filled our stockings and stuffed our tree with slippers and put a few presents under the tree. What? How did that happen? You should have seen the look on Bear’s face when we walked in the door and we saw the very full stockings. Total confusion.

It did not hurt that one of Bear’s gifts was one I refused to buy. Totally unnecessary, expensive, and no way to get it to India. Sorry, not this year. Don’t even bother asking Santa – it’s not going to happen. Hee hee. My nose was redder than Rudolph’s.

We have not talked about it – that would not be wise – he can out question me and I don’t want to slip up with my normal over-explaining things. It’s better left as confusion.

Flower and Angel were not a bit confused – they just knew Santa would never let them down. Apparently he outranks parents and can come whenever he wants. Okay.

So, as my children get older – I am thinking about the lies I have told them. The ones that were easy to maintain and the ones that were, well, not so much.

If you have young kids, think very carefully about what you tell them. You may have to perpetuate those stories/traditions for a very long time. Just as my kids are getting old enough to not believe, I am getting smart enough to make them believe forever. Minus, of course, the one child who is kind of sort of unconvinced – but is now, at least, very confused. Some of the things I know I have learned from very kind moms with older children who have shared their Santa lessons with me. Some I have learned the old-fashioned way – by falling flat on my lies.

Remember to always have Santa use a different kind of wrapping paper for his presents. Santa can write right on the paper in big fat magic marker – no tags needed – thank you Santa. Make sure the wrapping paper is hidden at least as well as the presents. Black trash bags were invented for throwing away Christmas trash.

Speaking of presents, make sure that anyone who spends anytime at all in your house knows the off-limits areas for hidden gifts.

Think about whether you want your kids to believe that everything is made in the toy shop. Sure, some of the harder to find gifts might be made there – but you only have to be asked once why Santa puts everything in boxes just like the toy store. Yep, only once. My kids know full well that Santa cannot possibly make everything for everyone. He has to shop too. (If you decide to dazzle your kids with a little toy shop magic, make sure you take things out of the boxes before Santa wraps them.)

Be careful what traditions Santa starts. One year, my kids were loving stuffed animals and so Santa very generously gave each of them two. I have it on very good authority that Santa was very tired and was way too out of steam to wrap those little critters, so he stuffed them in the tree. They looked really fabulous stuffed in the tree and there was definitely shock and awe of the magical Christmas kind when the kids discovered them. But, now every year, the big question is – what will Santa stuff in the tree. You can see why that might be a problem – every year!

If your child breaks something in March and you tell them to ask Santa for it in December. Believe me, they will remember to ask. Yes, this is one of the lessons I learned the hard way.

Think long and hard, before telling your kids that the Santa at the mall is the real Santa. They all look very different and forget it if you need to go to more than one mall in the same day – try ‘splainin that to a very logical child. This little bit of truthfulness will reward you with the gift of time and health. Those lines are dreadfully long and every other kid in them has a (very) runny nose – and their mothers think they are adorable. They are not always so adorable. You also won’t have to make yourself crazy finding the perfect outfit.

Let Santa give them something you would never in a million years give them. This makes them very, very confused.

The bottom line in all of this is that the shorter, less involved your answers are the better. Too much information is, well, too much information. And it is bound to lead to more questions.

As for me, I still believe in Santa.

WHaT iS YouR FaVoRiTe CoLoR…………..

My kids ask me this question at least once a week – usually because they are trying to draw a picture of me in a shirt that I would never (and I mean ever) wear  – but they want it to be in my favorite color – that’s so it looks just exactly like me. The pink curly hair and the very skinny legs don’t really resemble me very much either – but they are sure the shirt in my favorite color will be a dead give away. I love these pictures – they are funny and endearing. Plus, I get to have skinny legs and curly hair. I’ll take it!

juniper images

The problem is – I don’t have a favorite color – or at least not just one favorite color – but it’s too complicated to explain to them that if I pick just one and only one favorite color – then I miss out on all the others. That’s a  whole lot of missing out. And, is it really enough to just say red when, at that moment, I might really be thinking barn red without any trace of purple whatsoever or bright, bright cherry red with a big fat hint of purple – like the cherry juice that stains your fingers. I am not so sure it is.

I have learned that you have to be careful how specific you are – for being too specific could literally mean hours searching for exactly the right shade through a box of  a thousand broken crayons with missing labels. And, alas, this is a task even my oldest child does not feel he can do himself. My children understand that all blues are not created equal. This is a gift that I would like to think I have given them – a little touch of creativity passed down. But when you are called in for the all out search and rescue for the missing color – you can quickly find yourself on the not so much fun side of things.

I also don’t want to confuse them by locking into just one color – if I pick a lovely shade of red today, does that forever rule out any hue of  brown. Ever? Boo and Hiss. And, yes, I can hear you now, “who has brown as a favorite color?” Well, sometimes I do – when you wear a color and get compliments, it can easily become your favorite color. And with retro being cool again – a brown shirt really sets off my pink curly hair.

Number on hubby has it all figured out – he looks over the top of his newspaper and says simply – black.

RiTeS oF PaSSaGe………….

Our neighborhood has quite a few wonderful traditions – a fourth of July pool party that is pure insanity, Memorial Day cookouts, Easter Egg hunts, Halloween parades on spooky paths, and Santa comes riding thru the hood on a big honkin’ sleigh fire truck every December.

My kids love these little rituals. They bring everyone together – in the rain, in the snow, in the burning hot – neighbors come out in droves.  Most of the time we can’t wait to get there. Sometimes, it’s like going to the grocery store – even if you don’t necessarily feel like going, you go. Even if you don’t necessarily celebrate that particular holiday, you show up. It’s just part of what you do. And, we are always so glad we have been.

This year Bear was invited to ride on the fire truck with Santa. This was a big deal for him. He was more excited than he will ever admit. But I am his mother – I know how he feels about it. It is quite a rite of passage to go from the little kid receiving the reindeer food and the candy cane to becoming the big kid handing them out. Plus, you get to ride inside the big honkin’ fire truck. Seriously, it’s pretty cool.

I am glad he got to be up close and personal with Santa this year. He knows that this is not the real Santa. I have always told my kids that the Santas at the mall and on fire trucks are just helping the big guy out. He is much too busy to ride around on trucks and sit at the mall all day. But rest assured that all of these Santas have a direct link to the Jolly ole Saint Nick himself and they are taking names – so yes, you’d better watch out.  And as for me, I just happen to have Santa’s phone number – that is a whole mommy arsenal in the war against bad behavior.

But this year is a sad year for me because Bear is in a world of disbelief over the big jolly guy.  He is pretty sure he thinks that no one is the real Santa. He is no longer convinced. Believe you me, I am working hard to continue the lies I have perpetrated over, well, his whole life. This is because I know there is more to Santa than a red suit and a bowl full of jelly. It’s the magic that I don’t want him to let go of just yet. Not until he can get his heart around how wonderful it is to play Santa.

And, thankfully, he is a kind little bear. He has not shattered the hopes and dreams of his sisters. He has not said a word to them. Maybe he knows better – but I prefer to think that he is not absolutely, completely sure of his conviction just yet.

The other day, Bear happened upon some (hidden) stuffed animals that the kids had seen in the store and asked for. As many parents have said before me, I told them they should ask Santa for the ridiculously overstuffed and very large animals. Because there is no way in H-E-double toothpicks that I am buying them. He knew that his sisters would be going into that room, so he hid them. And he hid them pretty well. The reason that Bear stumbled upon these little surprises is because number one hubby sent the kids to that exact room to get out the Christmas decorations – I know, I know, he is going to lose that number one status quicker than the grinch stole Christmas – I immediately went downstairs to hand them out. To convince them they weren’t meant to be a surprise from Santa. Oh no, not from Santa.

Sigh. Another lie. These are surprises that Dad asked me to get for you I said to them with a completely straight face. He wanted to give them to you so you would think of him while he is gone. And, yes, we’ll figure out a way to get them to India and, yes, I will figure out what else Santa is going to surprise you with. Thanks dear.

So, I have a few tricks up my sleeve to convince Bear not to be so unconvinced just yet. I will let you know how it goes.

Number one hubby arrived this morning from India. So you may not read too much of me over the next fews days – you might – but you might not. We’ll see. But just in case, Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!

ToRN BeTWeeN TWo DauGHTeRs……………

If you have more than one child, more than one parent, more than one boss, more than one friend, more than one sibling, more than one pet, more than one plant, more than one pair of earrings – let’s just say that, if you are breathing, there has to have been at least one time in your life when you felt torn about who to choose.

Especially as a parent, this kind of choice can rip you apart. It’s super – duper – extraordinarily tough. Friday, I had just such a choice. Yippee Skippee.

Flower had colonial day at school (a big deal where all the kids/teachers/parents don colonial garb and have an old-fashioned day). Angel woke up not feeling 100 percent. Number one hubby is not even on the continent – yeah,  that equals a big fat no help there.

Here is the gist of the initial conversation:

Flower: are you coming
Angel: are you staying
Me: …………….
Number One Hubby (via phone with honest-to-goodness sympathy):
sometimes you just can’t get a break, can you?
What are going to do?
Me: …………………

I realize that some situations just will not solve themselves.

First things first – it all started at 6:45am – I need to have myself dressed all colonial-like and all my chilrins in the school by 8am to help set up. There is a lot to do in 75 minutes. The clock starts ……… now – I am off to assess the situation and make adult-like, parental decisions. It’s also way too early for this kind of thoughtful action.

Angel had no fever – but a pretty hacky cough. You know the kind that you simply cannot fake. She also went to bed later than normal the night before- so throw some really tired grumpiness into that mix. Just what the mix needed. Great. She got glass of water, some cough medicine, a blanket, another blanket, and the tv turned on – her pick this time.

Bear had a typed assignment due – you guessed it – the same day as colonial day. Okay – he is in 6th grade – his projects are all supposed to be typed – but he has not been given a typing class. Guess who needed to type it? Let’s say it together now – Moi? I know he could do it himself – but it would take him longer to type one paragraph than it would for him to solve pi. Ain’t gonna happen. And really, not necessary. He wrote it in time for me to type it up the night before, but I went to bed early – being exhausted and all.

Next, Flower’s lunch needed to be authentic for colonial day. So, she was hoping for banana bread – something I could have also done the night before – but remember, I was exhausted – went to bed early – brilliant. That was proving to be a really good decision. So, I needed to make banana bread. And wrap everything in paper towels tied with ribbons. Apparently aluminum foil, juice boxes, saran wrap, and individually wrapped snacks are fairly recent inventions. Really, is that true? Those poor women. How did they manage without uncrustables? Spreading that peanut butter all the way the to the edge of the bread is exhausting work.

Number one hubby likes to talk to the kids on Skype on the computer every morning. They love it too. This particular morning my computer was celebrating colonial day too. Apparently, there were no microphones in the days of colonial. He could not hear a thing. Crap. The colonists probably just yelled to each other really loudly from across the colony. But the better half of my colony is now in India – yelling was not going to work. And I did not have enough string, empty cans, or (any) time to make an old-fashioned tin can telephone.

Meanwhile, Flower, Angel, and Bear are asking me what I am going to do – over and over and over and over and over again. Did you get that? They KEPT asking. Thanks guys, that was really helpful. Bear was coming up with some really good – completely impossible solutions. Which was very sweet of him – since he normally could give a rat’s arse what Angel is doing. Thanks honey, hugs and kisses.

What would you do? Flower was in tears because she wants to me to be at colonial day. I know there will be days when she doesn’t want me anywhere near her – so I certainly do not want to miss out on this little – I love my mommy – moment.

Angel was in tears because she wanted to stay home – with me. But,Angel had no fever and had stopped coughing – well at least for the most part.

I figured I was going to be at the school. If Angel needed me, I would be right there.

Colonial Day was great. Lots of fun! I am glad that I could participate. Very glad. Even if I did have to wear this. (I look pregnant in the picture – I can assure you that is not the case – the apron was really long and I had to wear it really high up. The poofs are in just the right place. This is what we do for our kids.)

Angel survived another day in first grade. Well, it turned out to be just half a day. The guilt got the best of me – immediately after the parent volunteering part of colonial day was over, I went to Angel’s class and brought her home. Her teacher said she seemed fine  – she did not say it but I could tell she was surprised I was there. I did not have it in me to explain that I was the one who was not fine. I was torn between two daughters and I did not want either daughter to feel less important than the other. So, I wanted to take her home and let her feel the mommy love – even if she was no longer sick.