Have you ever seen a 7 year old host her own design show? My angel, who has always been good at playing by herself, has her own "Designed to Sell" show going on in her dollhouse. Complete with narration. If I sit quietly on the stairs, I can hear it now...
"I love what you've done with the curn appeal. Pink and white are my favorite colors. (I think she meant "curb" appeal) But you should add some flowers by the door. Flowers can sell your house."
"I love the kitchen, and the stayless-eel pliances, but you should hide your baby things. Buyers don't like baby things." (She has a point. Good thing FisherPrice upgraded to the stainless steel.)
"Is this the only bathroom? It needs to be refurnished. And buyers want and-sweet bathrooms." (I had no idea she even knew what en suite means! And it might be easier to "refurnish" a bathroom when the pieces are plastic and removable.)
"I like what you've done to this room. But I would add a canopy over the bed. And maybe get a cat."
Obviously, Mommy watches too much HGTV.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
"Did it snow?"
This is the perfect time of year to play a little game I like to call, "Did it snow?" The rules are simple: wake in the morning, but don't look out any windows. That way, when you are all dressed and ready to leave the house, opening the door is a huge surprise! Here's a little rundown of how to play:
-Alarm goes off. Hit snooze. Repeat.
-Alarm goes off. (yet again) Heart leaps into throat as you realize you have overslept.
-Shake angel (insert name of your own kids here) awake, telling her to hurry up. Listen to her whine and cry and try to burrow back under the covers.
-Physically remove her limp body from the bed, and send her to the bathroom for teeth brushing and ear cleaning. (She just got her ears pierced and is still using the antiseptic every morning.)
-Throw on clothes. They don't have to match or look good. Splash water on face and pull baseball cap over your unwashed hair.
-Lay out clothes for angel. Check on her in bathroom, as she often falls back to sleep sitting on the toilet with her toothbrush in her mouth.
-Head to kitchen to scrounge up breakfast. Shout periodically for angel to hurry up. (BTW, husbands who are trying to sleep-in on their days off love this part of the game.)
-Reach for milk in fridge, only to remember you used it all yesterday. Reach for Pop-Tarts in pantry, only to pull out an empty box. (Who in their right mind would put an empty box back in the pantry!?!) Dig through freezer and triumphantly emerge with one, lone Eggo waffle. Good enough.
-Nag angel to eat over her plate while you simultaneously tug her head back in an attempt to brush the tangles out of her hair.
-At the 5 minute mark, toss on jacket while encouraging angel to do the same. Open door to leave. (Now here is the fun part...) Discover that it has snowed while you were sleeping.
-Stamp foot out of frustration. Send angel back in for boots and heavier gloves. Begin the chore of sweeping off the snow-covered vehicle, knowing that this little surprise will surely push a rushed morning directly into a late morning.
-Leisurely drive angel to school. After all, three minutes late is the same as ten minutes late. Give her a big hug, and apologize for yelling at her all morning!
-Return home and climb back into bed. Maybe the sun will come out and we can play the equally fun game of "Did the snow melt?" later in the day.
Of course, this is just how I play the game. You will find variations for your own family's enjoyment! Anybody know when summer will be here?
-Alarm goes off. Hit snooze. Repeat.
-Alarm goes off. (yet again) Heart leaps into throat as you realize you have overslept.
-Shake angel (insert name of your own kids here) awake, telling her to hurry up. Listen to her whine and cry and try to burrow back under the covers.
-Physically remove her limp body from the bed, and send her to the bathroom for teeth brushing and ear cleaning. (She just got her ears pierced and is still using the antiseptic every morning.)
-Throw on clothes. They don't have to match or look good. Splash water on face and pull baseball cap over your unwashed hair.
-Lay out clothes for angel. Check on her in bathroom, as she often falls back to sleep sitting on the toilet with her toothbrush in her mouth.
-Head to kitchen to scrounge up breakfast. Shout periodically for angel to hurry up. (BTW, husbands who are trying to sleep-in on their days off love this part of the game.)
-Reach for milk in fridge, only to remember you used it all yesterday. Reach for Pop-Tarts in pantry, only to pull out an empty box. (Who in their right mind would put an empty box back in the pantry!?!) Dig through freezer and triumphantly emerge with one, lone Eggo waffle. Good enough.
-Nag angel to eat over her plate while you simultaneously tug her head back in an attempt to brush the tangles out of her hair.
-At the 5 minute mark, toss on jacket while encouraging angel to do the same. Open door to leave. (Now here is the fun part...) Discover that it has snowed while you were sleeping.
-Stamp foot out of frustration. Send angel back in for boots and heavier gloves. Begin the chore of sweeping off the snow-covered vehicle, knowing that this little surprise will surely push a rushed morning directly into a late morning.
-Leisurely drive angel to school. After all, three minutes late is the same as ten minutes late. Give her a big hug, and apologize for yelling at her all morning!
-Return home and climb back into bed. Maybe the sun will come out and we can play the equally fun game of "Did the snow melt?" later in the day.
Of course, this is just how I play the game. You will find variations for your own family's enjoyment! Anybody know when summer will be here?
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
She's no mother!
The other day, the husband and I were going through the baby stuff we had with the angel. While I was disassembling a breast pump, the husband stumbled upon the instruction booklet. Thinking this may be an opportunity to see boobies, (the Y chromosome is pre-wired to constantly seek out boobies) he skimmed through the booklet for pictures. Sure enough, he found one, a model demonstrating the use of the product.
"She's no mother," he said, a subtle sneer in his voice.
"What do you mean," I asked, not really listening but focusing on not losing all the itsy-bitsy pieces to the pump.
"These things," he said, pointing at the general area behind the pump, "are not lactating." Now he had my attention.
"How do you know?"
"Where are the huge nipples and giant blue veins?" That made me laugh.
"Maybe she's been airbrushed?"
"But look at her robe. Perfectly clean and white, without a trace of spit-up. And when did she find the time to put on that much eye makeup? This just a model." He wandered off, but took the booklet with him. (Let's face it, boobies are still boobies.)
I find it encouraging that he has a realistic outlook on motherhood. I was a little worried that he had forgotten, after all, it's been 7 years or so since we've had an infant around here. People always admonish the advertising industry for creating a false reality with their models, and putting us "real" women in the position of always feeling inferior. Why on earth would they use a beautiful, well made-up model with her tiny perfect...pumping area? And then I realized that if they told the truth, (a haggard looking woman with red-rimmed eyes and dirty hair in three day old pajamas trying to pump her huge, blue-veined...area) they are likely to scare people! And as silly and unrealistic as it may be, I'd choose door number 1!
"She's no mother," he said, a subtle sneer in his voice.
"What do you mean," I asked, not really listening but focusing on not losing all the itsy-bitsy pieces to the pump.
"These things," he said, pointing at the general area behind the pump, "are not lactating." Now he had my attention.
"How do you know?"
"Where are the huge nipples and giant blue veins?" That made me laugh.
"Maybe she's been airbrushed?"
"But look at her robe. Perfectly clean and white, without a trace of spit-up. And when did she find the time to put on that much eye makeup? This just a model." He wandered off, but took the booklet with him. (Let's face it, boobies are still boobies.)
I find it encouraging that he has a realistic outlook on motherhood. I was a little worried that he had forgotten, after all, it's been 7 years or so since we've had an infant around here. People always admonish the advertising industry for creating a false reality with their models, and putting us "real" women in the position of always feeling inferior. Why on earth would they use a beautiful, well made-up model with her tiny perfect...pumping area? And then I realized that if they told the truth, (a haggard looking woman with red-rimmed eyes and dirty hair in three day old pajamas trying to pump her huge, blue-veined...area) they are likely to scare people! And as silly and unrealistic as it may be, I'd choose door number 1!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Confessions of a reformed pack-rat
My name is Autumn...and I am a pack-rat. I come by this trait quite naturally, as any of you who know my parents can attest. Unfortunately, I have all of the "qualities" that lead to clutter, and it drives the husband crazy! My living room is an obstacle course, my bathroom sink is hidden somewhere in a forest of make-up and hair thingys, and my bedroom looks like Sanford and Son. (Buh buh bunnuh) I have been taking steps to correct this problem, and it requires me to get pretty harsh on my clutter.
My first problem is I am just plain lazy. It's not that I don't have anywhere to put some things, it's just that I don't. I think to myself, I should get this place in order, and then I think, nah, I'll take a nap instead. I'm working on it. My bedroom floor is carpeted with clothes that used to fit me pre-pregnancy. It's hard to find the energy to launder clothing I can't wear, so it's still laying there. One of these days I'll get around to it...
Second, I'm a collector. I find something I like, and I want all of them! Books and movies in particular are my weakness. The husband doesn't get it, (He doesn't read just for fun. Street signs make up the bulk of his reading material.) and my "collection" of books are a constant...discussion at our house. (Argument is too strong a word, although it occasionally descends that far.) I read mostly fantasy or romance for fun, but I also have several science-y novels and math reference texts. Luckily, there are storage facilities specifically designed for books. Bookshelves. My problem is curtailing my collection so that is fits on my existing shelves. I also love movies, but I finally did buy some beautiful, leather binders that hold CD's and put most of my DVD's in them. They are much better looking and take up far less space than shelves of DVD cases. (We have over 200 titles, but the husband doesn't seem to mind these as much.) I read somewhere that there are two kinds of people: people who read a book once, and people who re-read their books. I fall into the second category, so I feel justified in owning books and movies that I read/watch over and over.
I'm also a crafter. And that stuff takes up a lot of space! Sewing machine and it's paraphernalia, clay, paint, greeting cards, scrapbooking supplies, knitting needles and looms, yarn, as well as specialty kitchen items like rosette irons and a krumkake machine. I have had to limit these things, and periodically I purge and get rid of more. Of course, when we get into "discussions" about this stuff, I have to bring up the the garage that is so full no car could ever be parked in there. (Why do we need a carburetor to a vehicle we no longer own?) We tend to agree to disagree on this one.
I am also guilty of "sentimental" clutter. This is the adorable little Christmas dress the angel wore when she was a baby! So? It doesn't need to take up space in her closet now. What does one do with honor cords from graduation? Art projects that the angel is so proud of? Baby afghans? And what is the appropriate way to store the things that make the cut? Do you see my troubles? Also, I am very careful with my things, which means I rarely break things or wear them out. I still have the alarm clock I had when I was in the fifth grade. And the first microwave I bought back in 1996. A dried corsage from Prom, and my Cabbage Patch dolls and Barbies from childhood. I need to learn how to throw these things away. Even if they are still "perfectly good", or if they have a powerful memory attached. They are just things.
So as you can see, I'm only part way into my 12 step program, but I think I'm on the right track. I'll never have the sparse, Japanese-style existence that the husband seems to crave, (I don't think he knows how much he would miss DVD's and throw blankets and all those other comfort items he likes to call "my crap".) because I like to be surrounded by my stuff. That doesn't mean I want to be buried by it!
My first problem is I am just plain lazy. It's not that I don't have anywhere to put some things, it's just that I don't. I think to myself, I should get this place in order, and then I think, nah, I'll take a nap instead. I'm working on it. My bedroom floor is carpeted with clothes that used to fit me pre-pregnancy. It's hard to find the energy to launder clothing I can't wear, so it's still laying there. One of these days I'll get around to it...
Second, I'm a collector. I find something I like, and I want all of them! Books and movies in particular are my weakness. The husband doesn't get it, (He doesn't read just for fun. Street signs make up the bulk of his reading material.) and my "collection" of books are a constant...discussion at our house. (Argument is too strong a word, although it occasionally descends that far.) I read mostly fantasy or romance for fun, but I also have several science-y novels and math reference texts. Luckily, there are storage facilities specifically designed for books. Bookshelves. My problem is curtailing my collection so that is fits on my existing shelves. I also love movies, but I finally did buy some beautiful, leather binders that hold CD's and put most of my DVD's in them. They are much better looking and take up far less space than shelves of DVD cases. (We have over 200 titles, but the husband doesn't seem to mind these as much.) I read somewhere that there are two kinds of people: people who read a book once, and people who re-read their books. I fall into the second category, so I feel justified in owning books and movies that I read/watch over and over.
I'm also a crafter. And that stuff takes up a lot of space! Sewing machine and it's paraphernalia, clay, paint, greeting cards, scrapbooking supplies, knitting needles and looms, yarn, as well as specialty kitchen items like rosette irons and a krumkake machine. I have had to limit these things, and periodically I purge and get rid of more. Of course, when we get into "discussions" about this stuff, I have to bring up the the garage that is so full no car could ever be parked in there. (Why do we need a carburetor to a vehicle we no longer own?) We tend to agree to disagree on this one.
I am also guilty of "sentimental" clutter. This is the adorable little Christmas dress the angel wore when she was a baby! So? It doesn't need to take up space in her closet now. What does one do with honor cords from graduation? Art projects that the angel is so proud of? Baby afghans? And what is the appropriate way to store the things that make the cut? Do you see my troubles? Also, I am very careful with my things, which means I rarely break things or wear them out. I still have the alarm clock I had when I was in the fifth grade. And the first microwave I bought back in 1996. A dried corsage from Prom, and my Cabbage Patch dolls and Barbies from childhood. I need to learn how to throw these things away. Even if they are still "perfectly good", or if they have a powerful memory attached. They are just things.
So as you can see, I'm only part way into my 12 step program, but I think I'm on the right track. I'll never have the sparse, Japanese-style existence that the husband seems to crave, (I don't think he knows how much he would miss DVD's and throw blankets and all those other comfort items he likes to call "my crap".) because I like to be surrounded by my stuff. That doesn't mean I want to be buried by it!
Monday, January 12, 2009
Clarence Wilhelm?
Okay, we're getting down to the wire here. This peanut needs a name. Unfortunately, the husband and I are really struggling with little boy names. The ones I like, he dislikes and the ones he likes...wait, I can't think of any that he likes! It doesn't have to be decided until he's born, but we don't even have a good short list! If he were to come now (and I'm 30 weeks so it's not out of the realm of possibility, you know?) he would be Baby Boy for a long time!
So, how in the world do people choose names for their kids? Seriously, it's a major decision. This kid is going to have his entire identity wrapped up in a word that I (okay, we) choose. What does one base the decision on? (No, I'm really asking. Please comment!)
Here are a few of our requirements/dilemmas:
1. Family. Should he have a family name? In some cultures it is considered bad luck to name a baby for a relative that is living. And unfortunately both the husband and I come from Northern European families, so most of our family trees are filled with names like George, Bernt (with an umlaut) and Adolf. (not that one!) These names are all fine, but maybe not for modern-day boys, you know what I'm saying? Also, our families are both huge, and we didn't really want the peanut to have the same name as one of his cousins or second cousins, just for confusion purposes. (although, it's not a deal breaker!) That's a pool of around 50 boys, and therefore 50 names off the list. Bummer.
2. Trendy or Traditional? The husband and I are fans of traditional names. Especially for boys. One of the criteria we had when we were choosing names for the angel was, "would you expect your senator to have that name?" Kiki might sound cute for a little girl in pig-tails, but it's a little harder for a grown woman to pull off. The same thing goes for boy names. It's nice to have a cutesy name for your little bundle, but eventually he is going to be someone's boss (ideally) and he should have a name that says so.
We also don't want anything too popular. I grew up with a close circle of friends that included three "Amy"s. I don't really want my son to be known as Jonah B. So we are trying to avoid the top 10 -20 names of the year, in the hopes that maybe just his first name will do.
And, here's a note on spelling. We insist on the regular spelling of names. I'm not sure who thought it would be a good idea to find the most convoluted way of spelling their kid's name. Speaking as a person who's name is frequently misspelled, (which is weird because Autumn is an actual word that even spell-check will pick up!) I don't want to saddle my child with having to constantly correct the spelling of his name. Although, some people are just dumb so a little correcting is inevitable.
3. Nicknames. The husband is quite adamant that we avoid names with obvious nicknames the other boys will tease him with. Richard, for example. Apparently young boys find joy in making dirty or mean ways to make fun of other boys' names. (Young girls are much more creative in their cruelty, and therefore can make you cry regardless of your name.)
4. Manliness. Some names, no matter how much people swear they are for boys, will always sound girly. Like Lesley or Ashley. (Even in Gone with the Wind that guy was kind of a p###y!) And I'm not a huge fan of "gender-neutral" names like Jordan or Taylor. I want my son's name to be a boy's name. And the husband has a problem with "country club" names, like Sterling. If the name brings to mind guys in polo shirts who eat ivy and row boats, he'll probably veto.
5. Alliteration. Our last name starts with M. The husband's older boys' first names start with M. The angel's first name starts with M. Does this mean we should choose a name for the peanut that starts with M? To be honest, we didn't really mean for it to happen, we just really liked the names for the older kids and hadn't planned for the naming theme. But now, is the peanut going to feel left out if he is the only one whose name doesn't start with M? (Neither the husband nor I have M names.) Something to ponder...
So as you can see, we have a long list of things we don't want. What I could really use from you is a few suggestions to go on the do want list. My dad is pretty good about this. Every time I see him, he asks how little "Oscar" is doing, or other names like Irving, or Clarence Wilhelm. (For short, we could call him "Clarence Wilhelm".) So please, I'm looking for suggestions here. And don't forget to answer my poll, which has a few of the names that I like. Thanks!
So, how in the world do people choose names for their kids? Seriously, it's a major decision. This kid is going to have his entire identity wrapped up in a word that I (okay, we) choose. What does one base the decision on? (No, I'm really asking. Please comment!)
Here are a few of our requirements/dilemmas:
1. Family. Should he have a family name? In some cultures it is considered bad luck to name a baby for a relative that is living. And unfortunately both the husband and I come from Northern European families, so most of our family trees are filled with names like George, Bernt (with an umlaut) and Adolf. (not that one!) These names are all fine, but maybe not for modern-day boys, you know what I'm saying? Also, our families are both huge, and we didn't really want the peanut to have the same name as one of his cousins or second cousins, just for confusion purposes. (although, it's not a deal breaker!) That's a pool of around 50 boys, and therefore 50 names off the list. Bummer.
2. Trendy or Traditional? The husband and I are fans of traditional names. Especially for boys. One of the criteria we had when we were choosing names for the angel was, "would you expect your senator to have that name?" Kiki might sound cute for a little girl in pig-tails, but it's a little harder for a grown woman to pull off. The same thing goes for boy names. It's nice to have a cutesy name for your little bundle, but eventually he is going to be someone's boss (ideally) and he should have a name that says so.
We also don't want anything too popular. I grew up with a close circle of friends that included three "Amy"s. I don't really want my son to be known as Jonah B. So we are trying to avoid the top 10 -20 names of the year, in the hopes that maybe just his first name will do.
And, here's a note on spelling. We insist on the regular spelling of names. I'm not sure who thought it would be a good idea to find the most convoluted way of spelling their kid's name. Speaking as a person who's name is frequently misspelled, (which is weird because Autumn is an actual word that even spell-check will pick up!) I don't want to saddle my child with having to constantly correct the spelling of his name. Although, some people are just dumb so a little correcting is inevitable.
3. Nicknames. The husband is quite adamant that we avoid names with obvious nicknames the other boys will tease him with. Richard, for example. Apparently young boys find joy in making dirty or mean ways to make fun of other boys' names. (Young girls are much more creative in their cruelty, and therefore can make you cry regardless of your name.)
4. Manliness. Some names, no matter how much people swear they are for boys, will always sound girly. Like Lesley or Ashley. (Even in Gone with the Wind that guy was kind of a p###y!) And I'm not a huge fan of "gender-neutral" names like Jordan or Taylor. I want my son's name to be a boy's name. And the husband has a problem with "country club" names, like Sterling. If the name brings to mind guys in polo shirts who eat ivy and row boats, he'll probably veto.
5. Alliteration. Our last name starts with M. The husband's older boys' first names start with M. The angel's first name starts with M. Does this mean we should choose a name for the peanut that starts with M? To be honest, we didn't really mean for it to happen, we just really liked the names for the older kids and hadn't planned for the naming theme. But now, is the peanut going to feel left out if he is the only one whose name doesn't start with M? (Neither the husband nor I have M names.) Something to ponder...
So as you can see, we have a long list of things we don't want. What I could really use from you is a few suggestions to go on the do want list. My dad is pretty good about this. Every time I see him, he asks how little "Oscar" is doing, or other names like Irving, or Clarence Wilhelm. (For short, we could call him "Clarence Wilhelm".) So please, I'm looking for suggestions here. And don't forget to answer my poll, which has a few of the names that I like. Thanks!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Schedules?
Okay, so I watch a lot of daytime TV. Not soap operas, per se, but I like to watch those baby shows, the ones where the couple takes the new baby home and then have little break-downs from the sleep deprivation. I also watch Jon and Kate plus 8. (You can't help it, it's on all the time) Watching those poor suckers cope makes my situation seem easier. (The husband thinks someone should put poor Jon out of his misery. He's convinced that Jon is sending secret signals that he wants someone to hit him with a car.) The one thing they all harp on is getting, and keeping, a schedule.
A lot of moms put their kids on a schedule. The point, I suppose, is so the kids/babies know what to expect and what is coming next. I'm not sure I totally agree.
When my angel was a baby, she didn't have a schedule. In fact, when I would leave her with a sitter, they would often ask "How much does she eat?" and "When does she nap?" and I would have to say, "I don't know." When she was hungry, she ate and when she was full she would stop. When she was tired, she would sleep. Often where ever she happened to be at the time, as evidenced by the scrapbook pages full of pictures of her sleeping in strange places! Some people might say that this loosey-goosey parenting wasn't good for her, that she never knew what was going on. But I think that it actually taught her to listen to her body instead of living her life by the clock. (In fact, I am regretting a little that she is learning how to tell time. She'll be nodding off on the couch, but she doesn't want to go to bed until "bedtime".)
Some of my favorite parts of the shows are where the kids have major meltdowns because they missed a nap or they didn't get their lunch on time. My angel never (at least, not that I can remember) had a problem postponing a meal or skipping a nap. Schedules are great, until something comes up that alters it, like daylight savings. (And don't even get me started on that little farce!) My angel never knew what was coming, so she was never thrown for a loop when surprises came up.
I'm not sure if that is how things should be with the new baby or not. Now that angel is in school, we do have more of a schedule. After all, school does follow a clock. So we might have to get the baby to follow her schedule, for the most part. All I know is, I never want to have a panic attack because the baby isn't home to nap on time. He can learn to deal, just like the rest of us! And when he's hungry, I plan to feed him. I don't care what the clock says.
A lot of moms put their kids on a schedule. The point, I suppose, is so the kids/babies know what to expect and what is coming next. I'm not sure I totally agree.
When my angel was a baby, she didn't have a schedule. In fact, when I would leave her with a sitter, they would often ask "How much does she eat?" and "When does she nap?" and I would have to say, "I don't know." When she was hungry, she ate and when she was full she would stop. When she was tired, she would sleep. Often where ever she happened to be at the time, as evidenced by the scrapbook pages full of pictures of her sleeping in strange places! Some people might say that this loosey-goosey parenting wasn't good for her, that she never knew what was going on. But I think that it actually taught her to listen to her body instead of living her life by the clock. (In fact, I am regretting a little that she is learning how to tell time. She'll be nodding off on the couch, but she doesn't want to go to bed until "bedtime".)
Some of my favorite parts of the shows are where the kids have major meltdowns because they missed a nap or they didn't get their lunch on time. My angel never (at least, not that I can remember) had a problem postponing a meal or skipping a nap. Schedules are great, until something comes up that alters it, like daylight savings. (And don't even get me started on that little farce!) My angel never knew what was coming, so she was never thrown for a loop when surprises came up.
I'm not sure if that is how things should be with the new baby or not. Now that angel is in school, we do have more of a schedule. After all, school does follow a clock. So we might have to get the baby to follow her schedule, for the most part. All I know is, I never want to have a panic attack because the baby isn't home to nap on time. He can learn to deal, just like the rest of us! And when he's hungry, I plan to feed him. I don't care what the clock says.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
"Holiday" recovery
Whew. Is it over?
Remember Christmas when you were a kid? The only thing you had to worry about was trying to be good long enough to pull the wool over Santa's eyes. Remember Christmas when you were a man? The only thing you had to worry about was when dinner would be served and how many envelopes your Visa bill would come in.
Remember Christmas when you were a woman? (you should, unless like me you have chosen to block it out.) The only thing you had to worry about was choosing the right gift for everyone you know, shopping for gifts, thinking about how to pay for said gifts, wrapping gifts, shipping gifts, designing Christmas cards, addressing Christmas cards, mailing Christmas cards, making time to have a meaningful moment with your daughter as you build a gingerbread house, baking ten different kinds of cookies (not counting the ones you let the kids decorate, cause let's face it, no one's going to eat those but them), decorating the outside of the house, decorating the inside of the house including the Christmas tree, cleaning the house or at least making it company presentable, dressing the children for church, taking the children to church (which includes the task of preventing them from pouring hot candle wax all over themselves), cooking Christmas Eve dinner, serving said dinner, cleaning up afterward, referee-ing the opening of presents, separating the gifts from the wrapping paper, digging through the garbage bag of wrapping paper looking for the instructions to the electronic gizmo that your kids took out of the package even thought you specifically told them not to take anything out of the box until you had the place picked up, making sure that a plate of cookies is set out for Santa, digging out carrots to add to the cookies because, apparently, the reindeer need snacks too, staying up way past your bedtime to...keep an eye out for Santa, waking up early because the kids are jumping on your bed, trying to remember to take pictures of everything that's going on because in a few months when you are scrapbooking you'll be kicking yourself for not taking more pictures, making breakfast, dressing the kids (and the husband), shuffling everyone off to visit relatives, haranguing the kids to taking their crap back up to their room so you can find a flat place to lay down, and then you have to undo all of the decorating and spend the next week trying to put everything back the way it was.
So here's to all you women out there. I hope you had a great "holiday". I think we all deserve a weekend getaway that includes room service and massages. (Hint to all husbands who may be reading this...especially if you are married to me.) And just remember, there's a whole 358 days until next Christmas!
Remember Christmas when you were a kid? The only thing you had to worry about was trying to be good long enough to pull the wool over Santa's eyes. Remember Christmas when you were a man? The only thing you had to worry about was when dinner would be served and how many envelopes your Visa bill would come in.
Remember Christmas when you were a woman? (you should, unless like me you have chosen to block it out.) The only thing you had to worry about was choosing the right gift for everyone you know, shopping for gifts, thinking about how to pay for said gifts, wrapping gifts, shipping gifts, designing Christmas cards, addressing Christmas cards, mailing Christmas cards, making time to have a meaningful moment with your daughter as you build a gingerbread house, baking ten different kinds of cookies (not counting the ones you let the kids decorate, cause let's face it, no one's going to eat those but them), decorating the outside of the house, decorating the inside of the house including the Christmas tree, cleaning the house or at least making it company presentable, dressing the children for church, taking the children to church (which includes the task of preventing them from pouring hot candle wax all over themselves), cooking Christmas Eve dinner, serving said dinner, cleaning up afterward, referee-ing the opening of presents, separating the gifts from the wrapping paper, digging through the garbage bag of wrapping paper looking for the instructions to the electronic gizmo that your kids took out of the package even thought you specifically told them not to take anything out of the box until you had the place picked up, making sure that a plate of cookies is set out for Santa, digging out carrots to add to the cookies because, apparently, the reindeer need snacks too, staying up way past your bedtime to...keep an eye out for Santa, waking up early because the kids are jumping on your bed, trying to remember to take pictures of everything that's going on because in a few months when you are scrapbooking you'll be kicking yourself for not taking more pictures, making breakfast, dressing the kids (and the husband), shuffling everyone off to visit relatives, haranguing the kids to taking their crap back up to their room so you can find a flat place to lay down, and then you have to undo all of the decorating and spend the next week trying to put everything back the way it was.
So here's to all you women out there. I hope you had a great "holiday". I think we all deserve a weekend getaway that includes room service and massages. (Hint to all husbands who may be reading this...especially if you are married to me.) And just remember, there's a whole 358 days until next Christmas!
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