Happy Holidays

I love everything about Christmas. I start looking forward to it in June. It drives my husband crazy. I love singing, hot drinks, cookies, movies, snow, but I especially love the cheerful attitude people adopt for the season.

I love New Years too. Everyone is full of hope and great expectations. I love the loud parties and midnight cheering.

I dread the return of school and early mornings as much as the kids do. I hate homework, schedules, grades, studying.

I think I forgot to be an adult.

Sandy Hook

In light of the horrific incident that occurred in Connecticut, I just didn't have the heart to publish anything frivolous today.

I can't bring myself to listen to the newscasts or read the articles, so I don't know many of the details, and I don't care to. I know too much already. I find I need to discipline my mind away from severe overreactions such as forcibly confiscating all weapons in America and banning video games or movies containing any sort of violence. Action will surely be necessary, but not when emotions are running the day.

I am sad to think that I will bounce back from this.

Then again, maybe I won't. Every moment spent with my kids over the weekend was glorious. Every hug was remarkable. The sweaty smell and messy kitchen was a blessing. Bedtime rituals were not rushed but enjoyed.

If my children are not robbed from me by a sick twist of fate, they surely will be by minutes, hours, and years.

I think I, personally, will honor those who survived and those who didn't by being awake and aware during the precious moments I spend with my kids. Instead of hurrying along our schedule, I will hug, really listen, and laugh.

And I will be thankful for my messy kitchen.  

Wow.

The ocean had it's way with me today.

My gypsy parents, who sold all their belongings in order to spontaneously travel the earth, have set up camp for three weeks in sunny Florida. What else could I do but show up and enjoy the sunshine with them? I'm a good daughter.

So, immediately upon waking in our tropical paradise, Mike and I donned our swimsuits and gave ourselves to the waves. I spent a large part of the day upside down with my feet bobbing in the crashing waves and my head pounding into the sand. After a few hours, the ocean decided it was done with me and spit me unceremoniously upon the sandy beach.

This is where it gets bad.

Since the ocean was done with me, I headed to the pool to find my dad. My balance was gone due to a morning spent being tossed like I was in a washer set to sturdy, so I stumbled drunkenly as I searched.  My glasses were back in the room, so I squinted trying to locate my dad, and finally spotted his baseball hat and headed to his table.

Stumbling and squinting, and with a nest of sandy hair erupting in all directions, I squinted directly at my dad and said, "Wow!"

But, the man I was wowing was not my dad. Just a guy in a hat.

I just stumbled away.

Never Do That Again

"Mom!" Makenna whisper-screamed across my phone. "I hear people walking around in the house!"
"Do you think someone is breaking in?" I asked.
"I don't know. I've been home alone all night, but now I hear people walking around. It sounds like big people. I'm scared!"
"Get Arrow with you and remember your self-defense training," I instructed as I motioned for Mike to call 911. With my heart racing, I reassured Makenna that the police could be there in a matter of minutes. "Do you hear talking? Do you think more than one person is there?" I asked.
"I don't hear talking," she whispered, "but it sounds loud, like a really large man walking around."
"Do you have a knife or something you can grab?"
"Oh! Nevermind!" Makenna spoke loudly. "It was just Nairobi. I forgot she was upstairs."

Yeah. So the dog is on a diet. 

The Gulp

My ottoman shaped puggle often gets overshadowed by my regal husky. Sure, he is stunning and beautiful, but Nairobi has skills. She does things. She can snore like a large human. She can sleep through the day just as easily as she sleeps through the night. She can eat without chewing.

It used to concern me that she inhaled her food rather than chewing it. I worried that she might choke. But then an event, which I call The Gulp, happened, and my fears were eased.

It happened shortly after supper not too long ago. According to her usual custom, Nairobi was hovering  between the locations most likely to receive dropped delicacies of the human food variety.

Before I say anything more, I must explain that my husband has some strange quirks. One of them is that he is compelled to clean out the refrigerator at the first sign of disorderliness. The shelves are all placed at a strategic height that he has figured, and all the items go on the shelf corresponding to its height. When a short jar of pickles shows up in the tall spot reserved for the milk, he develops the twitches. When the mustard gets put on its side due to a small carton of yogurt showing up on the taller condiment shelf, he blows gaskets. It's just the way he is. We still love him.

So, while I was loading up the dishwasher and the kids were carrying plates and cups from the table to the kitchen sink, Mike was emptying, wiping, scrubbing, and organizing the refrigerator. This is not a rare occurrence.

Just as the dishwasher shut and the last perishable good was placed back into the refrigerator, Mike opened the freezer.

"What in the world is all of this clutter?" he asked, horrified.
"Just random stuff," I explained.
"We surely don't need everything we have stuffed in here."
"We might."
"Really," he asked. "We need this bag of bones?"
"Those are for the dogs. I use them as treats."
"Well, what about this large tin foil bundle? What is in here?"

When he peeled back the tin foil, he discovered that the bundle was full of leftover hotdogs - once grilled but long since forgotten. I had a vague memory of one of my offspring wrapping them in foil and freezing them, but the logic behind such an action did not spring into my mind.

Then it happened. One lone completely frozen hot dog wobbled on the edge of the foil for a fraction of a second before toppling over the edge. As if she were synced to the frequency at which food falls, Nairobi ran, ears blowing behind her, to intercept the hot dog. She opened her mouth and caught it before it hit the ground.

In spite of the fact that it was a rather long hot dog, in spite of the fact that it had been frozen for months, Nairobi swallowed it whole. As we all stared, frozen in panic, she calmly licked her lips and walked to her pillow for a long nap.

I told you - she has skills. 

Mixed Signals

Once upon a time there was a man who operated power tools. One day this man, while sawing a piece of wood, accidentally sawed his middle finger. It bled and bled. The man went to the hospital where the kind doctors stitched his finger back together and wrapped it up so it could heal. From that moment on, his children and friends called that finger, "Angry Finger" because it was wrapped to stick straight up, which was an insulting gesture to anyone who happened to pass by the man.


Meanwhile, in a nearby yard, the man's father-in-law happened to smash his thumb between two large rocks, which caused the thumbnail to pop off. It bled and bled. The father-in-law went to the hospital where the kind doctors stitched his thumb back together and wrapped it up so it could heal. From that moment on, his children and friends called his thumb, "Happy Thumb" because it was wrapped to stick straight up, which was an encouraging gesture to anyone who happened to pass by the man.

It was decided that the two men should never leave each other's sides because the son-in-law could go in front and flip everyone off, while the father-in-law could follow and give everyone a friendly thumbs-up so that all the insulted people would end up feeling oddly encouraged and happy.

And they lived happi
We'll see.

Busted

I am a person of science. I graduated with a degree in science, and I lean heavily toward logic and away from emotion. Over time I have had to tame the blunt manner in which I speak to people, and I have made great efforts to be more sensitive.

How can a highly compartmentalized mind, such as mine, bend around such nebulous ideas as thoughtfulness? By developing strategies.

I tried to read some books on communication, but I had to read the section addressed to men. I was not a fan of that.

Then I stumbled upon a genius idea - my phone. I have had some wild experiences with my phone, but now she is one of my best friends. She was only a handy device until I discovered the "remind me" feature. Not only will she remind me of important appointments, she will also remind me to ask important questions, like, "Remind me to ask Drake what kind of shoes he needs for show choir."


Even better, she has turned me into a thoughtful person. She reminds me to wish friends happy birthday, and she reminds me to send cards in the mail. There is, however, a con to this list of pros.

"Do you want me to answer your phone," Mike asked me.
"Sure."
"Oh, it's not a phone call; it's a reminder," Mike discovered.
"Will you read it to me?"
"Call your husband and tell him you love him," Mike read from my phone screen. "Wait, what is that? Did you set yourself a reminder to call me and tell me you love me?"
"Maybe," I mumbled.
"AND YOU STILL NEVER CALL?"

Doh.