Christmas Magic

Every year, I set out with my sister, Sandy and my sister-in-law, Jessica to achieve the Holy Grail of our Christmas time existence, a family portrait of all of our children. They are seven in number, our little angels, ranging in ages from 15 months to 12 years. Individually, they are, how shall we sayyyyy, "challenging" to their respective moms. However, when combined, they become a supernatural force that could only be characterized as "impossible" - as in impossible to corral, impossible to cajole, and impossible to not kill.

Like army generals, we met up early this year to plan out the mission down to the tiniest detail. Naps for the little ones- check. Non-messy food with which to bribe the little ones- check. Empty promises of "prizes" for the best behaved big kid- check. Everything should have fallen into place as planned. We left nothing to chance. Oh, but once again, we underestimated the power of seven.

It seems in our zealousness to arrive early at the picture site, we overshot the time of sunset and had to improvise with alternate sites while waiting for the sun to set. Well, we might as well have said, "Scatter to the winds, young ones, and never look baaaack" because that is precisely what they did. The big ones took off to climb a retaining wall adjacent to where we were and the little ones started climbing a big dirty hill next to the wall. We would catch a couple of them at a time and take a few pictures and before they could so much as say cheese, the others would be off on some other dirt covered endeavor.

When the sun finally started to cooperate, we began to arrange all the kids on the wall where we planned for the blessed event to take place. The best way to describe the process of coordinating seven kids is to conjure the image of one person desperately trying to spin seven plates at once and never quite getting them all going. Sandy took something like 150 pictures trying to get one shot that would work. Unfortunately, the longer it took, the worse our chances got of getting anything that would work.

The picture above is the final result. All seven lined up atop the wall, the delights of their mother's hearts, Emerson hamming it up, Campbell too sick to bear one more minute, Lauren angelic as always, and all the boys, behaving for once and at once. Not the perfect picture that we had in mind, but pretty darn close.

Halloween

The planets sure did align for Halloween this year- the weather was perfect, it fell on a Saturday this year and best of all, we got an extra hours rest when it was all over!!

Unfortunately, sweet Emme was not too quick on the uptake about the whole trick-or-treating business and before we ever got started she fell into a big heap on the ground and burst into tears. She is naturally a fairly tearful child, so I let her cry into her her plastic pumpkin for a couple of minutes before I attempted to ask what could be possibly be bugging her one minute into the evening. She hyperventilated out some cryptic nonsense, so I had to ask my dad for the translation. "She said that she looked everywhere and couldn't find any candy at all." I let that sink in and then figured out that she thought it was supposed to be like Easter and she had been scoping out the lawn for candy. I explained the concept of Halloween, she dried up and off we went for the up close demonstration.

Emme loved trick-or-treating but got to about her 4th or 5th house and announced she was done and wanted to go home. That sounded great to me and we headed home, leaving Carson and his buddy Karson to continue on with our group. Emme and I spent the rest of the night handing out candy, eating candy and otherwise having a delicious good time.

The Carsons came back awhile later with all the cousins and spent the rest of the evening in high stakes negotiations for the best candy portfolio. Carson made out like a bandit, but only because he totally hustled his poor 5 year old cousin Austin out of all of his good stuff.

The rest of the night was spent with good friends, family and football. Like I said, the planets surely aligned for Halloween 2009. It was perfect.

Out of the mouth of babes

Last night, Carson and I were going through our I-Tunes catalog, trying to put together a kid friendly, yet still rockin', playlist for the car. I would play a song, we'd listen a while and then decide whether it was car-worthy. We were bee-bopping this way for a while when I came across "At Last" by Etta James. I hit play and explained to Carson that this was the song from Mommy and Daddy's wedding and that it still makes me swoon. Swooning still, I insisted that he dance with me. And being a right good sport, Carson jumped up and slow danced with his mom in the middle of our study.

So, there I was, alone in my thoughts, reminiscing about my beautiful wedding when Carson asked, "Is this how you danced with Daddy?"

"Yes", I replied, "it was one of the best days of my life."

"Oh, I wish I could have been there."

"Well, I explained, you were still up in heaven waiting to be born."

"Oh, I see."

At this point, I find myself thinking that this may be one of the sweetest exchanges of my adult life and I am trying to concentrate on remembering it in vivid detail. Still dancing, with his precious head leaning against my stomach, he mused out loud, "And after the dancing, did Daddy reach up under your dress and take off your underwear?"

WWWWWWHHHHHAAATTTTTTTT!!!!!!!! I found my mind reeling in shock and I ended up having an entire conversation with myself in a desperate attempt to make the preceding comment make sense.

Time stood still and the following conversation took place in my head:

Stacy: Holy Guacamole!!! Did he just say what I think he said?

Self: I think in the movies, this is where the lead character tells the quirky best friend something outrageous and the quirky best friend spews wine all over the place. Or maybe something less visual; maybe something more audible like a record needle being dragged across a record or the sound of a stack of plates breaking in the background.

Stacy: Who Cares!! Did you just hear what I heard? My sweet innocent child, knows stuff. Baaddd stuff. And I am going to have to discuss with my child what the heck he knows about going up dresses and grabbing underwear. I am so totally unprepared for this conversation. Everyone always tells me that I tell him too much as it is. I am soooo not ready for this.

Self: In the movies, after the spewing or the plates breaking, they usually break away to another scene for dramatic effect. I am afraid you don't exactly have the same luxury here. So you are going to have to gather your senses and face this thing head on.

Stacy: You're right. Here goes. I will be calm. Cool. Collected.

Back from the mental break and into reality:

Deep breath.

"I'm sorry Carson, you were saying?"

"Well, I saw on T.V. how the man grabs this lacy thing from under the girl's dress and shoots it into the people watching."

OOOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Big smile. Blood rushing back to my head. I am now breathing again and my heart rate has reached normal limits. He was talking about the garter, silly girl. He knows nothing about the birds and the bees and all is still right with the world.

"Oh yes, they do that at all weddings. Although, now that I come to think about it, I have absolutely no idea why."

I returned to my dancing reverie.

From my tummy came his little voice again.

"Mom, will you dance with me at my wedding?"

"Of course, my darling."

"That is if your not dead yet".

Cue the plates breaking again.

Beauties and the Beast

Here is a little known fact about me. Way back when I was pregnant with baby #2, I went to the doctor to find out the sex of the baby. I was pretty convinced I was having a boy because (1) I really, really wanted a Boy, (2) I just knew Carson was destined to have a brother and (3) I didn't have any experience with a girl and the idea of raising one overwhelmed me. So, imagine my surprise when I was informed that my baby was in fact, a girl. After making the doctor double check and being assured that I was definitely having a girl, I looked over at my sister and promptly burst into tears.

All I could think of was that girls grow up and spend their teen years hating their mothers and the rest of their lives thinking their mothers are crazy. I didn't want to be crazy. And I certainly did not think I had the emotional fortitude to endure years of fighting some smart mouthed eye-rolling nightmare. And being an ex-teen nightmare myself, I felt like I was probably due some serious payback.

Well, what can I say, I must have hit crazy early, because having a girl has been an absolute delight. No matter how much your husband loves you, there is no way he is going to enjoy a day at the mall followed by a mani and a pedi. But make this same offer to a three year old girl and you've got a friend for life.

So when I saw that a theater production of Beauty and the Beast was coming to our town, I jumped at the chance to experience it with Emme. To be fair to Carson, I totally invited him, but he was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of watching a play, about a fairy tale, with his sister and his mom. So, I let him off the hook and invited my niece Campbell.

I dressed the girls up in princess dresses and we had a marvelous time. The look on their faces when that curtain went up and Belle came out singing was positively priceless. Emme has seen Beauty and the Beast on video about a million times so she was literally on the edge of her seat with anticipation. Campbell (a bit of a tomboy) was less familiar with the storyline, but she seemed to be really enjoying it too. That is until the Beast showed up and he just about scared the ball gown off of her. From that moment on, she refused to take her face out of my lap and after crying non-stop for about twenty minutes, she fell asleep in my arms. Not long after, Emme started fading too. So, even though the play was only half over, we left at intermission. I really hope to see it in full one day, because it was really entertaining.

So, as I left with one little princess in my arms and the other slowly puttering behind me, I found myself thanking God for knowing that a little girl was just what our family needed. Emerson Claire is such a blessing. I say that now, but you may want to check back with me in about ten years. Things may have taken a turn for the worse.

Remodeling madness

Every summer, Dobie and I embark on a journey towards home improvement with hopes that this year, unlike every year before, will somehow be different. I think we have developed some form of home improvement amnesia which erases all memories of past projects gone wrong. We seem to block out all memories of the gigantoid mess that accompanies these little DIY’s or the unforeseen glitches that always come up. This year is no different.

After the dust settled (literally) from last year’s popcorn ceiling replacement-slash-debacle in the living room (see above), we began to dream-build again and decided that we would go it once more in our bedroom. However, knowing full well that replacing the ceiling means that you MUST replace the flooring, we also decided that we would get new carpet. And that of course led to new light fixtures which eventually led to us to needing new paint on the walls and baseboards. It was sort of like the home improvement version of If You Give a Pig a Pancake.

So, we took a week off of work and got all the work done so that the carpet people could come on the following Monday and put in new carpet. And by people, I mean the Home Depot carpet installation “team” that we hired to handle this leg of the project. Well, some "people" showed up but they looked nothing like the clean cut uniformed crew I saw on t.v. who arrived in a big professional looking truck with an actual back on it. What I got was two dudes in a red pick up with my carpet sticking out the back. I tried not to judge and decided to wait and be happily surprised with the completed product. Well, I am still waiting, because some other nincompoops from the aformentioned "team" measured wrong and came up 6inches short of carpet.

To be fair, I did get carpet in my bedroom, so that room actually looks great. We even sprung for a new flat screen television for the wall so I don’t have to squint to watch my old ugly 19 inch white hand me down t.v. from Dobie’s grandma. But once you leave the peaceful tranquility of my bedroom you are hit with the jarring spectacle that is my living room. Here, you have to step over the entire contents of our study which includes multiple guitars, two recliners, music stands, bookshelves, a console table and piles of clothes from the closet. Scattered around other parts of the house are electronic components and doors off of their hinges. For someone like me who needs complete order and symmetry, it is a bit unnerving. I am getting progressively more snappish as the days go by.

With this latest project, I think Dobie and I have decided that we definitely need a break for awhile. The next project is the kitchen countertops and fortunately I work with a guy whose family owns a granite store. So, surely nothing can go wrong, right??? See, it is happening again, the home improvement amnesia is doing it’s job……..

School Supply Mama Drama

Is it just me or are school supply lists getting just a wee bit complicated? I have been on a two week long scavenger hunt all over Wichita Falls (and the Internet) for no less that four ga-jillion items which I believe can only be loosely tied to the actual education of my children. I remember the good old days when you just showed up with a Big Chief tablet, a couple of pencils and a box of Kleenex.

Fast forward 25 or so years (gulp) and now one cannot be properly educated unless there are wet wipes and Germ-X at every desk. For reasons I cannot possibly tie to any educational purposes, I have to buy small paper plates, large Ziplock bags and Sharpie markers. The list goes on and on.

I have searched for washable classic color markers until my feet hurt and I am still looking for the Holy Grail of school supplies: the 8-count Crayola washable crayons. I was forced to go off-list on the crayons and I ended up buying a 16 count, triangle shaped set of Crayola crayons. Emme will probably pitch a fit when she sees that they are not like all the other 3-Ker's. She is a stickler for details that one.

In my defense, I don't think anyone can really fully comply with that list. Seriously, why must Carson have a 1 1/2 inch Durazip binder? If I actually could locate this overly specific piece of school accoutrement, I think I would still hesitate to buy it. Exactly why must his papers be zipped up in order to be brought home? Did he gain some kind of extra security clearance now that he is in third grade that requires that all papers should be under lock and key before placement in his backpack? It is getting ridiculous.

I am beginning to think that maybe the list is a test. What if there is some kind of sliding scale of compliance that tells the teachers just what kind of parent they are dealing with? Like at the crazy type-A end of the scale are the loonies who manage to get every single thing on the list and then go one step further and monogram it all. And at the lazy slacker end of the scale are the parents who go all rogue and buy Rose Art instead of Crayola and figure that nobody needs 3 boxes of Kleenex on the first day of school, so they just send one. And in the middle of the scale are the poor schmos who do the best they can with the supply list and hope that their kid doesn't notice that they have triangle crayons and not round ones? And depending on how you do with the list, that is how the teachers know how to deal with you.

I don't know, maybe I am just over thinking this whole school supply thing. But just in case you find small and/or large binder rings, let me know. I sure don't want to be nailed as a slacker.

Evie and Emme

Yesterday was Evie’s birthday. Oh yeah, I forgot, you don’t know about Evie. Evie is Emerson’s best-friend and she is, to the rest of us, quite invisible. I say "best-friend", because she is just one of several of Emerson’s imaginary friends, the most prominent being Evie, Kyle (her brother) and Ennis, Emerson’s on-again and off-again boyfriend.

Yesterday, on the way to daycare, Emerson announced, “Guess what, today is Evie’s birthday!!” She then went on to detail all the wonderful plans she had for her party, the decorations we would be needing, and of course, the delicious cake I was going to make for her. Well, an imaginary girl doesn’t turn 3 everyday, so we did in fact have a birthday party for her last night. I didn’t have any decorations, but I did make her a cake with sprinkles and all of the imaginaries were there. We sang happy birthday and then ate my delicious cake.

I often wonder how far I should let this imaginary thing go because it tends to infringe on our daily lives. If Evie is at our house at dinnertime, then Emerson insists that we all sit at the dining room table because the bar only seats four and there's simply no place for Evie to sit. So upon announcement that Evie is staying for dinner, up we go over to the next room so that Evie will have a proper seat to sit in. If Emerson and Carson get juice, then I have to pour a small glass for Evie because juice is her favorite. If Evie is in the car, then Emme will roll down her window because Evie likes a little breeze. The list goes on and on.

Sometimes, Evie comes over with her brother, Kyle and on occasion, her parents come too. When the parents come over it is usually because they have befallen some catastrophic tragedy at home. The last time Emerson explained that there was a terr-wible fire at their house and it all got burnt up and they had to stay with us until their house was ready.

Fire is a bit of a theme with her. A few weeks ago, Ennis stopped coming around and when someone asked her about it (oh yes, the extended family is in on this as well) she didn’t bat an eyelash when she woefully explained that Ennis’s house blew up in a giant es-plosion. It was quite a tale. I would almost feel sorry for poor ole Ennis if he wasn’t such a thorn in Dobie side.

See, Ennis is a boy, and Dobie doesn’t approve of her having a boyfriend, imaginary or not. And he particularly doesn’t like Ennis because his name rhymes with, well, you know, and those things should not be associated with Daddy's little girl. However, what really gets him going is the fact that she is adamant that when she grows up she is going to “slobba kiss Ennis at the moo-vies”. Where in the world she figured out that people “slobber kiss” at the movies, I will never know. I definitely need to tighten up the security on her Cartoon Network viewership.

In any event, we haven’t heard from Ennis in a while. I think they may have broken up. I heard her talking to him on her sparkly blue princess phone and she said, “Sar-wee Ennis, I can’t mar-wee you. My daddy says I’m just a little child.” So, from this I gather that he may be out of the picture for a while.

So, we’re basically down to Evie and Kyle. Kyle doesn’t hang around much at night because he can’t sleep in her bed or take a bath with her because, according to Emme, Kyle is boy and he can’t see her privates. Well, I guess Dobie can let out a big ole’ sigh of relief on that one. That's one less boy he has to deal with. That is until she dreams up another one.........

She's alive, aliiiive!!!

Well, I’m back. I know, I know, it’s been months since you’ve heard from me, but I have a great excuse. See, Dobie works as a referee on the side and from the months of August (the beginning of football season) until March (the end of basketball season), I am practically a single parent. Football season is not so bad, but basketball season wears us both clean out. And to make matters worse, Dobie did such a great job during football season, the “association” asked him to ref’ several semi-pro games which required his presence on the football field through May.

So, I have been super busy raising two children, trying to keep up with my exercise class 3 times a week, making a miserable effort at trying to keep my house clean (maid got pregnant), and intermittently losing my mind. Did I mention that Dobie and I both got promotions? Yeah, well what they don’t tell you is Chiefs of Court do a lot more work than mere little indians and that there are not enough pharmaceuticals in the world to keep the stress levels down to a manageable level. It took a while to find a decent pace, but I think we both got it under control now.

So, the good news is that Dobie is done for the year and back in my life. With us being a right respectable two parent household again, things are running much smoother now. Ahhhhhh, so much better.

So, I will try to make a pass at this little blog again. Here is what’s been happening:

1. January- I turned 35. Boo. Took it a little harder than I though I would.
2. February- Dobie turned 35. It didn’t phase him one bit. I think this is the month I joined a book club. I also think that this is also the month where I didn’t have time to read the book, but I still showed up for the free wine. I just nodded alot and tried to look like I knew what they were talking about.
3. March- Dobie got a little operation which seals the deal on us staying a two child household. It went off without a hitch, I highly recommend. If I get the go ahead, I may tell the story of how it all went down. It was, in a word, hilarious. And the best part is that Dobie doesn't rememebr a thing.
4. April- I don’t know, it was Easter, nothing else much happened. Oh, I started Spring Boot Camp. But, since I am impervious to losing weight, I think I finished at about where I started.
5. May- School ended, yeahh!! Carson broke his arm again, booo!!! (Who knew Red Rover could be so violent). I volunteered (I think someone put a roofie in my drink) to be President of the Parent Teacher Fellowship at school. I am soooo not a leader. I do much better as a mindless follower.
6. June- I emerged out of my fugue state to re-join the human race and begin blogging again.