Unspeakable....

The events of today are more than any one heart can take. My son, my precious baby boy, is a kindergartener. My daughters are elementary school and middle school. After following the Connecticut tragedy all day, I couldn't get to them fast enough at pick up time. The absolute devastation and heartbreak that these parents and families are experiencing is more than I can wrap my head around. I'd prefer not to get into the whole gun control debate. AllI know is that mental health assistance has to be cheaper and guns must be regulated more than they are...and I own one myself. But I also feel the great weight of responsibility as an owner. And, simply asking visitors to report to the office when they enter the school building is it enough. Anyone who is sick enough to commit a heinous act will not let a sign stop them. All I can do now is listen to my children, share with them Mr. Rogers's tips for dealing with tragedies....the first one being to make sure and point out all the helpers wen watch the news. When seeing such sadness, it is important that they know people are there to help...good people.

Right now, we are snuggled up and watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Precious time, even if Santa comes off looking like a real jackhole in this whole production. My babies are safe and I am heartbroken for the other mommies who will not engage in such a luxury with their loved ones again. God bless them all...


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Christmas with the crazies

Many years ago, two crazy kids met at a large land grant institution and, after a year of friendship, fell in love with each other. They got married, yada yada yada...it was quite sweet and lovely. Then, the girl asked the boy if he ever thought about growing a beard. It was simply a question, I promise...I mean I heard she promised, not a suggestion. The boy, intrigued by the fact that he would not have to shave and had a wife who didn't mind a scratchy face, decided to give the beard a try. So out went flicking his Bic and in came the scruff. It was a little patchy at first, but he looked awfully cute. His coworkers, who were typical boys, decided to give him some flack as they had no life and needed a study break. It was very unfortunate timing for the sweet beard growing boy that 'twas the month of Christmas and all the holiday specials were on a constant loop. He returned to his happy little cottage that he shared with his bride with a tired and annoyed scruffy face. "Maybe this beard thing is not for me." "Why would you say that? It has grown so nicely!". "Tis not the season for a sense of humor." They had thrown out a comparison that the boy was not too fond of, but what's a guy gonna do? "Who did they say you looked like?". "Um, Yukon Cornelius...":



She laughed a bit for, although his hair was fairly brown, his beard had come in fairly red. He was not amused...not amused at all. That month and many Decembers to come, different Yukon Cornelius likenesses graced our home. Her personal favorite was the doll who sang "Silver and Gold". That is, it was her favorite for the first 312 times that $&@% doll sang the song, but then it got a bit annoying. Fast forward 16 years later. The boy is now a father. His heart has softened, as has his sense of humor(though it has always been good). He is a father with children. This year it was his turn to put up one of the two most coveted ornaments in the family collection, the first being the Christmas Pickle. The son got that. But this was the sweet bearded boy's year:



"Silver and gold....silver and gold...ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold...".

Meanwhile, the boy's son told all of us the Christmas story with every detail...Mary and Joseph took a camel instead of a donkey but, you know, poetic license. He brought props and everything. The kid is prepared.



Yukon Cornelius and mama Mary on a camel. I love this season. Tomorrow? The Playmobil nativity meets the Scooby Doo lunchbox ornament. Oh the possibilities.
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The light before Christmas put my mind right..

Tonight was the always epic children's Christmas music night a church. Personally, it is my favorite concert of the year. I love the grown ups in concert, don't get me wrong, but the offerings from the children are what really warm my hear and turn on the waterworks. The boy got up and did his singing. He is very serious about it and never will crack a smile. But his little voice is so sweet to hear. Next came G's group. They have practiced their musical since September and were ready to go. As it always happens, circumstances and illness always come at the worst times,and it tried to mess things up tonight. G's buddy came after having been home sick all day. The poor thing suffered through practice and we all were concerned as to whether she could make it through the musical which was 35 minutes. Well, my friends, she powered through like a trooper. What a grown up thing to do...so very proud of her! I was teary through the whole thing. I was proud of G. She had the first solo and the mic wasn't working. It came on at the end, but her one moment was sullied. She could have stopped or pitched a fit, but she sang on and didn't show that it bothered her at all. She got sad later. I think she had a right to be. Even though snafus and illness occurred, the program was wonderful. Ms. Kathryn does an absolutely spot on job with these kids. We are so blessed to have her. The message of the musical and their sweet singing but my mind from the inconvenience of the holidays to the miracle of Christmas.

On a completely different and anticlimatic note, I am watching "Amish Mafia". Holy moly. The Discovery networks really have a fascination with the Amish and creepy families who make Southerners look horrible. I guess they market what works. Sad, really. But come on friends, Amish smoking bongs/slashing tires and sending enforcement out to shut down knockoff Amish craft dealers and all run by a man at a desk in a barn? If they combine this sow with Honey Boo Boo, that would be something to watch. Just sayin'.


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Baking, sewing and Bob Newhart

As previously stated, we have now entered the mad rush of Christmas parties, performances...all that stuff. Now that I have a job where I work with people (not thread, poly-Fil and cloth), I feel the need to give little "thank you for your hard work" gifts, as well as teacher gifts and family gifts and a million other gifts. I found what appeared to be an easy little nativity-esque ornament to make and give in the spirit of the season. So I have been holed up in the basement like some troll, chained to the sewing machine. In between sewing baby Jesus's head on and giving Joseph eyes, I have also been baking sausage balls for a snack supper for G's little singing group tomorrow. This all gets monotonous after a while. Thanks to one of my all time heroes, Bob Newhart and his button down mind, through the magic of iTunes I have been able to pass the time with relative ease. His comedy is s witty and intelligent...and clean. Why can't we have more of that these days? Listen, I am not above a raunchy joke now and then, but put some thought into it for goodness sake. His bit involving a conversation that a driving instructor is having with his student is just excellent. Look it up.

On a completely different note, I must share heartwarming news. My friend Leanne got to hold her son, baby Drew, for the first time yesterday. As a mother myself, I cannot imagine how torturous it must have been for her to wait almost a month before getting to hold him. What precious news and a sweet picture to see and to hear that he fell asleep in her arms. The comfort was there, even if her arms were around him for the first time. He knew his mommy's arms. That just makes my Christmas.


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Kids are so suggestible

Tonight was night numero dos of our church music program...unfilmed. This was the performance where the kids could relax a bit. They were troopers yesterday, but the program was also three and a half hours earlier. Tonight, after being told to use the bathroom as it was their last opportunity, the power of psychological suggestibility reared its ugly head. One had to go and then 3/4 of the pew cleared out over the course of the program. Between the adult bell ringers behind them, who were all mothers, we were busy. My friend had one attempting to lift the hymnals with their feet kicking their feet to see if they could make the mic stand move. I had one making a paper airplane contraption to cover their nose, held to their face by spit and a Kleenex strategically stuck up the nostrils to hold the contraption together. Another ate, in opposition of my stern warning, an entire Kleenex during "O Holy Night". There seems something very unholy about the union of the birth of our Savior and consuming bathroom paper products. Maybe it's just me. Either way, the concert was beautiful even if the entire tween set was stricken with a terrible case off"Ants in the pants". The music was gorgeous and I think our bell number was pretty super duper. I am now going to listen to Michael Buble' sing the last song of his special and conk out. Velvet voice lulling me to dreamland....


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I am not ready for this

I was informed in the last few days that my son has a girlfriend. Well, the "girlfriend" term was used by my daughter. My heart started to race, my head started to hurt. This is not supposed to happen already. My baby is not supposed to like girls yet. So you can imagine that I, as any mother would do, immediately asked him about HER. He told me that she is not his girlfriend, but was very happy to say that he liked her. When I was in the big K, I do not recall having a boyfriend. I was trying to choke down stale graham crackers with warm milk and staying in the lines. He informed me that they do normal stuff together like pushing the tire swing together and hanging out on the playground. Whew! If that's all it is, I am fine. I want my son to be a gentleman and a godly man to the girl he dates, but not for about 20 more years...and that's when he will go on supervised dates. Just a warning, ladies.


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Learning manners during the holidays

Our Christmas choir program is coming up on Sunday and Monday. Both my girls are singing in it, which is thrilling for them and for me. Because one of the performances is always televised, we all have our clothing requirements. G has to have black pants and, well dadburnit, she does not have any. So off to Target we went and luckily had success. In the shopping center next to Target is a brand new JoAnn's crafts. I had to go in to find some more swaddled baby Jesus colored felt for a project and the girls wanted to check out the new store. After we had our fill of rabid wreath buyers and cloth cutters, we took our place in line to purchase our treasures. While there, the pregnant lady in front of us was wrung with the cashier. Her voice was raised, her attitude was harsh and her face was cold. Her treatment of the cashier was enough to make my girls stare, mouths open in shock. They kept looking back at me, waiting for me to explain it away and I could not. I just shook my head. Why do the holidays bring out the worst in people? What does one gain with rudeness?

The girls and I made our purchase and left the store, ten footsteps behind the offender. I explained to them the old sayings about catching fewer flies with vinegar and how there was no call to speak to anyone with ugliness. We talked about that none of us are beer than others and said we have no right to put ourselves above anyone. We arrived at our vehicle to find it parked next to the ugly woman. She got her pregnant self into their truck and lit up a cigarette. I wanted to be judgemental and ugly. I wanted to make snarky comments, but then I realized that my learning opportunity for their learning would be destroyed. Oh how we are humbled ever second of every day.

After learning opportunities and soccer games that lasted for-ever, the kids are in bed and I am finally on the couch for a minute. We may even sample some frozen dairy delights...or I'll just go to sleep.


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