It's a...

We had a family gathering yesterday at my Aunt and Uncle's house where their grandson had hit the motherload this Christmas and was one of the lucky few who got a Wii. William, who only thought he hit the motherload when he got a red scooter from Santa, was hooked after a few rounds of boxing where, exhibiting his moves, he looked more Jennifer Beal in Flashdance than Rocky Balboa. But it provided loads of entertainment for us all as we were clustered inside taking shelter from the cold and rain.

When his cousin, to whom the Wii belonged, began skating on thin ice with his mother who threatened to take it away, William looked up and mouthed to her "Call me." Guess he knows that's the only way he'll score one of these prizes at this time - by default.

On the way home, through his tears of sadness from having to leave all the newfound fun, he hollered from the back "What was that thing called again?" The exchange went something like this:

It's a Wii.

A what?

A Wii.

A what?

A Wii.

A what?

OH!

He must have been dreaming about it because when I went into his room to kiss him goodnight last night, he was talking in his sleep and saying "I'm a fighter. I'm a fighter. I'm fighting."

And after seeing that these little inventions are still going for $400+ ON EBAY, his dreams are the only place he'll be playing. Unless of course Petey falls through that ice and William gets his phone call.

Let Them Eat Cake!

We have a little tradition where we bake a birthday cake for baby Jesus on Christmas Eve. After dinner we sing Happy Birthday Jesus, we enjoy a piece, then open presents, put on our pj's and Daddy reads the Christmas story. (Awwwww.) So on Monday I baked this year's cake. A swiss chocolate/chocolate mint cake with homemade chocolate almond icing. Mmmm Mmmm Good. Being the good mother I am, I strategically baked it during the kids' naps so they wouldn't get, I mean, have, to lick the bowl and chance rotting their teeth. So I licked it myself. Then wiped my mouth real good to hide the evidence.

William was perplexed though when he woke up, saw the cake sitting there, and started asking how exactly we were going to get it to Baby Jesus. I told him we don't really take it to Jesus, we just remember that it is His birthday and that's what Christmas is all about, and this is just one way to do so. Plus, I thought to myself, Baby Jesus better hurry up and get his cake if he wants any 'cause there won't be nothin' left but crumbs by the time I get done!

I am a total, no holds barred, over the edge, CHOCOLAHOLIC. I can't stop with just one either. Of anything. If I start eating cookies, I eat a dozen. One Hershey's kiss and before you know it I have enough foil in front of me to make a whole family of swans. But this cake this year. THIS CAKE. It could make you slap your mama. Especially if she was trying to nab a piece.

So the morning after Christmas, the kids finished their oatmeal and Catherine saw me swiping a bite of cake from under the dome. I told her I was "straightening it all up" but she started hollering that she wanted a piece. 8:35 on a Wednesday morning and what do I say? LET THEM EAT CAKE!!!!!!!! And ice cream. And so they did. And I joined them. And we laughed until the last bite was gone.

The cake is almost gone now and I can no longer fit in any of my clothes. I saw one of those people on TV one day that can't get out of their house without help from the fire department and they said they got to 800 pounds ONE PIECE OF CAKE AT A TIME.

Y'all.

If you hear sirens heading to my house you'll know why.

Merry Christmas to All

Once again, blessed abundantly and grateful for another year together with those we love. Merry Christmas!

Twinkle Twinkle Christmas Star

Here is a link to the video of William and Catherine's performing debut. William is directly behind the microphone in the red turtleneck and Catherine is right in front of him.

Fa La La La La

Oh 'tis the season to be jolly. And jolly I can only hope to be. I'm trying. I'm really trying. But sometimes there just seems to be something evil lurking just around the corner to ZAP whatever joy you might have. Such was the case this week. Take Monday for instance.

With sick children out of school all month, in and out of doctor's offices, blah blah blah, it's been hard to do any real Christmas shopping....with real shopping carts as opposed to the ones that appear in the upper right hand corner of your laptop screen. So on Monday, Mimi graciously offered to drive all the way over here and keep the baby while the older two were at school so I could get some shopping done. Running late as usual, frazzled as usual, and trying to function on less sleep than the terrorists being held at Gitmo, I grabbed my shopping list with 42 stops to make in the less than 4 hours I had to get everything done, herded the cats, er, kids, into the van, started the ignition and barreled out of the carport straight into the side Mimi's car.

"OH SHI.............TAKE MUSHROOMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I yelled as William and Catherine just look wide eyed and stunned.

Nothing like crashing into your mother-in-law's car to get you in the holiday spirit. That was Monday. On the bright side though, things could only get better.

On Tuesday I took the kids to storytime with Santa at the library. I took ALL the kids to storytime. By myself. Not real sure what I was thinking with that one. It was cute, and fun, and quaint. Santa read a book, posed for pictures, and was actually a dude this time. What more could you ask for. Catherine was terrified once again, but she really wanted a candy cane so she sent me up there to get her one. I had to cut in front of 20 anxious kids and their angry mothers to swipe some candy out of Santa's stocking. How embarrassing. But not nearly as embarrassing as crashing into your mother-in-law's car.

So then Wednesday was the kids' last day at school and their cute little Christmas concert. If I can ever figure out how to post a video, you'll see it here first. The concert was precious. So sweet I actually had tears running down my face. Then again it could have been because it was the last day of school for three weeks. Or because I had crashed into my mother-in-law's car two days earlier. At any rate, I was emotional.

So today, Thursday, I was looking forward to a day with no agenda, nowhere to go, and no reason to even get out of our pajamas if we didn't want to. It was a raining, icky day, perfect pajama day weather. Then about 9:00 Andy asked if I could throw together an hors d'oeuvres for his office party. Today. AT NOON. Here's a news bulletin that might come as a shocker to some folks....but I am NOT Martha friggin' Stewart!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I opened the fridge to see what I might be able to put together, and offered to assemble a lovely platter of Gogurts and string cheese. It was the best I could do with what I had. If he didn't like it, too bad. There are worse things.

Like crashing into your mother-in-law's car. La la, la, la.

Transgender Santa

So the kids had their Santa breakfast at school yesterday. It was a big deal. Andy even went with us. The way it works is, you fight the other 300 kids and parents to get a chicken biscuit and then anxiously await your number to be called to sit in Santa's lap and get a picture. We were ready. Matching Santa outfits, fresh batteries in the camera and updated wish lists.

We noticed that one particular guest of honor was noticeably absent as the breakfast started...namely SANTA. Finally, the director of the school came out and announced that after a short delay at the North Pole, Santa had finally arrived and was ready for the first visitors. Which happened to be us.

As we walked up to the stage, I noticed that Santa was about the puniest character I'd ever seen. About 5'6 and 120 pounds, if even. Then when "he" said "ho, ho, ho" and sounded like Betty Boop I realized it was one of the preschool teachers! At that point, Catherine started wailing, scared to death of "Santa" and I wanted to say "Oh cut it out...it's Ms. Meagan!" But of course I couldn't. So I gently put both William and Stuart in Santa's lap and hoped they didn't hurt her, and kneeled in front with Catherine who was still terrified. And there you have our Santa picture, 2007.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Seriously?

I know it must get old reading about snotty noses and poopy diapers, but since that's my life it's all I know these days. Actually it's really all I've known continuously for the past 4 1/2 years that I've been growing babies into little people. I don't consider myself an expert in certain areas, but there are some things I've had lots of experience with over the past few years. For instance, snotty noses and poopy diapers. Lots of experience. So I guess that's why I was so incredibly PERTURBED yesterday by a phone call I received from a nurse.

Stuart woke up around midnight Monday night with croup. Again. Second time in a month. From midnight until nearly 6 am he barked and struggled to breathe. Croup is such a strange condition though because it's awful...horrible....and very scary in the middle of the night but once morning comes it practically disappears. So we made it through the night and I called the children's clinic and left a message for the nurse, explaining that Stuart had cold like symptoms, a fever AND had what I believed was the croup again. I explained his symptoms that had occurred overnight and said on my message that I didn't know if I would need to bring him in or if they might just prescribe the steroids again that worked last time (as if they would let me escape from coming in and dropping off a co-pay, but it was worth the suggestion).

About an hour later, as I'm standing in line at the post office, my cell phone rings and this is what I get: (and I wish I could imitate the annoying nasal and condescending voice so you'll just have to imagine)

"Ma'am.....I spoke to the Dr. and you need to understand there is no reason to bring a baby into a doctor's office for just a runny nose and a cold. Babies get colds all the time and they usually get over them after a week or so, so just make sure you feed him and he's eating ok, and call us if it's anything more serious than a runny nose."

Are you kidding me? Let me just say, she was very very lucky I was in a public place surrounded by a lot of people who would have called the authorities had I not controlled my reaction.

After "stating" (as opposed to screaming) that since this is my third baby in 4 years, I believe I might know the difference by now between a runny nose and something more serious, thank you very much. And if she thought that I just wanted to spend one of my only free mornings sitting in that office, she was wrong. And as much as I would rather go Christmas shopping, something I have yet to do, I did not want to spend another sleepless night wondering if my child could actually breathe.

So I did take him in after all and he does in fact have croup AND an ear infection. He was a very sick little baby. And I knew it.

Sometimes that Mommy degree outranks RN's. And MD's.

Madame President

Meet the most headstrong, most determined, most stubborn white woman in the free world. And no I'm not talking about Hillary. But if Hillary does what I fear, er, think, she might do, which is get elected next year (sorry Mom but I do think it's going to happen), she will pave the way for President Sybil's run for the White House in 2048. I was reminded today that the things driving me crazy today will serve her well in the future. That is if she makes it to the future.

Today, for example, as we were trying to get dressed for school, she was determined to dress herself. She did an ok job until I discovered, upon putting her in the carseat, that her socks were only halfway on and her shoes were on the wrong feet. "Oh Sweetie, you did a great job getting dressed but let Mama help you with your shoes" I said as I pulled them off gently and lovingly.

"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" she wailed as she arched back in the carseat and threw the shoes in the floorboard. I yelled to William and Stuart "Get down!!!" Fearing for our lives I quickly pulled her door shut and ran around to my side to start the car, turn on some festive music and change the mood. We got about a mile down the road when she started yelling "PUT MY SHOES ON!!!!"

"Hang on, I'll do it when we get to school."

"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH..........NOW, Mama! NOW!!!!!!!!"

I quickly pulled to the side of the road and leaned over the seat to put her shoes back on. For a few moments things were quiet. Until she started yelling again "I NEED MY TINA TUHNUH!!!!!!!!"

Knowing better at this point than to tell her I'd get it when we got to school, I once again pulled to the side of the road and leaned over and grabbed that friggin' frizzy headed doll that had fallen beside her carseat. Feeling frustrated, fearing my blood pressure had reached an all time high, and furious that I'd been mentally beaten up by a 2-year-old, I set out once again on the way to school. My Mecca.

We got a few more feet when William broke the silence by saying "Cafrin is driving me crazy."

Join the club.

Imagine what Pres. Sybil would do to Osama.

ps....this is how she looked the other day when I went into her room to get her up, only to discover that she'd been awake for a while and was dressed for the day. If not an American President maybe America's next top model?

Things That Stink

Catherine is doing better but still isn't back to her usual charming self. It's been a week to forget so far. For several reasons. The first has to do with chicken juice.

I went to Sam's yesterday with two kids in tow...the small ones. Attempting to load the car after stockpiling enough diapers, wipes, Cheerios and Goldfish, etc. to last us through any nuclear disaster, while trying to keep Catherine from jumping out and Stuart from falling out of the cart, I managed to drop a jumbo pack of chicken on the ground. Which apparently tore the package. Which, at some point between Sam's and home, resulted in a jumbo pool of chicken juice in the back of my van. So after sitting overnight, and the chicken juice soaking in real good, my van now smells like about 100 dead chickens that have been sitting out in the sun, in August, in the middle of the desert. And rotten milk has been poured over them. It's just wrong. If anyone has any suggestions as to how I can get the family truckster back to just smelling like stinky feet and the occasional dirty diaper, let me know. I'm open to suggestions.

William got in trouble last night and suffered a few unfortunate consequences, but not before he told me in response to one of my rebukes "Ah, you're driving me NUTS." I walked straight into the kitchen to get the wooden spoon, where I found Andy cleaning up and told him what William had just said, and Andy doubled over laughing and couldn't stop. At that point I started laughing too, because it really is quite out of character for William to say it. Luckily William couldn't see us laughing or hear what his father said next which was "I know how he feels." All of a sudden I stopped laughing. Seeing the look on my face, he did too. Andy then prepared to spend the night on William's top bunk.

You know how I've talked (unfortunately, MANY) times before about how antibiotics cause diarrhea in little ones? Well here we are again, but have I ever mentioned that it doesn't smell? At all. It's like the antibiotics kill all bacteria, which apparently is what causes the smell (I'm not a scientist, but that's how I understand it). It's truly an unexpected gift!

Too bad those chickens I bought weren't on antibiotics. Have mercy.

Stop the Ride I Want to Get Off!!!!

I am sitting here at the moment enjoying a delicious steaming cup of pumpkin spice coffee with whipped cream on top. It's quiet. And peaceful. And did I mention I'm sitting? And it's quiet? But this is the first time I've sat down all day. I tell you right now....I've earned my pay today. Oh wait a minute. I forgot. I don't get paid. But I've earned something today. Maybe a nice fat ruby in my crown.

First of all, poor little Catherine is sick again. Another lung infection. And a high fever. And a terrible cough. And you know our Catherine. On the very best day for her, a day when she feels wonderful, birds are circling around her little head chirping, the sun is shining and all is right in the world of Catherine, she's still a PILL. There's really not a word in the English language to describe her on a day like today. When she got ripped out of a deep sleep in the middle of nap time to go to the Dr. to get blood work and an x-ray. No word indeed.

But before the whole Dr.'s office ordeal, in desperation as the walls were beginning to close in on us all, to get us out of the house we loaded into the car to make a run to my favorite little local fruit and veggie stand where I can leave the kids in the car as I shop 3 feet from them. I don't mind that I pay $9.00 for a gallon of milk and $4.75 for a loaf of bread. I don't have to haul three kids into a store to do grocery shopping so to me it's priceless.

But we left Hazel's market and William started begging for a Happy Meal. Thinking maybe we all needed a little Happy-ness today, I went through the drive-through and ordered William and Catherine their meals. Of course before I could even get my instructions to drive to the next window please, they were both yelling "what's my toy....what's my TOY????"

I paid for the meals, drove to yet another window as the chanting got louder and Stuart starting crying because the all the carrying on over the ten cent toy was more than his little ears could handle. They handed me ONE meal box and told me it would be about 5 more minutes for the other one and could I please pull up and they would bring it out. What-ever. But I did. And then made a fatal mistake when I passed that ONE box back to William who tore into his toy and started yelling "OH Cool....the CAT from shrek! COOL!!!!!!!"

"Wheah my shwek cat?" Catherine started asking.

"It will be here in a just a minute. Oh listen guys....Rudolph!" And I cranked the radio up full blast.

In just a minute Mabel walked up to the window and handed me the other meal and disappeared. I ripped it open to give Catherine her Cat toy and lo and behold....it was a DIFFERENT toy.

OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD IN THIS WORLD!!!! They have to have the exact same thing, always. Or else all h-e-double hockey sticks breaks loose. This was not good.

"Idat MY shwek cat?" Catherine asked, reaching for it.

"No, sweetie, you got a SPECIAL toy. A special GINGERBREAD man. Isn't that COOL?"

"Hey....why didn't I get a cool gingerbread man?" I hear screeching from the rear of the van. I started doing the Dr. Evil routine with him every time he tried to complain about not getting what Catherine had now happily accepted as the cool toy. Zip it. Can it. Cool it. Zip. Zip. Z.

Just another day on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.

Christmas Card Picture Take One

The other day I had all the decorations laying about when I saw a strand of lights and realized all the children were in their matching Christmas monkeys eating candy canes pajamas and thought what a perfect picture it would make for our card. If you go back to an entry I made about this time last year you'll see how I really feel about Christmas cards. But I digress.

So I put all the kids together....gave them the lights....PLUGGED THEM IN.....and grabbed my camera. I got down right in front of them and just as I started clicking realized it wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done. It would be slightly traumatic for all involved and on many levels to send out pictures of all three children being electrocuted as our holiday greeting this year. And a copy of my mugshot attached after I'm arrested for being a bad Mom.

So this is all the progress I've made so far in putting my Christmas card together. I still have 22 days.