Today is the day when we get back to reality around here.  Sleeping in everyday is over.  Eating out will be cut way back too. 

It has been a good, restful break.  I really could use a few more days.  But real life and her routine is knocking on our door and today we will have to let her in. 

(Even though I would like to slam the door shut and pull my kids into my bed and stay warm under the covers all day.)

I have no resolutions for this New Year.  This year I have A Word. 

Believe me, if I had resolutions they would be the same as the ones from years past.  Every year in the days leading up to January 1st, I resolve that come January 1, I WILL…

lose weight  (of course!)
exercise first thing in the morning everysingleday  (sure I will!)
get up earlier and get myself prepared for the day  (yes I will!)
wear makeup and dress nicely every day when I am leaving the house (you know it!)
cook delicious dinners every night that taste great and are very healthy (I’m a dreamer!)
keep the house perfectly clean and organized (a big dreamer!)
never yell and talk calmly to my kids at all times in a happy voice (Oh. Lord.)
and basically, you know, be perfect in every way (go big or go home.)

So year after year I’ve made these same resolutions.  Come January 1, I was starting over.  Waking up perfect.  Changing my life.

Yea. Right.

Never happened.  Not even once.

Usually, come January 1, I roll over when that alarm goes off.  And think, “I’ll start tomorrow.”

I never do.  I may start some of the items on my list.  I may think about the others.  I may even exercise for three or four days in a row. 

And then perfect becomes impossible to achieve.  Because that is the reality of perfect.  It is impossible to achieve. 

So I settle back into my old habits, which are practically imperfect in every way.

Resolutions made and abandoned before Groundhog Day.

I’ve never been much of an overachiever anyway.

So this year, 2009, will be different.  We’ll just take things as imperfectly as they go around here.

Instead of resolutions, we’ll try a word, instead.

This is a snippet of the article that inspired me:

“ Last year I began a tradition of choosing one word for myself each January - a word that I can focus on, mediate on, and reflect upon as I go about my daily life. Last year my word was something I wanted to bring into my life in a more tangible way. 

One little word can have big meaning in your life if you allow yourself to be open to the possibilities. And here’s one thing that is totally interesting: sometimes a word will pop into your brain and it will not make any sense to you right now. Give it some time. Let it percolate a bit. I have often found that our hearts speak to us in very unique ways. Maybe this is a word you need to hear but just aren’t ready for it yet. Again, be open to the possibilities. ”

So this whole concept of choosing a word kind of intrigued me.  To be changed, be empowered, be whatever, by just one word.  Could that really happen?

I have been trying to think of a word for a while. 

BESKINNY seemed a little shallow. 
HAVEGREATMAKEUPONEVERYDAY was too long. 
BEPERFECT never worked in the past. 

So I thought what is that THING, THE ONE THING, that holds me back?  The thing that keeps me from being WHO I WANT to be?  And I answered myself with A LOT of things.  Which didn’t really help.

And then I was doing some reading and THIS quote hit me square between the eyes when I wasn’t even looking.

I had my word.

FORGIVE.

I don’t quite know what it means to me yet. 

But I have some ideas.

New Year’s Eve and another year is done.  Wow.

I think I say that every year.  The older I get, the faster the time goes, and the more sentimental I become.

Today my friend Jules at one of my most very favorite blogs, The Roost, is hosting a picture party.  The idea is simple, post your year in pictures; a sort of Top 10 list.  I think it is a great idea.

Could I narrow down the thousands of pictures on Flickr to just ten that mean the most to me?  This was really hard.  Really hard.  I mean, I’m no David Letterman.  Top 10 lists are not really my thing.

Taking good pictures is not really my thing either, which made this project even more difficult.  Because not only did the pictures have to be important and meaningful and Top 10 list worthy, but it would be great if they weren’t blurry either.

Here we go!

My oldest turned ten this year.  She is slowly leaving childhood behind and venturing into the tween years.  And I am venturing right along with her.  Everything that’s a first for her, is a first for me too.

My second child turned nine.  It could just as easily be nineteen.  Lately, we’re not seeing much of a distinction. 

There’s a six year old in the house now.  And there are no words that accurately can describe to you what the phrase ‘Six Year Old Boy’ means.   Just know that it is loud.  And messy.  And smelly.  And hungry.  And also very funny, but kinda gross.  Very, very funny.  And very, very gross.

My baby turned four this year.  Ouch.  Four is not really a baby anymore.  It is a long way from a Peg Perego pram, a brown and pink polka dot diaper bag, big bows in her hair, brown patent leather Mary Jane’s and pink clothes from head to toe.  Lots and lots of pink.  Now, four looks more sassy than sweet, more loud and bossy than quiet and demure and has more screams to get one’s own way than screams that were once cute and made us laugh.  Four is loud.

2008 will always have the sad distinciton as being the year we said good-bye to our best girl.  Well, actually we haven’t quite said goodbye yet.  Nala’s still sitting on top of the mantle in our family room.  Because we kind of like her in here with us.  And maybe we’re not quite ready to say goodbye.  Or maybe we’re just weird.  Either way, we’ve cried many tears but haven’t been able to bury her ashes yet.  Someday.

This year, the impossible seemed to happen.  The wild and crazy, HUGE, slobbery, uncontrollable and bottomless pit of a Yellow Lab seems to be growing up right before our eyes.  This picture is proof positive of that.  (You may notice she is actually NOT MOVING in this photo.)  We never thought it would happen, but Koko is growing out of her puppy phase.  And, SHHH, I don’t want her to hear this; she’s actually a really good dog.  Whom I am kind of attached too. 

This year we welcomed a new friend into the family.  She’s a bit aloof.  But a cuter dog there never was.  She’ll be even cuter when she stops peeing in the house.

We had some great adventures this year.  2008 took us to South Carolina, Tennessee, New York, Ohio, New Jersey, Washington DC, Florida, Wisconsin, Canada and the Caribbean.  We know how blessed we are to give the kids the gift of travel and the opportunity to see the world around them.

The best memories I have of this year are the times we spent together.  Oh how I love being with this family of mine.  I love them when we are playing Bocce Ball on a Hilton Head beach in the late July sun;

And I love them when they are skating and playing hockey on a backyard ice rink. 

It doesn’t matter when or where, summer or winter, in bathing suits or with snow on the ground; my people are everything to me.

There may be fighting.  And yelling.  And arguing.  And hitting, kicking, crying, and punching.  But there is also laughter and love.  A lot of love.

And a lot of laughter.

Happy New Year everybody!

The warming trend I spoke of yesterday in in full force.  It was 24 degrees today.  And my, it was balmy.

I didn’t even need to warm up my car, because it just WASN’T THAT COLD.  If this continues my down coat will be optional before I know it.  Except it’s cute, so I’ll probably still wear it.  Because fashion before function, always.

We have more snow, too.  Because of all the cold not being too cold.  Because did you know when it’s too cold, it won’t snow?  I don’t know why, just that a lot of people ’round these parts say things like ‘It’s too cold for snow’ when it gets really cold.  But 24 degrees?  Perfect for about seven more inches of predicted snow.

And this concludes the weather commentary portion of this post.

We baked.  I survived.  The kitchen did not.  There is flour ground so far into the floor it will be with us for a long time.  And there is about a teaspoon of nutmeg in my four year old’s hair.  As soon as all the kids went to bed, I threw most of what we made away.  Because well, gross.  I told y’all I am a terrible baker.  The shortbread was raw in the middle.   The sugar cookies were raw all over.  And grainy tasting.  The only thing that turned out okay was the candy cane cookie recipe I copied from Pedaling.  Those tasted good.  The only problem was the color they turned out. 

A traditional candy cane cookie calls for red food coloring.  We didn’t have any red.  We had pink.  So I thought that the pink would be a fine substitute for red.  Better, even.  So we dropped a ton few drops into the dough. 

And then we realized that someone had the wrong lid on the food coloring bottle.  And the food coloring was purple.  NEON.

NEON PURPLE.

I didn’t know what to do.  Because we were baking!  And being together!  And enjoying time at the homestead!  And making WONDERFUL MEMORIES.

Oh, we made us some memories a’ight.

Purple neon striped candy cane cookie memories.

Hey, do you know it’s Christmas Eve?  Or as my son calls it THE DAY WE GET TO OPEN ONE PRESENT BEFORE WE CAN WAKE UP TOMORROW AND BAM! OPEN ALL OUR PRESENTS JUST AS SOON AS WE GET UP?

Oh yes, he really says BAM!

We are big on the true meaning of Christmas around here.

Why is it in the days leading up to Christmas I can never get to bed before 2am?  I.AM.SO.TIRED.

I am really trying to enjoy this Holiday season.  I try every year.  And mostly, I do. 

(Except for the baking.  Point made on that.)

I do get caught up in the shopping, I admit it.  I also get caught up in the wanting, I admit that too.

I procrastinate, I have grand ideas and little time, and I am always rushing around at the last minute.

But still, I know the meaning of Christmas.  I know Christ is the reason for this season.  I believe.  I stand in awe at the miracle of the birth of The Lord. 

I want to spend time with my family, and I do.  I know the best things in life cannot be bought.  Like for example, purple striped candy cane cookies.

I know these things.

(But still I want.)

This year I want things that cannot be bought with money. 

I want my kids to treat each other with respect.  Not sure if this is even possible or not.

I want the fighting, and also the crying, to stop.  My ears hurt.  My brain hurts.  I cannot listen to it anymore.

I want to know why the bickering never ends.  Just a reason, one simple reason why everything has to be an argument between my kids.  If I had that reason, then I could fix it.  And make all the arguing stop.

I want more time with my husband. 

I want my kids to pick up their dirty clothes and put them in the hamper. 

I want my husband to do that too.

I would like the dirty dishes to go in the dishwasher.  There is no need for them to wait for me in the sink.

I would like the dogs to sleep late.

I would like to get an answer when I ask, “What would you guys like for dinner this week?”  Because I am tired of coming up with ideas all on my own.

I would like to eat more Mexican food.

I would like to go to sleep every night at ten o’clock.

I would like my children to brush their teeth without being reminded.  And their hair, too.

I would like to stop sounding like a nag. 

I would like my car to be clean.  And stay clean.  Or even remotely close to clean would be nice.

I would like a professional organizer to whip me into shape.

I would like to be kinder.  And gentler.  And to think before I speak.

I would like to make some kind of a difference, to someone, somewhere.

I would like my children to grow up and make some kind of a difference to someone, somewhere.

I would like my children to have long and happy lives.  And I’d like one too.

I want God to know that I try every single day to live a life that glorifies Him and the miracles of Christmas and Easter.  I fail a lot.  But I always try.

I want to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas.  I had hopes to visit all of my blog friends and wish you all a Merry Christmas in your comments.  But I’m running out of time.  When going over what I could cut from my To Do list, visiting the comment sections of all of my imaginary friends that live in the computer was something I had to check off.  But just so you know, it wasn’t the first casualty on the Former To-Do Now Not Going To Get Done List. 

I hope you are all busy making wonderful memories and savoring the quiet moments of this Christmas season.  I am truly blessed by all my blogging friends. 

I will see you in The New Year.  For some reason, I feel like it is going to be a great year and I’m excited to ring it in and get goin’ on it. 

(Except I will be asleep.)

(Because I have big plans on New Year’s Day.  Big Plans!  That involve getting up early!  And freezing my fanny off!  But they are big plans, none the less.)

(And I can’t wait for The Big Plans!  Can you tell?)

Who knows?  Maybe I’ll get everything I want for Christmas.

Or maybe I’ll get this instead…

And that would be fine too.

HoHoHo!

It is cold here in Northern Illinois.  So very, very cold.  And I’m used to cold winters.  But like my husband said yesterday, ‘Jeez, you’d expect this kind of cold in late January or February, but this is only December.’

So there you have it.  A little known fact here for you Interpeeps, IT IS COLD IN CHICAGO IN DECEMBER.  Who would have thought? 

I really only married him for his weather prowess and keen observation senses.

I had to run an errand last night and when I went out, my car said it was -4.  And then as I was walking back to my car later in the night, it felt warmer.  I’m not kidding.  My jeans did not immediately get stiff like they do in below zero temps and the air just felt milder.  And also, the inside of my nose didn’t hurt when I was breathing, a tell-tale sign of below zero temps.

And it was, it was WARMER.  Because when I turned my car on, it was 3 degrees.  The temperature went up eight degrees, people!  And I could totally tell.  So AMEN FOR THE WARMING TREND.

In other news, my four year old daughter has had it with the whole ‘be good because Santa Clause is coming to town’ spiel I’ve been feeding her.  OH YES, she is FED UP with ALL THE BEING GOOD.  She is through stifling her inner sassy and today she told me she ‘JUST WANTS TO ACT BAD, ALREADY.’ 

Well, alright then. 

I reminded her that Santa is watching and so is the Elf on the Shelf (whose name I won’t tell you because it is embarrassing) and she only has two days left to make sure she’s on the Good List and blah, blah, blah, she wasn’t listening at all because she is over caring about Santa and his Good List.

Know why?

Because she said she is already on the good list.

And so I said, ‘Oh really.  How do you know that?’

And she screamed replied, “I ALWEDDY KNOW I’M ON THE GOOD LIST CUZ I EMAILED SANTA AND HE SAID I PWOBABEE AM.”

Well.  Again I say, alright then.  ALL-RIGHTY. THEN.

As long as you emailed Santa, who I am to get all old-fashioned on you and insist on your best behavior.

Hmmmph.

So.  We’ve talked about the cold.  And the sassy four year with the email account.  What else can I tell ya to put off the cleaning, wrapping, cleaning, putting laundry away, and cleaning I should be doing? 

Like a lot of other bloggers this year, I am trying to jump on the spend less/buy handmade/shop on Etsy/eat organic granola bandwagon this Holiday season.

And it’s going pretty well.

Except I don’t eat organic granola and my kids are kind of hoping Santa’s elves don’t shop on Etsy.  But other than that, I’m right on track.

I am hosting my husband’s immediate family for a casual Christmas Eve this year, and I wanted to have a gift to give to everyone that was thoughtful, personal, cheap, easy and not something generic like a bottle of wine or box o’ chocolates. 

I browsed Etsy.

I searched the craft blogs.

And I ended up deciding to make a little something for each of my guests, all by myself.

I really wanted to make this table runner, but since I decided to do this handmade Christmas thing about, oh say, five days before Christmas, time was not really on my side.

Then I thought maybe I could do these silhouettes because I think that would have been such an awesome gift, but I didn’t have side view photos of my guests. 

So I decided to copy these decorative tassels.  Because I am a big fan of them.  I have purchased a couple and I love how they look hanging off a lamp or drawer. 

But really?  The more I looked at them the more I realized I could make them myself.

It took me two trips to Hobby Lobby, about three hours and 20 sticks of glue for my glue gun, but I’m done.  I made eight and I’m pretty happy with the way they turned out.  They are not as professional as the ones I’ve bought on Etsy, but I think they turned out well enough so that I’m not embarrassing myself by giving them.  And, AND, I kind of had a bit of fun taking a break from the Christmas crunch to get my craft on. 

Here’s Santa.  He’s tonal, if that’s even a word.  He was the easiest.

The birdhouse.  Most detailed and took the longest.  And if I liked birdhouses I would keep it for myself since it took me so much time.

And every family has a baker.  And in mine, it’s not me.  But we do have one.  And these cuties are for her and her cute red kitchen.

And now, I’m putting my glue gun away.  I need to get back to the Christmas crunch.

I also need to get off the computer, so I’ll end this post here.

The four year old is waiting to check her email.

Hey Internets!

Well, in typical me fashion, I’ve waited until the last minute to pull this whole Christmas thing together. 

The gifts are bought.

AMEN, the gifts, THEY ARE BOUGHT.

And K and I are still speaking, so BONUS! 

Oh don’t get me wrong, he’s plenty mad, but we’re still speaking.  Which tells me I made the right decision in not buying my son an electric dirt bike or my oldest daughter, who’s almost 11, a HSM play set extravaganza.

But to be fair, they both have birthdays just around the corner.

And shouldn’t we embrace the fact that an almost eleven year old wants to play with Barbies in the likeness of Troy, Sharpay and the gang?  It could be worse.  She could be asking for the Twilight books.  Or a cell phone.

(Side note:  I have read the Twilight books.  I LOVED the Twilight books.  I never in a million years believed that I would love the Twilight books.  That being said, I just think there is a bit too much um, how shall we say this?  Sexual tension?  Yes.  Sexual tension in those books for a young girl.  So no to the Twilight books if she ever asks for them.  Side note over.)

So yeah.  I was flexible on the whole gift/spending thing, and we’re still speaking.  The holidays are looking bright already.

And the wrapping?  Well, the presents that can be under the tree already, are.  So I am well on my way to success in the whole it’s-all-so-effortless-yet-everything-looks-perfect holiday facade I try to keep up. 

Because old habits die hard.

The thing that could blow the facade to smithereens?  Baking.  I hate to bake.  If you know me in real life, you know that I have a deep-seated, profound and very real dislike for baking.  Especially baking WITH kids.  And definitely, any baking that involves flour on my kitchen floor, melted butter and sugar granules stuck to my kitchen counter and more dirty bowls to clean than can fit in my dishwasher.  So pretty much all baking.

Oh the hate for baking runs deep during this otherwise joyful time of year.

This grudge against baking began about nine years ago when my oldest was in her first year of preschool in the city.  It was THE BEST preschool and she was two and we were confident that she was well on her way to receiving THE BEST education our monthly allotted preschool dollars, or half of our mortgage payment at the time, could buy.  Because it is a proven fact that going to THE BEST preschool will automatically put you on the fast track to a life long love of learning.  Little did we know that she’d grow up with an aversion to spelling.  And math.  So money well spent, clearly.

Anyway, the preschool.  I mean, ONE OF THE BEST PRESCHOOLS IN ALL OF THE CITY, had an annual Cookie Walk every year as a fundraiser.  If you are not familiar with a cookie walk, well people pay money at the door, get a box, and walk the tables filling their boxes with all the baked goodness they can possibly cram into their white bakery box until it closes nicely they can still get the lid down. 

(Another sidenote:  It’s kind of gross actually.  Filling a box with cookies sneezed on made by complete strangers while you have no clue if their hands have been washed or if their kitchen is even clean.)

BUT, you ask, where do all these cookies come from?  Well, I just happen to know the answer to that.  They come from the parents of THE BEST PRESCHOOL.  Or the parent’s housekeepers.  Whichever.  And then you might ask, well, how many cookies does each parent have to bake for this cookie walk event where people line up early just to pay their money and cram their white box full of cookies?  And you’d be in luck if you asked that, because I can tell you.

12 DOZEN COOKIES.

1 child enrolled at THE BEST PRESCHOOL = 144 COOKIES BAKED BY ME. 

Because I don’t have a housekeeper.

And they had to be pretty.  And festive.  So slice and bake Nestle Tollhouses were out.

Two years in a row, I baked, I frosted, I silver dragee-ed, I smiled my way through 144 decorated cookies, THAT WEREN’T EVEN FOR ME MY FAMILY TO EAT, all in the name of my daughter’s (preschool) education. 

And then I enrolled my second daughter in the preschool.  And my quota went up to 16 dozen cookies.  And off the top of my head, I cannot even tell you how many cookies that is.  Except to say it is 16 DOZEN FREAKIN CHRISTMAS COOKIES.  With Royal Icing!  And gold balls!  And silver dragee’s! And smiley faces!  And sprinkles!

But then, the second year of having both girls in preschool, I got smart.  After 3 years of participation, I realized that the preschool actually had the cookie drop off set up on the honor system.  The honor system!  At a church preschool!  What a novel concept! The parent brings the cookies in, (THE BOXES AND BOXES OF SIXTEEN DOZEN COOKIES) takes them to the church basement, puts them in the freezers, and then, AND THEN, crosses their name off the list on the door of the freezer as COOKIES DELIVERED. 

Do you see where this tale of dishonesty, cheating and cookie fraud is going?

Oh yes.  I did.

I crossed off my name from that list on the freezer door that year at THE BEST PRESCHOOL.

I signed a contract upon enrolling my kids at THE BEST PRESCHOOL that I would dutifully deliver my assigned quota of dozens of cookies every year, and then I CROSSED MY NAME OFF THE LIST WITHOUT EVEN SO MUCH AS CRACKING OPEN A STICK OF BUTTER TO BAKE MY COOKIES.

Because it took me three years and about 500 cookies to realize that I hate baking, and decorating, cookies.

And someday I know I will be laying in bed, lonely and decrept on Christmas Eve a la Ebenezer Scrooge, and indeed the cheating of the Cookie Walk will come back to haunt me.  It is a fear I live with.

So the next year, rather than be forced to lie about baking cookies again, or you know, actually bake them, we did what any self-respecting cookie walk cheats would do.  We sold our house and pulled our kids out of THE BEST PRESCHOOL IN THE CITY and moved west.

Where the preschools use store bought cookies.

And we never looked back.

Now that we are far, far away from the big city and THE BEST PRESCHOOL where all the baking is mandatory, my kids want to bake.  For ourselves.  For fun.

Apparently, they are under the impression that it’s what people do with their mothers around this time of year. 

Mothers that aren’t cookie walk cheats, that is.

So this week, with the presents wrapped, the halls decked and the wind blowing fiercely over the frozen prairie just outside our window, I will mix, bake, frost, sprinkle and silver dragee my little heart out.

Even if I am the Ebenezer Scrooge of cookie baking.

Well, by now most of you know about The Mother Letter Project going on in blogland so I won’t elaborate on it here, other than to say I am participating and here is what I submitted:

Dear Mother,

Well, you did it kid.  The dream that you grew up dreaming, to have a house full of kids, has come true.  It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be when you were watching all those episodes of The Brady Bunch and The Cosby Show, isn’t it? 

Claire Huxtable never seemed this exhausted on TV.  And she always knew the right words to say or a witty comeback to make.  And she had the look.  You know the look?  The look that sent smart-alecky Vanessa right back up the stairs without having to say a word.  You don’t have that look.  And you sure aren’t Carol Brady, who had the luxury of having an Alice, either.  You’re the Alice, and it’s exhausting.

But you know what else being the Alice means?  It means you’re there.  Present and accounted for twenty-four hours a day.  Always home, or reachable by cell phone.  Always knowing where your kids are, who they are with and what they are doing.  

(Except when they are in the basement fighting.) 

(Then I give you permission to ignore them.)

(Because God Bless You for having to listen to the fighting all the time.)

You may not always be able to figure out what those kids are thinking, and let’s be honest, a lot of times they are NOT thinking, but you are there for it all.  And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It makes you wonder everyday as you give your child a hug or a tickle or roll your eyes so far into the back of your head out of sheer exasperation, how you can love something so much.  I mean really, really love.  Like an, Iwoulddieforyouinasecondsoyoucouldlive, kind of love. 

For your kids you would take on all their pain, so they would have none.  You would be terminally ill, so they wouldn’t have to be.  You would defend your child to the death, to keep them safe.  You would right every wrong.  You would channel that inner Mama Bear whenever your child had been hurt, laughed at, made fun of, bullied, or mistreated. 

And yet somehow, with an instinct that only a mother has,  you would know when to step back, and let that same child figure out this thing called life.  You would let them make a few mistakes along the way, knowing that a life without regrets is a life without lessons. 

And do you know exactly how you know all of this Mother?  How you know that you would do all of these things for your child?

You know because someone chose not to do it for you.

It has hurt you your whole life.

It is baggage that you will carry with you until the day you die.

It is something you will probably never have the strength to get over.

And it is what makes you the mother you are today.

You can’t imagine not knowing who your children are.  You can’t imagine leaving your young child to grow up and every birthday be left wondering, ‘I wonder if my own parent knows it is my birthday today?’  Or, ‘I wonder if anyone is thinking about me?’  Or, ‘I wonder if they ever wonder what I’m doing or what I am like?’ 

‘And if they do, why don’t they do anything about it?’

You know the guilt of being raised by someone who accused you of ruining their life and costing them their spouse, simply for the act of being born.  That is the cross you have bared your whole life.  You carry it alone and know that IT is what makes you one hell of a good mother.

The act of being abandoned by a parent has shaped your life and defined who you are.  It for sure keeps you physically and emotionally connected to each of your four children in ways that you only dreamed of as a child.  You know what it feels like to hold that new baby for the first time, to caress its smooth cheek, smell its sweet baby smell and fall deeply and unconditionally in love, in an instant. 

You have given birth to four people who you love more than your self.  You know what it feels like to have a piece of your heart walking around outside of your body.

You are not perfect.  At times, the feelings of the past let themselves in and leave you feeling overwhelmed, discouraged and unworthy.  During those times, your baggage unloads itself on your children as if it is their legacy.  Only it’s not.  It’s yours and it is up to you to change it for them.

And you love them enough to do it.

Where once as a child and teen you daydreamed of the day your absent parent would pull up at your school in a limo to pick you up, waiting to shower you with a pony and an excuse for all the years of absence, you now walk in and out of your children’s schools freely, volunteering you time, knowing their teachers and friends.

Where you once made up stories as a young girl about your absent parent and the top secret mission they were on or the important, far flung job they had, now you delight in being home with your family, safe and warm and together.  Even if it means listening to all that fighting.

When the house you lived in was quiet, with a museum like quality that never quite made you feel at home, you knew that someday you would have a house with a revolving door, constantly being rotated by friends, family, pets, little boys with muddy shoes and girls with wet boots.  Not to mention the noise, dog hair and stained couch cushions that would give your home the most un-museum like quality imaginable.

Where as a kid you had to catch a ride to your practices and games, and came to depend on other kid’s mothers to get you home after school or wherever you needed to be, you now happily chauffeur here, there and everywhere.  Because you can.

You have the life you have today, you are the mother you are today, not in spite of, but because of somebody else’s choice to not be the parent you needed them to be.

You don’t need to make excuses anymore.  Your don’t need to dream of the pony or the limo or of anyone showing up to beg your forgiveness.  You are the parent now.

You are the Mother.

You’re not Clair Huxtable or Carol Brady or even Alice. 

You’re better.

Yours,
Lisa 

If you were me today you would have woken up late at 7:42 this morning. 

Your husband is out of town and he is the one that usually wakes everyone in the morning, but with him gone you are free to hit snooze as long as you want.  And you want.  Until you realize the kids have to be on the bus in 18 minutes or you will be driving them to school.

Feed the kids a quick breakfast of, ahem, Lunchables and bundle them up to make the trek to the bus in a below zero windchill.

That is, they make the trek while you wave from the window in the comfort of your pajamas.  Because you are teaching them important life skills like independence. 

Still manage to have time for a picture though.

Briefly think about taking pictures of your Santa collection to put up on a quick blog post for a Holiday Open House, but after snapping the first picture, decide the kitchen was too much of a mess to make it  happen.  And rather than clean the kitchen, you just decide to forget the post.

And also, make a mental note to figure out what the heck is wrong with the settings on your camera.  Because the pictures are all blurry.

Later in the day, shop for boots at Dick’s Sporting Goods, only to be called a Dick’sMom by your daughter.  Because you shop at Dick’s and you’re the mom.  Get it?  Marvel at the mind of a four year old. 

At home, discover the cable is out due to our weather.  Great.  With great Caillou watching dreams out the window, you somehow make the best of it by going out to shovel snow.

She may call you rude names, but she is a dedicated little shoveler.

Decide your face is frozen and go inside to watch the snow fall.

Or hunker down, as you like to call it.

Realize the hunkering down is short lived because it is Tuesday.  And Tuesday means off to the rink for skating and hockey classes.  And also, a dinner of french fries from the concession stand.  And maybe a soft pretzel with cheese.

Arrive home late with more shoveling to be done.

And after the shoveling is done, it is so darn quite and pretty and still and not cold outside, you realize it is the perfect time to take some pictures.

Realize that you aren’t, and probably never will be, very gifted in the art of artsy picture taking.

Hear the neighbors snow blower being fired up, realized the quiet and the stillness of the not cold snowy night is over, and head inside.

Play on the blog for a bit, and head for bed, hoping you wake up tomorrow with more than 18 minutes before the bus arrives.

Hey all, and welcome to the tour!

I’m participating in BooMama’s Christmas Tour of Homes today, and if I learned anything from last year, besides how to copy Big Mama’s wreath, it is that I will get nothing done today except a whole lot of snooping into all of your beautiful homes. 

Ms. Rhoda of the wonderful decorating blog, Southern Hospitality, is also hosting a Mr. Linky of her own, so there’s sure to be lots of gorgeous homes up for tour over there, too.

Julia, of Hooked on Houses blog fame is hosting a Hooked on Holiday Houses Tour and of course I’m thrilled to participate in anything Julia hosts, because obviously, I am hooked on houses.  Or decorated houses, at least.

So let’s get started, come on in…

(And please forgive the poor camera work.  There is something about the glow of the Christmas lights that does not agree with my limited photography skills.)

This is the wreath on my front door and then the view of the tree as you come into the house.

The little tree is actually an idea I stole from last year’s tour of homes and I am using it to hang the Christmas cards we recieve.  Also pictured is our Christmas tree in the family room. 

In years past I’ve done two trees, a ‘pretty’ tree and a more kid-friendly tree, but this year I just threw all of our ornaments together on one tree and I have to say, it was a whole lot easier.  I may have started a new tradition. 

This is an ornament that my husband and I recieved as a gift when we were expecting our first baby.  It sits alongside one of my favorite ornaments of Baby Jesus.  I think we look kind of cute as clay people.  Except that we don’t have curly hair.  Or in the case of my husband, any hair.  And I don’t wear pink.  But other than that, they look just like us.

This is another one of my favorites, the ornament from my son’s first Christmas. 

When I said I just threw all the ornaments up on the tree, I wasn’t kidding.  These are some homemade ones from when I was a kid.  The green bells are dated 1979. 

And look!  The World’s Greatest Mom lives here!

And my husband wanted me to make sure to let you know that although The World’s Greatest Mom lives here, so does the #1 Dad. 

In our family room I have two garlands, one going up the stairs and one hanging across our entertainment center, you can see a more detailed post on them here.

This is just a foiled Santa that I LOVE on top of the entertainment center, alongside some vases filled with ornaments.  And if I could figure out how to foil a whole army of Santa’s, I would.  Because he is so pretty.

I am partial to old-fashioned felted ornaments and have a bowl on my coffee table filled with them.  I have fun finding new ones every year.  And this year, I have plans to attempt to make my own.  Stay tuned for that, as I am the least crafty person ever.  And I don’t sew.  But I can cut and glue, so we’ll see how it goes.

A small arrangement on an end table…

This snow globe belonged to my husband’s grandmother and I was thrilled when she gave it to me, it sits alongside a small group of carolers in a cloche.  Cloche?  Is that the right word? 

I love this Santa head in the laundry room.  Or maybe it’s an elf?  A grandpa elf?  Not sure on that.

And here is the eating area in the kitchen…

If you could, please pretend you don’t see the crumpled white towel sitting on the floor by the back door.  It’s raining, the dogs have wet feet, and I was apparently too lazy to pick it up and make you think we actually don’t have a crumpled up dog towel on the floor in the kitchen.  Rest assured, we do.

Santa’s boots sit on the kitchen table.  And yes, we believe.  Don’t you?

I love all the glittery, holiday themed words I’ve seen all over blogland this year, so of course I had to have some of my own.  Because copycat is my preferred style of decorating.

My kids are going crazy not being able to eat any of these candies, no matter how many times I try and expain that THEY ARE DECORATIONS!  AND I DIDN’T BUY THEM TO EAT! They still ask every day.  Every. Single. Day. 

And every single day, I say no.  At least they haven’t asked me for the World’s Greatest Mom ornament back yet.

And I have to say, of all the decorations up in my house, these are probably my favorite.  There is something so simple about some peppermint sticks in a jar.  And also, I thought of it myself. 

The dining room, and my favorite sugared fruit wreath.

Also in the dining room, glittered snowflakes hanging from the chandelier and my special statue of The Three Kings on the sideboard.

My dining room table is set for the season with my Christmas dishes and my grandma’s silver flatware and crystal.  At first I thought it would be a little strange to have the table set, but actually, after living with it these past few weeks, I really like it.  I feel happy to walk in there and see things out and on display that mean a lot to mean.

And yes, I know the forks are on the wrong side, but my girls tried.  They are pretty good helpers and I didn’t have the heart to go behind them and fix it.  And seeing as how I have a crumpled up dog towel on the floor in the kitchen for all of the Internet to see, I should not really be the one throwing stones at two little girls’ table setting house.

The centerpiece on the table.  Faux magnolia, painted silver.  Oh how I would love to have myself some real magnolia to decorate with one of these years.  I wouldn’t even paint it silver.

Last stop, the living room.  I tried to use only blue and silver and white in here this year, and I really like it.  I had never decorated for Christmas with those colors before and I’m happy I tried it.  It is peaceful and relaxing and a nice break from all the red.

Sorry for the blur!  This is the part where the glow of the Christmas lights collides with the fact that I don’t know how to use any of the setting on my camera.  Hence, the blur. 

(I never say hence in real life.)

So there it is.  Casa de Holiday Tour ‘08. 

Thanks for visiting, and Merry Christmas!

…missing summer.

…feeling like I have been so busy these past few weeks with Thanksgiving prep, Christmas decorating and shopping, and a hundred other things that come up this time of year that I am missing quality time in the afternoons with My Girl.

…really missing Nala.  Really.  And I’m not the only one.

…kinda wishing I hadn’t repainted my kitchen.

…kind of impressed that I walked into the basement and saw my daughter had eyeballed this…

…to make this.  Not bad.

…wishing I could see this beautiful spot everyday.

…wanting to convince this girl that she looks so cute with her hair pulled back.  But she doesn’t think she does.

…wanting to take away all of this guy’s stress.  And also, wanting to tell him to stop being a jerk.

…hungry for my favorite restaurant.

…loving the Blackhawks.

…wishing I could hang out with my friend in real life, not just on the phone.

…wondering if my Christmas cards are going to get here soon.

And basically,

… just feeling sorry for myself.

Boy, what a downer I am today, huh?  Some days are just like that.

Have a great weekend, everybody!  I’ll be back next week with a better attitude.  (I hope!)  I’m participating in BooMama’s Christmas Tour of homes on Monday and I hope you are too, I can’t wait to share my decked halls with you, but I especially can’t wait to see all your great ideas!

Now is that a pretty button or what?  It is.  It is my goal for the blog to someday have my own pretty button.  I don’t know for what just yet, but I sure do want one.

Anyway.

Today, in case you couldn’t tell from the button, I am participating in The Nester’s Holiday Garland Show and Tell.  Because I have a garland or two to show you.

I don’t really have anything too much to say about the garland, just that it’s up and done and I’m glad about that, because after seeing Nester and Kimba’s garlands this year, I suffered great embarrassment over the garlands of years past when I have hung just one measly strand of faux evergreen and called it a garland when really it was more befitting the title of sprig. 

(I do believe I just used the word Sprig for the first time in my life.)

So I decided this was the year to lose the sprig.  Only a key component to copying The Nester’s full and lush garland is using lots of greenery. 

Lots of greenery that I do not have lying around.  Because I don’t enjoy faux greens.  So the Holiday Sprigs of years past are the only faux greens I own. 

What’s a girl to do?

Well, I used what I had.  Okay.  I used my pitiful sprigs and purchased some embellishments.

The sprigs tied together look much better than a sprig standing on its own.  And the embellishments seem to add just the right touch of holiday whimsy.

(I really have no idea what Holiday Whimsy is, it just sounded like something they might say on HGTV.)

Come see…

This is two garlands wrapped together at the bottom of my stairs.

No lights, because there is no outlet.  So this one went up really fast.

And yes, those are miniature little hangers on the striped sweaters and they are so darn cute!  And I don’t say cute very often, but the red mittens… CUTE.

The other garland is in our family room.  It is one long garland that was formerly five sprigs and is hanging across the front of our TV cabinet.

(And please pardon the poor photography on these shots.)

((I am new to the garland game and have discovered garlands are not the easiest things to photograph.  Lights?  No lights?  Flash?  No flash?))

It’s kind of candy cane themed.  Because I like red. 

And I honestly have no real rhyme or reason to this.  I wrapped and tied and hooked and hung and nailed four standard fake garlands together and laid a somewhat less fake looking long needled garland with plenty of fake twigs and berries glued on it, on top of that.  And I feel like it could fall at any moment.  Seriously, every time I walk in the room, I’m just relieved that it is still up.

Here’s a couple of closeups…

And here’s my youngest, she stands in awe at my garland creation…

Not really.

She’s just glad it’s done because apparently I was taking too long while standing in front of the TV.

Some people just don’t appreciate holiday whimsy.