The Fairy Godmother

We had a very special guest in our home yesterday, someone I never in a million years thought would  be sitting in my living room. After 15 years, I thought I knew almost everything about my husband. I did not, however, know that he went to high school with Cinderella's Fairy Godmother. True story. When he told me several months ago that a high school friend who lives in Tampa wanted to bring her teenage daughter by to ride a horse, he mentioned that she worked at Disney World. We later found out that she is in fact, Cinderella's Fairy Godmother, in addition to being a hairstylist for princesses and little girls who visit her shop.
Now everyone knows that other people's lives sound much more interesting than our own, so while my children were sitting at this woman's feet completely entranced by her stories about what princesses and fairies do behind the scenes at Disney World, all the Fairy Godmother's daughter wanted to talk about was what it was like to be a barrel racer and a veterinarian! Like everyone else, I sometimes forget that to people on the outside any job can appear glamorous and fantastic. And no, I didn't burst sweet Katelyn's bubble. Not entirely, anyway. I don't think she was expecting to hear that in order to be a successful veterinarian you had better love people as much as animals. Unfortunately, it doesn't matter what you know how to do, if you can't convince the one holding the checkbook to let you do it, Fluffy's still out of luck. Oh, well, at least I got to tell her some of the stuff that no one bothered to tell me. And I resisted the urge to look at her and say, "Don't do it! Go to medical school instead," completely aware that if someone had given me the same advice when I was her age I would  have completely ignored them.
As I sat there watching my girls having their hair put up by Cinderella's Fairy Godmother, I started thinking about our upcoming trip to Disneyland. They were so excited when she told them to close their eyes and make a wish while she placed a tiny tiara on their heads. Even my skeptic, who long ago asked me if the characters at Disney on Ice were just people in costumes, was totally sold on the story about how Tinker Bell shrinks Mrs. Tammy down to her size every day with Pixie Dust so that she can fix her hair!
It was a fun-filled, magical afternoon. My girls got to ask every single question they've ever come up with about a Disney character, and the Fairy Godmother had an answer for all of them! Listening to them talk made me think about how grateful I am that I've fought to preserve their innocence as much as possible. It has always seemed to me that people around them were trying to rush them into becoming little adults. They aren't teens, and they aren't "tweens." They're little girls, who should be able to believe in cartoons, magic, and fairy tales for just a little longer. They have the rest of their lives to learn that life isn't fair, that sometimes dreams turn into nightmares, and that there are people out there who are pure evil. Slow down, my girls! There will be time for nail polish, cell phones, and bikinis MUCH later on! I want to let you be little for as long as you can be, and if that's wrong, then I'm just wrong. Love you guys!

Santa Sucks

I have mentioned before that I was more than a bit frightened when it dawned on me that my husband and I were now responsible for the childhood Christmas memories of three people. It also occurred to me recently that one of the surest signs you have become a grownup is when you are no longer particularly concerned about what is inside your own packages, but you can hardly wait for their children to open theirs. There's nothing quite like knowing your child has been longing for one special toy and being able to finally give it to them. I always try to be mindful of the fact that we are so blessed to be able to grant our children's Christmas wishes when there are so many parents out there who cannot. My own mother shared with me that one Christmas many years ago, when my grandfather was stationed in Germany, she was certain she and her siblings wouldn't have gotten anything for Christmas if it hadn't been for the Salvation Army. To this day I make it a point to donate whenever possible to such a worthy cause.
Not long ago, one of my girls asked me how many days were left until Christmas. "Seven. Why?" "Yay! Almost the time of year to find out whether we get coal or not!" Then her sister informed me that she didn't "really care if I get coal or not. I mean, we can paint it, or build a fire with it!" I think they were scared. Consequently, I also learned this from Savannah: If you are on the naughty list, you get coal in your stocking and underwear under the tree! I will have to remember that one, because one year I'm totally wrapping underwear and hiding all the other gifts! Better wait until they are a little older, but I can't wait to do this one!
I am happy to say no one received coal or underwear. As usual, Christmas morning at our house was filled with squeals of delight and more than one negotiation over who gets which color this or that. I have to say that this year I was pretty impressed. My six year olds were able to hold incredibly diplomatic peace talks which ended with everyone getting what they wanted, which in this case was the appropriate pair of unicorn house shoes and character themed night lights. I will forever refer to this year as the "As Seen on TV" Christmas. Every single toy my kids asked for was a direct result of who spent the most money advertising on the Disney Channel. We bought Stuffies, Stompeez, Dream Lights, Moxie Girls, and Moxie Girl Mermaids all simply because they monopolized the airwaves between Disney shows for two solid months leading up to Christmas.
The baby has entered a wonderful phase of life, the two year old year, in which the prevailing mindset is, "Everything in this house is mine. If it's yours, it's now mine. If I want it, it's mine." That very thinking landed her in time out not once, but twice on Christmas Day. Sorry, little one. Allowing you to club your sister in the head because she won't give up something belonging to her is something I just won't do. Even if you are stinking cute.
Oddly enough, it was truth in advertising (or lack thereof) which led to my girls learning a very important lesson this year. After their bath last night, I said, "Well, girls, were the Moxie Girls all you thought they would be? Do you just love them?" One of them looked at me very seriously and said, "Well, Mom, not really. On the commercial, these girls just spin around all by themselves and the kids aren't even touching them! These do NOT do that!" Ah, yes, my babies. An important lesson indeed. As seen on TV doesn't always mean as seen in real life. If it did, we would all look like Cindy Crawford and prepare delicious gourmet meals in under fifteen minutes, just like the infomercials said we could. I couldn't help but think of poor Ralphie in "A Christmas Story" and his Little Orphan Annie decoder pin!
More importantly, Santa goofed up this year. Truthfully, I felt like we had done pretty well up until this point. But this year, Mommy brain got the better of me. I think. Several weeks ago, I loaded a cart with wonderful little stocking stuffers - candy, suckers, candy canes...the works. No oranges or underwear here! I then brought them home, stuffed them in a WalMart bag, and hid them. Well. So well, in fact, that they've never been heard from again. I have looked from one end of this house to the other, more than once, and I still have no earthly idea where the bag is. Yep, I admit it. I hid it so well that I hid it from myself. Talk about feeling like a sucky Santa.
After ridiculing me in only the nicest way for losing my stocking stuffers, my husband sighed and said, "Do you need me to go to town?" Keeping in mind it was 10:30 PM on Christmas Eve, I said, "Nope, I've got it under control." And so, in the interest of full disclosure, I worked with what I had. Leftover goody bags from the girls' birthday party, school Christmas party bags, unopened Halloween Skittles, and my recently purchased Peeps hoard were all pressed into service. And so, not in the manner I would have liked, but the stockings were indeed stuffed. What can I tell you, girls? Santa sucks. But she sure does love you! Enough to give up my Peeps...and that's saying something! :)    

Merry Christmas!

On this Christmas Eve, while listening to my kids entertain themselves by looking to see which of their toys were made in China,  I want to express to everyone my most sincere thanks for liking, reading, and commenting on my blog. I write because I enjoy it, and I write so that my children will be able to look back at their childhood memories and know what their mom was thinking. And last, but certainly not least, I write because the stuff that goes on around here is funny! I couldn't make this stuff up, and I hope that those of you who have taken the time to read about our lives have gotten a giggle out of it as well.
At one point, I was taking my life way too seriously. The best thing I could do for my husband and my kids was learn to laugh at myself. If I can encourage just one person to loosen up and enjoy the time you have with your family, then I feel like I have done something very worthwhile. A very Merry Christmas to all of you. I hope that you are getting to spend it with the ones you love. A sincere thank you to those American soldiers and their families who are not. Merry Christmas and God Bless You!

The Book...It's getting closer!

I am very happy to report that I am done reviewing my manuscript and making the editor's suggested changes! My files are now on their way back to the publisher for some final tweaking. My cover concept is scheduled to be ready for review by Christmas Eve, so I am eagerly awaiting that. It's looking like this project may finally be coming together. Merry Christmas to me!
I have lots to share about this wonderful time of year. My girls are so full of questions (and answers) that I often just sit and listen to some of the stuff they come up with. For instance, tonight they were involved in a lively discussion about whether Jesus hired Santa Claus. They are growing up so very fast. Their wonder and innocence will be a thing of the past soon enough. I am planning to enjoy every second of this Christmas with these precious girls. Santa, they've been good!

Redneck Balls

For those who didn't grow up in the South, I am about to let you in on a well-known fact of Southern life. The official sport of the redneck Christmas season is driving around in your car admiring critiquing other people's Christmas lights. Yes, yes, I know-deer/duck hunting ranks a close second, being that NASCAR is over until February, but light-looking is clearly first, due to the fact that everyone from my two year old to your ninety year old mother can participate. And everyone has their own opinion. The very same display that elicits a "how tacky" from my sister-in-law can evoke squeals of delight and "I wish our house looked like that" from my kids.
Here's how it works. You load up as many people, family or not, as you can possibly stuff into your vehicle, or in the case of the people we were behind last night, as many people and your blue heeler dog. He actually seemed to be looking at the lights, as best we could tell while we were tailgating them. Then you drive around until you spot Christmas lights, and have at it. If it's a particularly large display, such as the one we were at last night you may have to make several slow laps around the house, a la stalker, to get the full effect. Serious lookers turn their headlights off, which could explain the uptick in car wrecks around the holidays. Just a thought.
Many years ago, when my husband and I were merely dating and not yet the blissfully happy parents of 47 children, the latest, greatest, most amazing Christmas decoration ever hit the market. Often imitated and never quite duplicated, it was essentially a collection of clear plastic cups arranged in a sphere with a colored light bulb in each one. No doubt the creation of someone who had just finished a game of beer pong, you could customize these fabulous items with light bulbs in the color of your choice to match your decor. My soon to be husband immediately christened them "Redneck balls." He and I took great joy that year in riding through subdivisions and making fun of admiring the houses that had one.
Although she would never have said it aloud, I was able to discern that my sweet mother-in-law felt the same way about these amazing creations that we did. And then my husband's grandmother got one as a Christmas gift. As luck would have it, she was living with his parents at the time. Needless to say, he and I nearly hurt ourselves laughing as we watched my poor sweet MIL agonize over what to do with such a lovely gift. Just to give you some perspective, her Christmas decor always includes very traditional, tasteful lighted wreaths with red bows and a tree glistening in the window. A Redneck ball was not in her plan.
If I haven't mentioned it before, my MIL is as clever as she is sweet. She can delicately manipulate a situation until she gets exactly what she wants without you ever knowing a thing. In this instance, she settled for placing the ball in an elegant brass planter, plugging it in and displaying it...in her living room, which is the least used room in her entire house! Nobody ever goes in there. It was perfect. I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure I saw a twinkle in her eye and a tiny little grin every time someone mentioned it.
But the story doesn't end there. My grandmother and my MIL were from the same generation, and close to the same age. To give you some background on my dad's mom, I never saw her wear jeans. Ever. Her hair and nails were always done, and her hourglass figure was always tastefully complimented by her clothes. I don't remember ever seeing her wear any type of shoes other than high heels. Her house was like a museum, and you knew better than to touch anything. So when she told us that she couldn't wait to show us her new Christmas decoration, I thought my husband was going to pee on himself when we pulled up to her house and there it was...a Redneck ball in all its blue glory hanging on the porch! I don't think I've ever worked so hard to stifle a giggle in my entire life. Love you, Granny!
With such a rich family history, we knew it was up to us to keep the tradition alive for our kids. So last night, we loaded up and headed to Fulton. We drove straight to the one guy's house who has at least fifty lighted animals, story book characters, and Santas in his yard. After ten laps or so at 5 mph, the kids decided that maybe they had seen it all. As we were driving up the street looking for a spot to turn around, totally infuriating the guy behind us who was just trying to get home from work, I saw it. Something I'd never seen before in my 35 years of experience critiquing Christmas lights. It was...a Merry Christmas tapestry, proudly hung in the front yard with all the other decorations, just to the right of the nativity scene. It was lit, it was festive, it was...a HUGE picture of ELVIS PRESLEY.
We were so blown away by the sheer beauty of it that my husband was immediately compelled to take a picture to put on Facebook. I mean, something like this is worth sharing. We drove by several times, trying hard to get that perfect shot with our non-iPhone camera phones...but it just wasn't working. So we did what any responsible redneck would do. We pulled over, my husband got out of the car, crossed the road, and walked up INTO THEIR YARD to take a picture. I was already getting my story ready for the cops when they got there. "Well, you see, Officer, we just wanted to take a picture so we could put it on Facebook. Does that really count as trespassing? Where is your Christmas spirit?" Fortunately, he didn't get shot or mauled by a dog and even got back to the car before the police got there. So, to our FB friends who were able to enjoy this moment in Christmas history, you're welcome.      

Book Project Update!

I am thrilled to say that I have just received the edited copy of my manuscript from the publisher. Now I have to go back through the whole thing and make the suggested changes! (This could take awhile.) I promise to try to get it done as quickly as possible, even if it means not posting anything for a couple of days. I am so ready to see this project come to its completion. It's definitely a "bucket list" item for me! Provided the world doesn't end on Friday (ha, ha) maybe I will be able to start 2013 with my first book in my hand. I can't wait!

Fear Not, I am With Thee

Like any parent, almost everything I do seems to be for my children, and this blog is no exception. I record my thoughts and feelings so that someday my kids can look back on their childhood and know what their mom was thinking at the time. If I am still alive, it probably won't mean a whole lot to them. But if they ever have the misfortune of being in my situation, they won't have to rely on other people's stories and memories of their mom. Not that I don't have plenty of my own memories - it's just that, since I am now a mother myself, I would love to know what she thought about certain things and how she handled difficult situations when I was a kid.
Last night, my sweet baby was singing "Twinkle, twinkle Little Star" while I was putting her pajamas on her. As her dad leaned over her, listening to her sing, he looked at me and said, "Don't you know those parents would give anything to hear that one more time?" So today I'm going to tell my girls what I think about the awful tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School. As a parent, I can't imagine anything more devastating or life altering than losing a child. To lose a child in such a violent way is a pain that no parent should ever have to endure. The media is currently saturating the airwaves and the Internet with every morbid detail of this horrific event. I have tried my very best to shield my children from the coverage of that day, simply because I don't want them to be afraid to go to school. It breaks my heart to even think about discussing children their very own age who died in such a painful way simply because they went to school.
Various groups are having a field day trying to decide which issue is the most important-gun control or mental illness. The CT authorities are conducting a full scale investigation into the events leading up to this tragedy. I have to confess that I'm not sure what good an investigation is going to do. All of the major players (the shooter and his mother) are already dead. In my eyes, there's no one left to hold responsible. No discovery made by law enforcement will bring even one of those precious children back. But if this investigation in some way leads to preventing something like this from happening again, then it will be worthwhile.
A third issue that has been brought to the forefront is the issue of religion in schools. In America, religion has been systematically removed from our public education system a little at a time. There are many people who want to say that the awful things that happened on Friday could have been prevented if this was not the case. So here's what I think about that: If anything good has come out of this tragedy, it has gotten people talking about God and about prayer. I confess that I was shocked to hear a children's choir sing, "Silent Night" on the Today show this morning. They even used the words Christmas, God, and prayer during the telecast. As this show typically leans way to the left, and completely ignores many stories in the news simply because they might offend someone (unless it offends Christians, they don't seem to mind doing that) I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised to hear such things.
Here are my thoughts on religion in schools: Teachers are amazing, selfless, wonderful people who have the immensely important task of educating our children. Their job is to teach our children to read, write, and spell, not to teach them how to be productive members of society with a good moral compass. That, my friends, is a parent's job. More specifically, it's a mother's job. Among the several thousand other small jobs, a mother is responsible for making her precious child feel loved and secure, for teaching them right from wrong, and helping them to understand that each and every human life has value. It is also a mother's job to teach her children about their family's religious beliefs, not a teacher's. As amazing, creative and wonderful as they are, a teacher cannot be expected to do a mother's job for her.
For me, my relationship with God has always been an intensely personal thing. I was taught to believe that "my Lord is near me all the time" like the hymn says. I believe, and have taught my children that we can pray no matter where we are at any time. My children do not need anyone's approval or permission to speak to their God. No piece of legislation can keep the angels of protection that God has placed around my children out of their school. I ask for his favor and his blessings on them each and every day before they walk out the door. And that's all we can really do.
It's time to wake up, people. No one knows what's going to happen next. The very idea that we are in control of what's going to happen in our lives or even in our own bodies is ridiculous. If anything good can come out of this most evil atrocity, I hope it will be a restoration of faith among God's people and a call to action for mothers everywhere. We need to take back our children from the media. It's up to us to teach our children that violence in movies and games isn't real, and it isn't okay. Think about who taught you that your actions have consequences. I bet it was your mom. It's time to quit blaming the games, the media, and the magazines and take responsibility for raising productive members of society.
My girls' favorite lullaby at the moment is a hymn I learned as a child, "There's Within My Heart a Melody." It includes the words, "Fear not, I am with thee." I hope that my girls will remember that. Jesus is always with you, whether some politician from Washington says he can be or not.