All [He] Wants for Christmas...

Atticus tells me that he wants a flame thrower for Christmas. (HA! In your dreams, son.)

But that's his answer every time I ask.

Anyone have any idea how I can give him a "flame thrower" without actually giving him a flame thrower?

Be creative. Think outside the normal parameters. I'm talking about the kind of thing my dad would come up with: a miniature three-legged stool glued inside a cup (a stool sample); a wooden circle with "TUIT" printed on it (an excuse breaker, as in "as soon as I get around to it I'll do _____").

Remember, this is a family friendly blog, so keep it clean.

Find me here!

Get it? Find me? Oh never mind. Go read my first Guest Blogger post (a repost of something I wrote a while back) here. I feel practically like a celebrity! (Thank you, Gerb, for the invitation.)

My Favorite Spooks

The Buzzy Bee (J Boo)

The Executioner (Sweet Boy), The Tall Man (Nephew M), and The Knight (Mr. Wiggle Brows)

The Scarecrow (Atticus)

The Mystery Woman

Er...MAN!

Kisses from Little "Bro" Peep (my brother Klay)

Little Bro Peep found his sheep (nephew D)

Sweet Boy and Mr. Wiggle Brows as a girls

And guess what J Boo ate for breakfast this morning?

Notice the chocolate clear down on the waist band of the diaper.
(It was under her arms, too.)
She bathed herself in chocolate, after which I bathed her in soap and water.

Oddities

In the texture on my kitchen ceiling, right above my sink, there is a Wallace and Grommit type sheep head. I see it every night after I use my asthma inhaler while I'm rinsing my throat and mouth. It's sticking its tongue out at me. I think it's making fun of the way I gargle. (You would too, if you had to see me gargle.)

And miles to go before I sleep

This was my day today:


*Up at 7:50am to take care of Princess J Boo, who was yelling, "Hey!!" and "Mommy!" from her crib (which is still in our room).

*Started laundry.

*Breakfast.

*Vacuumed the floors.

*Started listening to conference (all radios in the house are turned on LOUD so you can hear it wherever you are, whatever you are doing).

*Mopped floors.

*Cleaned nasty spiderwebs (and spiders) off of cement forms for window wells while my little (or, rather, younger) brother helped finish digging out the first window well that we started together a few weeks ago.

*Had to stop to take J Boo on a walk during the morning session of conference. Missed a couple of talks, but what can you do when an 18-month-old must go exploring that puddle on the sidewalk down the street? She found a lovely branch with leaves on it to take back to Daddy.

*Changed laundry.

*Resumed digging work on the two other window wells while listening to conference.

*Smacked myself in the cheek with a pry bar while digging out small boulders (damn rocks). It hurt.

*Got slap happy because my body was tired from the digging and my brother kept making silly jokes or singing chain gang songs. Surprised to learn from little brother that my dad sings songs while working.

*Finished up the third window well just after the afternoon session finished.

*Finally had a chance to eat something (skipped lunch to keep digging).

*Got in the shower and cleaned myself up enough to be presentable.

*Loaded kids in the car to head over to my mom's.

*All the girls (and kids) went out for pizza while the priesthood holders went to their meeting.

*On the way home, stopped to pick up prescriptions. Wondered how much we spend a year on prescriptions? Decided I don't really want to know.

*Got home to a disaster in my kitchen.

*Sent boys to go get pajamas.

*Chatted with my sister-in-law (who came to hang out with me) while I cleaned up the kitchen.

*Gave J Boo a bath (because she had bathed herself with ice cream twice)

*Asked boys AGAIN to please get pajamas on.

*Read stories to J Boo while chatting with sister-in-law.

*Tried to put J Boo down, but she freaked out because she wanted the milk that she insisted not 2 minutes previously that she did not want.

*Gave J Boo milk and read more books to her.

*Told Sweet Boy and Mr. Wiggle Brows that they absolutely MUST have pajamas on NOW!!!

*Walked SIL out to her car and said "hi" to my just-older brother.

*Said "hi" to Phil and Atticus as they, too, arrived.

*Handed J Boo to Phil when we got inside.

*Rerouted Atticus away from siblings and towards his room with orders to get ready for bed.

*Brushed Mr. Wiggle Brows teeth.

*Brushed Sweet Boy's teeth.

*Read story to Mr. Wiggle Brows and Sweet Boy (Bedtime for Francis).

*Was asked by Mr. Wiggle Brows, "Mom, when do you go to bed?" Answered, "Not until my jobs are done."
"When is that?"
"Pretty late, son."
"When does Daddy go to bed?"
"Whenever he wants to."
Thought of the unfairness of this statement, but remembered some of the talks today about accepting our trials willingly and cheerfully. Must try to be better.

*Returned to the kitchen to assemble soup for the crockpot for Sunday dinner with my family.

*Also made some desserts.

*Cleaned kitchen again. (It never ends! It never ends that way too!)

*Picked up living room for the umpteenth time.

*More laundry.

*Tried to start dishwasher but realized that when Phil fixed the outlet under the sink today, he made it so there is no power.

*Tracked down extension cord downstairs (in itself is a miracle if you've seen my basement and the amount of boxes Phil has with his stuff in them), got dishwasher plugged in and ready to go.

*Sat down to look at family photos that my brother Nihao took two Sundays ago.

*Decided to write this post.

*Still need to wash up and get myself in bed. It's almost 1:30am.




When does the mom get to go to bed?

Eh? Whatcha say, Sonny?

On Friday I went to a most delightful lunch with blog friends to celebrate suedonym's birthday. While in line to order my food, I was chatting with Geo. I noticed that one of the female servers there was quite pretty--one of those natural beauties who would look great in any situation. I pointed her out to Geo, commenting on how lovely I thought she was. Geo agreed, saying, and I quote:

"Yes, she looks like a star from a foreign film."



I didn't hear the "f" in "foreign," and I didn't hear a bisyllabic word. I heard a monosyllabic word beginning with "p" and rhyming with "corn."



I was understandably shocked, which made me start to laugh. But I lost it completely when Geo said, "I'm trying to think which movie it was."

Geo was confused. Why was I so entertained? Then I said, "Geo! I had no idea you were into [p]--- films!"

"NO, Julie! That's not what I said! I said 'For-eign films,' not [p]--- films!"



Poor Geo. I can be such a tease, and she put up with me so well. I may not ever let her live it down.

Grow Old Along with Me

When I was about the same age Atticus is now, Grandma B, my maternal grandmother, came to stay with us. She had been living on her own in an apartment close by, but it became obvious that she could no longer be left alone. Mom & Dad moved her in with us. She shared my room. (I had the only other bedroom on the main floor, I had a bunkbed, and I was right down the hall from my parents--it was a no brainer to give her the bottom bunk.)

At first, things went well. Grandma did weird things on occasion, but Mom was able to handle the strange stuff. Grandma liked to work and stay busy, so that's what she did. Unfortunately for me, I came home one day from a friend's house to find my posters torn off the walls and Grandma going persistently through my underwear drawer.

"Grandma! What are you doing?" I asked.

"You're parents told me to pack up your room because you're moving out. And I cannot believe what a messy girl you are!" she answered, obviously disgusted.

I was devastated.

What girl at that age wants anyone, especially her grandmother, going through her personal things? But Grandma was convinced that Mom & Dad had told her to move me out, so that's what she was going to do. She played favorites, and for some mysterious reason I was not on her golden list, so I knew no amount of explanation on my behalf was going to change her mind.

That's how it came to be that I was "roomless" for quite some time. Mom & Dad set up a bed for me in the basement family room, and they cleared out a storage closet for me, but there was no privacy. Even the storage closet door had a metal screen in it, so changing clothes was difficult to do with any measure of privacy. I had four older brothers and one younger, and only two of the five were kind enough to allow me the courtesy of dressing without harassment. It's an awkward age as it is. Having three brothers coming in and threatening to watch you dress does not build confidence.

Is it any wonder, then, that when my other grandma, Grandma A., moved in with us my Senior year that I was more than a little apprehensive? Granted, I was four years older then, and I had my own room in the basement (with a locking door) that I didn't have to share, but the damage was done. I was nervous to be around her. I didn't like being left alone with her, and I hated having to go on walks with her. My "boyfriend" at the time couldn't understand why I was so negative. She was my grandma, after all! But he didn't understand: the woman who thought the oranges on the table were sleeping (because they hadn't moved for so long) was not the grandma I knew and loved. I couldn't risk being vulnerable: what if she "moved me out" like Grandma B. had done?

My grandmothers have both died long since (I was 15 when Grandma B died and 26 when Grandma A died). I can look back on my experiences with more understanding for them and for myself. They couldn't help what they were doing, and I don't believe they would have knowingly hurt me. Will they forgive me for being immature and insensitive? I think so.

My MIL, Gert, has Alzheimer's and is in a care facility now. Recently, we went to visit her. I was nervous. What if all my past feelings came rushing back? What if I froze and couldn't think of what to say to her? Thankfully, I was fine. I can still "see" the real Gert, even if only for a few moments here and there. She may not know who I am for sure, but I'm okay with that. I can honor her, love her, and just be with her without fear.

Because of my experiences with my grandmothers, I recognized the nervousness in my sons as we walked into the center. I worried about how they would react. I needn't have worried. Somehow, they understood what my younger self did not. They were patient, loving, and kind. I think that when I am old and senile, I will be grateful to have them taking care of me.

Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in His hand
Who saith 'A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!'