Thursday, December 22, 2011


The words to make faint every mother’s heart at this time of year:

D: “I’ve decided what I REALLY want for Christmas!!”

Me: “What?? We’ve already sent your list to Santa!”

D: “That’s okay. I know Santa will come through.”

Me: “But it is just three days until Christmas. Don’t you think that, um, Santa already… um… has his sleigh loaded??”

D: “According to all those movies we’ve been watching, that happens just before take-off, so no worries.” (Darn those movies running on a loop in the family room!!)

Me: “Weeeeelllll… let’s hear it.”

D: “The ONLY thing, and I mean the ONLY thing I want for Christmas… every Lego set that’s ever been made that is part of a scene from Hoth.”

Me: “Oh, *that’s* all?”

(True story. Happened yesterday, in fact.)

Some requests are a little easier, just kind of random and out of the blue. You may remember that I posted that Libby had included toothpaste on her Christmas list. The very same child that once spent almost an entire week, toothbrush-less (and no… I had NO idea.) I only know now because when I cleaned out her little backpack that she’d packed to spend a weekend with her cousins, I found the toothbrush, still neatly packed in its little plastic case.

So, imagine my surprise to find toothpaste on her list. It is called ‘Orajel My Way’, and she saw it on a commercial, of course. The attraction? It comes with stickers you can put on the outside of the toothpaste pump. Revolutionary, right?

At this late hour, however, I’m wondering if I can just get by with a tube of Colgate and a leftover sheet of stickers from my stash of scrapbook supplies.

And just last night in the van on the way to the Zilker tree, another unexpected request:

L- “I need one of those hats.”

Me: “A hat? You have a hat.” (She had one on, in fact. A really cute, warm one that matched her little coat.)

L: No… one of those that goes over your face. And it has the holes? For your eyes? And your mouth? Then I could still see. And take a drink.


Josie: “You want a SKI MASK??”

L- “Yeah. I need one.”

Well, I guess if Santa doesn’t deliver on the Hoth Lego sets, Davis can enlist his sister and her ski mask to knock off the nearest Target toy department.

At least she’ll have clean, shiny teeth in her mugshot.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Top 5 Reasons I am glad it is Christmas break:

5. No school... which means...

4. No homework! Yeah, yeah, I know my kids are all still in elementary school, so comparatively, they don’t have THAT much homework, but it is still an ever-present afternoon event (read: “necessary pain in the @$$”).

So, it is nice to have a bit of a break from spelling lists, projects, etc., and to not feel guilty about having Christmas movies running on a loop in the family room.

3. Time to decorate cookies, update blogs, play the Wii, finish up Christmas presents, build gingerbread houses, go to the Zilker tree, and rake the leaves.

Now, we haven’t actually *done* any of that (with the exception of the Wii), but we have TIME!

Which is currently being used to watch Christmas movies running on a loop in the family room.

2. I can get caught up on the pile of laundry.

Piles of unwashed laundry make me crazy. Piles of clean laundry make me even crazier. Yet ‘pile up’ it has, over the last week or so.
The clean laundry is in baskets in the laundry room… and on the floor of the laundry room…and on top of the dryer… and on the couches in the family room (you would think someone might fold a towel or two while watching Christmas movies running on a loop, am I right?).

The clean laundry piles are now interspersed with the kids’ backpacks and coats that are usually hung neatly on a pegboard in the laundry room, but were thrown onto the floor on Friday during the ‘Great Sugar Crash of 2011’, and have been all but abandoned.

Which brings me to the #1 reason I’m glad it is Christmas break…

1. When Libby ran through the family room yesterday, twirling something over her head, yelling, “Look what I found in my backpack when I was looking for my candy cane!”...

... the only people that were treated to seeing my black, lacy panties (that evidently had fallen out of a laundry basket and into her open backpack), were members of our family.

And not her entire first grade class.