Please excuse me while I have a panic attack.
Resuming regular programming....at some point.
About Me
- Soonerchick
- I have a Bachelor's in Psychology, a Master's in Human Relations, and a Ph.D. in telling people what to do. I raise children, dogs, cats, and hermit crabs and cultivate crabgrass and pretty weeds. I am teaching myself to cook, not because I love to cook but because I love to eat. I love to travel, read, and take pictures; I also like to write, so you'll get to read a lot about all the aforementioned subjects plus about anything else I happen to feel like sharing with you. I'll take all your questions and may even give some back with answers if you're lucky and I'm feeling helpful (or bored.)
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Uh-oh
There are 11 days until Christmas. I have 2/3 of my gift-buying, wrapping, house-cleaning, and ordering left to do.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Awesome
Don't you just love it when you thought you were going to have to buy something a little pricey because you thought you didn't have it, and decided not to do a certain project that you really wanted to do because you couldn't afford to buy the pricey thing and still get Christmas presents for your family, and then discover while unpacking your Christmas decorations that you actually had the exact thing you needed for the project after all because you bought it two years ago on a whim that you might use it someday?
I do.
Here's the finished project:
It's a Christmas window!
It took me forty-five minutes and a broken glass ornament, and when I asked Soldier (whose other name is Scrooge, by the way) how he liked it, he said "hrm."
Shamelessly seeking recognition for my efforts,
Soonerchick
I do.
Here's the finished project:
It's a Christmas window!
It took me forty-five minutes and a broken glass ornament, and when I asked Soldier (whose other name is Scrooge, by the way) how he liked it, he said "hrm."
Shamelessly seeking recognition for my efforts,
Soonerchick
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Unpleasant Surprises
This morning my boys were in their first Christmas parade. Their scout pack had a "float" they decorated and rode on for the small-town parade (which didn't even have a Santa Claus! How can you have a Christmas parade without Santa Claus?) so after waking up at the exact time we were supposed to meet our pack to drive to the fairgrounds, I drove like a bat out of hell and made it there in time to...wait.
And wait. Sigh.
But we did eventually get going, and the baby even got to ride on the float with his brothers, which he loved.
The part I did not love was having to walk alongside.
When I was in Christmas parades as a kid, the only people who got to ride on a "float" were the Shriners with their strange little hats with tassels. All us kids walked. And what did our parents and siblings do while we walked? Yes, that's right: stood on the side of the street with the rest of the spectators and waved and cheered for us when we went by.
So naturally that's what I thought the baby and I would be doing. I even contemplated bringing a folding chair so we wouldn't have to stand through the whole parade.
Some of the moms rode in the Suburban towing the trailer. Some of the dads rode on the trailer with the boys.
And the rest of us walked. Oy.
It wasn't that long, about four miles, which isn't bad if I'm out walking the track. But I don't like cold. Or having to constantly shout "Merry Christmas!" and various Christmas carols. I'm not really fond of waving, either, although at least I was wearing a sweatshirt, so my un-toned arms didn't flap around while I was Miss-America-ing at the spectators and bending down to pick up candy that had been thrown in the street by previous floats to give to kids on the side of the street.
It was the boys' first Christmas parade, and they had a good time. The best part for me was seeing several Shetland ponies dressed in reindeer antlers and pulling little carts disguised as sleighs, and some undeniably beautiful whippets dressed in their Christmas best.
Next year, however, I'm claiming a spot in the vehicle. I'm sure the exercise did me good, but I can think of other (warmer) ways to lose this weight.
And wait. Sigh.
But we did eventually get going, and the baby even got to ride on the float with his brothers, which he loved.
The part I did not love was having to walk alongside.
When I was in Christmas parades as a kid, the only people who got to ride on a "float" were the Shriners with their strange little hats with tassels. All us kids walked. And what did our parents and siblings do while we walked? Yes, that's right: stood on the side of the street with the rest of the spectators and waved and cheered for us when we went by.
So naturally that's what I thought the baby and I would be doing. I even contemplated bringing a folding chair so we wouldn't have to stand through the whole parade.
Some of the moms rode in the Suburban towing the trailer. Some of the dads rode on the trailer with the boys.
And the rest of us walked. Oy.
It wasn't that long, about four miles, which isn't bad if I'm out walking the track. But I don't like cold. Or having to constantly shout "Merry Christmas!" and various Christmas carols. I'm not really fond of waving, either, although at least I was wearing a sweatshirt, so my un-toned arms didn't flap around while I was Miss-America-ing at the spectators and bending down to pick up candy that had been thrown in the street by previous floats to give to kids on the side of the street.
It was the boys' first Christmas parade, and they had a good time. The best part for me was seeing several Shetland ponies dressed in reindeer antlers and pulling little carts disguised as sleighs, and some undeniably beautiful whippets dressed in their Christmas best.
Next year, however, I'm claiming a spot in the vehicle. I'm sure the exercise did me good, but I can think of other (warmer) ways to lose this weight.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Tomorrow
Tomorrow I won't have time to post because it will be 10th birthday of my oldest baby. Yes, that's right folks, this child who continues to amaze and impress and terrify me will be a DECADE old. I'm pretty sure it hasn't really been ten years, because the memory of holding him a week after his birth in the rocking chair at 2 a.m. in the dim living room lit only by the glow of Christmas lights, is still strikingly clear and vivid.
But nevertheless, he contends that he will be, in fact, ten years old, and after consulting the evidence (his birth certificate), I must, sadly, agree that he is no longer a child and more of a pre-teen, who happens to be reading books at an 8th-grade-level at (almost) ten years old. Yeah. Not kidding.
So I'm off to hunt down a cake (my past attempts at decorating them have not been what one would call successful so I'm leaving it to the pros this year), decorations, presents, cards, candles, and....my youth.
But nevertheless, he contends that he will be, in fact, ten years old, and after consulting the evidence (his birth certificate), I must, sadly, agree that he is no longer a child and more of a pre-teen, who happens to be reading books at an 8th-grade-level at (almost) ten years old. Yeah. Not kidding.
So I'm off to hunt down a cake (my past attempts at decorating them have not been what one would call successful so I'm leaving it to the pros this year), decorations, presents, cards, candles, and....my youth.
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