Uh-oh

There are 11 days until Christmas.  I have 2/3 of my gift-buying, wrapping, house-cleaning, and ordering left to do.  

Please excuse me while I have a panic attack.  

Resuming regular programming....at some point.  

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

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.

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.  

Thankful entries #29 and 30

Man. Today I'm thankful that after today, I can end this self-imposed period of daily thankfulness.  I'm thankful for a lot of things on a daily basis, but writing posts about them is becoming somewhat of a chore.  


Yesterday, I was thankful that I had enough random ingredients laying around that I was able to put together a completely unplanned meal that I could throw in a crock-pot at noon and not have to cook dinner after coming in late from a meeting.  I think this may be the first time this has ever happened in my house.  It wasn't the best dinner I've ever had, but it certainly wasn't the worst, and may end up being a go-to meal for busy nights.  


Today's entries are brought to you by the letter Q, for no other reason that I can think of other that that it's the letter my baby is studying in preschool this week.  My imagination done run dry this morning.  

Thankful entries #26-28

Over the weekend, I was thankful for Clorox, white vinegar, and baking soda.  These three things are pretty much all I use to clean my house.  Which is what I spent the weekend doing.

So this morning I am thankful for a clean house.  

Except for the playroom, which looks like Toys-R-Us exploded in it.  But it conveniently has a door which I can shut to help me ignore the mess.  

Today's entries are brought to you by the number 9, the amount of trash bags currently waiting in the bin for pick-up. 

Thankful entries #24 and 25

I cooked and cleaned my way through the day yesterday, so no blog posting even entered my head.  

But I stayed up late last night doing some research, and I am very thankful I did, because I stumbled upon some information I had previously missed, and some other information I had forgotten about.  

Soldier and I have a bit of OCD regarding our ancestry and family heritage.  We have extensive family trees and have done so many hours of research it makes your eyes bleed after awhile.  We are committed to finding out everything we can about everyone we are possibly related to; my ultimate plan is to put it all in book form someday, to be preserved for future generations, so they can simply read it and then go focus on more important things, like saving the world.  Inevitably, when doing genealogical research, cemeteries become quite an important and useful tool.  So much so that now, whenever we see a cemetery that looks old, we pull over to go check it out.  Our kids think we're mentally ill; they go wherever we go, which means they end up coming with us on all these cemetery hunts, and they could not think of anything less fun.  We make a point to go somewhere or do something fun for them on the same day, so they don't feel too bitter about it, but I have a feeling this is what they will someday tell their children and grandchildren: "Mom and dad used to drag us all over the country looking for dead people, all the freaking time."  But when the price to go to Busch Gardens is a two hour visit to a historical church and cemetery, they're usually ok with it.  

Last night I discovered that I have another set of who-knows-how-many-great-greats-grandparents buried not too far from where we currently live.  I had once found this information, but had forgotten about it while researching other branches of the family.  Not only that, I also discovered some photos that some generous soul has posted online of some of those family members.  For a genealogical researcher, photos are like discovering gold.  

I also received a package yesterday from my father, of things that had belonged to his parents.  His mother died some time ago, and his father is in a nursing home, so the family cleaned out the house, took what they wanted to keep, and sold/donated the rest.  My dad had several things in his lot that had been marked for me, and among the various china figurines and tea towels were two pocketwatches.  

This is a big deal for two reasons: #1. I love pocketwatches.  #2. These pocketwatches had originally belonged to my great-grandfather.  They don't work anymore, of course (the winding mechanism is broken of both of them), but what a thing to hold in my hands!  I was beyond thrilled.  If photos are like gold, actual possessions are like winning the ultimate genealogical lottery.  It just doesn't get better than that.  

Today's entries are brought to you by the letters "OMG" which is exactly how I felt last night.