Following Suit And WPM

I wore a one-piece bathing suit to the Wet'N'Wild last week.

I felt a bit grumpy and frumpy.  All the other cute, fit moms were showing off their tight abs in adorable little bikinis.  I used to be one of those moms.  I strutted and peacocked and preened.

But now I've decided to be a modestly dressed, one-pieced, respectable type of mom.  I am trying hard to follow the standards set by my church.  I'm not going to lie.  It's tough.  I LOVE cute Betsie Johnson funky two piece suits on me.  I really really do.  But I'm trying to be obedient for a change.

Obedience over vanity.  Imagine that!

There are probably lots of you not-Mormon people who are thinking, What's the big deal? Just wear the bikini if you think you look good in it!

There are probably some of you Mormon people thinking, Oh my WORD!  I can't believe you like to wear bikinis!  How immodest!  I would NEVER..."...

I thought good and hard about not writing the story I am about to divulge because people can be so uber judgey judgerson.

I even said to my husband, the love of my whole entire life, I said,

"This story is WAY too narcissistic.  I can't tell anyone about this.  Plus then people would know I have a major bikini problem... I can't have that!  ...I'd like to be Young Women's General President one day.  I should dress the part..."...

So last week I donned the serious one-piece suit to the Wet'N'Wild.  I thought I looked alright, I guessed. 

Then I saw a 70-ish year old lady wearing the EXACT same suit.  She and I were all matchy matchy.  I wanted to DIE.

"I'm wearing an old lady suuuuiiiiit!" I wailed.

"No, Mama.  That lady is wearing a suit too young for her," said my diplomatic Bella.

I avoided the lady for the rest of the day.

My family and I had a wonderful time!  We rode every single slide together.  Even the super scary ones.  I screamed and laughed and was beyond happy in my functional old lady suit.

Aside:  I must mention I love Water Park Mentality (WPM) regarding bodies.  At the typical water park one will see every size and shape and age of human imaginable wearing as little fabric as possible.  One will encounter exposed stretch marks, scars, cellulite, tattoos, weird moles, hairy backs, and cellulite. A veritable sea of cellulite.

The beauty?  Due to WPM, no one CARES!  It's WONDERFUL!  Everyone has exposed their scary physical secrets and nothing can be done now but to holler like a howler monkey as one jiggles his way down steep and swirly slides.  Liberating, to say the least.

Water parks are my Tiffany's.

Anywho...

I had all kinds of fun.  We slipped and slid from 11am- 9:30pm.  WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! (It was like that.)

When night rolled around I found myself stationed at the Lazy River under a street lamp (or river lamp, as the case may be).  I awaited my two lazy river babies to float toward me on their yellow inner-tubes. 

As I waited two handsome, athletic 16-year-old-ish rich kid lookin' boys floated past me.

"Woah!" said one, nudging the other.

The other looked up at me in response.

"Woah!" he said.  THEN he pointed right at me and stated, "YOU are PRETTY!"

"Yeah."  said the friend.  "You look like a MODEL standing there!"

The teen girls with them stared me up and down and gave me meanie stink eyes.  HOW GREAT IS THAT?!!! I'M OLD WITH 4 KIDS AND I HAVE A BIRTHDAY ON SATURDAY!

I blushed 10 shades of red and thanked the boys sincerely before they floated off.

OH MY WORD!!!!

THIS IS CALLED A TENDER MERCY!!! 

If I had worn a little bikini and looked like everybody else maybe they wouldn't have thought I was anything special.  But I WAS special.  I followed the rules and I was BLESSED!

YOU THINK I'M CRAZY!  THAT'S OKAY!  I WAS BLESSED FOR WEARING A MODEST SWIM SUIT.

Jealous stink eye from a 16 year old girl is SURELY a great blessing and I can't be convinced otherwise.

I have learned 3 valuable lessons here.

A)  Modest IS Hottest.
B) Avoid old ladies wearing your same swim wear.  It damages the self-esteem a tad.
C) No one is more narcissistic than I.

PS I'm going back to the water park tomorrow.  WOOO HOOO!  WEEEEEEE!  Wonder what I'll wear... :)

Dinner And Dairy Queen

Me:  Eat your broccoli, Tyson.  And your mashed potatoes...

Tyson:  I can't.

Me:  Why?

Tyson:  I don't want all this food to cover up my six pack.

My vanity has RUINED this child.  RUINED!  Monkey see monkey do.

Shortly after dinner one of the girls suggested we go to Dairy Queen for FHE.

Tyson was suddenly not so concerned about his six-pack as he had previously been. 

"GO GET YOUR SHOES AND MAKE SURE TO GO POTTY IF YOU HAVE TO!!!!" I shouted to the troops.  "I am NOT pulling over!!!"

I always have to remind them to go to the bathroom before we leave the house.  Else one of them will surely force us to pull into the closest smelly McDonald's in order to find relief.

"WAAHHHHH," cried Maya tromping down the stairs and landing in a dramatic, tearful heap.  "Bella was MEAN TO MEEEEE! ...Because I was in her room and I stole her mustache!"

"You took my mustache off of my Bob Marley poster, Maya!! I told you not to touch it!"

"You hit my chin!"

"I didn't MEAN to hit your chin!  I was just trying to get you not to touch my stuff!"

Why oh why can we not just hop into the car for a happy little ride to The DQ without conflict?

I became the judge and jury of this unfortunate incident.  Bella was, indeed, too rough.  She was remorseful right away.  Bella is my tender heart bear once she realizes her blunder.

I charged her with Unnecessary Roughness.

Bella had to be punished for being unkind to her thieving little sister.

Bella's ipod was confiscated by Papa Bear.  I am the good cop and do not do well at punishing.  I always cave.  I am a cave woman.  You can tell by my wild hair when I wake in the morning time.

On the way back from DQ Bella was hopped up on half a peanut buster parfait (as I made her throw away the other half... DQ's serving sizes are ridiculous dino droppings.). 

Bella began telling original jokes.

Bella:  knock knock

Me: Who's there?

Bella:  Ipod.

Me:  Ipod who?

Bella:  Daddy took my ipod away and hid it in his underwear drawer.

Papa Bear was not amused.

The End

Volver

Mariachi music made me cry real tears tonight.

Volver,Volver. A love song.  Come back to my arms, it wailed.

People who don't understand Mariachi music mock the men in cartoonish sparkly hats playing accordians and wailing to lost lovers and dead horses.

Mariachi music is the common language of my grandparents.  Hearing those strains reminds me of them and from whence I came.

So I cried a little.

I love when I cry a little.  It reminds me I'm human and tender.  A woman.

I love being a woman.  Soft, kind, gentle, loving.  A nurturer.  I want to hold the world in my arms and rock it to sleep with a Spanish lulluby of my own design.

My mind wandered tonight and I thought of a woman I knew in Mexico when I was a child. 

I slept in her house many nights and woke to her making fresh tortillas on her cast iron stove.  She watered her dirt floor and swept it clean before I arose.  She smiled a missing teeth smile and offered me coffee and milk.

She's gone now.

There is the story of her husband, who is also gone.  Her husband loved her.  She bore 13 of his children.  She loved him.

I loved them both.

He was a handsome, charming Macho Mexican man.  He enjoyed entertaining the ladies in town.  He had a way with the softer sex through no fault of his own.  A family trait.  A gift and a curse.

One fine day his wife knew he was at the home of his lover.  She sought him out. 

"Abre la puerta!"  Open the door! She cried.

She kicked open the door to find her husband flying out the bedroom window with his pants below his ankles and his cowboy hat in hand.  He ran as though the devil were chasing him.  Perhaps he was.

She took the oppotunity to beat the hell out of her husband's lover.  The lover scarcely fought back.  How could she?  Being in the wrong and caught with her skirts up she deserved a good sound beating.

Our heroine returned home to find her husband at the kitchen table sheepishly smoking a cigarette with his hat pulled low over his eyes.

"The other women are little chapels.  But YOU are my cathedral, mi amor."

The charming men in his family loved this light refrain and used it often in jest and in truth.

There was no divorce.  No seperation.

There was only family.  Children.  Food.  Forgiveness.  Musica. Laughter. Tears.  Survival.  Poverty.

She lived not for herself.  Pero pa' la familia. She lived for the family.

Not many have the perpective of this unsung hero. 

Today's society is Me and Now.  And how do I feel?  And I will leave you! And who is to blame?  And what's his/her name? 

Certianly the unfaithful are blame worthy.  But so too are unforgiving counterparts.

Their lives are over now.  They are together with their children who went on before them.  Mistakes are forgotten.  Earthly trials cast aside as learning experiences for the eternities.

The power of music is undeniable and real.

One song brought this flood of memories and tears. 

I am grateful to a woman.

I am even more grateful still to be a woman of Mexican decent.  I feel the power of my ancestors lift me in times of need. They are always Here.
VIVA MEXICO!
 

Everyday poetry

Maya stayed home from school today.  She was a sicky.

I secretly love when my children have slight colds and stay home from school to play with me.

We snuggled in my bed and watched Looney Tunes.  We laughed and laughed.  And snuggled and snuggled.

I thought I might burst with joy.

We thought we might hit a middle of the day movie in our comfies.  We thought we might have some pizza for lunch.  Maya had the pizza.  I drooled and drank my protein shake like a good girl.

In the middle of the movie Maya wanted my 3-D glasses.  Hers were too tight.  I welled with love and gave them up.  I wore the kiddie ones.

She also wanted my sweatshirt.  Her Icee made her coldy.  I welled with more love.  I gave it up.  And froze a little.

Halfway through the movie her throat hurt too much.  We went back home.

I looked into her big clear blue eyes as I felt her forehead for fever.

I saw my husband in those big clear blue eyes.  I did not expect to see him there.  But there he was.

Strong.  Sensitive.  Brilliant.

I remembered the day I Knew.

I remembered the day a bolt of lightening struck my soul and said, "Marry Him."

I was confused.  Afraid.  And suddenly very sure.

I saw my children swimming in the ocean of his eyes.  They laughed at my fear and asked me to jump in. The water was fine.

I jumped in.

I rushed in.

Fools rush in, you know.  So the wise men say.

Tonight at dinner my son said,

"Jace's dad sharted in his pants.  He tooted and then he pooped a little."


"I know what 'sharted' means," I said.  "We don't say that word.  It's not a nice word."


"Why Mama?" his green eyed freckle face was perplexed.  His innocence made me ache inside.

I was loathe to educate him on this matter.

"Because it is a combination of two not nice words.  S-h-i-t.  And Fart.  The combination is 'shart', " said I.


My children giggled.  Then they laughed.  Hard.  At shart.

I shook my head and smiled.

I made tostadas for dinner.  With fresh everything.

We discussed and memorized the 3rd article of faith.  The kids took turns doing dramatic interpretations.  There was rolling on the floor, leaping like frogs and preaching to the choir as they delivered their lines..  There was horrible screeching and melodic deliveries.

We believe that through the atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved, by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel.


They all know it now.

It's good to memorize things.


I allowed my husband to envelope me in kisses and warm sentiments as our children lost their silly minds in the midst of us.

He brought home flowers today.  They were kind of ugly.  Grocery store wilting yellow flowers. Petals fell all over the floor.

 I smiled with sincerity and told him I loved him.  I do.

Is it possible that those ugly petal dropping wilty flowers made me love him all the more?

I believe it is.

Mine is a life of everyday poetry.

Watch Your Attitude Or The ABCs of Abundance

Tonight I gathered all my children together and taught them stuff.  Important stuff.

The prez of the Mormon church wrote an article in our Mormon mag.  The mag is called The Ensign.

I'm technically not supposed to be calling my church "Mormon".  


Technically I'm suppose to say, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, which is a mouth full of wordy words.  But that's our real true name 'cause we are Christians and all.  I read the bible and everything...

Some people think we are a CULT. They think we grow horns and tails and sacrifice cats and goldfish.  Silly. I sometimes grow fangs and suck the blood of innocent citizens.  But horns and tails?!  That's ridiculous!

So the article President Thomas S. Monson wrote was about the ABCs of Abundance.  He offered suggestions as to how we might all live full, successful, peaceful and abundant lives.

I will sum up in my own special way.

A is for Attitude.  Don't choose a crappy one. You can CHOOSE your attitude.  In any situation you can decide how you are going to feel.

"Bella," I said addressing my 11 year old.  "What situation really REALLY pisses you off?"


"Well, I hate it when I am in line at school to go to the bathroom and some jerk girl just runs into the bathroom and steals my stall when it's not her turn.  We only have a 4 minute passing period!" 


"I can see how that would be frustrating," said I. "But once the girl is in the stall there is nothing you can do, is there?  You can't kick in the door and yank her off the pot while she's pooping, can you?"


My children giggled at the prospect.

I continued, "All you have left is your attitude regarding the jerky potty thief. You can choose to be angry and hold a grudge and let her ruin you day.  Or you can CHOOSE to have peace in your heart.  Being upset will only hurt YOU.  Eventually you will have pees in the potty and you will be relieved in every way possible."




B is for Believe In Yourself, Others and Eternal Principles.

I believe in fairies and Santa Claus and Leprechauns and MYSELF.  I also believe in YOU!

Plus I have faith that if I am obedient to God's laws I will be blessed.

I am already super duper blessed beyond what I deserve.  I try not to ask for too much more than what I've been given... BUT...

I can't help but hope He blesses me with lots and lots of money so I can get TONS of plastic surgery as I age.  Aging gracefully would make me really unhappy. We are meant to be happy on this earth.

I hope I can fill every crevice of my face with stuff that makes it stay frozen and I want enough lip fillers to rival Daisy Duck. Sexy!

C is for Courage

I told my kids that people can be mean and discouraging in the world.

Sometimes people will say, "YOU SUPER SUCK!  YOU CAN'T DO...[whatever it is you have your heart set on doing]."


This is where we stand up straight and tall and puff up our chests (but not too much if you're a well endowed chick because then people judge you... trust me... I know...) and swing from the trees like Tarzan. We are to beat our chests and accomplish the task at hand!

That's what I taught my kids tonight.  I hope it sinks in.

Speaking of sinks, I cleaned all of mine today.  It was cleaning day here at the Pistol house.  Monday is always cleaning day.

Then I made a delish, healthy dinner.

Then I did homework with the kiddos.

Then I cuddled with my big, strong man.

And plus, I went to the gym this morning.  It was leg day and I'm training for another half marathon.

Then I got the car washed.

In addition, I took lots of deep breaths when Maya pitched a crying fit this morning because she wanted to wear her denim shorts to school even though it was freezing outside.


These are the ABC's and 123's of my life.

My attitude is GRRRREAT! (Except at 6:30 am because I hate mornings.)



Quote of the day:


William James, a pioneering American psychologist and philosopher, wrote, “The greatest revolution of our generation is the discovery that human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives.”¹

My Christmas Obsession of 2011

My husband snapped a picture of me bright and early on Christmas morning.

"That will be deleted," I growled.

I growl in the morning for at least an hour after awaking from slumber. And I don't take kindly to cameras at that hour. I quite enjoy slumber. I also don't take kindly to mornings.  They should be banned.

I do my best, however, on Christmas mornings to put aside my differences with the A.M.  I do my best to smile and exclaim at the wondrous gifts that magically appeared overnight. With gusto I praise Santa and his elves and Walmart for all the bounty they have afforded us.

This Christmas was no exception.  I was beyond enthusiastic and exclaimed,

"LOOK, TYSON!  SANTA BROUGHT YOU A SKATEBOARD!!! SANTA IS SO AWESOME!  SANTA ROCKS!... YOU'VE BEEN WANTING A NEW SKATEBOARD FOR A MILLION YEARS!


AND MAYA!  YOU GOT THE BEAN BAG CHAIR YOU'VE ALWAYS WANTED!  NOW YOU CAN PLAY WITH YOUR NEW LEAPFROG EXPLORER THINGY WHILE YOU SIT ON IT!


Serena, Santa left me the receipt to that Victoria's Secret sweatshirt in case you want a different color...


Bella, Santa hopes those Vans fit... He checked your current shoe and went up a half size... ".

My children tore through the wrapping paper encasing all their gifts in 30 seconds flat.  It always amazes me how weeks of preparation for Christmas morning (by Santa and his elves and not by me at all) can come to such a violent end.

I must brag about a gift my husband bought me...

I told him a week before Christmas that it be awesome, just awesome to own a pair of pajamas.  Real, actual pajamas.  A top with buttons.  And a bottom with an elastic waistband. And the top and bottom should match, ideally.  I mentioned that Victoria's Secret models make those jammies look very extra super sexy.  And I'll bet I would enjoy some extra super sexy pajamas from V.S.

I further mentioned that I have been watching the Kardashians as of late and the smallest sister (Not Kim or Kloe but the other one that's married to that guy and had his kid and may be pregnant with his other kid and he still hasn't married her and I think he is a total loser for calling the mother of his child his girlfriend and not his wife...)  ...the smallest sister wears Victoria's Secret pajamas all the day long in the shows where Kim is married to that selfish basketball guy and Kim is selfish too and that's why their marriage fell apart in 72 days... and I think Kim's small sister looked darn cute in her jammies...

AND GUESS WHAT????

MY HUSBAND TOTALLY SURPRISED ME AND GOT ME MY VERY FIRST PAIR OF REAL LIFE ACTUAL PAJAMAS!!!!

I. WAS. SHOCKED!  ...SHOCKED!

HOW DID HE EVER GUESS THE INNER MOST DESIRE OF MY HEART?

They are pink with polka dots. He picked the color all alone. He done good. They are truly everything I dreamed they would be.  I mean to begin collecting all the colors offered in the catalog.  So if you'd like to buy me a gift.. I am a size S for Small... Or I would be fine with an M for medium because then they would be even extra comfy.

I have shown you a sneak peak of my polka dot jams. ... But I have jumped the chronological Christmas gun here.

After opening gifts I went back to bed, went to church and sang Christmas hymns for an hour and returned home to prepare Christmas dinner.

Here you see me browning Italian sausage for the stuffed mushrooms I offered as appetizers.

And here is my husband showing his gratitude for said mushrooms and greasy delicious sausage, which I normally do not allow in the house.

As I cooked my children played with their Christmas loot.

Bella used Tyson's new tough guy wrestling dude as a model.  Her grandma had sent her a doll's clothing sewing kit.  She was elated to receive this present and got straight to work.  This is her creation.  I see a great future for Bella in the fashion industry.

My parents joined us for a lovely meal.  I served sumptuous appetizers and fresh tomato basil soup and grilled cheese on good sourdough.  We enjoyed apple pie for dessert.

My parents said their goodbyes and I ran upstairs to slip into my night clothes.  OH!  OH!  SOOO COMFY!  I CANNOT EXPRESS TO YOU IN WORDS FOUND IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE THE COMFORT AND JOY...  COMFORT AND JOY!

I wore my night clothes outside as I watched Tyson fall off his new skateboard time and time again.  I also watched Maya ride up and down the street in her signature denim shorts, boots and coat.

Christmas exhausted me, I must admit.  I love the entire season.  I spin like a top from Thanksgiving to New Year's Day.  I am happy, happy, happy.  But I must confess, I felt all tuckered out come Christmas day evening.  Do you see the Christmas circles under my Christmas eyes?

But not to worry.

I was prepared in the most stylish of manners to curl up on the couch with a book (Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, I am currently on page 342...).

I also watched Mongol with my husband, which I bought him for Christmas because he suggested a week before Christmas that he might enjoy some of his favorite movies and his very own movie case so the kiddies wouldn't scratch up his DVDs like they always do.

He was so surprised when he opened his movies and DVD holder on Christmas morn.  SHOCKED.

So cozy and happy was I with the day and in my jammers that I fell asleep on the couch whilst watching ancient Mongols killing the crap out of each other.

It was a happy sleep.

It was a happy day.

An Embarrassment Of Riches

My children are nestled all sung in their beds as visions of skateboards dance through their heads. They could barely contain themselves at bedtime for the utter excitement of Christmas.

I am nestled all sung in my chair
I'd like some more cookies but I don't think I dare...

Before I tell you about my day allow me to share the thought in my head.

I am baffled.  Beyond comprehension I am awestruck.  Here is the reason, my friends:

I have been blessed with far more than what I deserve.

My Christmas Eve was spectacular.  I was filled to overflowing with gratitude, tamales and sugar cookies.

Why have I been given all of This? Riches beyond Midas' imagination.

I have no answer.  I am only grateful.

I shall now take you with me on my Christmas Eve journey.  On we go...

"Can I wear this mustache to Benny's tonight, Mama?"

"No, honey.  Sorry.  You're grandmother wouldn't like it."

"Benny wouldn't care though...  Grandmother just wants me to be Lemito."

"As do I, Lemito. No stash. Respect.  Respeto."

We made cookies, my offspring and I.  Star shaped.  Cane shaped.  Gingerbread man shaped.  And also we made cookies of the Snickerdoodle variety.  I have a healthy appetite for cookies of the snickerdoodle variety.

"This red frosting looks like blood," said Bella.  "it's pretty cool actually, 'cause the red in candy canes is supposed to represent Jesus' blood."


"Well, that's a deep and morbid thought to share whilst making sugar cookies," said I.

"Yeah, and also the canes are supposed to represent the canes of the shepherds in the field.  And if you flip them upside down it makes a 'J'.  For Jesus.  ...Why does Christmas always have green stuff though too?"


"Life," I responded.  "Green signifies new life.  The life beyond death.  Resurrection.  A chance to live forever..."


"Huh.  That's cool.  Can I eat one yet?"


"Yup."

When the cookies were all rolled and shaped and baked and frosted I sent my children up and down the neighborhood delivering plates of said confections to whomever would open their doors to them.

*****************************************************************

We found ourselves at my very young and handsome uncle Benny's house at 6:30pm.

"I have a special surprise for you," he said.

"Oh yeah?" said I.

"We bought a kareoke machine and got Santa Baby especially for you to sing tonight."


"Oh no."


Oh. Yes.

Here is a teeny tiny super dark and silly clip in which I said "come and krim my Christmas tree...".  My camera refused to record anymore than 40 seconds based on the fact I was making a complete fool of myself and singing through my nose to be funny.  ...I have no shame.  We establish this time and again.  Shame is highly overrated in my mind.

Cousin Aaron, my little cousin Aaron, wondered if I could possibly take a candid shot of him.  He and I are related.  As you can clearly see we both take beautifully choreographed candid photos.

My sister, Michelle, is winking at you.  She's a sly one, that.  She'll wink and leave you broken hearted to cry in your menudo.  Menudo is delicious.  I quite enjoy it.

Cousin Joe sang Adam Sandler's I Want To Grow Old With You.  Uncanny really, how when I closed my eyes me thought me could actually hear Adam's voice.  Joe sounded like his vocal twinner. I love that song.  It's a really great song.

Benny and Aaron sang several exciting and memorable duets.  If I could recall what they sang I would tell you... I do know, however, that they were indeed memorable and exciting and entertaining.  Not bad for a couple of meatheads.  Not bad at all.

My children were total hams when it came their turn.  Maya belted out Frosty The Snowman as if her life depended on it. Tyson was her backup dancer.  That boy can MOVE!

Baby Santa wipes kisses off her cheek when you kiss her.  She wipes the kisses right off!  Tiny Evita plays hard to get, which is a trait that also runs in this Mexican family of ours.  My Tia Letty is training her up in the way she should go.  Make them work for it, baby.

Bondi (Rosalina), Victoria and Myself pose in lovely trio.  Snow White Thrice.  My baby cousins are all grown up. YEEEOWZAAAA!  MUY CALIENTE! ;P

The largest blessing in my life, however, is my big, strong man.

"You're my big strong man," I like to say in my cutest little girl voice.

And he is.

"I love you sooo much!" I say.

And I do.

Maya prepared a small plate of cookies for Santa.

"I don't want to give him too much or he'll get a tummy ache.  Why does he never finish the milk I leave him?"


"Well, he is in a big hurry to get to all the boys and girls all over the world in one night... He probably just chugs a bit of milk to wash down his cookies and he is on his way..." I said.

OH MY GOSH!!!

I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!! WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS POST THERE AROSE SUCH A CLATTER THAT I JUMPED UP FROM MY CHAIR TO SEE WHAT WAS THE MATTER!

THEN I SAW HIM!!!  SANTA!!!! SANTA CAME!!! AND I SAW HIM! It went sorta like this...

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!


AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!

Can you hear the magic of the bell?

"

I CAN'T HEAR THE BELL!! OH, MAMA, I CAN'T HEAR THE MUSIC OF THE BELL!"

My Bella (11) thought herself hilarious as she shouted these words over and again on the train ride to the North Pole last night.

We rode the Polar Express which is a train built in 1928.  We boarded in Williams, AZ on the rim of the Grand Canyon and drove straight through to the North Pole.

It is very cold in the North Pole this time of year. The reindeer are cross with all the laborious labor they are meant to perform in December, so in a rude rebellious manner, they leave their droppings absolutely everywhere underfoot.  It is stinky and messy and steamy warm.

Also, elves are just everywhere.  We hit a few, I think. With the train. I saw one flying through the night sky with the force.  He was lovely in his little elf suit.  Pity. There are always casualties.  Elves are attracted to very bright lights and every year when the magical Polar Express pulls into Santa Land filled to the brim with pajama wearing children, at least three elves jump out in front of the train in an over-zealous attempt to greet the children and the pretty pretty light.  Poor little creatures.  It's lights out for them now, isn't it.  May they rest their tiny elfin souls in peace.

I thought my Isabella hilarious as well with all her obnoxious screaming. Her age is to blame.  It was her way of informing the world that Santa is a child's game and she is much too old and wise to play into the fantasy but she still wanted to participate.  (She is not, however, too old for enormous Christmas snicker doodles and hot chocolate, thank goodness.)

I especially found Bella humorous when Santa Claus boarded the train in his fluffery red suit and beardy bearded face.  At this juncture in time my Bella, screamed at the top of her lungs with believable feigned panic in her high pitched voice,

"SANTA!!! OH IT'S SANTA EVERYBODY!! HE'S HERE!!! HE'S REALLY REALLY HERE!! ON THIS VERY TRAIN!!  AHHHHHH! "  She grabbed at her own face and pulled her own hair to show her extreme excitement at his coming. 


I encouraged her by laughing loudly and sincerely.  Bella is a funny little lady of mine.

Santa greeted every boy and girl and Mum and Daddy on the train with a smile and a bouncing belly like a bowl full of jelly.  He gifted us each with a magical bell.  A sleigh bell from one of his reindeer.  One might suppose that Dancer and Prancer are quite pissed off by the lack of jingle and jangle in their reins as a result of St, Nick's generosity at their expense.

Maya was terrified at first of the idea of having to speak to Santa.

"I don't want to sit by the isle.  I'm scared of Santa.  Never mind.  Move Tyson.  I want to sit by the isle.  I changed my mind, Mama.  I'm not afraid."


On and on she vacillated until Santa actually boarded the train.  Then she screamed in earnest.

"AHHHHHHHH!!! SANTAAAA!!  Mama, I'm scared."

But the closer he approached the more comfortable she became.

This is the way of things, isn't it?  Like the frog in the pot.

Maya was mortified when the train conductor insisted all passengers sing Happy Birthday To Maya. I was elated. My sweet little Maya Papaya is the my lovey dove.

I so enjoyed spending time with my family on an old rickety train. We were read The Polar Express by the man in a funny hat.  He showed us the pictures.  We were served hot cocoa and cookies. We sang Christmas carols.  I was interested to hear just how many people cannot carry a tune in a bucket or on a train nor in the rain nor in a box nor with a fox.  Some people just cannot sing, Sam I am.

Santa even gave ME a bell.  I shook it and shook it.  I shook with wild abandon,

"I BELIEVE!" I shouted.  "I BELIEVE IN THE MAGIC OF THE BELL!!!"


I feel sorrow in my heart for those who have lost their sense of wonder.

Do YOU hear the magic of the bell?

Christmas Trees Smell Delicious and Please Me Greatly Despite The Fact They Have Nothing Whatever To Do With Jesus

"I suppose it is because I am so serious," said my sister Michelle, "but  I don't enjoy putting up Christmas trees.  What do Christmas trees have to do with Jesus?"

To this I intelligently replied, "BECAUSE IT'S FUN!"

You do see how my response is juvenile and makes no conventional sense to the mature mind, right?

What do Christmas trees have to do with Jesus?  ...Because it's FUN...?  

I could never be a lawyer with this caliber of comeback.  (My mom always said she wanted to me to be a lawyer... She said I'd be good at it.   ...turns out all I wanna do is be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.  So much for women's lib. I am far too confident in my femininity for bra burning. But thanks for offering.  Sagging is just not my thing, at this point.)

CHRISTMAS IS FUN!

I sang all day today because why?  Because it's FUN and also it is December 1st!

YAY FOR DECEMBER!

YAY FOR CHRISTMAS TREES AND SANTA AND STOCKINGS AND GETTING WAY TOO FAT FOR OUR SKINNY PANTS BUT THAT IS WHY WE HAVE FAT PANTS, DUH!

Tonight after work I gathered my younguns together and exclaimed with all the fervor of my Christmas loving soul,

"WHO WANTS TO TRIM THE TREE AND DRINK HOT CHOCOLATE???!!!"


"MEEEEEE!" shouted the two youngest voices.

But hark!  Whose voice through yonder hallway is missing?  What's this?  What's this you say?  Where are my two eldest?  Where are their shouts of glee at the mention of a Christmas tree?

Those shouts of glee have gone the way of all the worldly world.  I am saddened.

"We don't really care about decorating the tree.  But we want hot chocolate."


DON'T REALLY CARE ABOUT DECORATING???  THE TREE???? WHAT?!

Well, they may as well have kicked me in the nose with a response like that.  Have I taught them NOTHING? How can Santa fly his magic sleigh anywhere NEAR our house with that kind of anti-Christmas cheer for all to hear?  Dancer and Prancer are especially sensitive to negative energy as they have become Buddhists in their old age.


So my girls want hot chocolate do they? They want a sweet reward for being a sullen tween and a grumpy teen, do they?  To the uncooperative go the spoils.

"Smile for the camera, Serena," said I.

"I don't wanna."


"Not only are the angels in heaven recording every tiny deed you do, but I am also recording your life on my blog.  Say hi to the peoples."


"Lame."


Yes.  I can see how she might think I am lame at 13.  Sigh.  (She secretly adores me and wants to be just like me, of course. She is the MOST like me of the four.  But don't tell her.  She'll never forgive you.)

So the little red hen worked and worked and watched her smaller chicks accidentally drop and shatter ornament after blessed ornament with a smile.

When it came time to place the golden star atop the tree my eldest daughter said,

"I wanna do it."


"Tyson asked first, honey.  And you didn't help trim the tree so your punishment will be that of watching your brother put the star on the top."


She growled in her throat and rolled her eyes. (She gets those moves from me, by the way. I'm a big throat growler.)

Hooray for Christmas and Christmas trees and for the men of the house who top trees together with nary a complaint!!  HOORAY!

HAPPY EARLY DECEMBER, EVERYONE!  May you not be trampled by over-zealous shoppers in the malls and maybe you should avoid the malls entirely as I heard two people were shot on black Friday and what is this world coming to.

I Was Spared By A Thankful Scorpion On This Thanksgiving Day

Slaving.

Slaving.

Slaving

TAAAADAAAAAA!!!!

I DID IT!!!

I MADE MY VERY FIRST THANKSGIVING DINNER WITHOUT MY MOMMY'S HELP!  It was all from scratch and everything.

I'm not gonna lie.  It was fabulous.  Every bit of it.  I cooked for 8 hours yesterday.  Secret ingredient?  Love. (And a pinch of sacrifice...)

It was the best day ever.  I was so happy as I cooked.  I thought of my family enjoying my special Love meal filled me with deep satisfaction and peace.


Oh how I adore feeding the people I love.  How I adore slaving and slaving and slaving and getting all the credit.  The glory is MINE!  ALL MINE!

I imagined the songs of praise and lip smacks of my children.  The satisfied grunts of my husband.  The wagging stumpy tail of my silly little cocker.  All was right with the world.

I sang practiced singing Handel's Messiah as I cooked.  The birds in the trees were singing.  I almost got stung by a scorpion.

Yes.  A scorpion heard my singing and decided to perch himself atop a dishtowel in the dishtowel drawer.  I grabbed said dishtowel and noticed a small yellow-ish creature with his tail at attention and precisely half an inch from my thumb.

"I was going to sting you and ruin your meal and deal and day.  But you seem to be in tune with God and the Universe at this time.  I'll let you off with a warning."

I screamed and dropped the scorpion towel at my feet.  He charged.  I stomped him flat with my boot.

Today I am thankful for this entire world and this tumultuous mortal experience with it's highs and lows and stops and gos.  I am thankful to be scorpion venom free.

In other news I will be flying to WISCONSIN in the morning!!  (I'll bet nobody was ever as excited as I to go to WISCONSIN!  I'll bet Wisconsin has never seen it's name entirely in caps before today.)

My kids keep asking if I will cut the cheese in Wisconsin.

Don't be silly.  I'm too pretty to cut cheese.  I have those who do that kind of thing for me.

Baby sis is gettin hitched on Saturday!  YAY!  Yay for Love and new beginnings.

I'm all packed up.

As you can see I've only packed the essentials.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!!!  See you next week. :)