Where to Start?

It’s my favorite time of the year. I love Thanksgiving. I love that I hosted several members of our family here for dinner and got to use our china. I also love that the day came and went and ushered in the Christmas season. I do love Advent and the whole penitential mindset in preparation for Christmas. I’m looking forward to getting our Christmas treasures out of the basement and attic and decorating our home. This time of year also brings our anniversary, so we are doubly blessed when we pull out our Christmas decorations...many of those things were given to us as wedding gifts and serve as a reminder of a wonderful occasion!

But it is busy. I have a list as long as my arm of things to do...and as usual I’m doing too many things that really should’ve been done months ago. Making Christmas cards, trying to make Christmas gifts for friends and family... not to mention the shopping for kids and wrapping and hiding...

But it’s fun.

Today I got a laugh courtesy of J. She wandered into the kitchen to show me that she had independently removed her pants (what’s up with that? Why do toddlers have a fascination with undressing?!). She asked what I was doing. I told her I was making dinner. She asked “Is it ice cream?” When I told her no, she said, “No. Oh! It’s soup!” She then went on, in true J fashion, to restate her discovery. “It’s soup! Mommy make a soup! Puppy, it soup! Mommy have a soup! I have a soup dinner!” And on and on, until her little pantsless self was out in the living room. I laughed because her little monologues are so cute and will continue ad nauseum until someone actually acknowledges what she’s saying, even if it doesn’t quite fit with what’s happening (or make any sense at all). I also laughed because in her little world, nutrition apparently boils down to two things. And if it ain’t ice cream, it must be soup.

Turkey Meme

I’ve seen it elsewhere and feel the need to post, it being Thanksgiving and all. And a meme takes all the thinking out of it for me! Yay for that! I need all the help I can get this week. I love Thanksgiving. It used to be my absolute favorite holiday, but now that I have kids it’s edged out ever so slightly by Christmas. I don’t know...this whole part of the year really is magical. But here we go...20 things I’m thankful for. 10 “shallow” and 10 “deep.”

10 not-so-entirely-earth-shatteringly-important-things I’m thankful for:

1. All the yummy things one can only find this time of year. Peppermint coffee, pumpkin ice cream, etc.
2. The Buckeyes won the Big Ten outright and will be playing for the national championship. Let’s all breathe a collective sigh of relief that D wasn’t saddled with a major depressive episode after that game last week.
3. Our electric mattress cover and fabulous comforter.
4. Bibs, toddler spoons, sippy cups, Clorox wipes, and technologically-advanced laundry detergent.
5. Food Network.
6. A whole week off work!
7. All the modern conveniences that make life “that much” simpler: garbage disposal, super capacity washer and dryer, our really cool water heater, my stand mixer, dishwasher, and iPod.
8. The kids go to bed, both of them, by 8:00 every night.
9. Football season is so over.
10. The school year’s nearly half over, too.

10 pretty important things I’m thankful for:

1. D. He’s a great husband and father, a wonderful friend to go through life with, and a gem to put up with me.
2. A & J. For a million reasons I’m thankful for the little knee-biters. The experience of being their parent has taught me more than anything else I’ve ever done or been through. They bring just huge amounts of joy and levity into our home.
3. My immediate and extended family and in-laws. As these things go, I have it pretty great in all departments. A close family from which I came, and in-laws I can count on for anything.
4. The health and well-being of all of the above.
5. My education, and the sacrifices my parents and husband made for its sake.
6. The freedom I enjoy to work (or not work), to worship (or not), to move about freely and safely, to choose my leaders, and to be anything or anyone I please.
7. The increasing ability we have, through our own hard work, to acquire nice things for our home and enjoyment.
8. Our home and the sheltering, welcoming environment it provides, as well as the memories we’ve made here.
9. My friends and acquaintances.
10. The ability to recognize my blessings and be thankful for them.

Charming.

Yeah, charming my a**. We live in a “big” old house. I used to love it. Nine years and two kids ago, when closet space and a playroom didn’t matter. My current gripe? The bat that interrupted Dancing With The Stars that was already taped onto DVR because I had a meeting that ran way too long, right after I got home from driving all the way to northwest Columbus to have J evaluated for adenoidectomy...and, as it turns out, tubes in her ears as well. But I digress. I’m also griping about whatever the heck has been moving around inside the wall of our guest room that’s still all torn apart from moving my sewing machine upstairs and re-organizing the antiquated computer cords that haven’t been used in at least one child’s lifetime. I’m griping because there’s nowhere to put stuff, and even if there was someplace to put it, I’d have to find the time to put it there.

Real charming. I’m just sayin‘.

So we’ve all but signed J up for an adenoidectomy. The last straw for me was when we were out to eat last week, and she went into a coughing episode and the hostess turned around and said, “What kind of cough is that?” Don’t get me started. Anyway, I made D call the ENT that night, he’s a friend of D’s and has seen J in the past. He pretty much told us over the phone that we could do antibiotics all winter, or take out the adenoids. Actually, in the short amount of time this man has spent with me, he’s picked up on my various and sundry paranoias, and he’s been rather careful not to use words like “cut,” “surgery,” “remove,” etc. We’re actually just shrinking her adenoids. (Whatever - it still involves general anesthesia. Don’t get me started.) Needless to say, we opted for the “procedure” (a perfectly acceptable word for me) route. The antibiotic option said two things to me: expensive and diaper rash.

So I’m in the midst of making arrangements for my days off from work, and gave my superintendent a warning about my coming leave requests. I’ll admit, it does look a little shady to be taking the 2 or 3 days prior to Thanksgiving break off. So I wanted to give as much advance warning as possible. I guess I was a little concerned that my days off would be questioned, mostly because at my previous place of employment, requesting days off (even for a child’s surgery) was the source of much grumpiness from my boss and coworkers. Instead, however, here’s what I received back in the form of an email reply from my current boss:

Not a problem. What is your daughter's name? I'd like to include her on my prayer list if that is ok.

I mean, seriously! How great is that?

And more good news came our way this evening...my mom will be coming to be with me during the surg — procedure — and she’s going to stay that night and the next day too. Then she’s going home and returning a day or two later for Thanksgiving. So...aside from the opera — procedure — it might actually turn out to be a decent week.

I’m off to undo the hour’s worth of quilting I did the other night. Sigh. But it’s the weekend, and A is blissed out that there’s no school, no sitter, and that both D and I will be home all weekend. To make matters even better for him, there are the final leaves to be raked. And any leaves to be raked are leaves to jump in. When you’re five, that’s all you need to make the whole weekend great.

I’m waiting...

...for A not to be so funny. I somehow thought that as he got older, the funny little-kid stuff would stop. But his sister doesn’t stand a chance of cornering the market anytime soon. Here’s the latest:

Last night I was putting J to bed while A was in the tub. He yelled in from the bathroom that he had removed his tattoo (the temporary kind. Please.). After J was tucked in and prayed over, I went into the bathroom to give A his proper bath. I found the detangling formula (this becomes important) shampoo floating in the water. I asked him to please be more careful and to keep the shampoo out of the water because as it sinks into the bathwater, all the water seeps into the shampoo bottle and makes it so runny it will get in his eyes (something he hates).

He told me OK, but that the shampoo was how he got his tattoo off.

“ ’Cause Mom, it’s the deleting formula.”