Tree Trimming Tears

I think it's safe to say I'm a highly emotional person. Especially now. My life is one giant ball of stress. And it's the holidays.

I usually decorate the house and tree the day after Thanksgiving. Juni had other plans. He just couldn't wait to set up the tree. So we woke up Thursday morning, and began trimming. And I began crying. Each ornament brought memories. The Grinch that reminded me of my Grandad. Granny's old ornaments. Ornaments from my childhood, my engagement, my college. It was endless. Finally, Juni asked "Mommy! Why you crying?" The only thing I could think to say was "I have no idea, Juni. Your Mommy is a mess today!" Juni answered with "Yep. You a mess every day Mommy."

This one actually didn't make me cry. I made it from a goose egg, and I love it.

I took piano lessons for 10 years. My teacher gave this to me one year. She was extremely patient with me, her least-practicing student.

I made this one from sand and shells I found on my honeymoon in Turks and Caicos. I created it during Hurricane Isabel while watching Hokie football. I cried because my honeymoon was wonderful, and Tech lost that game.

This one makes me cry because it smells. Jasen insists on putting this lobster tail on the tree year after year. Yuck.

Juni's hand from school last year. Of course I cried...who wouldn't?

One of my Granny's ornaments. I cried because I miss her every day.

This one started the whole crying spree. I made it for Shelby when she was a puppy.

One of my Mom's ornaments hung underneath one of Granny's. And you guessed it...more tears!

I'm assuming my Mom made this one. It's from forever ago.



Christmas Decorating at the Norge House

Napping after a morning of chasing cats.

As of this morning, Christmas has officially puked in my house. It's nice out, so the front door is open. The dog is chasing the cat. The kid is chasing the dog. I'm sweating. And bleeding from an unfortunate snow globe incident in which the snow globe won. There's dust everywhere. And glitter. And pieces of fake green stuff that the mice chewed and spit back out. And insulation from the attic itching my feet. Oh...and did I mention the incredibly sappy and sad Christmas music playing? Yep. We're talking balls-to-the-walls decorating festivities here at the Norge house.
How the heck am I supposed to find the one friggin' bulb on this strand that doesn't want to work? You have got to be kidding me. A job saved for Jasen. As is dragging the full-sized tree from the barn, adding the extra lights and fighting with those.

We decided on a fake tree last year after six years of me picking a tree that was too tall for our living room and leaving sap trails on the white ceiling. I miss the smell and experience of picking the perfectly too-tall tree, but not the needles, watering and ceiling stains. Which, by the way, can only be removed by a new coat of paint. Which I haven't performed yet.
Juni, Sadie, Max the Cat and I were so busy decorating that I forgot to eat lunch. So by 12:30, my blood sugar plummeted, I began to shake, sweat more, and dry heave. Excellent.

My Hokie Tree

I'd love to decorate the outside of my house, but honestly, I just don't have the stomach for it today. I realize when the chaos of finding every decoration, hanging every bulb and checking every light is over our home will be cozy and warm. But right now, it's just plain hot in here.
If you don't hear from me, it's because Christmas kicked my ass before I could even make it to Thanksgiving.

Me and Juni

The Upside of Stress

I've learned something over the past few weeks. An overload of stress is a great way to loose weight. I've been trying to loose a bit before the holidays, and I squeaked away with a 13 lb loss just in time to gain it back in turkey and stuffing. So I'll take that and smile. Any upside to stress is welcome at this point...

A Revelation

I watched Evie, my nearly 2-year-old nice, for my sister yesterday. Let me start by saying that Juni and Evie are absolutely awesome together. Evie trots after Juni all day while he protects her like a mother goose. It's wonderfully adorable. Here's how I have a new-found respect for multiple-children families, and came to my newest revelation...

Evie showed up at 9 a.m. We had a playdate at the park at noon. Somehow I'd managed to NOT get dressed, brush my hair, or my teeth. And Juni was still in sleepy pants. No biggie, you'd think. And just like me, you'd be wrong.
I  began brushing my teeth, and heard the Lego tub being dumped onto the floor in my bedroom. Beautiful. Every three seconds Evie toddled into my bathroom, asking "Oh No! Where's Mommy?" So every time I'd answer "She's riding her horse, Evie. But Aunt Frances is here, and we're going to have fun today. Once I get dressed, we're going to the park!"
After 30 minutes of this routine, she just started calling me mommy. Which made Juni jealous. And remind her that her mommy wasn't here. In which case she responded by saying "Oh No! Where's Mommy?" And stick out her adorable bottom lip in a false-pout.
It took me close to an hour to get dressed, between Jasen calling 3 times to see how things were going...and asking me to haul two kids to Home Depot to look at a new fridge. Excellent.
Juni knows he has to pick up his toys in my room before we leave for the day. And at least create a path in his room so I don't bust my butt over a tractor.
Juni was so proud of how he and Evie cleaned his room. But apparently, Evie wasn't finished yet. And Juni was. So two minutes later, I'm finally putting on clothes and Juni says "Mommy! I did it! I cleaned my room, and Evie can't get in!" I reply "How'd you do that, buddy?" Juni says "I locked the door and closed it!" and so I ask "Ummm...Evie's not in there, is she?" Thank God the answer was no.
But...crap...I have no idea how to get into his room. And Juni realizes this, begins crying and asking about his clothes, his toys, and how long the fish can live without food. If Juni cries, Evie cries. So I know have two crying children. So I explain that Daddy with find a way in, and that we have to to clean up and get the heck out of the house, or we'll miss our playdate at the park. Because now, we don't just have to get lunch a go...we have to make a decision about an over-priced refrigerator we don't need, but Jasen wants because he doesn't like our ice maker anymore.
I go into the bathroom to turn off the light just as Evie flushes the toilet...full of, legos? Maybe. Toilet paper? Definitely. The water is threatening to pour over the side and soak the floor. Excellent. But it's also something that will have to wait...at this point, we're definitely running late.
So I get the kids downstairs, stuff all of their crap into bags...and Juni alerts me that Evie stinks. Bad. Of course she does! So I hold my breath and gag while Juni laughs. Fun times.
NOW I'm ready to go. Except that Juni wants to bring his bike to the park, because his friend Landon is bringing his bike. Which means I have to figure out how to reattach his training wheels, because there is no way in hell i can run after him and carry Evie at the same time. With tools I don't understand, two dogs hovering over me, and a toddler who doesn't like my two dogs, I'm trying to rig this bike so that my kid doesn't end up in the emergency room this afternoon.
I get the wheels half-ass on. Luckily I circle my car around the back (because otherwise his bike would be a crushed pile of metal) and get down the road. Without his helmet. Three-point turn it is.
Half-way to Home Depot, Juni says his tummy hurts. I'm guessing Halloween candy. Throwing up is definitely a possibility, and Evie is back to asking "Where's Mommy?"
Hitting my limit here! We're late. The kids are hungry. And loud. And Evie thinks kicking the back of my chair is frigging hilarious. She's also babbling about shoes, and a book she keeps dropping on the floor for me to barely pick up with my arm. I'm drowning, here. Seriously, seriously drowning. I'm just about to have my breakdown from just too much chaos.
And then it happens...my revelation. I'm white-knuckling the steering wheel, eyes bulging, heart racing, and I pass the little cemetery by our house. And there's an excavator digging a grave. And you know what? I'm alive. I'm not six feet under. I can breath, and feel the sun on my face, and soak up the sunshine around me.
So I laugh. And turn on Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer" louder than the kids. And even though our day is pretty darned stressful, it's a wonderful. Because we're alive, and breathing, and smiling.

Body Comparisons, Juni Style

I laughed until I almost wet my pants today. Here's why: Juni's best friend came over today while his mom was at work, since school was closed. The boys absolutely love each other. They played at the swings and in the sand pile. They created a bird's nest out of leaves, sticks, acorns and mud, and then used even more mud to glue it to the back porch handrail (thank you for that, PBS) They took the dog for a "walk" and visited what they call Mud World. Mud World is really just the ditch behind out house. But believe me, the name fits.
The two mud daubers trotted up to the back door and stood in my kitchen, dripping with deep, dark, gray goo. They were stripping off their clothes with grimy hands, and laughing hysterically. Completely naked, covered in mud, and laughing.
I grew up behind a borrow pit, which is basically one giant mud hole. I couldn't get mad at them, but I also couldn't hose them down, either. All I could do was laugh.
I put clean socks on one, and carried the other straight upstairs to the bathroom. The second the water began filling the tub, it turned brown.

While the tub filled, Juni's best friend's mom showed up to take him home, and we searched for Sadie, who apparently still had her leash attached. It's unlike her to not come when called. But I found her, drenched in mud, pouting in the front yard, still attached to her once hot-pink but now completely muddies leash. Poor little pooch. As a side note, I have no idea how she managed it, but she came inside later that night, completely clean, dry, and smelling nothing like mud. Amazing.
When us mommies returned upstairs we found the boys, 85% clean, and towelling themselves off. And this is when the fun really begins...
Juni "Mommy...he has a little bellybutton, and I have a big bellybutton."
Friend "Yeah! I like my belly button."
Me "Yes, Juni. Everyone is made different. And both of your belly buttons are adorable."
Juni (pointing to his friend and examining himself) "Mommy...he has a short, skinny pee pee. Mine is long and fat."
Friend "Yeah! And mine is fat right here (lower belly)."
Other mother and I: Absolutely, positively speechless. Not because we couldn't think of anything to say, but because we were both laughing so hard it was physically impossible to speak a single syllable.

Hands down, the best Wisdom Teeth Story Ever

I fully intended to spend tonight making fun of Jasen for being completely terrified of getting his two wisdom teeth pulled today. I've spent the last three weeks explaining to him that it's really not a big deal, since they've been fully erupted for years. Not to mention there are women who have babies literally cut from their abdomens. And heart transplants. And colonoscopies. I mean come on, I had my wisdom teeth dug out of my jawbone. And developed dry socket a whopping three times.
You'd have thought Jasen was facing each of these procedures. In a single day. In a third-world country.

But in my conversation with my sister this morning explaining that I doped Jasen with Xanax just to chill him out, I was trumped. Big time. Her wisdom teeth story is the most hilarious, disturbing tidbit ever. I actually had a hard time driving straight while listening, since I laughed so hard I literally cried.
My sister's husband reminds me a lot of Jasen. He's just so sweet. He's country, handsome, funny, and just a great guy. He had his wisdom teeth taken out several years ago. Apparently, his dentist presented Jamie with an envelope containing said teeth. I personally think that's absolutely disgusting. Reminds me of a serial killer keeping trophies. But to each his own.
The point is, CeCe had no idea that her husband had kept his teeth. Until one day a few months ago.
My niece is adorable. She's almost two, and just the cutest girl in the world. Seriously. She's smart, she's curious, and she has learned that when anyone puts an open palm in front of her mouth, she is to immediately dispense the contents of her cute little mouth into said hand. She is, after all, a toddler.
So when Evie trotted into the kitchen one morning, she wore that look on her face that means she has something icky in her mouth that needs to come out. CeCe held out her hand, and out clinks four gigantic wisdom teeth. Yowsa. I actually asked my sister if she'd just made up that story. Nope. Completely true. And completely insane.
I'm pretty sure CeCe was more than a little freaked out. I mean, seriously. Evie could have choked to death on her father's wisdom teeth. I'm pretty sure that would be a first. And I can't even imagine the headlines. But I digress, as usual. She called Jamie, and asked why the hell anyone would want to keep their teeth. His answer? "They're my teeth. I want them."
And so now, like any good wife, CeCe has kept Jamie's teeth in a more toddler-safe place. On her desk. Again, gross. But whatever.
Jasen was actually pretty disappointed when he realized our dentist didn't send him home with two souvenirs. Then again, I don't have as strong of a stomach as CeCe. If Evie put Jasen's teeth in her mouth, She'd spit the teeth in my hand while I vomited in the other.

Twinkle Toes

I am such a girl.

I remember in grade school having a closet for school clothes, a.k.a. dresses, and a drawer full of play clothes. I wanted my hair in braids every day. And Barbie polish on my nails.

Even now I have play clothes. And I like to braid my hair. And I love makeup. And shoes, when they don't hurt my bunion. And of course I love anything that sparkles. Diamonds, glitter, and apparently, shoes.
Every time I buy Juni a new pair of shoes I notice these adorable little gems winking at me from the little girl isle...they're called Twinkle Toes (I think). They're too cool...flowers, glitter, sparkles on the toes. And they're not heels, so my bunion could be nice and happy. Bunions suck for girls who loves shoes, by the way. But I digress. Twinkle toes are just plain adorable. All of the fashionista preschoolers in Juni's class have them.
And now...so do I. I know. Laugh if you must. I pray it's not a mid-life crisis, because death at 64 would just plain suck.

I'm a 32-year-old woman, and today, I'm sporting my new Twinkle Toes, thanks to the geniuses at Rack Room that decided you're never too old to remember you're still a little girl. You're never too old to spot something shiny and say oooohhhh....pretty.

Is it just me, or is Halloween just plain stressful?

I love Halloween. It's my excuse to wear too much makeup, false lashes, and (when I'm not feeling like a tub of lard) show more skin than any respectable mommy should, unless she's standing on the corner waiting for her john.

But here's the thing I learned this year...Halloween is friggin stressful! First, my sexy Dorothy costume made me look like a stuffed sausage. Let me rephrase that. My size LARGE Dorothy costume made me look like a stuffed sausage. I realize I have curves. Some good, some bad. I am not a stick figure. Therefore, I ordered a large. Am I plus-size? No. Do I shop a Lane Bryant? No, even thought their clothes totally rock. I did everything humanly possible to shove myself into this costume. Snipped the sleeves so I could raise my arms past my shoulders. Shoved my extra tire into the tightest, highest pair of Spanx in my secret drawer that Jasen isn't aloud to snoop in. Added an underskirt to hide some of the cellulite. Short of a girdle, it just wasn't happening. So I opted for an impromptu cowgirl. Turns out, it was a good decision.

Juni went as a tractor. I'd estimate a good 15 woman hours went into the Case International creation. Of course it was huge. He could barely hold it up at the school parade. Jasen said "Hey baby. How about next year you use more duct tape, make it bigger, and make it heavier?" My response, of course, was "bite me, jackass. How about next year you stop bossing and bitching and actually help?"

So I was up for 3 hours that night cutting the entire costume in half, trimming away width, length and weight, and re-duct taping the whole thing together.

I will say this...my kid's costume was cool. It had working headlights. The candy went into the gas tank. And on Halloween, he totally rocked it.

The problem for me with Halloween is that we don't live in a neighborhood. So the first stressful decision is always where to go. My vote? Juni's 81 and 86-year-old great-grandparents' home. Sure, the neighborhood is full of old people. But it's completely safe, they refuse to drive at night, and let's be honest...they deserve it. They raised their son, and all three of their grandchildren.

So my mom (aka Spongebob), her husband, my dad, my sister, my brother-in-law, my niece (aka devil in disguise), my mother-in-law, her boyfriend, my husband, Juni's best friend and his parents all walked through the neighborhood. My parents and step-parents are SUCH troopers. They just go with the flow...even if Mom had to waddle around as a giant Spongebob complete with makeup to make Juni smile, and Dad toted Evie when she got too tired.

My son in 4. And he's not an idiot. He realizes it's just not worth it to get the crap scared out of him for a Snickers. I can respect that. But Kyle's poor mom was literally run over by a Case Tractor when he high-tailed it back out of the scariest house I've ever seen. We're talking smoke, music, larger-than-life monsters, lights, the whole nine yards. And I'm guessing a few thousand bucks, too.

After that it was strictly the benign houses, and me keeping my cool when some of the adults joked on my kid because he's not a fan of fright.

Then there are the pictures. I have a great camera, and manage to work it pretty darned well. But of course, and understandably, everyone wants a shot of Juni. In the dark. With the anticipation of free candy waiting for him. Needless-to-say, it ain't gonna happen, folks. Let the kid do his thing. So there I am, appeasing everyone, saying that yes, I will send pictures. And that no, there's nothing I can do to make a $100 camera take pictures like my semi-pro get-up. 

And then there's what direction to take. And which kid gets tired when. And if it's too cold. I remember just about sweating to death on Halloween. It's 60 degrees outside, he's wearing two shirts, jeans, boots and 10 pounds of duct tape encased. And he's running. And probably sweating bullets.

Me, I'm the type of person that must make everyone have a good time. But I decided something this Halloween. It's not about me. It's about my son, and my niece. If they're happy, I'm happy. If they're puking chocolate 3 hours later, I'm cleaning it up. Fun times.