A Farewell Toast to 2012

December 31, 2012

{Image: The Next Web}

What a week.

I think I have finally emerged from the tornado named Christmas that put my sanity and my house into a fragile state of disrepair.

For those of you who read my last post, you either 1) died of boredom, or 2) shared similar war stories about your hunt for that last-minute Christmas toy.  Members of group #2, thanks for making me feel less ridiculous.  So you can sleep peacefully, please know that I did indeed resolve the 11th hour Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Shellraiser Vehicle Debacle of 2012.  And by “resolve,” I humbly admit that I sucked it up and paid for the Super Expedited on Crack Shipping option.  Crisis averted.

And so Christmas was saved.

Everyone was merry.  At least in between sibling fights over the new toys.

And, best of all, the Elf on the Shelf left our home for another 11 months.  I will not miss that little pain in the ass one bit.  It’s so nice not to wake up in a cold sweat wondering if we remembered to move that fucker to an entertaining new location.

So now it’s the last day of the year, which typically brings a nostalgia junkie like me to her knees with sentimentality.  After all, 2012 was the year my kids turned 3 and 5.  The year we finally finished the longest basement renovation in American history, without litigation.  The year I turned 40 and decided to make a drawn-out, inter-continental party out of it.

I guess we all get wistful on New Year’s Eve.

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But I’d be lying if I didn’t own up to what I’m really thinking about as we usher in 2013.

The truth is this:  I don’t do well with odd numbered years.  I sort of fear them.  Not in any apocalyptic or lock-myself-in-the-house-all-year sense, but they just make me uneasy.  You know, like a Lady Antebellum song that gets overplayed.

And you know what really messes with my clearly under-developed mind?  Years that are prime numbers.  It’s like making me watch an entire commercial for Paranormal Activity without letting me cover my eyes.

At first, I assumed that 2013 was prime — because math is obviously not my strong suit, and I don’t spend much of my copious free time on long division.  And I was really getting angsty about how to deal with that for 12 months.  Well, guess what? Great news.  2013 is divisible by 3!  It’s all going to be OK-ish.  It’s just your standard odd number.

{This is the part where I was going to supply you with a formally documented name for a fear of prime numbers to make me appear less neurotic, as surely I can’t be alone.  But, um, Google said there is no such thing.  So I’m on my own here, driving the ship to Crazytown. I’d be lying if I said this was my maiden voyage.}

But enough about my mental state.

It has been a hell of a year.  As I play the 2012 highlight reel in my mind, I know there are some snapshots I’ll always hold close and replay in my memory for years to come, and there are others I’m anxious to see fade into the past.

And the truth is that 2013 holds a lot in store for me, so I’m happy to see it coming.  Odd digits and all.

So, Happy New Year to you and yours.  I wish you full champagne glasses at midnight, a very manageable January 1st hangover and — most of all — a great year ahead.

 

 

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The Real Reason Kids Write to Santa

December 23, 2012

 

My kids are young, so I make a lot of rookie mistakes that many of you with older kids can spot from ten miles away.

Like the importance of writing letters to Santa — something we didn’t do this year.

I foolishly thought people did this because it was just fun for the kids.  Or because it’s a sweet relic of childhood to keep for years to come.

No, no, no.

Now I know the real reason:  To have written, parentally binding proof of what the kids requested for Christmas.

Because, when you don’t write a letter to Santa and commit your kids’ wishes to paper, let me tell you what happens.

Your five year-old takes on an entirely new interest — one you had never once heard him mention, ever — on or about December 15.  And he is obsessed with it.  It’s now ALL HE WANTS FROM SANTA.

All of those other things you bought in early November, thinking you were on the ball?  Forget it.  He doesn’t care anymore.

Alright, you figure.  It’s not a costly gift he wants.  Let’s just go online and order it.

Bwahahaha.

It’s not available, of course.  Anywhere.  Because every peer of your child has been asking for it since October. And those kids wrote it down in their letters to the big guy.

OK, well, that’s that, you tell yourself.  After all, you don’t want to be that parent whose kid gets spoiled on Christmas.  Surely he’ll love the other toys.  And there’s a life lesson in there somewhere, right?

And then you hear him, in his room, telling his toys that he only wants ONE THING from Santa this year.  That new thing that did not exist in his mind two weeks ago.

That thing that would not have been in the parentally binding letter to Santa.  Had you done one.

Sigh.  You want to track down the Kindergarten classmate that introduced him to this idea and substitute his lunch box cookies with broccoli.

Next thing you know, you’re in your car heading to Toys R Us at 8am five days before Christmas.  Because when you called there inquiring about said toy, two things happened.  First, they laughed at you.  And then, they mentioned the arrival of a new toy shipment.  The specificity level of what would be in that shipment was exactly zero.  But hey, your item might in there.

And you can’t believe you are this person, jumping through hoops for this one toy.

You also can’t believe the lines at Toys R Us at 8am.

And, above all, you can’t believe Toys R Us doesn’t offer in-house trauma counselors to deal with this madness.  Or a bar.  Because you’re not above a mimosa at this point.

Was your item on that magical shipment?  Nope.

But another truck arrives on Sunday.  Yes, that would be December 23.  48 hours before showtime.

So you are pretty much ready to admit defeat.

And, then, after school that day, your son tells his grandmother on the phone all about THE ONLY THING HE WANTS FROM SANTA.

So maybe one more trip back to the store on Sunday wouldn’t be such a disaster.

But wait!  The item has been found online!  There are four left in stock!  Shut the front door — this could be the end of the saga.  Until you realize that the Super Expedited on Crack Shipping Cost will amount to more than double the value of the actual toy itself to ensure a Christmas Eve arrival.

I’m writing this late at night on December 22.  I have no ending to this story because I don’t know yet if I will greet that truck again tomorrow.  And I don’t know if I’ll just suck it up and pay for Certifiably Insane Shipping. Or if I’ll just let it go. Right now, this is a Choose Your Own Adventure book and I am the unwilling protagonist.

But I can tell you one certain outcome.

Next year, we are writing letters to Santa.  Before December begins.

And then we are having them notarized and mounted in laminate.

 

 

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Gratitude Beyond Words

December 17, 2012

There’s nothing I can say that hasn’t already been said about the heartbreak in Newtown.  I can’t fix it.  I can’t understand it.  None of us can.

I keep coming back to the thoughts I have about how I rush my kids out the door to school all of the time.  Always in such a hurry.  Always running late.  “Let’s go, let’s go — come on.”  I must say it 25 times every day.  And I wonder how many of those mothers or fathers rushed off to Sandy Hook Elementary Friday morning with those precious kids, because that’s what we parents do, without a second thought.

So I spent the weekend trying my best not to rush anywhere.  There were lazy pancake mornings with footie pajamas.

And there was a house full of people I love.  Long ago, I had planned for this past Saturday to be a holiday baking day with many relatives and friends.  It was chaos.  But so, so welcomed.  The buzz of everyone in my house, Christmas music playing and kids running all over the place.  Dozens upon dozens of cookies baked and an afternoon of being simultaneously distracted from and acutely mindful of the horror that was playing out in Newtown.

And with the gray, cold, rainy Sunday that followed, I was perfectly happy to be in my house all day, doing not much of anything with my family.  It was a weekend of Yes.

Mommy, can I have another Christmas cookie?  Yes.

Can I watch another TV show?  Yes.

Can I stay up a little later tonight?  Yes.

Yes.

As the photos of those poor, sweet children emerged.

Yes, you can.

And after I watched the Newtown prayer service on TV on the cold, lazy Sunday night, I got some pictures back from a photography session we recently had done.  I saw this in my inbox.

The reaction I had was so unexpected — almost primal. Like a wave of gratitude that washed over me from someplace way down inside.  And it was nearly more than I could process in that moment, as the names of the victims were scrolling on CNN in the background.

Because it could have been any school.  In any town.

Now it’s Monday morning and I’m supposed to send them back to school.  I have emails from principals with reassuring words and plans and drills.  They are well-written and I am supposed to take comfort in them, knowing that everything is being done to keep my kids safe.  I trust our schools.  I know this.

But the pit in my stomach still grows as that school drop-off hour approaches.  I will send them — I think.  But I won’t rush us out the door.  We will move as slowly as they want and have them re-tell the same silly joke 15 times, maybe 20.

I don’t have any answers.  Like everyone else, I have anger and heartbreak and fear.  And I know that going back to business as usual on the blog doesn’t feel right yet.  Because complaining about the stress of the holidays or something else so trivial is a very different reality now than it was before Friday morning.

 

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Finding the Funny: Holiday Edition

December 12, 2012

Finding the Funny Holiday Edition
 

The holidays are busy, right? Especially when you decide to co-host a party with 16 other people two weeks before Christmas. Yep. Today I’m teaming up with My Life and Kids, Kelley’s Break Room and 14 more bloggers to bring you a special Holiday edition of Finding the Funny! Because I don’t really feel like finishing my shopping or repeating this scenario from last year just yet.

 

How to Link Up

 

Bring us your holiday funny and distract us from baking, shopping and overdosing on egg nog. Link up as many posts as you want — old or new — as long as they’re related to the holidays and will make us laugh. Your post will show up here and on 16 other blogs. It’s basically instant Internet fame.

It’s easy to link up:

  • Click on the “Add Your Link” button at the bottom of the page.
  • URL: Copy and paste the URL of your blog post (be sure to use the exact post URL).
  • Name: Enter the TITLE of your blog post – this is what will appear below your post picture. (Limited to 30 characters)
  • Enter your email address (don’t worry – this won’t be shared.)
  • Click on NEXT and choose an image that will appear in the link up.
  • Stick around and read the other posts and get ready to laugh!

Meet the Bloggers

 

All 17 of us will be sharing your posts on our blogs.

My Life and Kids

Kelley’s Break Room

The HillJean: Because My Life is Fascinating

The Fordeville Diaries

Frugalista Blog

Hollow Tree Ventures

Honest Mom

House TalkN

I’m Still Learning

Let Me Start By Saying

The Mom of the Year

Mom’s New Stage

Motherhood WTF

Ninja Mom

There’s More Where That Came From

Random Handprints

Toulouse and Tonic

Link up!



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The Annual Christmas Music Confessional

December 10, 2012

 

It’s time.

The Annual Fordeville Christmas Music Confessional is open.

Forget your shopping lists, your relatives driving you batshit crazy, the overachieving Pinterest Christmas boards and moving that damn Elf on the Shelf again.  Because it’s time to come clean about your dirty secret — the cheesiest Christmas songs that you love, that you sing at full volume when nobody’s looking — but would never admit to elsewhere.

So, I bring you a public service with this confessional.   I’m owning up to all my holiday favorites, as I have done for the past few years — shamelessly — and now you have a place where you can do the same. And we’ll never speak of it outside this blog.

Come all ye cheesy and tell us what you’re singing when nobody is around.

  • I’ll start out safe and lead with John Lennon’s “Happy Christmas (War is Over).” The song isn’t cheesy, but the sight of me — inhaling a hot chocolate and weeping when those kids start singing the chorus — might be.  This song kills me. Gorgeous and sad and sweet.
  • “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” As a child of the 80s, I won’t even bother apologizing for loving this song. It’s my birthright. I remember my sister getting the 45 single (gulp), and we played it over and over. And the video — Sweet Jesus. I. Loved. It. My friend Jen and I made it our full-time job in sixth grade to know which artist was singing which part, amidst our intense Simon LeBon vs. Bono debates. I just looked online at the full Band Aid roster of singers and I think I feel my leg warmers falling down. Kool and the Gang? Really?
  • Apparently nobody ever fucking comes home for Christmas and there are all kinds of ways to sing and cry about it. And so I give you “Baby Please Come Home for Christmas” {The Eagles, Aaron Neville and Bon Jovi versions} and “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) {the incomparable Darlene Love, of course — but the U2 version is also great}.
  • Let’s just veer further into total holiday depressive mode while we’re at it with Joni Mitchell’s “River.” Doesn’t it just make you want to jump out of a window in utter despair? Not just me, right? And — cheesy alert:  There is a little-known remake that is sung by, of all people, Robert Downey, Jr.  Who knew?  Apparently, he did this on one of his Ally McBeal guest appearances {remember that train wreck of a show?}. Turns out, the man can sing.  Say what you will.  Oh, and pass me the tissues.

OK. I’m saving my truly cheesy favorites for last.

  • I honestly can’t even talk to you if you can’t get behind Dan Fogelberg’s “Same Old Lang Syne.”   No, I’m not joking. “Met my old lover in the grocery store — The snow was falling Christmas Eve…” Yes, that one. Fucking kills me.  You might be a little dead inside if it doesn’t get to you.

And, some big favorites to tie this up. Strangely, both of these last two songs have the same title but are entirely different. So, under the category of “All I Want for Christmas Is You”…

  • This one is a Fordeville family favorite but not terribly well-known, unless you are one of the five global members of the Vince Vance & the Valiants Fan Club. I have no idea what else they sing — I think they are a country outfit — but what a great song, released in 1989. The video has a medium-to-high bizarro/creepy factor (What the fuck is actually happening with the weird dude? There is no way in hell that’s all she wants for Christmas). But the music has got a twangy, sort of retro feel. And it’s completely cheesy. Bring it!
  • Lastly, yes, I’ll say it. I love the Mariah Carey song. I know, it’s cheesy. But I’m owning it. I’m not typically a Mariah fan but there is something about this song. It reminds me of the old Phil Spector Wall of Sound and the girl bands of the 1960s. Plus, it conjures up that scene from Love Actually, and then I think about Colin Firth and Hugh Grant, and everything is right in the world.

So there you go — those are some of my holiday favorites, in no particular order. Honorable mention to The Ramones’ “Merry Christmas (I Don’t Want to Fight Tonight)” and The Beach Boys’ “Merry Christmas Baby.”

Confession complete.

But you guys are not going to leave me hanging out here all alone, are you?  Let’s hear the best of your worst.  It’s OK — I promise to keep it between us and the Internet.

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A Very PBK Christmas

December 6, 2012

Nineteen days until Christmas and, if you’re anything like me, you’re anxiously dusting off your PBK catalog for some swell new ideas on how to complicate the hell out of your remaining holiday prep time. Because there’s nothing else left to do, of course.

As my holiday gift to you, I will keep today’s PBK rant brief.

 

Festivities

If you are planning to host a holiday cookie exchange, please know that PBK has you covered and is ready to guide you through about 26 grueling steps for success {starting three to four weeks before your event}.  Some must-haves:

The Mason Jar Snow Globe

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

Naturally, your event will be an utter shit show if you don’t have homemade centerpieces for each baking station. I mean, I would never stay at a cookie exchange that didn’t have handcrafted fucking holiday terrariums.

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

In short, this mason jar is an exercise in torture.  Not only does it involve a glue gun {as should any activity with small kids}, but there are tweezers.  Why tweezers?  To help you “lower the scene down into the jar.”  Naturally.  Look, if you haven’t ever built one of those ships inside of a bottle, I don’t think this for you.  And by “you,” of course I mean me.

 

Chocolate Milk Snowmen

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

When a Disney-themed sippy cup and a bottle of Hershey’s syrup up for grabs simply won’t do.  I find this craft worthwhile because, well, the kids will get to enjoy it for all of the SIX SECONDS it takes them to inhale their chocolate milk and shatter the glass on your floor.

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

I read step #1 and thought about instead tying the fabric around my own neck in a noose-like situation, just to free myself of PBK.  Good news, though:  You can probably use the leftover mason jars here that you nearly threw across the room a few hours ago while trying to create the damn snow globes.  Just try to get all the fake snow and glue out before you serve my kid chocolate milk in this, OK?

 

Decor

Hosting parties for the under-21 set is not really your thing?  That’s OK.  Just make sure that your home is decorated as elaborately as possible for Christmas.  I, for one, am so grateful for this particular suggestion.

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

Because, if you can believe it, I almost forgot to adorn the stairs of my home with jars of holiday candy.  I have been looking for more places to rest breakable glass receptacles filled with sugary treats for my children — and now it seems so obvious.  Heaven forbid they don’t get to eat a candy cane, nib of chocolate or peppermint sucker each of the 8,613 times they go up and down the stairs every day.  This shouldn’t cause me any problems at all.

 

Gifts

Finally, what would PBK be without those special holiday gifts for your kids?  I chose a few favorites.

The Elf on the Shelf Letter Carrier

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

Now the children have an easy and direct way to make sure their letters get to Santa.  It’s also the quickest path to a lifetime of therapy sessions generated by this gigantic, creepy elf staring at them every night.  Throw in the matching PBK Elf on the Shelf bedding and pajamas, and this gift set has a certain serial-killer-in-training or American Horror Story undertone that I can’t quite shake.

The Mini Dyson

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

Let’s examine some of the features, as stated by PBK:

  • Designed after the full-scale European models.
  • Features a bright whirring vortex, realistic sounds, tools and a detachable wand.

Did they say “bright, whirring vortex”?  I can just hear that annoying Dyson guy in my ear.  And, isn’t that code for “likely to cause seizures”?

I’m sort of opposed to my kid owning nicer cleaning machinery than mine.  She’ll be all, “Uh, Mom, what is that Swiffer thing?  And why the hell isn’t it monogrammed and color-coordinated with your pajamas?”

But the truth is this:  Your child won’t need this Mini Dyson if you just buy her this gem instead.

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

The Danbury Dollhouse.  Or is it Downton Abbey?  Hard to tell.  Anyway, I’d be shocked if it didn’t come with its own maid’s quarters.

So there you have it.  19 days.  Get going — before there’s a run on glue guns and mason jars.

__________

 

Other holiday notes:

–Congratulations to Teresa Vanselow for winning the autographed copy of Spending the Holidays With People I Want to Punch in the Throat. Thanks to all who entered!

–Need more holiday cheer?  Check out my post over at Mommy Shorts this week on how to eliminate holiday stress {hint: seasonal polygamy}.  I think my case is pretty compelling, and my legal team is making some real strides on my behalf. Also, I staged a last-ditch intervention for our Elf on the Shelf over at Elf Shaming.  The next stop for Jingle is rehab.

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