I just walked past five light switches that were set in the middle of the panel– not off, and not on, but carefully, squarely in the middle.
It’s definitely time to send someone(s) back to school.
NAUGHTY! December 9, 2011
It’s that time of year when some (one) of my children begin to fear that their (his) behavior hasn’t been quite up to standard over the past 11 months. Panic (and hilarity) has begun to set in.
Example 1: The child who never fails to tell me how fat I am and how pregnant I still look (he’s a real gem, that one), will cover his ears and burst into tears every time Kendra starts singing her choir song about an overweight Santa. It’s a delightful song, and by the time she gets to the chorus, we are laughing at the lyrics AS WELL AS Anthony’s histrionics. For some reason, he is terrified that Santa will categorize the entire family as troublemakers and skip our house altogether, not realizing that Anthony is the lone defender of Santa’s waistline.
Because it makes perfect sense to protect Santa, who only brings one gift, and relentlessly mock his mother, who provides the rest of the holiday haul, as well as the gifts for his mid-December birthday. And has half of Santa’s girth.
Perhaps this year, Santa will bring the gift and Mommy will give the coal! Or she will just sing the song over and over and over again, to mess with his head. (It would serve him right, don’t you think?)
(to the tune of “Jingle Bells”)
Santa Claus, Santa Claus, you are much too fat!
I was sleeping peacefully and now my bed is flat!
Oh, Santa Claus, Santa Claus, how much do you weigh?
I’d hate to be a reindeer who has to pull your sleigh.
Example 2: He spent last evening re-writing his Christmas list. There are only a few items on it, which is surprising. (Maybe he set the bar low, thinking it might earn him some extra points with the big guy in red.) (Not to be confused with the fat woman in pink.)
He declined my offer to mail it to Santa; instead, he brought it into the family room to read it aloud. “It’s so the elves can hear,” he informed me. (We have two elves who visit us from the North Pole each December.) “Game Boy, robot, GB charger, Cars bed. Do you hear that, Elves?” And then, to me: “‘Cause they’re the ones who actually make the stuff.”
While I applaud his determination, I can’t help but think that if he’d just behave himself ALL YEAR LONG, December wouldn’t be quite so stressful for him.
Quick! Someone take away my red pen! December 7, 2011
I have always had an editor’s eye that I can’t seem to turn off. Maybe it’s the writer in me, or it’s something I picked up in my education classes, but I am constantly correcting things in my mind. EVERYTHING I see gets edited.
(Non-judgmentally, of course.) 
It’s both a blessing and a curse. Right now, I have three drafts waiting to be finished. There are close to 100,000 words between them that I haven’t published yet, for fear that they are too wordy. (You think?) Do you really want to read a 50,000-word birth story? Probably not, and so I will most likely delete it and start fresh. Then, I’m sure I’ll find fault with the next version, and it will be another six months before anything gets published.
Verbosity and perfectionism, why doth thou afflict me so? (And how might I be compensated for your ever-present torment?)
Friday is my (least) favorite day. December 2, 2011
I used to love Friday. It was my favorite day: the one I looked forward to all week long. Now, it’s one of my busiest days. There is no joy in Friday anymore. No relief.
Friday is my new Monday.
I blame Middle School. Their late-start Friday throws a wrench in my morning schedule. If I’m being honest, I also blame Kindergarten, because Friday is their early-out day. When you add them together, my day looks something like this:
It’s On. December 1, 2011
Hold your breath. It’s about to get regular up in here. 
See, I’ve missed blogging. I’ve missed sharing my crazy life with you. (I’ve missed hearing how funny my life is.) There are so many things I failed to write (type) down, and now they are lost in that foggy place memories go when you’re the mother of five. (FIVE!) That makes me sad, and blogging makes me happy. So it’s a win-win. It’s well past time to start it up again.
Earlier this week, I was feeding Sam in the high chair, and Alex was across the room, “working” on the computer. Every so often, he’d guffaw, or giggle, or snort. I had my back to him, and when I turned around to see what was so funny, I found him scrolling through my past blog posts. Apparently, he still finds me hilarious, although I’m sure that will change in four months, when he turns 13. He called Kendra over, and they read story after story, laughing together and reminiscing about what I’d written.
It made me happy (and proud, if I’m being completely honest) both in the moment, and for the past however-many years of blogging I’d done. It also made me a little sad, for the years I let it slide. Since I can’t go back, I can certainly move forward. With a little bit of catching up first. (Did you know I had a baby? He is almost 6 months old now. I’ll have to introduce you to him in a future post. He’s a shameless flirt, and my heart melts every time I look at him.)
So, see you tomorrow?
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