*whew* *whew*
OK, not quite the rally cry of the steam engine. We're pretty bushed, but it feels good, anyway. Zorak got most of the hard parts done on the cabinets yesterday: new outlet wired in, levelling and leaning and shimming and shoring. Yay. Tonight, he worked mainly on the detail work and got the cabinets installed. It took us very little time at all to load them back up, as long as you don't count all the time we spent setting something on a shelf, closing the door - or pushing in the shelf, whispering, "Oh, wow, it'll hold that?" Then calling the other one over to repeat the process. We did a lot of that. If you add that in, it makes sense why I'm blogging at midnight tonight.
The vast majority of the Christmas shopping is done, and now that the kitchen is back to its happy, functional state, we can break out the sugar cookie dough that's been hardening since... well, I don't remember when we made it. Saturday, maybe? Will cookie dough last that long in the fridge? Guess we'll find out tomorrow! I bought new cookie cutters yesterday, so the old ones should turn up shortly. :-)
The brain? It's already gone to bed. I think I shall follow. Can't wait to see the boys' faces tomorrow when the see the kitchen! I've got to finish clearing off the breakfast bar so I can take pictures, but will post them soon. I wish I could bottle up how good this feels and send it to those of you who are mid-remodel and need a dose of the good old, "THIS is why we're doing this" endorphins! Keep at it, guys! You can do it, and it is worth it!
G'night. Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, December 13
Tuesday, December 12
I'm not coming out!
And nobody can make me! Not unless they have my creamer.
For the third time this month, I have returned from the market, only to find at least one item from my cart made it over the scanner, and onto the receipt, yet is not among my belongings. The other two times, it was frivolous things. This time, though, it's serious: my creamer. And I carelessly used the very last drop of what I had left, thinking I could just open the new container. *phew* Tomorrow's going to be harsh.
Zorak picked up the cabinets on his way home from work. They're in. Kinda sorta. Technically, they aren't going to fall on anybody, but we can't load them up yet. There's a lot of shimming, and banging, and probably some calling on unseen forces to be done first. Stoopid studs. Everything we put in is straight. Unfortunately, our Forever Home wasn't framed out by us, or by anyone with access to a plumb line or a level, and we had to work with the pigeon-toed studs as we went. That means our walls have a delightfully contemporary (if it's the 1960's) wave theme to them. None of those rigid right-angles and flat planes for this house. I suppose if we ever have to market it, we can simply refer to the "soothing undulations of nature which resonate throughout the home". Right? The difference, though, is already stunning. It'll be even more impressive when we can once again see the countertops!
For anyone who was wondering, a grahpite high seems to last a mere 48 hours. Not bad for .10 a pack, eh? We're all doing much better today.
The boys helped me empty the bookshelf, and then I moved it to the school room. We loaded the school books onto it (thus freeing the living room for a more aesthetically pleasing collection than overstuffed binders and random scraps of paper), and unloaded six boxes of books (small boxes, but exciting anyway). We love new books, even when they're actually just old favorites unearthed (or maybe it's because they're old favorites?) The boys spent the evening wallowing in books. I just wandered back and forth in the living room, looking into the kitchen, into the school room, back to the kitchen, back to the school room. Ahhhh. It's getting better. Definitely better.
We actually did a bit of school today. The boys wanted to do history - they are excited about Rome. Then they asked for a little science over lunch. What am I going to say? "No, you've learned enough this year." Pfft. So, science it was. When they moved their school books, you'd have thought their math books were the Holy Grail, and they were the knights who say, "ni!" Two hours later, it just felt like time to read a bit. I truly have no desire to unschool, but I can see how it could work beautifully for some families. I share this, not to bring on a case of the comparisons, but because it encouraged me today, more than anything, to realize that we have done it. We've created a rich, interactive, healthy learning environment. *ding* *ding* *ding* We have a winner, folks! (Yes, it's like winning the goldfish at the fair. One of those, "Wow, how'd this happen" moments that, in all its rarity, isn't of the paralyzing fear kind. This one is good!) This whole thing has been SO worth it, and this is just the week that I needed a reminder of that.
And now, it's after two. Between Smidge and Miss Emily, this is the first time the house has all four children asleep so far tonight. Oy. I'm gonna follow them before one of them decides it's time to be up again! :-D
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
For the third time this month, I have returned from the market, only to find at least one item from my cart made it over the scanner, and onto the receipt, yet is not among my belongings. The other two times, it was frivolous things. This time, though, it's serious: my creamer. And I carelessly used the very last drop of what I had left, thinking I could just open the new container. *phew* Tomorrow's going to be harsh.
Zorak picked up the cabinets on his way home from work. They're in. Kinda sorta. Technically, they aren't going to fall on anybody, but we can't load them up yet. There's a lot of shimming, and banging, and probably some calling on unseen forces to be done first. Stoopid studs. Everything we put in is straight. Unfortunately, our Forever Home wasn't framed out by us, or by anyone with access to a plumb line or a level, and we had to work with the pigeon-toed studs as we went. That means our walls have a delightfully contemporary (if it's the 1960's) wave theme to them. None of those rigid right-angles and flat planes for this house. I suppose if we ever have to market it, we can simply refer to the "soothing undulations of nature which resonate throughout the home". Right? The difference, though, is already stunning. It'll be even more impressive when we can once again see the countertops!
For anyone who was wondering, a grahpite high seems to last a mere 48 hours. Not bad for .10 a pack, eh? We're all doing much better today.
The boys helped me empty the bookshelf, and then I moved it to the school room. We loaded the school books onto it (thus freeing the living room for a more aesthetically pleasing collection than overstuffed binders and random scraps of paper), and unloaded six boxes of books (small boxes, but exciting anyway). We love new books, even when they're actually just old favorites unearthed (or maybe it's because they're old favorites?) The boys spent the evening wallowing in books. I just wandered back and forth in the living room, looking into the kitchen, into the school room, back to the kitchen, back to the school room. Ahhhh. It's getting better. Definitely better.
We actually did a bit of school today. The boys wanted to do history - they are excited about Rome. Then they asked for a little science over lunch. What am I going to say? "No, you've learned enough this year." Pfft. So, science it was. When they moved their school books, you'd have thought their math books were the Holy Grail, and they were the knights who say, "ni!" Two hours later, it just felt like time to read a bit. I truly have no desire to unschool, but I can see how it could work beautifully for some families. I share this, not to bring on a case of the comparisons, but because it encouraged me today, more than anything, to realize that we have done it. We've created a rich, interactive, healthy learning environment. *ding* *ding* *ding* We have a winner, folks! (Yes, it's like winning the goldfish at the fair. One of those, "Wow, how'd this happen" moments that, in all its rarity, isn't of the paralyzing fear kind. This one is good!) This whole thing has been SO worth it, and this is just the week that I needed a reminder of that.
And now, it's after two. Between Smidge and Miss Emily, this is the first time the house has all four children asleep so far tonight. Oy. I'm gonna follow them before one of them decides it's time to be up again! :-D
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Saturday, December 9
Not Quite As I Planned It: Weekend Edition
I was going to count it up and give it a number, but I don't know how to write the code for scientific notation, so let's just say, "again". For one with minor control issues, this life is lending hard credence to the Hindu concept of reincarnation for learning from the last life's lessons. (Joking. Mostly joking. Don't worry. I know this is just God, toying with me, er, teaching me important, life-long lessons. I do. And He does. And we're good like that. But I can't help being thankful I'm not a quadruplegic lizard this go-round. That would be a rough one.)
Zorak and I are dragging lately. Probably due to lack of sleep and improper nutrition. Whatever. Like that's gonna change. And so, we drag, and we abide by our tacit agreement not to actually mention the problem, but to stare at one another with our best "I just don't know why we're so tired lately" expressions, and go about our business at the crack of noon. It works. Not well, but that wasn't on the table when the rules were written up.
Evidently, neither was the process for Christmas shopping. We're both bad at it, and this year, we're just not quite on the same page, I don't think. It's not anybody's fault, and there isn't a "bad guy" in this scenario. This is simply one of the pitfalls of being human and marrying a human. (?) He doesn't have the time to listen to me take eight full hours to explain my "process" (and I wonder where James gets it), and I don't have the mental clarity to keep his rampant pronoun use straight. So, we haven't yet actually purchased any Christmas gifts. (Experience says we'll keep this up right until the cut-off for overnight shipping. Like I said, we're bad about this.)
So, back to the whole Not Quite As I Planned It thing. This life is fleeting, and amidst all that fleet there are things that must be done. Some of them I can do on my own, but it's not always about me. Or what I can do on my own. Or what I want done. The trade-off is worth it, having a wonderful home and family, a team, someone to watch your back, but the adjustment isn't always such a smooth process. Someday I will learn. This weekend, I made plans to take care of several things that needed takin' care of. Seemed simple enough to me. You know, other than the fact that there are s-i-x of us in this house, and I have nominal control over the direction things go (at best - we're talkin' absolute best, here). Most of the time, it's far, far less. And, ta-da! Here we are, midnight, 2/3 of the way through the weekend and about .000312 of my list has been accomplished. (I'm estimating, could be plus or minus one hundred-thousandths.)
Totally Cool HVAC Guy had two industrial accounts go down Thursday night, so he had to cancel Friday's appt. I was too cold to blog last night. Yuck.
Did call Sears, though, and explain that the washer/dryer buzzer just happens to be of a frequency and volume that will wake. the. dead. They'll have someone out there on Thursday to see about disconnecting that. And this way our warranty won't be affected. I like the people at the Sears telephone place. They aren't as chipper as the lady at the vacuum department, but they're much more on-the-ball. I thought of Erma Bombeck's book, "The Grass is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank", and smiled, as I jotted down "sometime between 8 and 4:30, Thursday" on the calendar.
Somebody showed the two older boys how to smoke pencil shavings. Or sniff old socks. I don't know what was up with them today, but *wow*. I hope they're done now. How long does a graphite high last, anyway? Anyone know?
Sadly, this is more typical than I care to admit. I often make all these plans, and they seldom pan out the way I made them. And then I'm standing here holding the bag yet again, feelin' a little grumpy about it, and Those I Love Most are skirting their way around the room, trying not to make eye contact. I'm torn as to whether I'm micromanaging and making things more difficult than they need to be, or if they really won't get done if I let everybody else just do it the way they want to. There are examples enough of both in my life to leave the answer firmly ensconsed in fog. Thick, confusing fog.
I'm betting I had a lot to do with it this weekend. And that's not so good. But then, there's tomorrow. Er, today. 23 hours and 53 minutes of it left. I hope I can do better. Get more done. Be more gracious. Take a breather, or a muscle relaxant. Help a paraplegic lizard make it safely across the road. Today's gonna be good. Or what little of it I can control will be: my own heart, mind, and actions. And that's about all I can do. But sometimes, sometimes that's enough.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Zorak and I are dragging lately. Probably due to lack of sleep and improper nutrition. Whatever. Like that's gonna change. And so, we drag, and we abide by our tacit agreement not to actually mention the problem, but to stare at one another with our best "I just don't know why we're so tired lately" expressions, and go about our business at the crack of noon. It works. Not well, but that wasn't on the table when the rules were written up.
Evidently, neither was the process for Christmas shopping. We're both bad at it, and this year, we're just not quite on the same page, I don't think. It's not anybody's fault, and there isn't a "bad guy" in this scenario. This is simply one of the pitfalls of being human and marrying a human. (?) He doesn't have the time to listen to me take eight full hours to explain my "process" (and I wonder where James gets it), and I don't have the mental clarity to keep his rampant pronoun use straight. So, we haven't yet actually purchased any Christmas gifts. (Experience says we'll keep this up right until the cut-off for overnight shipping. Like I said, we're bad about this.)
So, back to the whole Not Quite As I Planned It thing. This life is fleeting, and amidst all that fleet there are things that must be done. Some of them I can do on my own, but it's not always about me. Or what I can do on my own. Or what I want done. The trade-off is worth it, having a wonderful home and family, a team, someone to watch your back, but the adjustment isn't always such a smooth process. Someday I will learn. This weekend, I made plans to take care of several things that needed takin' care of. Seemed simple enough to me. You know, other than the fact that there are s-i-x of us in this house, and I have nominal control over the direction things go (at best - we're talkin' absolute best, here). Most of the time, it's far, far less. And, ta-da! Here we are, midnight, 2/3 of the way through the weekend and about .000312 of my list has been accomplished. (I'm estimating, could be plus or minus one hundred-thousandths.)
Totally Cool HVAC Guy had two industrial accounts go down Thursday night, so he had to cancel Friday's appt. I was too cold to blog last night. Yuck.
Did call Sears, though, and explain that the washer/dryer buzzer just happens to be of a frequency and volume that will wake. the. dead. They'll have someone out there on Thursday to see about disconnecting that. And this way our warranty won't be affected. I like the people at the Sears telephone place. They aren't as chipper as the lady at the vacuum department, but they're much more on-the-ball. I thought of Erma Bombeck's book, "The Grass is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank", and smiled, as I jotted down "sometime between 8 and 4:30, Thursday" on the calendar.
Somebody showed the two older boys how to smoke pencil shavings. Or sniff old socks. I don't know what was up with them today, but *wow*. I hope they're done now. How long does a graphite high last, anyway? Anyone know?
Sadly, this is more typical than I care to admit. I often make all these plans, and they seldom pan out the way I made them. And then I'm standing here holding the bag yet again, feelin' a little grumpy about it, and Those I Love Most are skirting their way around the room, trying not to make eye contact. I'm torn as to whether I'm micromanaging and making things more difficult than they need to be, or if they really won't get done if I let everybody else just do it the way they want to. There are examples enough of both in my life to leave the answer firmly ensconsed in fog. Thick, confusing fog.
I'm betting I had a lot to do with it this weekend. And that's not so good. But then, there's tomorrow. Er, today. 23 hours and 53 minutes of it left. I hope I can do better. Get more done. Be more gracious. Take a breather, or a muscle relaxant. Help a paraplegic lizard make it safely across the road. Today's gonna be good. Or what little of it I can control will be: my own heart, mind, and actions. And that's about all I can do. But sometimes, sometimes that's enough.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, December 8
Mama 'Fore She Was Mama
I heard a song on the radio today that had me laughing from my toes. I think it's by Clay Walker. Two young boys, playing hide 'n seek, find a box of photographs and other momentos from their mother's days, BC. It's quite a shock for two curious little boys, but one of the sweetest lines in the song says,
I love that. How sweet that it doesn't matter what we were, 'fore we were mamas. We're mamas now, and we're loved. No?
Oh, and if anybody wants to "Holiday Up" your muffin recipes - try substituting the milk with egg nog, and add 1/4tsp pumpkin pie spice. Oh. Yeah. Good stuff.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We laugh and hang it over her head,
Right above her halo
I love that. How sweet that it doesn't matter what we were, 'fore we were mamas. We're mamas now, and we're loved. No?
Oh, and if anybody wants to "Holiday Up" your muffin recipes - try substituting the milk with egg nog, and add 1/4tsp pumpkin pie spice. Oh. Yeah. Good stuff.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, December 7
Blogger's Cramp
Not quite writer's cramp, as I could sit and write for days. But between the interruptions for food and clean clothing and all those other pesky details that keep things running smooth...
Wait.
A.
Darned.
Minute.
When did *I* become the one that keeps things running smoothly?
Whoa. That's a whole 'nuther issue there, isn't it? Anybody else torn between fits of riotous giggles at the mere thought of slipping into the Grown-Ups Club without ID, and the paralyzing fear that you're going to cut the red wire. Or the green wire. Whichever one ought not be cut. Yeah. Me, too. Gets me so worked up I can't keep my metaphors straight. ;-)
So yesterday I spent another three hours at the dentist. I actually kinda like our dentist now. I'm not afraid of dentists anymore. Not sure if that's because things can't get any worse, or because he's just very good, or because I've finally ditched one of those irrational fear things and decided to be a grown up about it. Whatever it is, this is nice. Not something I'd like to do on a regular basis. Um, anymore.
Tomorrow Santa pays us an early visit. Well, not Santa, actually. It's Very Cool HVAC Guy. You know, the one with the mojo. I love him. He brought us cool, refreshing air in the summer, and now he comes bearing the warm, soothing balm of fire. Mmmm. We'll have to cough up the rest of the money for the unit upon completion, but that's okay. Maybe we can pay him in dog.
The tree is up - it's a "'Picy Christmas Tree", according to Smidge. The boys found the red chili pepper lights and those just had to go on the tree. It's actually very pretty. Then James discovered his true calling, if the whole chemical engineering thing doesn't pan out - he spent all Tuesday evening and all Wednesday morning testing every. single. light. on two big strands of lights to find the bad ones. And he fixed them. So now, our tree is about 50# heavier than when we brought it home, and it's a good thing we went with new wiring in the house. You know, just in case. Merry Christmas, indeed.
We've Officially ditched lessons for the week. There's no sense in pretending and making everyone miserable. No kid learns when he's miserable. Well, not the things you're hoping he'll learn, anyway. So it's a week of preparation - focus on Advent, nature studies, reading old favorites and finding new ones. Baking. Lots and lots of baking. We'll continue with Latin studies, because those just slip right off stage left if you don't keep an eye on them. But the rest of it can sit on the back burner for a bit.
And, well, there ya go. Laundry's going. Kids are playing. Salsa music is blaring into the living room. Life is good, and it's time to put Baby Girl down for her nap. But I just wanted to touch base (I hate showing up at my favorite blogs *ahem* to find that there's no new conversation going on... *ahem*).
Kiss those babies! (And for those of you who needed the *ahem*, BLOG, would you? Thanks.) :-)
~Dy
Wait.
A.
Darned.
Minute.
When did *I* become the one that keeps things running smoothly?
Whoa. That's a whole 'nuther issue there, isn't it? Anybody else torn between fits of riotous giggles at the mere thought of slipping into the Grown-Ups Club without ID, and the paralyzing fear that you're going to cut the red wire. Or the green wire. Whichever one ought not be cut. Yeah. Me, too. Gets me so worked up I can't keep my metaphors straight. ;-)
So yesterday I spent another three hours at the dentist. I actually kinda like our dentist now. I'm not afraid of dentists anymore. Not sure if that's because things can't get any worse, or because he's just very good, or because I've finally ditched one of those irrational fear things and decided to be a grown up about it. Whatever it is, this is nice. Not something I'd like to do on a regular basis. Um, anymore.
Tomorrow Santa pays us an early visit. Well, not Santa, actually. It's Very Cool HVAC Guy. You know, the one with the mojo. I love him. He brought us cool, refreshing air in the summer, and now he comes bearing the warm, soothing balm of fire. Mmmm. We'll have to cough up the rest of the money for the unit upon completion, but that's okay. Maybe we can pay him in dog.
The tree is up - it's a "'Picy Christmas Tree", according to Smidge. The boys found the red chili pepper lights and those just had to go on the tree. It's actually very pretty. Then James discovered his true calling, if the whole chemical engineering thing doesn't pan out - he spent all Tuesday evening and all Wednesday morning testing every. single. light. on two big strands of lights to find the bad ones. And he fixed them. So now, our tree is about 50# heavier than when we brought it home, and it's a good thing we went with new wiring in the house. You know, just in case. Merry Christmas, indeed.
We've Officially ditched lessons for the week. There's no sense in pretending and making everyone miserable. No kid learns when he's miserable. Well, not the things you're hoping he'll learn, anyway. So it's a week of preparation - focus on Advent, nature studies, reading old favorites and finding new ones. Baking. Lots and lots of baking. We'll continue with Latin studies, because those just slip right off stage left if you don't keep an eye on them. But the rest of it can sit on the back burner for a bit.
And, well, there ya go. Laundry's going. Kids are playing. Salsa music is blaring into the living room. Life is good, and it's time to put Baby Girl down for her nap. But I just wanted to touch base (I hate showing up at my favorite blogs *ahem* to find that there's no new conversation going on... *ahem*).
Kiss those babies! (And for those of you who needed the *ahem*, BLOG, would you? Thanks.) :-)
~Dy
Wednesday, December 6
The Capacity of Children to be Happy
A couple of years ago, we went to NM for Christmas. Granny and the guys bought a tree Christmas Eve, everyone wearing shorts and t-shirts. Beautiful day. The boys were happy: happy to be with Granny, happy to have Christmas coming, happy to be together. Nobody bemoaned the lack of snow, or said it didn't "feel" like Christmas. It felt very much like Christmas. We should all be that happy with what we have.
We awoke Christmas morning to three feet of snow. Obviously, we had no snow boots, now snow bibs. The kids went out to play in their hoodies and jeans. All was well and good until Smidge sat on the concrete patio (he'd taken the caramel stirring spoon from Granny and bolted out the door) - he sat there, happily licking the spoon, long enough for his pants to melt the snow and refreeze to the patio. We had a heckuva time getting him up. I want to be that happy with a caramel spoon again. So happy that I don't even notice my butt has frozen to the ground.
Obviously, some instinct (call it "a desire to live through winter") protects us from actually not caring if we freeze to the ground once we're on our own. But the idea of that kind of all-encompassing happiness. Good stuff. We need more of it.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We awoke Christmas morning to three feet of snow. Obviously, we had no snow boots, now snow bibs. The kids went out to play in their hoodies and jeans. All was well and good until Smidge sat on the concrete patio (he'd taken the caramel stirring spoon from Granny and bolted out the door) - he sat there, happily licking the spoon, long enough for his pants to melt the snow and refreeze to the patio. We had a heckuva time getting him up. I want to be that happy with a caramel spoon again. So happy that I don't even notice my butt has frozen to the ground.
Obviously, some instinct (call it "a desire to live through winter") protects us from actually not caring if we freeze to the ground once we're on our own. But the idea of that kind of all-encompassing happiness. Good stuff. We need more of it.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, December 5
So I can close that window
I didn't know where to store this link, so I've had that window up for a week now. So, here it is. The Gov't of Japan, as part of its effort to cut down on refuse and waste, has set recommendations for using fabric to wrap gifts, rather than wrapping paper. The directions for various wraps are contained in this link.
Enjoy!
Dy
Enjoy!
Dy
The blessings we didn't anticipate...
And to think I would have been happy to stop at two children. I'd have missed this! What was I thinking?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, December 4
Wacky Santa
So, back to the Santa Train Adventure...
The alcove of the car was filled with a rather uncomfortable silence after Santa bolted. The boys were a little hurt, totally confused, and not sure at all why anybody thought that would be fun. Well, the children cheering and talking with Santa through the doorway certainly did.
Zorak and I stood there, giving each other twitchy eye signals, trying to get a grip on our natural instincts to go find out what the hell kind of Santa would do that to little kids, and trying to think of a way not to make the trip any more unpleasant than it already had been up to that point.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, Santa sauntered back into our alcove, sat down, grabbed James by the arm and said, "Here." There wasn't a "Ho-ho-ho", or a "Merry Christmas" in sight. I was leaning forward to start my protective-mommy tirade, but the smile on James' face stopped me (he later confided in me that he felt so special that Santa chose to sit by him when he came back). OK, that smile is the reason we did this. Zorak focused the camera to get a shot, when suddenly, without even looking at James to see what he was doing (mugging gleefully for the camera), Santa reached up...
...and ran his hand all over James' face, saying, "Let's rub some of this ugly off, here."
OK, even without the residual sting of thinking Santa doesn't like you, what kind of Santa would say that to a child? But on top of the recent awkwardness, that was just weird, and, truthfully, it came across as kind of mean. This isn't your drinking buddy, here, or your little sister's new fiance. It's a little kid who has never seen the BillyBob Thornton version of Santa before. James stumbled his way through explaining to Santa what he wanted for Christmas. He was hopeful, but the Santa kept interrupting him to say, "So it's a puzzle?" No, not a puzzle, it's a game... Yeah, Santa didn't care. As far as he's concerned, it's a puzzle, and James is pretty certain he won't be getting it for Christmas.
Zorak managed to snap one more shot, but James wasn't ready. I don't think any of us was ready for anything at that point.
Santa swung James back around to his seat, and Smidge leapt over to see Santa. That went well for Smidge - no facial attacks, at least.
But when Santa looked at Zorak and said, "GO." (meaning, snap this picture and get this over with) Well, it didn't do much to endear Zorak to this particular brand of Santa. Smidge wants (20 guesses and the first 19 don't count)... a train.
John's turn. John wanted to go, but if he'd known about David Lynch films, he would have been certain he was in one. Or worse yet, terrified he was stuck in a Quentin Tarantino film. (I guess it's good the boys lack a basic knowledge of some pop culture.) He slipped over, spit out his need for "accessories" for his pirate costume, and bolted back to the relative safety of Dad.
The boys wanted Miss Emily to see Santa. Miss Emily was quite happy on my lap. However, Santa didn't seem to be inebriated, and we had both exits covered. Evidently, Baby Girl had heard rumors of Santa's affinity for Elf Bowling, and she was a little nervous...
She handled it a bit better when he sat down and she no longer felt an impending strike coming on...
And in the end, Zorak and I were more than thrilled to get off that train. The boys' spirits were byuoyed by the candy canes and gift bags the volunteers handed out upon disembarkation. As we drove away, and the smell of feet dissipated from our nostrils, the boys' memory functions kicked in to reconstruct the afternoon into a delightful, fantasy-filled adventure with Santa. That phenomena, in itself is a little disturbing, but when it works in our favor, it can be good. And I'm sure in thirty years, we'll be taking our grandchildren aboard the Santa Train, expecting a fun-filled delight for the children. Hopefully, we'll remember the lessons we learned this time around. ;-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The alcove of the car was filled with a rather uncomfortable silence after Santa bolted. The boys were a little hurt, totally confused, and not sure at all why anybody thought that would be fun. Well, the children cheering and talking with Santa through the doorway certainly did.
Zorak and I stood there, giving each other twitchy eye signals, trying to get a grip on our natural instincts to go find out what the hell kind of Santa would do that to little kids, and trying to think of a way not to make the trip any more unpleasant than it already had been up to that point.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, Santa sauntered back into our alcove, sat down, grabbed James by the arm and said, "Here." There wasn't a "Ho-ho-ho", or a "Merry Christmas" in sight. I was leaning forward to start my protective-mommy tirade, but the smile on James' face stopped me (he later confided in me that he felt so special that Santa chose to sit by him when he came back). OK, that smile is the reason we did this. Zorak focused the camera to get a shot, when suddenly, without even looking at James to see what he was doing (mugging gleefully for the camera), Santa reached up...
...and ran his hand all over James' face, saying, "Let's rub some of this ugly off, here."
OK, even without the residual sting of thinking Santa doesn't like you, what kind of Santa would say that to a child? But on top of the recent awkwardness, that was just weird, and, truthfully, it came across as kind of mean. This isn't your drinking buddy, here, or your little sister's new fiance. It's a little kid who has never seen the BillyBob Thornton version of Santa before. James stumbled his way through explaining to Santa what he wanted for Christmas. He was hopeful, but the Santa kept interrupting him to say, "So it's a puzzle?" No, not a puzzle, it's a game... Yeah, Santa didn't care. As far as he's concerned, it's a puzzle, and James is pretty certain he won't be getting it for Christmas.
Zorak managed to snap one more shot, but James wasn't ready. I don't think any of us was ready for anything at that point.
Santa swung James back around to his seat, and Smidge leapt over to see Santa. That went well for Smidge - no facial attacks, at least.
But when Santa looked at Zorak and said, "GO." (meaning, snap this picture and get this over with) Well, it didn't do much to endear Zorak to this particular brand of Santa. Smidge wants (20 guesses and the first 19 don't count)... a train.
John's turn. John wanted to go, but if he'd known about David Lynch films, he would have been certain he was in one. Or worse yet, terrified he was stuck in a Quentin Tarantino film. (I guess it's good the boys lack a basic knowledge of some pop culture.) He slipped over, spit out his need for "accessories" for his pirate costume, and bolted back to the relative safety of Dad.
The boys wanted Miss Emily to see Santa. Miss Emily was quite happy on my lap. However, Santa didn't seem to be inebriated, and we had both exits covered. Evidently, Baby Girl had heard rumors of Santa's affinity for Elf Bowling, and she was a little nervous...
She handled it a bit better when he sat down and she no longer felt an impending strike coming on...
And in the end, Zorak and I were more than thrilled to get off that train. The boys' spirits were byuoyed by the candy canes and gift bags the volunteers handed out upon disembarkation. As we drove away, and the smell of feet dissipated from our nostrils, the boys' memory functions kicked in to reconstruct the afternoon into a delightful, fantasy-filled adventure with Santa. That phenomena, in itself is a little disturbing, but when it works in our favor, it can be good. And I'm sure in thirty years, we'll be taking our grandchildren aboard the Santa Train, expecting a fun-filled delight for the children. Hopefully, we'll remember the lessons we learned this time around. ;-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
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