Today I was talking to the Princess about something and I mentioned "when I used to blog."  She asked me what I was talking about.  The more I tried to explain it to her the more confused she seemed.  That's when it hit me.  It has been so long since I blogged that she doesn't even remember me doing it.  Which takes it way beyond the procrastination mark to the quit mark.  But I never intended on quitting.  So, here we go again.  Let's see if I can get myself back on track.

I guess I should start by filling you in on the happenings around here.

This time of year, more than any other, the pressure is intense to get everything just right.  Pressure to be ready, pressure to go above and beyond, pressure to stop focusing on the wrong details, pressure to enjoy the season.

So many mixed messages.  "Are you ready?  Not much time left.  Hurry up!  Slow down.  More, bigger, better!  Simplify.  Shop till you drop.  Cherish family.  Enjoy the season!  Remember the meaning of it all."  All of the voices whispering.  "You're doing it wrong.  Get it together.  This is of utmost importance and you are blowing it."


Last week sickness hit the family.  Sickness.  Now.  Like I have time for this.  As if I don't have enough going on.  Sickness.

And when it finally passed, and I took a look around, I saw major setback.  I was already behind in my preparations.  My house wasn't quite clean enough to start getting out all the decorations.  I hadn't even pulled out the Advent stuff.  I was so behind.  Then add another week of just dragging ourselves through.  And do you know what happens to the house while I am waiting on two sick littles?  It gets wrecked.  Dishes piled up high and so much laundry.

I haven't even had time to address all the Christmas cards.  And I have already received two.  Two moms that have it more together than I do.

On St. Nicholas Day I forgot to put out their gifts until half way through the day.  I had to do the whole, sneak it out and try to pretend they have been there the whole time and no one noticed.

And here we are half way through Advent and we haven't even gotten out the Advent calendar.  Or the Jesse tree.  We haven't started making homemade ornaments for the Jesse tree like I promise every year we will do "next year."  Another year goes by and I still don't even own an Advent wreath.

And all the Pinterest moms are doing it so much better.

I remember my own childhood.  I remember doing the Jesse tree every year and lighting the candles on the Advent wreath.  I remember excitedly opening the doors on our Advent calendar.

I want my children to have those same memories.  To understand what Christmas is really about.

Mom had it together.  At least that's the way I remember it.  Funny thing is, I don't know for sure.  Did we always have all those things every year?  Did we ever get half way through Advent before we managed to dig it all out.  Maybe mom felt the same way I do and we were just too young to notice.  Maybe what really mattered was what we did and not what we didn't do.

Maybe other mothers have it less together than I think they do.  My friend, who sent the first card of the season.  Confided in me that half her cards went out without stamps.  Now she has to readdress and resend all those cards.  I'm ashamed to have felt a little relieved when she told me that.

I watch my kids get excited about their little pipe cleaner Advent wreaths.  And argue about who will get to put today's part of "The Story of Christmas" on the little tree.  And add a little bit of straw yarn to their wrapping paper tube manger to get it ready for the clothespin baby Jesus on Christmas.  In the back of my mind I see that box in the closet with all the other Advent items I haven't gotten out.  I don't even have the Nativity up!  Flashes of the Pinterest board, with all the other amazing ideas to take things above and beyond, fill my head.


Then I hear the Princess telling her brother, "Christmas is not about the presents.  It's about baby Jesus's birthday!"  I saw her eyes fill up with tears on the Sunday she was too sick to go to church because she didn't want to miss the second purple candle being lit.

I hear them make the connections.  Remembering a bible story, thinking to pray for someone, caring for each other and for "Mr. Cool."

Maybe I am doing something right?  Or maybe they are learning despite my shortcomings.

I think maybe there is a reason that now more than any other time of year we find ourselves falling short.

It's a pretty good reminder of what it's really all about.  Isn't it?

Because if we did have it all together.  If we were Pinterest perfect people.  We wouldn't even need Christmas.

Christ didn't come for the people who had their acts together.  He came for the struggling, for the weak, for the searching.

Even for the moms who are weeks behind on their blog, have a sink full of dishes, half a stack of Christmas cards to address, mount laundry ready to erupt, no Advent wreath, an undisplayed Nativity, and a mess in the corner where the Christmas tree is supposed to go.

Especially for those kinds of moms!



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A word of warning.

If you tell a grandparent that your daughter really likes Frozen and that she would like an Anna doll for her birthday...

Expect the grandparent to walk in to the store, find Frozentopia and buy ALL THE THINGS!


One of which will be a mini "flip open sofa."


(We won't even mention the musical snow globe wand that plays Let It Go.)

The elated Princess will of course insist on sleeping in her new sofa, snuggled under her new Frozen blanket, instead of in her perfectly functional bed.


After two nights of "restful" slumber on the floor, she will awaken early Monday morning, tired and grouchy.


Then she just might catch you tearing pages out of her math book to put into her binder and realize the terrible truth.

That you have only been tearing out every other practice page.

Skipping pages!!

And this will be the result.


Worst mother ever.  Depriving her of the joy of extra math practice pages.



*This post may contain affiliate ads.  Read my full disclosure here.

I have to really hand it to myself this year.  I finally have this whole Advent thing down.

Most years I am still trying to clean up the mess after Thanksgiving.  I have all these grand ideas of all the Advent traditions we should take part in.  It just never works out the way it appears in my head.

Last year I finally got somewhat prepared.  I finally printed out all those Jesse tree ornaments and cut them out AND laminated them.

I went out to the bookstores after Christmas and scored a couple of Advent books on clearance.
The Advent Storybook has a story to read each day leading up to Christmas.  Haven't started reading it yet but we will catch up on that.

The Story of Christmas book has little minibook ornaments that tell the Christmas story.

This year.  This is my year.

Check it out.

We have not just one, but TWO Advent wreaths.
An Advent calendar (thank you Target dollar spot.)
The Nativity scene is set up awaiting the arrival of the baby Jesus.  (The Jesus has actually been missing for years but I always put in a little bundle of cloth on Christmas and no one has noticed yet.  I really should get a new Nativity set!)
And in the whole spirit of Advent's theme of waiting.

The Christmas Tree is being slowly set up.
This progress has taken three days already.  We could probably drag it out until Christmas if I try hard enough.  A branch a day or something.

Once we get it up we can start putting the little book ornaments on it each day...
For now we just hang them on the lower branches.

Yup.  As you can see, I have it all together.

Oh, you wanted a picture of the Jesse tree?  Um, well it's still in a closet somewhere.  I'll get to that.

Waiting remember?

And my crowning achievement?!

The best St. Nicholas feast day celebration yet!

First I would like to apologize for the long break in my posts.  I realize I am not overly consistent in writing anyway but this recent break has been a bit excessive.

Ok.  How shall I begin?  

I guess I will start by telling you it was the day of The Dark Knight Rises premier.  My husband bought tickets and the plan was for him to take our nephew to the trilogy event to watch all three movies back to back.  I would join them at the midnight showing.  I knew I couldn't manage to sit through that many movies in an uncomfortable seat while this pregnant.  I have to pick my battles.  Sadly even for BatBale I couldn't put myself through that level of discomfort.  (Have I ever told you that Christian Bale is my favorite actor?  Has been since 1993 when he starred in the world's greatest movie ever.  Newsies.  What do you mean you don't think it's the greatest movie ever?  Clearly you haven't seen it enough.  Watch it again.  Watch it everyday for an entire year.  When you can recite the entire movie word for word by heart at night in bed, then you will appreciate it's true greatness.  What?!)

I spent the day cleaning the house because I have been preparing for the plumbers to come out and drill holes in the floor.  (I really have been doing way too much cleaning lately.  It isn't good for my mental health.)  My husband picked up my nephew and they headed to the movie.  I decided to take the kids to grab them a quick dinner before my sis-in-law came over to watch them.

We got in the car and I drove to the end of the block and stopped at the stop sign.

Just as I see my opening to hurdle myself out into a break in traffic, and my foot touches the gas pedal, the Peanut cries out.

"Aaahh, there's a bug!!!"

I manage to control my startled reaction and move my foot quickly back to the brake pedal rather than ramming down on the gas.

I had seen a mosquito flying around a second ago so I figured that is what he was seeing.

"Where?"

"Right there!" "Your arm."

Oh, so it was probably biting me and that is why he is overreacting.

I turn my head and prepare to brush it off my arm.

"On my arm?"

"No, next to your arm."

I glance down.

YELLOW JACKET!!!!!

I choke down the pure panic as I attempt to roll down all the windows.  Maybe it will just fly out?

I can't take my eyes off the thing as my hand frantically pounds on the down buttons.  My window is the only one that goes down.

WHY WON'T THEY GO DOWN?!?!

In the back of my mind it dawns on me that all the other ones are locked because the kids were playing with the windows the other day.

I can't quite make my mind work enough to figure out what to do about that and I can not take my eyes off the wasp that is about to attack my entire family and what if my kids are allergic and should I just try to smash it with my hand and kill it but what if I don't smash it well enough or I miss and make it mad and it attacks my kids and what if my kids are allergic?!?!?!?!


This is the point that the Yellow Jacket decides to crawl off the console and ONTO MY SEAT-BELT BUCKLE.

Great.  Now the option of totally panicking and running out into the street leaving my kids in the car with a wasp is gone.  Because how would I get my seat-belt off?!

While I am in complete and utter panic the kids are in the back asking questions.  "Is it an owie bug?"  "YES!"  "Is it a biting bug?"  "No, It's a STINGING BUG!"

And then a moment of clarity.  Thankfully our car stays about as messy as our house.  So, right next to me, in the cupholder, was a cup.  An empty cup.  With a straw and a lid.

I picked up the cup.  Unfortunately I couldn't quite squeeze the cup into the space to catch the wasp.

I took the lid off and angled the straw along the wasps path.  I held my breath as it crawled onto the straw.

Now what?

I could try to sling the wasp out the open window but what if it didn't go?  I could drop the lid and straw out the window but that would be littering.

So, I simply put the straw with the wasp into the cup and fastened the lid down good.

BZZZ!  BZZZT!  BZZZZZZ!

The wasp was not a happy camper.

So, I did what any other rational person would do after escaping from a near death experience.

I drove to Taco Bell.  Went through the drive through.  Ordered tacos.  Drove home.  Took the kids and food into the house.  Went back out to the car.  Took out the buzzing cup.  And set it on the side of the driveway.

Then I went inside, fed my kids, and started to get the kids into their pajamas and ready for bed.

The adrenaline from the wasp incident was wearing off and I was starting to get sleepy.  I figured I would put the kids to bed and sneak in a quick nap before going to the movie.

They put on their pajamas and started to brush their teeth.  Peanut was brushing his teeth and I was brushing the Princesses hair.  I don't remember exactly why but I ran out into the other room for a second.  Maybe to let the dog in?  Or I thought I heard my phone ring?

As I am standing in the next room I hear a cry from the Peanut.

"Aaaaahhhhh!"

I run to the bathroom to see what happened.

"I was brushing my teeth and I went like this and it hurted."  He makes a gesture of ramming his toothbrush really hard towards the back of his mouth.

Perhaps I should also tell you that in the previous two days, the Princess had somehow managed to accidentally drop two of her brother's toothbrushes on the floor.  Why was she holding them?  The world may never know.

We had run out of backup kids toothbrushes and so I had to give him a temporary backup adult toothbrush to use until we could buy him a new one.

I looked into his mouth as best I could in the bathroom light.  I didn't see anything so I told him he was finished brushing and to put away his toothbrush.

A few seconds later he let out a pained groan.

"Mmmmm!"

He held his hand to the side of his mouth.

This couldn't be good.

Ok, let's get another look.

Not thinking rationally, I didn't do the obvious and get a flashlight to look in his mouth.  Instead I had him angle his mouth up towards the light and open wide.

Then I saw it.

OMGOODNESS!

There was a HOLE in the back of his mouth.

That's right folks.  He had jammed the toothbrush into and THROUGH the back of his freaken mouth!!!!

Not even kidding.

Remember how well I deal with mouth injuries?

The Peanut is remaining rather calm.  No crying.  Doesn't seem to be in constant pain.  I try not to panic and freak him out.

So, I run around in a bit of a circle and grab my phone.  I frantically call my sister-in-law.  No answer.

I frantically call my husband.  No answer.  Remember he is at the movie.

I call my sister-in-law again.  No answer.

My husband calls back.

I start to pour out the whole story in absolute panic.

"I might have to take the Peanut to the ER."

Hearing the panic in my voice as I explain what happened he freaks out and starts asking questions.

"What do you mean a hole?"

"I mean a HOLE.  A huge gaping HOLE through the back of his mouth!!!"

"Where?"

"Straight back."

"In the cheek?"

"No.  Straight back.  In the hinge part."

"In his throat?"

"No.  The hinge part.  Like between where your two wisdom teeth would be."

"So, the cheek."

"Not sideways into the cheek."

"Right but cheek tissue."

"Sure..."

"What do you mean by hole?"

"I mean there is a big freaking hole in the back of his mouth!"

"How big?"

"The size of the end of a toothbrush."

"Is it bleeding?"

"Not exactly.  It is bloody looking but no blood seeping out that I can see."

"Are you sure it's really a hole?"

"YES!!  IT'S A HUGE BLOODY HOLE IN THE BACK OF HIS MOUTH WHERE HE RAMMED THE TOOTHBRUSH THROUGH!!!!!!!"

Bad pic I took in an attempt to show hubby what I was talking about.  The hole is above his tongue on the left (his right) and looks like a black ring with pink tissue in the middle.  Imagine it being blood red rather than black.

At this point I turn around and see the Peanut standing behind me.  Tears are streaming down his face.

"Oh buddy!  Are you ok???!?"

He shakes his head no.

"Is your mouth hurting?!"

He shakes his head no.

"Oh, am I freaking you out because I am panicking?"

He shakes his head yes.

"You said there was BLOOD."  He dissolves into tears.

"Oh, no honey.  It's not really bleeding.  It's ok.  Calm down.  Mommy just thought you were hurting and so I was freaking out.  But it doesn't hurt right?"  He shakes his head no.  "See you are fine.  I'll calm down now.  Don't worry."

My husband on the phone.

"Call my sister."

"I did.  She isn't answering."

"Ok, try again.  I'll call you right back."

I hang up with him and try to call her again.  No answer.

I decide to try her house phone.

Only I can't find the number.  I know I have it on my phone.  Don't I?

Later I found it.  I can only attribute my lack of ability to find it then to the panic.  Which must also be why it never occurred to me to call from the house phone which also has her home phone stored in it.

Hubby calls back.

"She still isn't answering."

"Ok, I'll try calling her.  Just get ready to come get me and we will take him to the hospital.  No, we won't all fit in the car.  Just take him to the hospital and I will have her come get me."

He hangs up and calls her house phone.

He calls back.  "Ok, she is on her way to watch the Princess.  Give him a popsicle to help numb his mouth in case it starts hurting."

"I don't think we have any popsicles."

"Ok, call her and ask her to bring one."

Just then she knocks on the door. (She lives a block away.)

I open the door.

"What's wrong with the Princess?"

"No, it's the Peanut."

I tell her the story taking care not to freak out the Peanut any more.

We use the flashlight to look in the back of his mouth.

"Wow.  That's a hole alright."

She remains calm.

"Unfortunately with a mouth injury the hospital can't really do anything.  They can't stitch it."

"I know.  I just don't know what to do and I feel terrible just doing nothing!"

"Well, he isn't in any pain.  Maybe some kind of antibiotic for the germs..."

I remember we have some antibiotic mouthwash from the dentist.

"Oh, I can have him rinse his mouth out with that mouthwash."

My husband on the phone again. "Give him a popsicle first.  It might burn."

I go in the kitchen and manage to find one popsicle.  I also give him a dose of children's Advil just in case it starts to get sore.  I give him the popsicle.  He happily eats it.  Then he rinses his mouth out.  No problem.  No pain.  All is well.  I'm still shaking.

Hubby, calmed by his sister's rational response, returns to watch the remainder of The Dark Knight.

I collapse into a chair and my sis-in-law and I chat with the Peanut for a bit to make sure he is really all well. The kids head off to bed and we sit and talk for a bit.

Hubby calls back to let me know they are on the last intermission and I decide to go ahead and go to the movie (feeling somewhat terrible motherish) because clearly leaving my kids in my sis-in-law's capable hands is the perfectly sensible thing to do.  After all she is much better in a crisis!

After two adrenaline rushes in one day I wonder if there is any way I will be able to stay awake for a midnight movie.  Amazingly I managed to get a third rush (slightly less powerful than the previous two) when the movie started and stayed awake to enjoy it.

Of course the next morning I awoke to read about the tragedy others endured that night and it certainly put my day into perspective.

Can I just say.  Christian Bale is awesome.  Thank you.  The end.

When I was a child, I had a pretty healthy fear of knives and scissors.  I'm pretty sure it stems from the time my little sister cut my mother's finger with a pair of sewing scissors.  She was a baby at the time and I guess she reached over while my mother was cutting something and closed them on her finger.  All I really remember about it is my mother returning from the ER with a giant gauze bandage on her finger.  It made a pretty big impact on me.  What I understood, at about the age of 4, was that my sister had cut off my mom's finger and the doctor sewed it back on.  I guess that's what I made of the idea of stitches.

We no longer trust my sister with anything sharp or hot!  (Love you sister!!!)

As an adult that fear of sharp objects remains.  No, I am not afraid to use knives or scissors.  Instead, I am pretty well convinced that if my kids ever get their hands on them, they will manage to cut me, each other, or themselves.  Terrified.

I have managed to successfully pass down that terror to my son.  From the time he was born, I stopped calling the sharp instruments, knives or scissors.  Rather, they were the owie scissors and owie knives.  I wanted it clear that anything sharp = pain!

I should add here that I have no qualms whatsoever of passing on my own fears to my children.  Especially when it's a rational fear.  (Yes, fear of escalators is totally rational!!!)

My daughter knows no fear.  Especially when it comes to playing with dangerous objects.

Recently she climbed up on top of the kitchen counter and retrieved the kitchen scissors.  She brought them to me along with her pet tissue box, "boxy."  "I can't cut this.  Can you help me cut this?"

Needless to say I freaked out.  And that's putting it mildly.  As I took the scissors away from her she said, "but I wanted to cut my toenails with them."

Sharp "Owie" Scissors

One of us is going to end up in the ER one of these days.  Either for a toe reattachment or heart attack!

The knife block has been relocated to the top of the fridge.  I am holding my breath that she doesn't figure out how to climb up there.

The other day, I made my son a sandwich.  I put the plate on the table and he asked me to cut the sandwich for him.