The Santa Way

In early October, Francesca and Cecilia bought post cards from the Slice O'Life Bakery and mailed them into the "Win Thomas Action Canyon," game from our Thomas the Train magazine.  Since then, when we go to the post office everyday, Francesca always says, "OH!  I can see if I won my Thomas Action Canyon!"  And not wanting to dash her adorable hopes, I always just said, "Okay, let's see if we're the big winners."  I occasionally explained that there were probably hundreds of other children in the contest and only 10 winners, but of course, I doubt that she heard that.  So this week, we received the Thomas the Train magazine with the winners listed in the back of the magazine, and it did not say, "Francesca D., Palisade, Colorado," and oh man, talk about the saddest thing to see.  Francesca cried and cried and wept and said, "I wanted to be the big winner!  I wanted to win the Thomas Action Canyon!"  And I explained that there were actually thousands (35,000) other contestants and that sometimes you win and sometimes you don't.  I told her the story about when Auntie Desi won a Diamond Back bike from Wendy's and reiterated the fact that I didn't win.  Anyway - I did what any parent would do in a time of pressure and tears, I brought up Santa.

"Maybe Santa will bring you a Thomas Action Canyon," I said.

"Santa can't make a Thomas Action Canyon," she replied.

"Oh, yes he can . . . Santa's elves can make anything.  One year, I wanted a special doll that every child wanted and I didn't think that I would get the doll (a Cabbage Patch Doll) but man was I surprised on Christmas morning when I woke up and there was a doll for me and my sister.  Santa can work magic.  He can make anything."  Can you believe I did that?  The lies flowed from me like water.  And do you think that would work?  Of course not.  

"But I wanted to WIN the Thomas Action Canyon, not get it from Santa!  WAAAAAAA!  Boooooohooohooohoooo!"  She actually says that when crying.  It really is so sad, even though I know she's being dramatic.  The crying fit was quelled by just sitting and reading the Thomas the Train magazine stories and she also made me read the list of winners.  We declared that it wasn't very fair that there is only one girl winner and nine boys.  "There should be nine boy winners and nine girl winners!" Francesca reasoned.  I told her she was absolutely right.

So now, Francesca wants Santa to bring her, "A rocket ship, Thomas Action Canyon, and one of those dolls like the one he brought you and Auntie Desi."  She got the rocket ship from Zenon because that's what he's asking for.  I told her she could only ask for one thing.  

"What about all the children that don't have toys or clothes or food?" I asked today.

"They can get some toys from the Migrant Center, in boxes, but not wrapped."  Oh gad.  Where does she get this stuff?

Cecilia is asking Santa for ice cream.  Andrew said, "Great!  That's cheap."  I love that she's asking for ice cream.  That is so awesome.  That is so Cecilia.  She just came up with that herself tonight.  She got all excited when she thought of it . . . "I KNOW!  I-CEEM!"

Francesca and I finally built a snowman today!  We built three of them, actually.  It started snowing this morning again, big fluffy flakes and Francesca noted that it was snowman snow and she was right.  Up until now, all the snow has been dry and powdery, so dry that we couldn't even make a snowball.  She was really cute, rolling the balls around until they were big.  Cecilia was tired, so she watched from inside, until I looked up and saw that she was yelling, "Me poop!  Me poop!"  She doesn't like to be in a dirty diaper for a minute.  

We rolled snowwomen today at my friend Heather's house, too and when the ball got really big, the girls did teamwork and rolled it around some more.  I am so psyched to have my Palisade friends!  It is so magical - months ago, I was moaning and complaining that I didn't have the community I wanted to my cousin Liv and she e-mailed me and said, "Just put the intention there for what you want."  And I was like - she's right!  I haven't even put what I want out there and I'm complaining that I don't have it.  So no sooner than I decided that I am NOT moving, I'm going to just build what I want right here, VWALLA!  Heather appeared and Teresa appeared, Cayenna, Janessa, Paola, etc.  We started the Palisade Parenting Book club and Thursday playgroup and TADA, we have an awesome little community!  Ah, the power of putting it forth.  On that same note, my girlfriend Heather started reading "Beyond the Rainbow Bridge," and put it out there to her husband that they get rid of their Wii and TV and at first he was like, "Ah, I'll think about it."  I went over to their house today, and they just sold their Wii and gave the TV to Grandma!  Another testament to just putting things out there.  

I need to remember that more often, when I start trying to force things.  Just be patient, grasshoppa and the way will open up for you!  But now I must go to e-bay to open up the way for a Thomas Action Canyon to appear in my living room on Christmas morning.  

Christmas Magic

If I get it in gear to have an early dinnertime with the girls, while Andrew is still at work, we go for a nighttime walk to look at Christmas lights.  It is a total blast.  I give both girls flashlights and they run down the sidewalk from one house to the next yelling, "Christmas Magic!!"  Then, when they arrive at a house with life-like creatures such as lighted penguins, polar bears, reindeer or snowmen, they give each one a kiss on the nose and then say goodbye to each one before running on to the next house.  A couple times, its gotten a little out of hand and we've ended up going six blocks or so, round trip, which is too far at 5:30/6:00 at night.

Today was Palisade's Olde Fashioned Christmas.  We went downtown at 11:00 and the girls went on a camel ride.  I thought I was getting on with them, but the lady closed the rope, so I figured that if she thought they were okay, they were probably okay and they were.  Cecilia was pretty excited about it after she got off but Francesca didn't seem too impressed.  She said she didn't touch its fur because it looked dirty.  I must say that I would have to agree with her.  That Loma camel didn't look too well cared for . . . its knees were caked with doo doo and so were other parts of it.  You'd think they would've spiffed it up a bit for the big day, but maybe camel grooming isn't like horse grooming.  I don't know.  It wasn't smelly or anything, it just had crunchy doo-doo knees, etc.

After the camel ride, we headed to the Slice O' Life Bakery for a little slice o' life.  Yummy goodness.  There was a guy playing the 12-string guitar and he sang some Christmas songs and Cat Stephens' "Moonshadow."  Francesca was enraptured.  He said "Moonshadow" is his grandkids' favorite - how sweet!  I need to keep practicing the guitar.  Its hard to do with the girls around because they get so excited and they can't keep their hands off of it.  Plus, I suck, so that makes it hard, too.  And it kills my wrists and fingers, but I shall press on.  

We headed to Clark's horse drawn carriage rides and they were just standing around waiting for us.  So, first we rode the white mules around town.  The tack on the horses is beautiful, all black leather and silver buckles and bells.  When we returned, there was room on the giant black draft horse carriage that Mr. Clark was driving so we went for another ride.  I wish I could describe to you how beautiful and enormous these horses are, they are amazing.  Check out the picture of the size comparison on wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Draft_horse We rode all the way from 3rd & Kluge to 4th & Main, down to G Road (8th) and all the way to the Palisade National Bank on Elberta and back again.  It was probably a good 20 minute ride.  It was awesome.  I wish cars had never been invented and we could all just get around by horse or bicycle.  That would be so rad.  Everyone would just be so much more relaxed.  Maybe there could be trains, too.  But that's it.  No cars.  Aaah - life would be beautiful.  Cecilia almost fell asleep on the draft horse ride, so I took her home for a nap while Granny, Grandpa, Andrew and Francesca explored the happs.

It just was a good feeling day.  I love that Francesca came up with the saying, "Christmas Magic," because that 's just how it felt.  Magical.  After both girls took 2-hour naps, my coolio friend Sarah S. came over with her 'Shrader boys,' Luke, Henry and Oliver and her friend Katherine.  The kids got wild and ate a few bites of chili and then we were off to the race two blocks to the Palisade Parade of Lights.  It was magical and the kids loved it, especially all the candy.  Suckers, candy canes, chocolates, you name it.  I think Andrew has been in with Francesca for over an hour, trying to get her to fall asleep.  Cecilia was in the same boat, but I tricked her by saying, "Wait!  Listen!  I think I can her the moon rising!  Listen!  Listen!" and pretty soon she was sawing logs like an angel.  Parental trickery is so awesome, when it works out.  Anyway, Cecilia was really excited about the fire trucks.  When the 1st cop car went by, she said, "Look!  Fire Truck!"  then when the real fire truck came by, she said, "Look!  Big One Firetruck!"  She is a riot.  They both are, but I love the self-discovery at age two.  I guess self-discovery is beautiful at any age, I just love getting to watch it.

Anyway - thanks to Palisade for being so sweet.  Thanks to the 'rents for discovering such a lovely place for us to live and raise our children.  And thanks to my lovely friends for being so love-ly.  We had a magical day.

     

The Internets

Now the pressure is on, because my friend Sharon's husband Fran commented that they read my blog and I just loooove those two people.  Sharon and Fran are the coolest, zeniest peeps around, (alas they aren't around these parts anymore.)  Sharon and Fran - I wish you guys had a blog, because I'd love to better keep up with you.  Or better yet, I could just call you and stay in touch the old fashioned way . . . or maybe blogs/e-mails are the new old fashioned way because they're like snail mail.  If anyone does, let me know.  I read my friend Sarah's blog all the time.  Its really fun to peek in on my friend's lives. 

I did find Sharon on Facebook, purely by accident, and I'm not really quite sure what I was looking at . . . her "wall" or something.  I was trying to view Sarah J.'s Facebook, when suddenly, I was caught in a web of forms and permissions and what knots.  Facebook is completely confusing to me.  I don't get it.  I guess its instant messaging, only not instant?  Or maybe it is instant?  A multi-faceted blog?  Or a more private blog?  I don't know.  It frightened and confused me, and I left the computer cross-eyed from sitting in front of it too long.  It asked me for permission to access my e-mail account so that it could send an invitation to be friends to all my friends and I declined and then tried to get out of there.  Those e-mails that say, "Sew And Sew Wants to be your friend!" and I'm like - uhhh - aren't we already friends?  Right?   

I did see some funny stuff, though.  Like, on Olivia's page it says:  Dog spelled backwards is God, which I guess sums up her feelings about her dogs.  So I guess I learned that she's a crazy dog lady now.  Not unlike my mom's neighbor Maria, who is a crazy horse lady.  She said she's letting her mini-horses come in the house for her Christmas party, "Why can't I?  Its my house!" she said.  We were crazy dog people, growing up.  At one point we had five dogs.  Two American Eskimos, one Rottweiler, a Black Lab and a chow/pit bull mutt.  Two of the three dogs were my aunt and uncle's dogs, who eventually moved to Florida where my aunt and uncle live.  But man - for awhile, we were totally the crazy dog people in the neighborhood.  Unbeknownst to us, the dogs were real hell raisers.  When the rottweiler accidentally drown in the canal, every neighbor within three miles came by to express their happiness and tell some rowdy story of what Bouncer had done to them, their pet or their property.  I suppose that we never knew about it when she was alive because nobody could get near our house to tell us about it?  Who knew.  

We're now well on our way to becoming crazy cat people.  And our cat is pregnant again, which isn't my fault, exactly.  The wind blew our not completely shut door open and she got out for a few hours while we were at the park one day.  Having a litter of kittens isn't so bad.  Its a fun experience for the girls and there's always someone that needs a pet, right?  Right people!  I had a dream last night that she had 4 kittens, which is twice as many as last time, but not so many that we can't give them away.  They'll make great pets because they've been completely manhandled by Francesca and Cecilia from birth.  There's my cat advertisement.    

So, anyway, on Facebook, I found this group titled, "Crocs - I Don't Care How Comfortable They Are, You Look Like a Dumbass."  This is hilarious because, being nearly 35, I'm thinking that I'm past the age of uncomfortable shoes, so Crocs are totally right up my alley.  I wore some uncomfortable red stiletto boots the other night when Andrew and I walked four blocks round-trip to Inari's and I hadn't gone 1/4 block when I was complaining about walking, because my feet already hurt.  I'm having a bit of a hard time with letting go of all my uncomfortable shoes, because I keep thinking about a collage that hangs at this boutique in Boulder, where my friend Amy works.  Its an ad from a magazine, with a picture of a pair of decidedly comfortable shoes.  The ad says, "Comfort is . . . " and there is the shoes - then someone pasted "UGLY!" at the end of the sentence.  I was all ready to buy a pair of those cute furry boot Crocs, until I saw the "Crocs - I don't care how comfortable they are, you look like a dumb*ss," group.  But you know what?  The beauty of being not in my 20's anymore is that I TOTALLY would rather be a comfortable, ugly dumb*ss than have hurty feet.  Come to think of it, my feet are hurty right now from wearing Uggs, which are warm/comfortable, stylish, but have ZERO arch support.  Time for some new ugly shoes to complete my dumb*ss wardrobe!  

I am completing a serious purging of the closet right now, because I moved my clothes from a huge walk-in closet into a tiny closet and my wardrobe has some pretty ridiculous items.  Such as about 50 bikinis.  Who needs that many bikinis?  I don't really feel appropriate in a bikini anymore unless I'm at a lake or somewhere remote and dirty.  But when and where am I planning to wear all those 80's thrift store prom dresses?  Walking to the post office in Palisade?  Or that backless, black and white v-neck bell-bottom jump suit.  25 purses?  I kept some for the girls to play with but the rest must go.  I keep trying to get the 13 year old next door to come and look at my give away box before I take it to the Migrant Center, but she doesn't seem interested.  She's more of a t-shirt and jeans kind of girl.  It just seems like someone out there will love my clothes like I did.  Maybe I'll go through it again and wrap up items for Christmas presents.  That would be great.  Who will get the 50's purple purse?  Sarah and her mid-life hair crisis might like the red snake-print tights with holes in them?  When  I turned 31, I was pregnant and I received several pairs of sweat pants for my birthday, so 31 was the year of the sweat pants.  35 is feeling like the year of  "Goodbye - Maybe I want to look cheap," and "Hello - Maybe I want to look comfortable." 

But all this talk about what is in that box, and thinking about it, makes me want to dive right back in there and rescue it . . . do I still want to look cheap after all?  A case of 'You can take the girl out of Trashy Town, but you can't take Trashy Town out of the girl.'  That should be a Facebook group.  I would totally join, if I could figure out how.    

Floating On

Mom and Dad watched the girls tonight so that Andrew and I could go on a date.  I am so lame when it comes to staying out late that when we were leaving, two shuffling old couples, on a double date came strolling in and I was thinking, Isn't it late for them to be going out to dinner?  It was 6:45.

I'm so into our little routine, that not only do the girls morph into monsters if they don't eat dinner promptly at 5pm, but I'm beginning to get that way, too.  We went to pick up the girls and Andrew decided to have some (more) dessert and I was like, "What are you doing?  Its 7:30!  Its way past their bedtime.  We need to get home!"  Okay Freakazoid.  Then I put Cecilia in the car, buckled her up, leaned in for a kiss, only to hear, "Mommy your uh idiot."  Nice.  Its really hard not to just get all juvenile and retaliate with, "Oh yeah - well you're a poopin' pants."  But I know where that would lead, so I bite my tongue and smile and say, "You sweetie pie."  Smooch.

Ordinary Blog Post and I-bombs

My friend Amy told me the other day that she loved my blog because most blogs are like, "Look at this cool thing I did, Look at this cool thing I saw, Look how awesome I am."  So since Amy told me that, all I can think about is, "Man, my Christmas tree is so cool, I should blog about how cool it is."  or "Man, that was so cool how we went and cut our Christmas tree at the EOM Christmas Tree farm, I should blog about how cool we are."  or "Wow, it is so awesome how Cecilia calls everyone 'idiot,' all the time . . . I have to blog about that."

Not only did I take pictures of how cool our Christmas tree is, but I posted them here, for you viewing pleasure.  Cool, huh?  (Amy, I hope you're laughing as hard as I am.)  How do you like the picture of us posing under the tree, like a family of dorks?  Pretty cool, huh!

Seriously, it has about 30 pine cones all over it and they're not just hangy-down pine cones, they're curved in whimsical poses, so it is truly magical.  The only bummer is that it fell over or rather was pulled over (as the truth finally came out) by a certain Francesca, who was attempting to pick a pine cone off of the tree.  No one was hurt.  We were on our way out the door for music class and I couldn't get it back in the tree stand properly so I had to prop it against the wall, barely dipping into the water trough.  Since then, we re-decorated it and threw away all the broken ornaments (note to self - don't buy glass ornaments with small children around) but now I think our tree is dying.  I mean - I know its dying, its a cut down tree, but its not drinking ANY water, and considering that its only December 6th, the tree may not make it at this rate.  Andrew is going to drill holes in the bottom and see if that allows the tree to drink.  I just am not in the mood to take it down, re-cut it and re-decorate it again.  The other cool thing about our cool tree is that the pine cones crackle.  They make this cracking sound as they open up.  I've never had a tree that made noise before, so it seems more alive than just decor.  It feels like its breathing.  

On the Cecilia calling everyone "idiot," subject - AAAAARRRGH!  Britney Spears comes to mind just about now, when she recently said that her children say "f*ck" sometimes and, "I don't talk like that around them, so they definitely don't get it from me," and I'm going, Yeah - Riiight.  Britney Spears looks like a girl that could drop some f-bombs, but I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt and say that her children probably got it from her bodyguards or Kevin.  But seriously, we aren't potty mouths around here.  We say, "silly," and "sillygoose," I DO NOT CALL ANYONE IDIOT . . . except for pets.  When the cat jumps on the table (which is disgusting in itself) but misses and pulls the table cloth off the table along with everything else on the table, I have definitely said, "Aaah! You idiot!"  And when I'm at my mom's house and the dogs are barking non-stop, I've been known to say, "Bandit!  Hush, you idiot!"  Its terrible, I know, but you have no idea how terrible it is to have your barely 2 year old get frustrated and point at you and scream, "Mommy!  You idiot!"  Or get mad and start calling her friends idiots at the park?  I could just come unglued!!!  And the look she gets on her face when she says it is pure meangirl.  She's 2!  I could totally handle her dropping f-bombs, better than I have handled the "idiot," phase.  This suuuucks!!!!  A 2-year-old calling everyone an idiot, is somehow so unnerving.  I just can't handle it!  I tried time-outs, I tried erase and replace, I tried time-outs again.  When Francesca was about the same age, she picked up "godd*mnit," from Andrew and our neighbor, Layne Brown.  She would use it in perfect context, "Godd*mnit, I can't get my hat on!"  We responded calmly, without reacting, by saying, "Dingdangit, you can't get your hat on?"  And voila - erased and replaced the g.d. word. But Cecilia, man, she'll sit at the table going through a list of people, calling them idiots, one, by one.  "Grandpa uh idiot, Granny uh idiot, Auntie Desi uh idiot, Chaka (Francesca) uh idiot," etc., etc., etc.  This "idiot," phase is a b*tch!