We Love to Laugh

Man - the funniest people in my life right now are definitely Francesca and Cecilia, but I have some funny friends, too.  Mom told me how many times per day the average person laughs and we agreed that we probably laugh more than average (toot, toot!)  I can't remember how many times was the average, but lately, I feel like I laugh at least 20 times an hour.  Francesca said she laughs 100 times per hour.  

I usually wake up to, "Get up now, mama!"  That's Cecilia.  Bossy little thing, for only two years old.  I have NO IDEA where she gets the bossiness.  Couldn't possibly be from me?  My friend Jackie, who I should fondly refer to as Jackie Sedaris, started posting videos on youtube of her son, Hudson, giving her other son, five month old Quinlan tutorials on how to play with different toys or what is a sweet potato, stuff like that.  I want to start posting videos, but it could take me years to find the right cords and navigate through youtube, so you'll just have to depend on my description of how suddenly, at dinner tonight, Francesca busted out a five minute monologue on how she wants to be a "fire jet plane driver, with fire shooting out the back, and Cecilia in the front with her and you and daddy in the back of the plane, with the fire shooting out from behind you and I will drive us to Mexico and not run into the geese."  I swear to make more effort on getting some pictures and videos up because that was hilarious.  And the geese thing . . . my dad came over the other day for lunch and asked me if I'd heard about the plane crash.  He then proceeded to tell us all about the pilot who safely landed the plane into the Hudson River after hitting a goose.  Francesca was completely quiet, listening to the story and then asked with tears in her eyes, "What happened to the goose."  I was like, "Uh oh."  Dad tried to break it to her gently, but she sat there with her head in her hands and tried not to cry for about five minutes while we tried to explain away the pain.  I think she's not used to any kind of violence so it really hurts her feelings.  Plus, living so close to the river, we watch the geese fly right over our house a lot.  I explained that New York City is really, really far away from here and that those weren't 'our' geese.  That helped, but I could tell that it left a dent.

Tonight, after bath time, Francesca came running at me, with her jammies in hand asking if I would put her hair in a bun.  I paused and thought of why she would want this, then realized it was so that her wet hair didn't make her back cold.  I held her hair while she put on her jammies and asked, "Don't you want to put on any lotion?"  She answered, "No, I like being itchy.  Yeah - I like being all ITCHY (said with wrinkled nose and in a horse voice.)  I like being itchy because then its fun for Daddy to scratch my back."  On paper, it doesn't sound all that funny, but man . . . this was funny.

The biggest event of the day was on our way home from 'school' at our friend Heather's house when Francesca started yelling something to me from the bike trailer.  I couldn't understand what she was saying, so I pulled over, "MICKY MOUSE DOLL BACK THERE!  MICKY MOUSE DOLL ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD BACK THERE."  "Really?"  I asked, not really wanting to double back.  She insisted, so I doubled back and sure enough, there right on the side of the road (how could I have missed it?) was a filthy, sticker filled, probably someone's dog toy, abandoned old Micky Mouse.  I picked it up and put it in the back of the bike trailer.  We had to wash it before playing with it.  It is as big as Cecilia.  I put it in the washing machine and then had to stitch a hole, but they love it.  Francesca is sleeping with it right now.  Since she's never seen any cartoons with Micky Mouse (or anything else) SHE has her own persona.  First of all, they've called him, HER from the get go.  They took off the red "underwear" and put a pink dress on her.  I totally adore that they are so clueless when it comes to pop culture.  This will probably come back to bite me in t he *ss, (like they will probably grow up to be comparable to a couple Japanese tourists and LOVE everything American pop culture has to offer, Hannah Montana, MTV, McDonald's, and whatever else I'm missing) but for now, I'm loving it.  

I heard Francesca playing with her Calico Critters today and she was saying "this one is me, and this one is Mr. Clark.  I'm married to Mr. Clark."  Mr. Clark is the old cowboy that owns the huge draft horses that give free rides at Christmas time.  

Man, I can't believe Cecilia's stuttering just vanished.  She is totally OFF the dairy and wheat.  She won't touch it.  At Heather's house today, she put out some huge slices of cheese and Cecilia said, "cheese give me tummy ache, but celery didn't!" as she reached for a piece of celery.  Afterwards, when we stopped at Mumzel's on the way home because Francesca was starving and I was out of snacks, Francesca chowed down on a piece of banana bread while Cecilia sipped juice without a complaint, "Banana bread have dairy.  Banana bread have wheat in it."  This whole diet thing has made me realize that this is the first time in my life that I've ever had to watch what I eat!  Well, maybe not the 1st time - I had to TRY and watch what I ate in college when I gained 30 pounds because I smoked so much pot and chowed down on EVERYTHING all the time.  But by and large, as long as I exercise, I've always been able to eat ANYTHING and EVERYTHING I wanted to, but being off of dairy and wheat suucks!  I think I'll stick with it, though because the only difference I've noticed (besides being starving) is that my mood seems better.  Maybe I'm in a half starved stupor, or maybe being off the 'junk' is good for me?  I did wolf down some cheese yesterday and I was in a cranky mood later on.  Cecilia on the other hand doesn't stutter AT ALL and doesn't complain of tummy aches except for "pretend" ones (when she wants a tummy soother or for me to rub her tummy at night) and she is totally craving fat, too.  I let her sit on the counter and dig into the new jar of mayonaise with a spoon today.  I have pictures.  She ate about a tablespoon and then said, "All done."  And went and played.  I remember when I was in Mexico for two months, in my twenties, we ate nothing but fish and veggies (because that's all that was around) and by the 2nd month, we ate mayonaise and tortillas because we were craving fat.  Come to think of it, I suppose that is the reason my pants fit a little tight when I returned from that trip.  Ah - Mayonaise.  I love you mayonaise.

I've been trying to get my friend Jackie to start a blog.  This was her response:   "It's funny that you mentioned me starting a blog.  Several of my friends from the Keys have been bugging me to start one.  I kinda feel like I don't really have anything that interesting to talk about.  Today's entry would be something like . . . I woke up this morning to Hudson standing next to my bed singing "I have the biggest booker in the world, in my in my nose" (to the tune of Old MacDonald Had A Farm.)  He proceeded to pick it out and then tried to wipe it on my (aformentioned sexy) jammies.  When Quinn woke up, he rolled over and farted so loud that Hudson blamed it on me.  He then stuck his nose in my butt to see if I was lying.  Good times, man.  Good times."  

See - Jackie Sedaris is totally funny.  I guess all my favorite people are funny.    

Man - I've been doing the love instead of fear or ambition thing with the girls and I love it!  We end up laughing more often.  For instance, instead of saying, "Brush your teeth!  We don't want to be that stink mouth family! (har har.)"  I say, "You have to give your teeth some love, too.  Your teeth help you chew all your food up so you have energy!"  Then I still add a little bit of fear, "If you don't love your teeth, they could all fall out and then . . . then . . . then . . . " and Francesca says, "I would have to snort all my food up my nose?"  And we laugh and laugh and laugh, imagining snorting our food up our noses.

So, it could be my imagination, but Cecilia's hair seems to be getting thicker.  Result of ortho bionomy and wheat-free, gluten-free, dairy-free diet?  Or just getting more hair?  I can't help but think its all related.  What isn't?  Its like that song, "Your head bone's connected to your neck bone, your neck bone's connected to your chest bone . . . " its all connected, right?  You, me, we.

 

I'm So Beat and I Love It!

I have this fantasy when I'm running and listening to my ipod that I can play the guitar like the bands I'm listening to.  This morning I was imagining myself sitting around a campfire, rockin' out on my guitar and singing songs from: White Stripes, Black Keys, Fugazi, The Mae Shi, Smog, PJ Harvey, Queens of the Stoneage, Rodrigo and Gabriela, Yeah Yeah Yeahs (Karen O), and 16 Horsepower . . . songs that it would take me a decade to learn how to play . . . except for Rodrigo and Gabriela, it would take me a lifetime to learn how to play like them.  Smog - I could probably play like him in a few years, if I would just practice.  But it hurst my fingers, "like a motherf*cker," as Sharon says.

I have this fantasy of being this fabulously awesomely cool person and I was laughing at myself this morning because the reality is that I regularly fall asleep at 7:30, like last night with Cecilia.  Well not exactly WITH Cecilia because I'm pretty sure that I fell asleep BEFORE Cecilia.  And I live in Palisade, which is a small farming community where the owl that nested in the awning of the Dentists office the day the city workers scared it out of the Christmas tree when the were taking down the lights, made the 2nd page of the Palisade Tribune.  The owl was big news.  Which was awesome because the girls and I were walking by and the city worker showed us the owl.  It was snowy whitey-grey and small and scared.  The city worker (which isn't a city worker, he's a Town worker because Palisade is a Town, not a City) so the Town worker told us that he never goes anywhere without his digital camera and that he probably takes about 100 pictures a day!  Now that's love.  He sees so many groovy things in his everyday work life that he takes 100 pictures a day!  Wow!

At the 2000 census, Palisade's population was 2,579.  That's a small, tiny town.  Before Christmas, Francesca, Cecilia and I rescued Cakestar, a beautiful brown stick horse from the Migrant Center and since then, Cakestar has been photographed tied up outside Mumzel's, the Antique Store/Coffee Shop.  The photograph is blown up and hanging in Mumzel's so now, everywhere we go, people ask Francesca, "How is Cakestar?"  Francesca is the rock star, not me.

I can go for a morning run from my front door and not have to drive to any trail.  The Riverbend Park is .75 miles away and it is beautiful.  I can run right next to the river and aside from seeing the geese and ducks, I've even seen a family of foxes down there one morning.  The girls love Riverbend Park.  We meet friends there every Thursday at 10:30am.  Not to play on the playground, although we do that on occasion, but the most fun is to explore the wild places.  When the pond first froze over, we spend hours throw/skipping rocks across the frozen pond, to hear the sound it made.  We had to drag the kids away.  There's also a boat launch at the park that makes an excellent sandy beach.  We went two weeks ago and the girls climbed a steep embankment and pretended they were in "fairyland" or "fairy island," or something.  They love the cat tails.  They pick them apart and make "fairy dust" everywhere, which is actually quite a mess and would reek havoc on allergies, but its too much fun to resist.

Anyway - I'm totally okay with the fact that I can't play the guitar like Rodrigo y Gabriela, and I can't stay awake past 8:00 most nights.  When I was single and before having children, I remember sitting around with my friend Amy, looking at a Christmas card one of her friends sent her with her photograph on it.  She said her friend used to be the coolest and now look at her . . . Matching Sweater Christmas Cards.  But it happens.  Its happened to me, too.  I rarely have time to even think about what I look like before stepping out the door - I'm too busy!  And I like that.  It makes me smile just thinking about it - and my smile probably has chunks of food in my teeth, too.  And finally, a huge shout out to Eric, for  putting all that awesome music on my ipod in September . . . and I'm finally getting around to listening to it!  Thanks Eric!  You rock!   

Birthday, STICKERBUSH! and Allergic Shiners

The spirit of non-judgement post was such a mind blower for me, that every time I've set down to blog again and read that post, I'm just speechless.  I've been trying hard to not be judgemental because I know you're not supposed to be judgemental, but I didn't know HOW to do it.  It was hard for me to figure it out, until January 9th.  My dad is taking advantage of the situation and taking the football games off of mute when we're over at his house, and saying, "I'm really glad you've decided to be more tolerant of football!"  I'm just glad to be back on a spiritual path.  I think I got lazy in polishing my soul and didn't do it much for awhile and was starting to feel kinda icky!  In my twenties, I read a lot of self-helpy books and got sick of it.  But I'm enjoying it again.  

Francesca had her 4th birthday on Thursday.  It was a total blast.  I can't believe she's already four years old!  Where does the time go.  My friend Heather (who obviously hasn't taken any breaks from polishing her soul, because hers is a shining example of perfection) has a three month old baby who is always in the sling.  Nothing makes me want another baby more than seeing one in a sling . . . all snuggly and cozy and sleeping.  My friend Olivia reminded me of the day Francesca was born.  She said that I was glowing and that I said, "I don't know what the big deal is!"  I was so high on endorphins.  I never really came down, with Francesca's birth.  Her birth was golden.  One of those you read about in the Ina May Gaskin book, "Spiritual Midwifery."  I'm not sure if my "puss was psychedelic" or anything, like the Spiritual Midwifery book says at one point, but it was definitely a fun, exciting, relaxing, non-stop action, kind of time.  And when Francesca was born, she was so calm and cool.  She gazed up into my eyes, not all googley eyed like some babies (like Cecilia) and sneezed a couple of times then looked around the room like, "Oh, this is the room, huh?  Blue curtains.  Oh, the sun is coming up.  How neat."  She didn't cry.  She never really did cry a lot.  I don't think the wailing really started until Cecilia was born and that girl cries like a screeching eagle.  Then the crying was contagious.   

Anyway, we had Francesca's birthday party up at Granny Yaya's house.  I was going to have the party on Saturday so that Andrew, Granny and Grandpa could be there, but then I could tell that Granny was starting to get nervous - "Who is coming?  How many people?  How many kids?"  So I decided to just have it ON Francesca's birthday, at Granny's house, while Granny was at work!  Then Granny wouldn't stress!  But really, we did miss her and it was a bummer than Granny, Grandpa and Andrew missed it, but then it was less confusing for Francesca - birthday party ON birthday, etc.  And having it on a Thursday made it so it didn't take up people's weekend and gave me less stress because I just treated it like an ordinary play date.

After making three batches of pizza dough (one with garbanzo bean flour for the gluten-free crowd) we headed to Granny's and prepped for the party.  When friends arrived, I had parchment paper taped to the kitchen table and balls of dough on each piece.  After the kids played a bit, they headed for the kitchen to make their pizzas.  It was pretty cute.  They did a great job and the pizza was delicious.  They didn't even really need much instruction.  They just went for it.  The dough recipe was online as "Best Pizza Dough Ever."  I've made it before and I made it the same both times.  The recipe has about two computer pages of instructions before listing the ingredients.  I skipped reading the instructions except for the oven temperature and cook time, threw all the ingredients into the mixer and voila!  Instructions . . . we don't need no stinking instructions!  

After pizza we had Granny's horsie head cake.  I'll post some videos on here when I have time and hopefully Francesca's buns won't be showing in the video tape.  I guess that while they were eating cake, she spilled Reya's juice all over the place.  I was distracted with whatever and Amy took care of the clean-up and that's all I saw.  Then, Francesca said, "I dropped my cake on the floor.  Can I have another piece?"  I went over to her side of the table and she was in her birthday suit, from the waist down, just chowing down on her cake, in nothing but a pink turtleneck!  I guess that when the juice spilled, it spilled on her pants and everyone said she just stood up, stripped down and sat down and kept right on eating.  I asked her today if her undies got wet too and she told me, "I forgot to put on undies on my birthday."  Oops.  Good thing Granny has a steady back-up of clothing downstairs, so we could keep on partying.  Not that Francesca wouldn't have just kept on partying pants free.  Sweet.  

After the kiddies played inside some more and explored everything, Francesca said, "I'm ready to go outside," and she was out the door.  I scrambled to get on Cecilia and my coat and we chased her out the door.  Soon, everyone else trickled out while my friend Theresa did some dishes (rock!) and the children made their way to the trampoline.  My first reaction was to say, "ONE AT A TIME, ONLY."  But pretty soon, the other 'rents were like, "One at a time?  Why?"  So if it didn't bother them to see the smash and bash, then I had to let it ride.  They were pretty good, actually.  After hours of jumping I think they got a little more delirious and wild, but all in all no one was permanently or seriously injured.  The four-year olds even took turns with the smaller, two-year olds, saying, "Cecilia's turn!" and sitting down, watching her jump for 15 seconds, then "Our turn!"  And Cecilia would sit down and let the bigger kids jump.  They jumped on the trampoline, six kids at a time for at least two hours.  Finally, I was tired and hungry (so imagine how hungry and tired the kids were) so we decided to give the trampoline a break and go back in for snacks.  Some friends left and some stayed (Jackie, Hudson, Quinnlan, Amy and Reya) so we had a mellow girly afternoon drinking tea, visiting, and eating leftover cake and pizza while Cecilia napped, and Francesca and her friends made pop bead jewelry.

Francesca, while opening presents first thing in the morning said, "You guys are hooking me up!"  She didn't really ask for anything (Christmas was only a month ago, what could she possibly want?)  When opening her presents, she and Cecilia do 'teamwork.'  Its so sweet.  They opened all the presents together and Cecilia even opened some herself.  I think it makes for a sweet love of sister's birthday, when they're both so included in everything.  When we were making invitations, Francesca made one for Cecilia and was telling Cecilia that she gets to come to her birthday party, "Isn't that great, Cecilia!"  And then they both squeal.  Yes, there is lots of girly squealing at our house.  

Andrew and I gave Francesca (and Cecilia) some of those Calico Critters and a few furniture pieces with the carrying case.  I'm a big fan of anything that has a case to store it in.  (Everything in its place!)  Granny gave her a beautiful winter fairy Waldorf doll.  Its insanely cute.  I think she is bonding with it like Cecilia bonded with her "Happy Birthday Baby."  (Thanks god, now maybe we can get rid of some of these other dolls!)  We gave Cecilia a Waldorf doll with sweater pants and sweater for her birthday and she carries it EVERYWHERE.  Last night, she was in bed, rolling round, trying to go to sleep saying to herself, "I love you my Happy Birthday Baby.  Me snuggle my Happy Birthday Baby."  Then she falls asleep squeezing it tightly.  Francesca's has wispy, wild, white, woolen hair, a blue sweater, blue hat, white bloomers and wings.  Hers accidentally came with two hats, so Cecilia now has a hat for her Happy Birthday Baby, which is perfect, because she was just saying that her Happy Birthday Baby needs a hat!  Granny and Grandpa also made this awesome fairy house that consist of a huge sanded chunk of wood, with sticks poking out in a half circle around the perimeter.  They hang silks over the sticks to make it into a fairy cave and Granny fashioned two hammocks for their dolls to sleep in.  Its on our coffee table.  I guess we have a new centerpiece.  Its pretty sweet.  (Digression - one of the girls is slinging in their sleep right now.)

2 more things, since I haven't blogged in awhile.  

1:  STICKERBUSH

Once, when Francesca was sleeping with Granny, she talked in her sleep and said, "Stickerbush!"  So we've talked about how she talks in her sleep sometimes (the other night she called me into her room to count with her, in her sleep) and we will blurt out STICKERBUSH! sometimes, just to joke around.  Well, the other night, Andrew said that she went through this whole thing with 'stickerbush.'  She said, "If I say 'stickerbush' then I'm really asleep . . . . pause . . . pause . . . stickerbush!  If I say 'stickerbush' high and fast, then I'm not really asleep . . . stickerbush!  If I say 'stickerbush' low and slow, I'm really asleep . . . . . stiiiiiickerrrrrrrrbuuuuuussssshhhh . . . . . . . . . ."  This went on for awhile.  

2:  No Gluten or Dairy, boo hoo hoo

Cecilia began stuttering badly a few weeks ago so I freaked out and took her to both Dawn Stutz (Orthobionomy) and Dr. Lepisto (Naturopath) where he told me (what I already know, but needed gently nudged in the right direction) to give Cecilia a break from gluten and dairy for two weeks.  After two days, no more stu-stu-stu-stutter and her 'allergic shiners,' those bags she's always had under her eyes, are dissipating.  I decided I'm going to do it with her.  Well, so far we all are.  Its all or nothing with this kind of thing.  I can't make two meals every meal.  The meals are going along fine, but the bedtime snack took some re-working, since we used to have honey toast and kiefer.  Now we're having tea and wild rice with honey.  Not bad.  So, I feel so bad for abusing Cecilia with all the cheese and wheat we eat!  She is calmer and more focused . . . I think that dairy was like poison to her.  At Granny's house on Thursday, she started eating a yogurt covered raisin and I said, "Cecilia, you can't have those, they have dairy," and she spit it out!  And those things are super good!  They taste like pure sugar!  So I think the dairy, especially was making her feel really rotten.  She's pretty much complained of stomach aches and back aches since she could talk, so hopefully we will get it sorted out.  Also, when my friend Sarah (we missed you and fam at the party) told me that she figured out that she was dairy intolerant because it gives her a stomach ache, I was like, DUH!  Hello, Brittany!  But man - no cheese, no yogurt, no kiefer, no cheese, no cheese, no cheese!  I do love the cheese!  I don't know if I can do it.  I will waste away with no cheese!  I'll be pounding mayonnaise and olive oil to get some fat in my diet!  Oh woe.  Actually that's sweet . . . I love mayonnaise.  No butter . . . argh.  I'm doing it, too because I think I have the same bags under my eyes.  I look younger already, from 24 hours without dairy!  I don't know if that's true.  But I'm sticking by it anyway.

Today's mind blowing revelation was this:  There are only three effective educational methods - fear, ambition, and love.  We do without the first two. - Rudolf Steiner

I mean duh - but now that I can organize the fear and ambition part OUT of my discipline - how beautiful!  oxoxlove ya! 

Eureka! The Spirit of Non-Judgement

I've been wracked with guilt since posting the "Rants" section on my blog, "Warming up the car - hello?  You're polluting my air, people!  Do you need to borrow a coat, hat, gloves and ice scraper?"  I felt bad about putting it up there and then when I got home from my morning run yesterday, who's car was warming up outside my house, but Andrew's.  I said, "Come on, Andrew - don't warm up your car, put on a coat and hat and gloves and scrape the windshield.  You're polluting my good air!"  He rolled his eyes and grumbled and went inside to say goodbye to the girls.

They, later that same day, I sat down to nurse Cecilia and opened up "Teachings of Buddha" to a random page and read: "The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences.  When love and hate are both absent everything becomes clear and undisguised.  Make the smallest distinction however and heaven and earth are set indefinitely apart.  If you wish to see the truth then hold no opinions for or against anything.  To set up what you like against what you dislike is the disease of the mind."  It goes on like this for like 10 mini-pages.  Man - so when I see the guy warming up his 1960 Ford truck on my way to and from the river on my morning run, instead of thinking to myself, "355 Logan Ct., I'm totally calling that guy in.  Warming up your truck for 30 minutes is an outrage!"  I must simply shrug my  shoulders and think nothing of it and positive or negative.  I wonder if this sort of thing was as difficult in the days of Buddha and Jesus as it is now?  Were there so many frustrating aspects of life then?  I can't imagine that there were, without cars, TV, pollution from cars . . . that's the only frustrating things I can think of . . . 

So I'm sure these things AREN'T frustrating to a lot of people, so all I have to do is be like them, and not get frustrated by these pithy little things.  Hm!  Easier said than done, I know, but when I think of it like that - it seems easier.  I'll try - and I'll delete the "Rants." 

Heaven on Earth

Last week I was feeling losery for living here in Palisade, where I've grown up since age four, when my parents built their house together on East Orchard Mesa.  Like I should be going somewhere better or something?  We spend MASSIVE amounts of time up at my parents house with the girls.  On Sunday, we went up late in the afternoon so that Granny YaYa and Grandpa could watch the girls while Andrew and I went for a run together.  We walked in the back door, Francesca sat down on the stairs to remove her boots, hat and coat and in a dreamy whisper, she said, "This is beautiful music."  I watched as she tiptoed up the stairs and on tiptoe, ran around looking for Granny.  I saw how she is transformed by her Granny.  Granny's house is a wonderland for Francesca and Cecilia.  It is a refuge of love and happiness.  Any of my feelings of loser-y-ness were quickly dashed, watching the girls discover Granny, sitting at her sewing machine downstairs, sewing them each a "shopping bag" out of Grandpa's old Levi's.  Cecilia quickly stuffed her Happy Birthday Baby into her bag and pulled the strap over her head to make a baby carrier.  Francesca began filling hers up with anything she could find to take home because we ALWAYS leave Granny's house with more than we came with.  Raffi's "Let's Play" CD and the song, "It Takes a Village," song is in heavy rotation over here.  The song begins, "What does it take for a baby girl, to grow up full of love?  What does it take for a baby girl?" And then the chorus kicks in, "It takes a village, it takes a village to raise a child, no one can do it alone.  It takes a village to raise a child."  Yeeaaahhh!  Sniff, sniff . . . gosh I love it here!

Mesa Mall

I can't believe that I haven't put this down, but one Friday, before Christmas, I for some bizarre reason, decided we needed to go visit Santa, so that the girls could tell him what they wanted for Christmas. Who can say why I felt the need to participate in the bizarre ritual of sitting on some curmudgeony old man's lap in the middle of the mall, and then confiding wishes to this man, but we loaded up and did it. We did it last year and Francesca loved it. Last year's Santa was adorable. He was quite handsome, for an older gent with a beard and sparkling blue eyes. He primped before the picture and was kind and personable and you could tell that he was really into listening to the children.

This year however, was a different story. We arrived at the mall at about 10:30 on a Friday morning and there wasn't a line so we walked right up to Santa. As Francesca was saying hello and climbing onto his lap, he belched. He said excuse me, but it was a bit shocking and I actually detected the faint smell of booze. He cut the girls off so that they could hurry and snap a picture. He wasn't even fat or fake fat, his suit hung off of him like a big velvet curtain. By the time we reached the cashier, I was able to confirm that the entire operation smelled like booze, from Santa to the elf that took my money. At first I was secretly outraged . . . should I call 911 or something? Surely this isn't good and is probably illegal to be in public with children and smelling boozy? Then I thought, maybe this is like the Santa Land Diaries, a really horrible job, and they're all driven to drinking at 10am in order better deal with crying children, pushy grown ups and the like. When I called my dad afterwards, he said, "Sounds like Santa and the elves tied one on last night," like he could relate or something. Needless to say, we'll probably find a way around that tradition next year.

When I was a kid, Santa actually came to my house to see what we wanted before Christmas so we were deprived of the whole Mall Santa experience. I think my mom rented a costume for the neighbor, Mr. Bouse and he came dressed as Santa. I have pictures. It was pretty awesome. And I was clueless. Even when Mrs. Bouse returned the costume and then apologized profusely, I still didn't get it. It wasn't until mom came to pick us up from Auntie Kathie's one day after school and when we ran to get into her car she said, "Don't look in that bag! Don't get near the car! Get away from here!" or something really bizarre sounding like that, that I began to suspect something was up. All I saw was pink-ness in a bag in the front seat. I didn't see WHAT it was, just pinkness. Then on Christmas day, I got a little pink Hello Kitty bucket in my stocking and the gig was up. I remember feeling like Christmas wasn't quite as fun the following year, without the magic of Santa. I remember feeling a little sad that Santa wasn't real, like when you think your cousins are coming over, but then they don't because they found a better Christmas Eve party, except for without the crying. This year, when Andrew did the jingly bells outside our window while I lay in bed with the girls, the magic was back. The excitement was tangible. I felt a lump in my chest and had to restrain myself from laughing as the girls lay perfectly quiet, paralyzed with anticipation.

Its so funny how we change. I remember sitting in a camper in Mexico, almost exactly 10 years ago listening to my friend Don Carmello fume about the rolling power outages in California, "Hello, people! In the wintertime, people use more electricity, it gets darker earlier, its cold, so they use more heat, then they plug in additional lights for Christmas trees and outside lights. Its crazy." And he's right. Environmentally speaking, its crazy but its part of the magic. When we drove home from Granny's house tonight and the girls said, "Drive by Max Noland's! Drive by the Peace on Earth! Drive by Rudolf! Drive by the blow up Santa!" I felt just as sad as they did that everyone has taken down their Christmas lights. We have to wait another whole year for Christmas magic? Next year, we'll do like our neighbors and buy LED lights. And there's always another holiday to look forward to - Francesca's birthday, Granny's, mine, all in January.

We undecorated our tree today and I plucked about 50 big pine cones off our little tree. I love our tree so much that its still standing, naked in our living room. I'm trying to think of what else we can do with it, and all I can come up with is BURN IT! Maybe we'll haul it up to Granny's for a bonfire. At least that horrid inversion has finally blown out of here. I have never seen the air so nasty in the Grand Valley. But I asked my mom if she had ever seen it like this and she said yes, which points to what I failed to notice in my youth and what I DO notice in my old age . . . yippee pollution and boozy Santas!

Here are the girls at the Palisade Olde Fashioned Christmas.  We rode the camel, then the train ride and then the "two horse open sleighs."  Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of the sleigh rides . . . next year!

Here's Francesca with her beloved stick horse, Cakestar and Cecilia with her sling full of babes.  Actually, it looks like she may have her cow in there.

They're standing in front of our Christmas snowman, but you can't really see it.  I hope we get more snowman snow soon.  The girls have big plans for snowwomen, snowhorses, snowponies, etc.

Hiking Mt. Lincoln in Early December

Here is one of Palisade's hidden treasures, Mt. Lincoln.  We did this hike the weekend before Desiree and Damon left for California, so it was probably around December 7th, check out the warmy goodness.  The approach for the hike is really crumby because access is cut off by the interstate.  We used to get on the interstate, heading East, then get off in Cameo, get back on going West then dive off the right shoulder, right after this curve coming out of Debeque Canyon, but the Highway department wrecked the pull off so its even more unsafe to dive off the interstate and hike than before.  Now, we have to park by the river, walk under the interstate, over the railroad tracks and then up the deer trail to the real trail.  The trail is the old stagecoach trail from back in the day.  Its fun to imagine going up that trail by horse and cart.


Francesca filled her backpack up with "nightcrawlers," which were actually sticks, but don't argue with her!

 

  

Holidays

I haven't been blogging on purpose because I wanted to include pictures so badly, but I think I donated my battery charger (for my camera's dead batteries) to the Migrant Center by mistake.  We had two battery chargers and I was fed up with too much stuff one day and threw one in the give away box.  Unfortunately, I think I did that twice.  So they both are there.  I think they're open tomorrow, so I will go and see if I can buy one back.  Dang.

Christmas time was magical.  Andrew got the idea from a friend at work to get a bunch of jingle bells and run around outside the house on Christmas Eve.  His friend, Scott Hall, told him this hilarious story about getting bells every Christmas Eve and running around the outside of the house, jingling bells, as the children were drifting off to sleep.  He said about the last year he did it, he had older kids and younger ones and he was outside jingling Santa's sleigh bells when he heard his older boys saying, "Shut the f*ck up!  Santa's coming!  Shut the f*ck up!!!"  And he went inside, defeated and told his wife, "Man, we're some parents . . . our kids are dropping F-bombs on Christmas Eve."  Anyway - I didn't know that Andrew was going to do this, so the girls and I were laying in bed and I was telling them that they better get to sleep so that Santa doesn't pass up our house, because we're still awake, blah, blah, blah, mostly just saying shhh!  Enough talking . . . let's go to sleep . . . etc., etc., when all of a sudden . . . we heard the jingling of bells.  Francesca and Cecilia flopped down on their pillows, paralyzed in silence.  Cecilia actually got a little nervous and insisted on lying on my stomach, but Francesca laid down and didn't move or speak for at least ten minutes.  I was speechless, too.  I thought, "Who is that?  Andrew is working late, Granny and Grandpa wouldn't come down here and do that without telling me?"  I had basically decided that it was some crazy neighbor that ran around jingling bells on Christmas Eve.  Francesca was in knots with anticipation.  It was totally awesome.

On Christmas morning, Granny and Grandpa came down to watch the opening of presents.  Santa came through with the Thomas Action Canyon, which takes up half the living room.  Its disassembled in the top of the closet now, and hopefully it will stay there for awhile.  They love it, but its not exactly a creative toy.  Well, I guess they got creative with it when they crumbled dried flower petals all over the tracks and said, "Its snowing!"  But other than that, the electric train goes around, and around, and around.  Cecilia shared her ice cream and she was really happy about it.  The best things in life are simple.  By the end of the day, up at Granny's house, the girls were playing with bubble paper and boxes and having the time of their lives.  Its not what you spend, that's for sure.  I think we've definitely geared down Christmas.  We did the Angel Tree at Family Food Town, because I really want it to be about giving, not getting, but I think they're still a bit young to get that.  They're still in the ego-centric stage.  For some bizarre reason, I thought it would be a good idea to take them to Murdock's to choose a gift for each other and boy was I wrong.  They just showed me everything they wanted, which was everything.  Francesca chose a gift for Zenon, but he was the only one on her list.  I was hoping I would be at the top of her list, but hey.  

New Years was really nice.  Andrew got home early at 4:00 with Pablo's Pizza, so I didn't have to cook.  Not that I don't like cooking, but I think I'm totally burned out by dinner with a 3 and 2 year old.  I realized yesterday that I dread dinnertime and I'm thinking, why?  I like cooking.  I have tons of great food at the house.  What's the deal?  The deal is this:  I cook for an hour or so, set table, light candle, serve food and eat alone.  Andrew is still at work and Cecilia and Francesca may or may not eat.  One bite and "I'm too full!"  Or, "No! Yuck!"  Its exhausting.  Even when Andrew brought home pizza, they ate a few bites and then all hell broke loose for whatever reason and Andrew is like, "Girls!  I thought we would have a nice dinner together, since I don't get to eat dinner with you usually!"  And I'm thinking . . . think again.  And I know that it is just the age.  Dinner won't always be torturous, right?  I won't always have to spoon feed my children, pretend like each bite is a train or a bike or a bus or a plane, right?  Look at me - I can feed myself.  So surely they will want to do it, too, someday.  

I can't help but feel a little sad that the holidays are over.  There is a house in Sobre El Rio with the most beautiful Christmas Lights and this beautiful sparkly sign that says, "Peace on Earth."  We drove by it on the way home from Granny's all the time and it made me a little sad to see that it wasn't lit up tonight.  But we have tons of birthdays to look forward to in January.  

I'm hopeful that 2009 is going to be a fabulous year, full of peace and love and evolution galore.  Ah - galore.  The other day, Cecilia was settling down on my lap to nurse and she said, "Ninny Time galore!"  Where does that kid get her material?  She is hilarious.  I think I'm going to make a little pouch and wear it around my neck, with a little notebook and pencil inside, so I can write down the hilarity, because I always think I'm going to remember, but then I don't!  Argh!  Hopefully tomorrow's post will have pictures . . . keeping my fingers crossed that the battery charger is for sale $.50.