Momservation: Is there any other animal species that will turn their offspring's stinky, crusty socks inside-out for them on laundry day?

☺☺☺

I don’t think enough complaints about laundry can be written. After all, laundry is never ending so shouldn’t my gripes be sorted along with the lights and darks?

I thought cleaning bathrooms was the bane of my existence, but you can put off bathrooms with a good tub of Clorox Wipes® for weeks. Unfortunately, continuing to purchase extra packages of underwear and socks only buys you so much time before people are drying off with toilet paper.

No, laundry is my arch nemesis and skidded underwear its most lethal weapon. Actually, make that my son’s soccer socks – I really need to contact the military to see if those qualify as weapons of mass destruction.

As it is, I think I should be able to file for disability or at least get hazard pay for my parenting duties associated with laundry. I’m getting carpal-tunnel syndrome from spraying stain remover on ALL my son’s clothes. The kid spends more time brushing his teeth than he does with his feet on the ground.

And I’m not naming any names, but let’s just say someone in the house needs a refresher course on how to wipe a bottom. Either that or I’ve got to change the kid’s diet because it’s producing end results that just can’t be contained.

Please, don’t get me started on pocket surprises. I actually screamed aloud and hit my head when I staggered backward the other day. I thought someone had saved a giant booger in their pants, but it turned out to be a little squishy cow pencil topper.

What I wouldn’t give for a day when I don’t have to think about laundry. I’ve even had fantasies about it – drifting off to sleep, the clothes that still need to be folded at my feet, dreaming of a nirvana where clothes don’t get dirty and stinky crusty socks don’t need to be turned inside-out.

As I float along in my fantasyland in a pointless laundry basket, children are eagerly folding and putting away the Immaculate Collection clothing. Wrinkle-free pants and shirts are being joyfully hung by helpful husbands. Underwear and sock drawers are bottomless and pit-stains are nonexistent. And instead of owning a washer, dryer, iron and plethora of “h.e” safe cleaning products I am released from the bondage of laundry to frolic in a field of daisy’s with Orlando Bloom.

Okay, see you guys later. This is a whole other fantasy now and I’m not sharing Orlando. 

Momservation: Only with kids and dads is a good fart a crowd pleaser.

☺☺☺

So there we were, sitting having a nice family dinner and conversation like we do every night there’s not soccer/basketball/baseball/softball (I guess this would make it a Thursday or Sunday).

Suddenly, there’s the distinctive muffled rumble and scent of somebody who just ripped one.

Followed by laughter.

From Daddy.

Which then of course gets the culprit and her approving brother rolling.

Trying to set a better example and appropriate table manners I ask toward the offender - who instead of blushing with embarrassment is now high-fiving her dad, “What do you say?”

In response, rather than an “excuse me” her brother interjects, “Nice one!”

More out of control laughter. My daughter goes for an opportunity to garner more laughs by pretending to choke on her milk in mirth, spraying it all over her unfinished plate.

Before I can admonish her, a louder chair muffled, “rrrrrrnnnt” comes underneath the table from her.

The sound of pure joy breaks out around the table. “Dude, you better check your shorts on that one!” says Daddy nearly in tears. My son, beaming with pride, falls out of his chair in hilarity onto the floor.

While down there he gasps out between guffaws, “Aww, man, I think the dog farted too!”

This time, Whitney really did choke on her milk at this new assault on her funny bone. Everyone’s gasp-for-breath laughing except me, but I can fill the corners of my mouth twitching as I resist the contagious amusement not wanting to cave to such poor manners.

Now of course, the king of farts can’t resist an opportunity to show his loyal subjects why he is the ruler of the land. My husband, at the dinner table, dramatically shifts his weight and lifting his left butt-cheek from the chair pollutes our ears and noses with the Hiroshima of fart bombs.

The kids explode with laughter. Hubby looks across the table at me, grinning from ear to ear, but with the look of a child who knows they’re about to get in trouble.

Only now does it occur to my family of dinner table farters that they may have crossed over the lines of decency. The kids apprehensively turn toward me, trying to reel themselves in by smothering giggles.

Looking at each person, letting the moment of reckoning settle over them I finally say,

“Daddy’s got nothing on me. When you come snuggle with Mommy tonight right before bed, I’m gonna hot-box you all like you wouldn’t believe.”

And to punctuate my point I ripped off my own fart and joined the laughter.

*If that hasn’t grossed you out enough and made you not want to join the Wheeler’s for dinner, then you obviously haven’t read Family Ear Wax Night…

Momservation: If you could bottle up the combined energy of kids and puppies, there would be no need for nuclear energy – it’s already wiped out my house.

☺        ☺        ☺

                        You’d think this would be the face of innocence.  
                                            

There’s been a lot of frustration, tears and anger at our house lately, and I’m not just talking me losing it with puppy training.

No, it’s kids vs. puppy and the casualties are mounting.

Nothing has been chewed up or destroyed, at least not on my watch, thank goodness. There is no way I want to deal with the fall-out of a favorite blankie or stuffed animal meeting a vicious and untimely end.

It’s been more like sniper shots. Quick, lethal and totally unexpected.

Like a baby, Darby – 12 weeks, gets overstimulated, overtired and overexcited and rather than crying, she gets nippy. I’ve learned to watch for the signs and remove her from the situation, but the kids still need to learn to watch their backs.

What my kids, Logan - 10 and Whitney – 8, just don’t understand is their behavior affects Darby’s behavior. They’re hyper, she’s hyper. They run, she runs. They’re loud, noisy and full of energy – she’s right there with them barking, jumping, eager to play – rough and with razor sharp baby teeth.

And as hard as they try to be the boss and redirect her behavior, she sees them as big puppies, playmates, equals. They can try to give their deepest and most authoritative “No!” but their young, high pitched voices just don’t carry any weight.

So in the fight for who’s the Alpha Dog in the bunch, well, Darby’s winning.

I can work on her manners all day with great success, but the second the kids come tumbling in the house from school all excited to play with their puppy, everything goes out the window without their cooperation and consistency.

I don’t blame my kids. Who wants to be calm and authoritative around a fuzzy, adorable, excitable lump of squirming love?

Unfortunately, they’re learning the hard way they need to be.

To date Logan has 30 scratches, 3 bites (one on the nose) and one favorite football jersey with a hole in it. Two of those incidents brought my tough guy to tears.

Whitney has 29 scratches, 2 bites and about a dozen shirts with holes in them plus a nightgown. My rough tough cream puff has also been brought to tears twice.

So what have we all learned from this?

Either learn to play by Puppies for Dummies rules or be dominated by a 24-pound deliciously cute pooch who isn’t afraid to bring you to tears with an innocent, yet perfectly placed sniper shot of puppy teeth.

Either that or keep a low profile until the puppy teeth fall out.

Momservation: Today was such a tough day to be “Mom” that I needed my mommy.

☺        ☺        ☺     

    Ever wake up and want to call in sick to being Mom?

Maybe it was because I went away for a girls’ weekend and got a taste of nobody needing me, whining my name, expecting me to do something for them or having to drive somebody somewhere.

Getting away from it all for a weekend in Tahoe with some skiing thrown in was supposed to recharge my batteries so I would return a pleasant Mommy again, happy to my job.

It didn’t take.

It’s not just that you can never escape from the never-ending laundry, the constant bickering and it being the right thing to do to feed your family on a regular basis. It just hurts my brain and instantly fatigues me before I even open my eyes in the morning when I start processing all that needs to be done free of charge, unappreciated and without hazard pay.

Then the worst part is instead of still dreaming about being stuck in an elevator with Orlando Bloom, my rising pulse is now caused by guilt about being a bad mother. What mom doesn’t want to see the beautiful, sweet faces of her children first thing in the morning?

How about a mom who knows those faces will be whining for their favorite shirt at the bottom of the dirty laundry, panicking that a field trip form isn’t signed and due today, and demanding that her brother get out the bathroom and leave her alone? And that’s only the beginning.

Copy, paste, repeat until the weekend when they then wake me with fighting over the remote, demanding to know where an athletic uniform of some sort is, and thinking the only way to eat food is if Mom leads them like a pack of starving wolves to the refrigerator.

Now don’t get me wrong – on a general, overall, everyday basis I like my life, I love my kids, I adore my family, but MAN is it exhausting to be so happy. It’s just some days you wake up and the ol’ tank is empty and it’s overwhelming to think there are no days off when you’re a mom.

Even if you have a heck of an excuse like being trapped in an elevator with a young, delicious, Brit who wants you to take him to Cougartown.

Momservation: If your kids aren’t mad at you or hate you at some point, then you’re not doing your job as a parent.

☺        ☺        ☺

After recently bringing a puppy into our lives, I’ve come to realize there’s not a lot of difference between raising kids and dogs.

(Cat’s don’t count because they just want you to leave them the hell alone – which I guess would mean there’s not a lot of difference between raising teenagers and cats, but I’m not quite there yet.)

When your kids are little it is so important to teach them what the rules are, what’s expected of them and what won’t fly. Then you have to reinforce the behavior you’re looking for with repetition, consistency and praise.

And treats are key.

Sounds about the same as training a dog, right?

I like to think I’ve got good, obedient kids. I take great pride in knowing we made it through the early years without one of them being known as “The Biter” or being blacklisted from any parks. So applying the same obedience strategy, I’m working hard to make sure our puppy, Darby, doesn’t ruin my streak. Here are my basic rules:

Ten Rules for Obedient Kids and Dogs

1. Nobody likes a biter. Zero tolerance policy on aggression. Nip it (HA!) in the bud with severe consequences that don’t include more violence.
2. Play nicely with others. If you can’t play nice, then it’s time to go home or have some time alone. If you want to have a friend, be a friend.
3. Do what you’re told the first time. You undermine your authority if you allow anything else.
4. Manners count. Being on your best behavior at all times will earn you affection and respect.
5. Don’t beg. It’s a nuisance and it should never be given in to.
6. Good behavior = Reward. Positive reinforcement is a powerful tool. Love, affection and praise are basic cravings. And who can resist a good treat?
7. Share with friends. Selfishness should be discouraged because it can lead to other antisocial behaviors.
8. Everything has its place. Have designated areas for eating, sleeping, going potty, keeping toys, playing, etc. Consistency with these boundaries creates security.
9. Make good choices. Make it clear what your expectations are and reward for resisting temptation. Soon they’ll be able to do it on their own.
10. Set a good example. Keeping your temper and frustrations in check will teach appropriate response and behavior and keep anxiety levels down.

Momservation: “You need a license to buy a dog, or drive a car, hell you can get a license to catch a fish, but they’ll let any butt-reaming a**hole be a father.” Keanu Reeves, “Parenthood”
 

  
 ☺        ☺        ☺

I work best from a manual. I like to have step-by-step instructions on what to do and what should happen next. I also like the security of knowing if I forget something or it doesn’t pan out right I can just go back to the book.

For example, I was all over those What to Expect When You’re Expecting, The Girlfriends Guide to Pregnancy and What to Expect The First Year books with my first baby. I ate those books up like Jared eats Subway.

If the book told me to keep an eating and potty journal I did. If it instructed how to best get an infant to sleep through the night, I followed it to the letter with unwavering consistency. When it showed a chart graphing how babies gradually cry less and less the older they get, I wrote on my calendar the date when there would be more laughing than crying in my house (Mommy included).

Go ahead and roll your eyes, but I’ll have you know both my children walked well before a year, spoke complete sentences at 18 months, were completely potty trained by 20 months, and learned how to ride bikes when they were three.

Call it Type-A personality, good genes, or baby boot camp (that would be Hubby), but I’ll tell you it was a good instruction manual. In my effort to be a good parent I’m not ashamed to seek out advice, help, or use a book that has the word “For Dummies” blazed on the cover.

Now there are some people (read Hubby here) who like to wing it. Whether it be assembling a 50-part game table at midnight on Christmas Eve or throwing together beef stew sans recipe, some people flat out don’t like someone telling them their business.

Unfortunately, opposites attract and those of us who do like instructions are usually stuck with people who keep us up until three in the morning reassembling game tables and eating beef stew that tastes like chicken.

So imagine my surprise when prior to bringing home our new puppy Hubby brings home the book Puppies for Dummies. And it wasn’t for me – it was for him!

Knock me over with a feather, he actually read the book too! This from a man who won’t read anything unless it’s in a bathroom and he’s got some time to kill. But it was great to see him finally subscribing to my theory that life just seems easier when it comes with instructions.

Obviously, the book is great – as I knew it would be. When nine week-old Darby started getting nippy with the kids we turned to the book and learned she was overtired and over-stimulated. When Darby started stealing socks the book taught us a technique to squelch the behavior. We have turned to the book for issues with clothing assault, object envy and crate training and we continue to have success with raising a well-mannered puppy.

Oh, and I’m claiming fully potty-trained by 10 weeks.

Don’t think I can do it?

Did I mention both my kids at ages four and five were riding their bikes 12 miles a week next to me while I went jogging? Okay, that might just be good athletic genetics, but check Parenting for Dummies – I bet it’s in there under How to get Your Kids to Go Right to Bed.

Momservation: They say the true pain of childbirth fades otherwise mothers wouldn’t have more children. Obviously we also forget the pain of infancy and toddler years or else we wouldn’t ever get puppies either.

☺        ☺        ☺

 Darby Diamond Sky Wheeler, 
                                                           8 wks, 12lbs, 20 in. 
                                                                          Momma and fuzzy baby are doing well.

Right now I am dashing off this blog while the baby is sleeping. I only have a limited amount of time to try and accomplish anything because once she wakes up the baby demands my full attention.

There’s the feeding. Then making sure she’s gone potty. Some playtime for stimulation. Close supervision so she doesn’t hurt herself or break something. Realizing there’re more things I need to do to baby-proof the house. Hopefully after a few hours of that she’ll be ready for her nap and I’ll be able to sneak in a shower.

New baby? No, new puppy. But really, it’s the same.

Oh, how quickly we forget the tied down, all consuming, rigorous schedule of babies, toddlers and puppies once we have left those years safely in our rear view.

I have always said the newborn years weren’t my best genre. I still occasionally suffer some Post Traumatic Stress when I smell Desitin.

The toddler years I did better, because they’re much more interactive and receptive to bribery.

The pre-kindergarten years I was like a relay runner sprinting to the next leg, giving it all I had because I knew I was almost done and I could pass the baton to California educational system.

And the school years have been my favorite yet. I still celebrate every year’s Back to School day doing absolutely nothing unless it involves chocolate.

So why on earth would someone, who was so desperate to not go through all of that again that she had her Hubby get a vasectomy on Father’s Day weekend because it was the first date available, get a puppy?

Because puppies are the Clif Note version of early childhood. All the joys of adding another family member but with a quicker learning curve and they don’t talk back.

Before I know it Little Miss Darby won’t need to get up in the middle of the night. She’s well on her way to being potty trained. She already will eat whatever I put in front of her. I don’t need a babysitter when I leave her, just some good crate training. And after I play with her for a little bit, she just sits at my feet and lets me work. At nine weeks old.

My non-fuzzy kids are eight and ten years old. I still haven’t gotten them to do that.

Momservation: If time is a thief then Facebook, Twitter and YouTube are its accomplices.

☺        ☺        ☺


The stocking are STILL hung by the chimney with care...

Where does the time go? (If you are my husband please don’t answer that. I already know I have a Bejeweled problem.)

Is it really time to pick up the kids already? But I can’t! I still have to pick up the dry cleaning, stop by the store, change the laundry, figure out what’s for dinner and update my status on Facebook…

You realize I wish that last one was a joke.

Seriously, we moms know there is not enough time in the day to get everything done. And especially if you’re working full-time, there’s not enough time in this life.

So with all the things that need to get done and always being pressed for time, someone please tell me why the heck am I still stopping to update my status on Facebook and tweet the answer to the world’s problems?

In fact, I don’t even know why I’m writing this blog since it’s not the writing I do that makes me any money! And as my house continues to close in around me in heaps of countertop piles and closets threatening to burst forth and swallow my family whole, any writing right now deserves writer’s block.

Which leads me to:

Things I Should Be Doing Instead of Writing This Blog

• Taking down and putting away my Christmas decorations that have started mocking my improved organization resolution.
• Buying groceries so my kids don’t have to pick fuzzy green spots off their cheese and bread before making their lunches.
• Starting laundry before everyone in the house has to go commando.
• Sweeping the kitchen floor because my floor is starting to look more stocked than my fridge with food.
• Mopping the floors before it’s mistaken for a Twister mat.
• Paying the bills that still haven’t disappeared after pretending I didn’t see them.
• Cleaning the bathrooms because shutting the door forever just isn’t an option.
• Vacuuming the house before the dust bunnies and mites join forces and take over.
• Figuring out what’s for dinner so we don’t have to have left over left-overs.
• Putting away everything left on the counters because everyone’s pockets, backpacks, bedrooms, closets, and drawers may actually be totally empty now.
• Empty the dishwasher so I can load the dishes in the sink because we ran out of paper plates and plastic forks.
• Pick up toys, shoes, clothes, blankets and pillows I’m tired of tripping over while waiting for a child to actually do what they were supposed to do.

Of course, I could keep going but I’m only overwhelming and disgusting myself more and I just got a message on Facebook I really should answer…

Momservation: Love Christmas. Love the end of Christmas break even more and want to marry it.

☺        ☺        ☺

There’s nothing like seeing your kids heading into the halls of knowledge in search of expanded education.

Who am I kidding? My tires were screeching from the curb as I practically threw the kids out the car, eager for my freedom and to let silence reign in my home again.

I love my babies, but I’ve always been a big believer in separation makes the heart grow fonder. We definitely need a build up of love around here – especially between brother and sister. We began the day with sister getting her fingers smashed in a door by brother because they were fighting over who got to use the bathroom first. Forget that we have two bathrooms – THAT would be too easy a solution.

I then end up screaming at my son, and there we were, right back in the normal morning routine as if two weeks of peace and love in the spirit of the holiday season never happened.

Are we sure we’ve rolled over to 2010 here because I’m having a little déjà vu of 2009?

If it’s true those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it, I better go back and take a peek at the last year’s blog topics so I make the most of my do-over for Mother of the Year (although I might have already blown it this morning thanks to a few choice words yelled at high decibels).

Take a peek with me and see if we can learn from my mistakes and all save ourselves the hurt and pain of another rejection letter from the MOTY nominating committee…

In January we kicked the year off with…

Family Ear Wax Night – Some families have Game Night. Some families have Movie Night. Our family looks in each other’s ears for the biggest field of ear wax potatoes. It was a low point in our family history, but highly entertaining. Also explains why no one listens in this house…

The Flu Virus Smackdown – After the family battles a nasty flu bug before there was a hysteria over swines with runny noses, I swear to get flu shots next time. Got the 1^st round of H1N1 shots for the kids this last fall, but they ran out of the required booster. Still flying unprotected but feeling lucky this January…

In February it was already getting rocky with…

Careful What You Wish For – A week off for “Ski Week” gives the kids their wish for no school only to lay around moaning they’re bored with constant bickering. Fell out of the running for Mother of the Year early when I snapped, going into a screaming monologue ending with, “Mommies don’t get vacations!”

What Would the Donner Party Do? – How did the Donner Party survive without a DVD player in their covered wagon? Reflections upon all the things I thought I’d do right when I had kids vs. the reality of lowering your standards.

In March things went south with…

Name That Putrid Smell – I have never been so disgusted to find exactly what I’ve been looking for. The source of which made the family SUV smell like a rolling stinky cheese factory and made me forever ban milk in our to-go Happy Meals in favor of sodas and adding to the childhood obesity problem.

Grease is Still the Word (Though Slightly Censored) – Didn’t realize I belonged in the Fuddy-Duddy Club with my dad until it was my turn to relive the original “High School Musical” movie, “Grease,” with my own kids. Who knew my first musical love was so nasty? Apparently Dad…

In April things continued to get sticky…

Will Work for Candy – An ode to Easter candy and why Mommy’s gaining calories instead of losing them when she cleans the house.

A No Good Very Bad Mommy – But the PMS made me do it! A low point in my mommy career when I just couldn’t stop myself from saying something stupid.

In May things start looking up…

I Won Mother of the Year!! – Implausible but true if you believe what you see. Great Mother’s Day accolades as funny viral video fools my kids into thinking the world now knows what they know – Mom’s the best.

Hair Today Gone Tomorrow – After patiently waiting for 18 month, my son finally voluntarily cuts his shaggy-dog hair. Which was good because pretty soon protecting self-image and self-esteem was not going to trump looking like an idiot.

In June things take a turn for the worse…

This is Not a Drill – My daughter becomes the winner of the first broken appendage and cast in the family just in time for summer vacation. We’re just glad her brother had nothing to do with it.

Goodbye Fuzzy Baby – The first born of our family, our 14 year-old yellow Lab, Kyber, is gone and 100 dog years seems too soon to say goodbye. My mother’s heart is broken.

In July we bounce back with…

The Dangers of Running, Jumping and Pivoting – Forget doctor’s orders, nothing can stop the resiliency of children. Especially an eight year old girl with a cast determined to keep living an action packed summer.

Bear Smorgasbord and a 250 Pound Racoon – What’s more fun than camping, leaving your garbage out and avoiding the truth? How about a bear feet from your tent and a ten year old son who thinks he just saw the world’s largest raccoon…

In August things got hectic…

Operation Haven’t-Aged-a-Day – It takes some simple words from an eight year old to put in perspective what really matters in the face of a 20-year high school reunion.

I Survived Summer Vacation – An action-packed summer is worthy of a commemorative T-shirt or at the very least gain some traction for a Mother of the Year nomination.

In September we’re trying to hang in there…

Mom’s Top Ten Rules for Kids – Time for some ground rules and to quit repeating myself (at high decibels).

(Not So) Proud Parenting Moment – You can do your best to raise good kids and yet you can still go so wrong. Like having a son who thinks his sister is going to wind up “a lonely old lady who talks to her cats” if she doesn’t get married…

In October some time for reflecting…

God Bless America and Other Expletives – You are not truly a mother until you utter tried and true phrases you used to hate – including “I don’t care who started it” and “Do I look like a waitress to you?”

Striving to be My Best Possible Self – Taking a 2-day break from being Mom to join 25,000 women at The Women’s Conference is a good reminder the world may be much larger than me but I am worthy of leaving my mark.

In November we’re barely hanging on…

Parenting Disney Style – After a trip to Disney World it becomes evident these are the people we need in charge. Taking a page from their playbook might just be the way to make our own homes the happiest place on earth.

Diary of a CEO (Chief of Everything Officer) – Flashing back to the chronicles of just one hectic day as the mother of a three and five year old proves that we moms need a raise.

And in December we’re just happy to have survived another year of parenthood with another shot at Mother of the Year 2010…

Holiday Momservations™ - If I have learned nothing as a mother it is that clothes for Christmas is right up there with lima beans for dinner and if you have a toddler, go ahead and throw your heirloom glass ornaments on the ground right now to get it over with.

A Holiday Hit and Run – Did Someone

See That Christmas That Hit Me? – The miracle of Christmas might just be that we survive it. A list of reasons I was too busy to write this blog.

Momservation: The miracle of Christmas might just be that we survive it.

☺        ☺        ☺

I WAS TOO BUSY TO WRITE THIS BLOG BECAUSE:

… I was putting away my Halloween decorations so I could put out my Christmas decorations.

… I was making my husband and kids stand by every potential perfect Christmas tree in the lot, then spent another half hour making them spin the trees for final inspection and selection.

… I was procrastinating putting the lights on the Christmas tree and instead went outside to nag my husband about putting all the exterior lights on properly.

… I had to clean my house before I could put decorations out although I did consider passing off dust bunnies as garland and disguising my laundry piles as the three wise men.

… I needed to get 10 tubs of Christmas decorations put out before it became an exercise in futility and I just gave up and put the Valentine decorations out instead.

… My Christmas cards still refused to address themselves and I couldn’t let a great silly family photo go unseen by 150 of my closest friends and family. Or people who I forgot until they sent me a card and then I had to scramble to send them one.

… I had to keep the tradition alive and get a photo with Santa and the kids even if it meant hitting the strip mall Santa two towns over with his security guard to avoid the long lines at the local mall.

… I was racing from store to store in search of elusive toys requested from Santa. The older the kids, the harder it is to redirect them to what they really want (and what you already bought).

… of Christmas shopping. The closer it gets to Christmas the better those As Seen On TV! junk starts to look like perfect gifts for the ones you love.

… I’m wrapping presents. The first few gifts are festive, glorious works of paper art and ribbon. The rest are lucky to have tape and it scrawled somewhere on it who it’s for with a Sharpie®.

… I’m trying to be the first in line at the post office. If I took into account how much it cost to mail presents to loved ones far away, they’d all be getting feather dusters or sock slippers.

… I was just notified by my children I need to get teacher gifts, bring something for the class Christmas party, a Secret Santa gift, a book for a book exchange, food and unwrapped toy to donate to needy families, and to show up for a last minute go-ahead on a non-denominational school holiday musical they’re performing in.

… I was too busy tipping back liquid courage at holiday parties to get me through the rest of the Christmas season.

… I decided to watch “Home Alone” with the kids and laugh at every weenie hit and fall down a flight of stairs with them.

… we ordered pizza then went for a family drive to look at neighborhood Christmas lights.

… the kids and I had fun in the kitchen making holiday cookies together, then brought them to friends and neighbors.

… we turned on “The Chipmunk Song,” “Nuttin’ For Christmas,” “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer,” and danced and sang until our sides hurt from laughing.

… I gave the kids money and took them “dime store” shopping, getting a kick out of the gifts they selected for loved ones.

… I was busy popping popcorn and watching classic Christmas cartoons with the kids.

… I need to save energy for those “some assembly required” gifts that need to be put together midnight Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. See you in 2010!