O Tannenbaum . . .

Or, more accurately,

O TannenBOMB.

Ha!  Now that was clever.  I thought of that hours ago and just could not wait to post it.

I have nothing better to do.

Plus I feel sickly and my husband is going to be late tonight.  He is earning "World's 

Greatest Husband" award by going to do the big, holiday grocery shop tonight before coming home. 

Holla!

It's annoying when I say, "holla," isn't it?

Back to the tree, nay the TannenBOMB.

I really wanted a nice tree.  I had hopes and dreams of a magical Christmas display.

I am numb, folks.

Numb.

My boys are set on ruining my life.  I am sure this is all their faults.  Do you see how the lights have been pulled off and shoved on again? Do you see that the ornaments have no order?

Do you see how the tree has lost its will to live?

This is because of my boys.  Since we have brought this lovely tree into our home, the boys have:

A) Redecorated it.

B)  Ran their trucks into it.

C)  Jumped off the couch into the tree.

D)  Knocked the tree over whilst I was in the shower.

E)  Put the tree right side up whilst I was in the shower.

What can we learn from this?

Well.  I should never shower.

Today, Little Dude wrote on the walls with a pencil while I was in the shower.

Two days ago, Handsome Dude tried to fix himself breakfast and poured milk all over the floor.  Where was I?  In the shower.

Three months ago, Handsome Dude released a bunny that resulted in its untimely death.  Me?  Showering.

I shall live out my days soiled and smelly.

I am not getting a new tree.  We have made due thus far and there is no turning back.  I am hoping for about 30% greenery on Christmas morn.

So.  Earlier I was in a "Woe is me I am such a bad Christmas Mom" kind of mood.  But, I am happy to announce that I got festive.

I pulled out the crafty-junk and let the kids have at it.

The kids made and decorated their own Christmas trees.

Perhaps it was their subtle way of hinting to me that the actual Christmas tree was no longer cutting it for them.

I was declared Mother of the Holiday Season and all I had to do was outline a few tree shapes.

Which were mediocre at best, but nevertheless, the kids were astounded.

Sweet Pea and her tree, complete with presents and snow at the bottom.

Daisy Mae and her tree.

Handsome Dude and his tree.

Let the records show that I did not trace that one.

Little Dude eating sandwich crusts.

All Little Dude did was eat and ink himself up with some sweet tatts on his fingers.

Yes.  I said tatts.

What of it?

Then we had a picnic with star (see! festive!) sandwiches and a movie.

A Christmas movie, I will have you know.

And Handsome Dude won't stop singing, "If you sit on my lap today, a kiss a toy is the price you'll pay" over and over.

(Name that movie)

And now I have to question whether or not that movie is appropriate for young audiences.

Or any audience.

Things to ponder.

So, there!  We spent the day with much yuletide-ish merriment.

Later Dudes!

A Holly Jolly List.

Hold on to your pants folks!  We've got a lot a whole lotta nothing to talk about.

1.  Last week, Lucy left a deer's leg on our porch, complete with hair and hoof. 

LucyFur.

This is my life.

Jealous?

2.  Little Dude had his well check at the doctor recently.  Little Dude is an easy going dude for the most part.  But when he doesn't like something, he simply will not do it.

Guess what he hates?

Getting weighed.

Do you know what happens when your child throws a gigantic fit at the doctor's office and refuses to get weighed?  They punish you by making you get weighed with him and then weighed by yourself.

Simple mathematic calculations will reveal your son's weight and the truth about your weight.

And I had a sweater on.

And a belt.

And shoes.

And a semi-full bladder.

And I had eaten.

And I was wearing pants.

Oh the humanity!

I am guessing I can shave at least ten pounds off.

3.  I have created my holiday menu.  Would you like to know what I am serving my guests?

Ham, mashed potatoes, carrots, fruit salad, rolls, yams, green salad, pumpkin pie, fudge, and magic cookie bars.

Ok.  I lied.  My mom is bringing the rolls, yams, and green salad.  But I am taking care of the rest!

Look at me with my big-girl-cooking-up-a-family-style-holiday-meal pants on!

Also, I am going to attempt to make my grandmother's famous cherry ham sauce.

I am hoping it will mask all other flavors of the meal.

4.  Notice how I removed elk from the menu.  I was feeling pretty holly jolly.  Tis the season!

5.  My boys knocked over the Christmas tree yesterday.

Which was shocking because the boys rarely get into any mischief.

If you thought my tree looked dead before:



You should see it now!

Fun Fact:  I am too lazy to take a picture of the tree in its current condition.  That picture was from awhile ago.

6.  I feel like I need to do something festive with my kids today.  Something like a craft or bake cookies.  But I stink at all that stuff. 

Case in point:



Our homemade nativity scene.

Somebody come make Christmas magical for my children post haste.

7.  And feed me cookies.

8.  Is anyone reading this?  Probably not.

People are probably all busy making magical memories with their children.

Show-offs.

9.  I would like to announce that I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, have exercised for two days in a row!  TWO DAYS!

Bikini body here I come!

10.  I just now realized I forgot to make a gingerbread house with my children this year.

What kind of a mother am I?

A lame one.

Happy Wednesday!

Fancy Schmancy

Our trip started early Thursday morning.  The plan was for me and my dad to leave with all my kids on Thursday morning and my mom, LJ, and my niece and nephew to leave Thursday night.

Why?

It's a long story.  Just go with it.

My goal on Thursday was to be driving away by 7:15am to pick up my dad no later than 8.  I went out to start the rig.  But the rig would not start.

GoshDarnIt.

So, I called my husband.

LJ:  What's up?

Me:  The car won't start.

LJ:  Are you serious?

Me:  Why would I joke about such things!?

I will admit, I was a bit snippy.

LJ:  Ok.  You are going to need to jump it.

Fantastic.

Guess how many times Taylor has jumped a rig?

Me:  Ok.  Can you talk me through it?

LJ:  First you need to pop the hood.

And that, my friends, is where it all went downhill.  You would think that a woman who is 29 years old, has birthed four children, homeschools said children, and knows how to make her own jam (holla!) would be able to simply pop open the hood of the ginormous rig her husband requires her to drive around.

But, no.  No.  No.  No.

LJ calls a few minutes later to check on me.  And I may or may not have been crying.  Or wailing. 

Because, herein lies the problem.

There is no other vehicle option for me on this trip.  And we have to get to the rehearsal on that very night for the wedding my girls are flower girls for.  And I live too far for anyone to help me.  And the car was completely packed with all our stuff.  And the kids' coats were already on.

Do you know how long it takes to get all the kids coats on?

And, most importantly, WHY CAN'T I POP THE STUPID HOOD?

So.  My husband and his apprentice had to leave the job and come open the hood and jump the rig.

And me and my dad got an almost 2 hour late start and I had a crying headache for the rest of the day.

So that was fun.

For the last 2 hours of the trip, Little Dude screamed.  I mean, he seriously screamed.  The kid did not sleep ONCE during that car trip.  Not once.  The only way I could calm him down was to play his favorite song over and over and over and over and over.

His song of choice?  "Tractor Tractor" by Andrew Peterson and Randall Goodgame.  Have you heard this?

Anyways.  We got the flower girls to the rehearsal 40 minutes late, which was really courteous on our part.  Then we went to the dinner at 8pm where Little Dude flirted with and wowed everyone with his charming self.

Me and my dad did not fall for his boyish charms, however, for we know the truth about Little Dude.  The truth being that he can be quite particular and cranky.  So we just glared at him from across the table as he entertained his adoring fans.

On Friday, we took the kids to the ocean and I wrote all about that nonsense yesterday.

Saturday was the wedding.

Everyone got all fancified.

My dad and my niece.

My mom with my nephew and my son, Handsome Dude.  Oddly enough, Handsome Dude was not cooperating and was not in the mood to sit still.

Which is weird for Handsome Dude.

"Look!  We both have glasses!  I know how to break them, you know, if you don't want to wear them.  I do it all the time.  Drives my mom crazy.  She needs to chill."

Sister Meagan in all her bridesmaid-ish glory.

Flower girl Daisy Mae.

Fun Fact:  During the saying of the vows, the groom got choked up and my daughter started giggling quite loudly.

Aunt Meagan had to nip that in the bud.

Flower Girl, Sweet Pea, watching the bride and groom say their vows.  Umm . . . isn't she too young to think this stuff is so enchanting?

After the pastor prayed, Little Dude yelled, "My Turn!" and began to pray.

Don't worry.  My family was only slightly disruptive.

My sister and I decided we should have a special photo of ourselves to capture this moment in time.

Regretfully, we enlisted The Lumberjack to take this photo.

Which was a mistake of gigantic proportions.

And he was being really annoying about it and trying to bug us.

Which is really weird for LJ.

LJ:  You guys look dumb.

Me:  Thanks.  Take a nice picture.

LJ:  I am done.

Meagan:  Take the picture.

Me:  Don't use the flash.

LJ:  I want to use the flash.

Me:  No!  It makes it look worse.

LJ:  I disagree.  I am using the flash.

Me:  No.

LJ:  Yes.

Me:  No.

LJ:  Yes.

Meagan:  For the love of everything, David.  Don't use the flash.

LJ:  ha ha!  Meagan looks stupid.

Meagan:  Whatever, Dave.

Then me and Meagan had to discuss with the entire table just how annoying David truly is.

Because he is.

Aaaaaaannnnnnndddddd . . . . I love him.

Then my mom wanted to be in the picture.

And the vicious cycle began again.

Somehow, my parents ended up at the kid table.

Don't look so dismayed, Dad.

You are there because you look so spry and youthful.

Sweet Pea caught the bouquet.

And even got to dance with her dad.

And he was thrilled to be out there, might I add.

And he was also thrilled to be wearing his dressy Carhartts and his going-to-town boots.

Yes.  It was a snazzy weekend.

Happy Tuesday!

The Christmas Card

We finally arrived home after our whirlwind road trip.  I am very busy and very behind and my laundry pile might have eaten Lucy.  She sure is quiet in there.

Lucy?  Quiet? 

Has the world gone mad?

Friends are coming over in two hours.  The house needs to be vaccuumed.

I promised myself I wouldn't blog.

I always let myself down.

So.  I don't have time to do a full recap.  Wouldn't be prudent at this juncture. (Name that actor). 

I will, however, make time for a Goober Parent Update.

For they bring life and joy and purpose to this blog.

***

For this trip, our group involved my parents, my family, my sister, and my niece and nephew.  My brother and his wife could not come, but they sent their kids along.  It is somewhat rare for all six of my parents' grandchildren to be together at once, seeing as how my brother and I live two and a half hours away from each other.

As we were driving, my mother had an epiphany.

This is never good.

Mom:  Hey!  Taylor!  Can you take a picture of all the grandkids for a Christmas card?

Me:  Mom.  Today is December 17th.  And we are on a vacation.  How are you going to pull this off?

Dear Readers.  Do you remember my Christmas card drama with her last year? 

What would this woman do without me?

No.

This woman is not able to accomplish this great feat on her own.

Why?

Because:

A)  She does not ever know where her camera is.

B)  If she did know where it was, the batteries would be dead.

C)  If the batteries were alive and juicy, the memory card would be full.

Fun Fact:  Whenever my mom's memory card is full, she simply buys a new one.

D)  If the memory card had space, she would not know how to use the timer.

E)  If she did actually get a picture, she would not know how to extract the picture from the tricky camera.

F)  If she was able to get the picture onto the computer (and trust me, she could not) she would not know how to upload it to Costco.

Fun Fact:  If I tell her to go to www.costco.com, she tells me it will be easier to just Google it.

Question:  Who told this woman about Google?

Even Funner Fact:  Once she forgot how to find Google, so she went to Yahoo and searched for it.

G)  If she does get this picture to Costco, she will not know how to make a card.

H)  If she did make a card, she would not know how to order the cards.

I)  If she did place an order, finding her Costco membership number would be a hurdle.

J)  If she did order the cards, she would never find the time to pick them up.

K)  She would also forget to buy stamps.

And, in conclusion,

L)  She never knows where her address book is.

The woman should just give up her dreams of a Christmas card.

Nevertheless.

I was there with her, complete with a functioning camera and computer and the capabilitiy to place an online Costco order.

And so, we set off to make a card.

Since we were going to the ocean, mother decided a beach scene would be ideal for her festive card.

This may come as a shock to you all, but we do not live in a warm, tropical area of the world.

So, winter coats were the attire for the group.

Group photo attempt #1:

It was deemed unacceptable.

Group Photo Attempt #2:

Mom:  Now, Taylor.  Try to make my hair look not-so-windy.

Group Photo Attempt #3:

We have a winner!

My sister, Meagan, felt that she needed to send out cards for the first time ever.

Meagan is my younger, unmarried sister.

She would like to use this photo of her, LJ, and Little Dude:

I told her that the caption should read:

"Hello, friends!  I am sorry I have not kept in touch over the past couple of years.  A lot has changed!"

Hardy-har-har.

So, the kids loved spending time at the ocean and my ma got her Christmas card photo taken care of.

Regretfully, I forgot to bring sunblock.

So.

That was the ocean trip.

And later at the hotel, I helped my ma create her festive card and we placed an order for her to pick it up when we arrived home on Sunday night.

And did she pick them up?

No, dear readers.

No.

She did not.

She seems to think Christmaas will simply wait for her.

Happy Monday!

Good King Wenchlaburg

Today is the Hodgepodge Day.  Hop on over to Joyce's blog if you would like to play along!

1. What does it mean to have the 'holiday spirit'?

Well.

I can show you what it means to not have the holiday spirit.

Please examine this picture that my girls took of my husband on Joyous-Fun-Christmas-Tree-Decorating-Night.

He really loves all things festive.

2. What sits atop your tree (s)? Why?

 

We have always had an angel.

This year's angel would like to "abandon ship."

I can't say that I blame her.

I am not the best of decorators.

Look!  Here is our homemade nativity scene:

I know what you are all thinking . . .

"Taylor!  You truly must begin a crafting section on this blog!"

All in good time, my dear readers.

All in good time.

Anyways.

My tree is a trainwreck.

It is dying a slow and messy death.

I have no idea why . . .

LucyFur.

 

3. When was the last time you gave yourself a pat on the back?

When was the last time I didn't?

Oh, just kidding.

Probably when I came up with that superb nativity craft I showed you only a few moments ago.

I mean, come on!  Mary has red pig-tail style braids!

My parenting style truly stimulates creativity, does it not?

 

4. Which of your senses is most sensitive this time of year?

Probably my motherly sense.

Does that count?

I mean, if I can hold my son on the night that he is sick and throwing up, cherish the smell of his pukey hair, hold him tight and wish he would stay that small forever . . . there must be something off-kilter inside of me.

 

5. What do you have too much of in your kitchen?

I have too many things that should not be in my kitchen.

Exhibit A:

Hot Tip:  If you push everything back against the backsplash and wipe the front half of the counters, you kitchen is faux-clean!

Exhibit B:

I know, I know.

I really need to add a decorating section to this blog as well.

 

6. What do you do for meals on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day? Big meal? Breakfast tradition? Open the cookie tins and have at it?

We eat at my inlaws house for Christmas Eve.  The tradition is to bring gobs of finger foods and desserts.

On Christmas morning, we eat whatever.  I don't ever remember breakfast. 

I submit that cereal can be, and is, magical!

Christmas lunch and dinner is always at my parents house where they put all cooks to shame.

But . . .

This year my parents are coming to Ruralville for some tasty homemade treats from yours truly!

My first ever Christmas Dinner!

What shall I serve them?

Elk lasagna?

A ham from the 400 pound big David lassoed on the highway?

Pizza?

Please advise.

 

7. What is the best thing about winter?

Sweatshirts and jeans.

They are much more forgiving than swimsuits.

 

8. Insert your own random thought here

The girls had their piano recital this weekend!  They did great.

The cutest part was when Daisy Mae had to stand up and announce her song.

She said, "My name is ________ and I am playing Good King Wenchlaburg."

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can guess the song she played.

200 (meaningless) points to anyone who can spell it correctly.

300 (meaningless) points to anyone who can pronounce it.

Check out Joyce's blog for more entries or to link up yourself!

Road Trips and Vomit.

After the kids went to bed last night, The Lumberjack and I sat on the couch and chatted for a bit.  We chatted about upcoming plans and future plans.  The upcoming plans involved Christmas, road trips, and birthdays. The future plans, of course, involving words such as: bulldozer, garden, wood stove, fence, a rabbit-breeding business, and a horse stable.

Unfortunately, there was no word on when the peach walls will be taking a bow.

We talked until there was nothing left to say and then we got onto the World Wide Web.  He had the laptop and I had my phone.  I would still consider it marital bonding, however,  because I believe my feet were touching his knees.  Although, I cannot be certain.

Then we switched devices and got sucked into the vicious game we play everynight.

Do you play this game with your loved ones?

Here's how you do it:

You need two people, preferrably and old married couple, such as ourselves.  Each of you needs some sort of distraction.  In this case ours was the laptop and the phone.  In past times, it has been the laptop and the TV.  You may choose your devices as you see fit.  Each of you needs to look busy while using your device.  At some point look at your spouse.  See that he appears to be doing something super important on the computer.  So, you start a another TV show or load another web page as you wait for him to finish up.  Fail to realize that he was just checking his email for the 18th time because when he looked up, you looked extremely busy.

Key Game Rules to Remember:

1.  Don't ever actually ask your spouse what they are doing.

2.  Don't ever actually suggest going to bed.

3.  Keep loading meaningless web pages and starting TV shows you are too tired to watch.

Do this until of one of you falls asleep on the couch.

Anyways.  We were playing that game last night when we heard our youngest boy crying down stairs.

He is such a trouble maker.

Since both of us were so busy on our computerish devices, we both ignored him for a second.   

Do not judge us. 

You must not be aware of our secret weapon . . .

The Informer.

The Informer is a six year old big sister who loves to tattle.

The Informer is constantly marching up the stairs to, well, inform us of what is going on downstairs. 

"Well.  You are not going to believe this.  The boys.  They are naughty.  They are out of bed."

"Mom.  Guess what. The boys are playing trucks in bed."

"Mom.  Guess what. The boys are singing."

"Mom.  Guess what. The boys are jumping on their beds."

"Mom.  Guess what. The boys have taken all their blankets and have made a fort."

"Mom.  Guess what.  The boys are hiding."

"Mom.  Mom?  Mom!  Guess what.  When I walked by the bathroom, I smelled something funny.  So I thought, 'Hey.  I will check it out.' And I looked in the bathroom and there was poop in the toilet that brother did not flush.  And guess what, Mom.  He left his underwear on the floor.  And guess what.  He didn't wipe very well.  Cause, guess what?  There is yuckies in his underwear."

The Informer never stops to think that maybe she might get in trouble because, guess what, she is also not asleep.

So, as we slothfully sat on the couch, we were quite confident that if something were truly wrong, The Informer would come and inform us of it.

After a few moments, Little Dude stopped crying!  But then he cried again.  But then he stopped again!  But then he cried again.

It was becoming more and more apparent that one of us was actually going to have to stand up and walk all the way downstairs to tell him to go to sleep.

Being a parent is exhausting.

Clearly, I am the one who loves the children more because it was I who got up to check on the Dude.

Pop Quiz:  What is the worst scenario you can think of when you are checking on your child late at night?

Answer:  Vomit.

And, yes.  Vomit was everywhere.  So, we had to clean it up, bathe him, and change the bedding. 

After his bath, I snuggled with him on the couch while David changed the bed.  As he snuggled on me, he looked like a baby still.

So then I got sad.

Sad that he is my last baby.  Sad that my last baby is two and half.  Sad that I will soon never have babies.  Sad that life is all going by so fast.

I put him to bed.  He said, "La-lu, Ma."

Which means, of course, "I love you, Mom."

And then we went to bed.  I lay there thinking of how precious all my kids are.

 

I started thinking of how quickly time was passing, of how it seemed like just yesterday when I stayed home with just Sweet Pea.  I thought about how fast they are growing and changing, how life just keeps flying by and I vowed to take more time to pause and enjoy every day.

As I was just about to fall asleep, I was thanking God for blessing me with four children.

And just then, at that moment, Little Dude threw up again.

Yes.  It was kind of a bummer.

But, I am still thankful.  Still blessed.  Still happy.

***

In other, not as sappy news, we are going on a trip!  A road trip!  I am not sure if I will be posting much, seeing as how I can only post from my phone and I have yet to figure that out.

And you all know how tech-savvy I am.

However, I will definitely be able to post pictures and updates fo Facebook, so if you would like to, you can follow me there.

Click here and then just click on "like."

Thank you and have a Happy Tuesday!

PS-Let us pray that the vomit shall cease in time for the road trip.

Have you ever tried to clean vomit out of a car seat?

All parents who have cleaned vomit out of the various nooks and crannies of a car seat surely deserve a medal.

 

High Stress Alert.

Yes.  Hello.  Good Morning.

1.  We went on a date on Friday night.  We went to our favorite Greek restaurant (it was not the belly dancer night-hooray!) and to a movie.

2.  Fact Check:  In my previous post, I wrote, and I quote: "Notice how neither grandparental set has taken on all 4 of them at once."  "Them" of course, being my children. 

Well.

That was a lie.  I didn't mean that.  I meant, "Notice how no one is taking all 4 overnight tonight."

What can I say?  Sometimes I just type out meaningless drivel and pay no never mind to what I am saying.

Does this surprise you?

Well, both my parents stopped "pretending" like they don't read my blog (Yes.  I am on to you, Mom and Dad.) to leave a comment and point out that they took all four kids for a week when we were in Cancun.

Yes.  You did.  Thank you.  I am sorry.  I stand corrected.

3.  Little Dude stepped on the scale last night.  It read "33."  He threw his hands in the air, cheered, and yelled, "Yay!  I fifty dollars!"

4.  The girls have their first ever piano recital today, bless their hearts.  Daisy Mae could care less and doesn't seem worried about it a bit.  The only thing she talks about is how her piano teacher said she can't wear her swimsuit or come naked.

*giggle, giggle, chuckle, chuckle, giggle, giggle*

Sweet Pea is on high stress alert. 
As she was practicing, her face was twisting and contorting into worried looks, and she was gasping and choking back sobs in anticipation of the fear and embarrassment that shall surely come her way tomorrow.

I am nervous for them.  I am no stranger to the piano recital performance.

I started taking piano lessons at the age of 12 . . . a little later than most children. 

I loved it. 

I continued with the lessons through my junior year in high school. 

For my last recital, I played a 13-page performance of Celine Dion’s, “My Heart will Go On” from the Titanic.

I don’t wanna brag, but I brought down the house.

Of course, my competition was 6-8 year olds who were butchering “Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star.”

But that is besides that point.

After my award-winning performance, I was swarmed by those 6-8 year olds, wondering how I could play so well.

Well, girls . . . I am twice your age.

And apparently I am a loser, because there is no one else here even near my age bracket.

But, don’t worry.

I let myself have my moment of glory.

I shook their little hands, gathered my 13 pages of sheet music, held my head high, and walked out of there a star.

And I never performed again.

5.  Goober Parent Update, Kindle Edition

Some of you might recall that my dad is a technology goober.

And some of you might further recall that he got a Kindle last Christmas.

Of which he has yet to use.  Because:

a)  He doesn't know how

b)  He always thinks his children stole it from him

Since I got my new phone, I have been bragging to him about how I can use the Kindle application on my phone.  Yesterday, he was questioning how this whole, tricky Kindle process works and I showed him on my phone how you can go to the "Kindle Store."

It was a whole new world for him.

So, he played around and looked at everything you can buy and was even hoping to find some good Bible commentaries.

"Wow.  This is neat.  I should do this."

Yes, Dad.  Kindles are neat.  And they were neat last year when you received it.

A few hours later, I checked my email and noticed a reciept from Amazon.

Turns out my Goober Dad figured out how to purchased a book!

Sadly, he purchased it on my Kindle and with my bank account.

Me:  Dad!  You bought something!

Dad:  Great!  What did I buy?

Me:  "The One Minute Bible."

Dad:  Huh?  I wonder why?

Me:  Yup.

Dad:  Great!  I will read it soon!

Me:  Dad!  You bought it on my Kindle.  Not yours.

Dad:  Oh?  Really?  How?

Me:  Cause you were on my phone.  With my account.

Dad:  Oh.  I will pay you back.

Me:  Oh, it's not a big deal.  It's just funny.

Dad:  You're right.  You probably could use the Bible in your life anyways.

Wow.

I think my Dad just burned me.

Happy Sunday!