At it again

I should have kept my big mouth shut when I wrote earlier how great George and I are doing lately when it comes to each other.
I wanted to kick him out of the house earlier today.
He shrank my favorite black sweater. I had planned on wearing it today. It makes me look slimmer than I am and it's quite attractive.
He decided he was going to "help" me out while I was finishing decorating Bart's cake by switching laundry from the washer to the dryer. Now it's a measure of how sleep-deprived I am lately that I even allowed him in the same room with any of my laundry. He is generally not allowed to do any item of my clothing because he always ruins it.
So I actually cannot believe I told him he could go ahead and switch laundry over. I should've known better. I did caution him (and he heard me, he admits it) that he HAD to hang up all of my shirts in that load of wash, that they could not go in the dryer. So what does he do?
He hangs up every one of my tops EXCEPT MY FAVORITE ONE, which found its way into the dryer and is now two inches too short to wear and tight around the arms, shoulders, and chest.
I was so mad!!!!
And to seal his doom, George had the nerve, the absolute audacity, to get mad at me for getting mad at him.
Oh, that was it for me. How dare he? If I broke one of his precious tools, he would flip. But because it was only a sweater (how silly of me!), it's somehow OK.
This also happens to be the sweater that he really likes me to wear.
Idiot!
I'm afraid we had a bit of a row over the sweater incident.
However, it's a measure of how we've lately come to an understanding about what kind of people he and I are and how we deal individually with situations, that we were able to not let the matter get out of control and were able to recapture our earlier good mood. I'm rather proud of us. It takes some work sometimes, but it's definitely worth the effort.
Oh, I'm still pretty ticked off at him. And I am going out first thing Monday and buying a new sweater to replace the ruined one.
But at least we didn't let my sweater ruin our marriage.
Nope. That's what March Madness is for...

Bart's Party

For Bart's birthday party this year, we decided to go bowling. I think at some point in the past bowling used to be a cheap family activity. We thought we would save money by not doing a birthday package, but just reserving two lanes for fifteen people to bowl one game - with eight kids bowling, we would definitely not have time for a second game. Well, a hundred and twenty bucks later...
Honestly, why does everything cost a small fortune? And everyone has to do and have everything. We actually try really hard not to spoil our kids. We try to choose a few things that they are interested in to buy them. Right now, Bart is into Star Wars, Drake is into Dora and Thomas, and Skylar (as always) is an avid reader and loves dance.
Several of Skylar's little friends have cell phones. Most of her and Bart's friends have Nintendo DS's of their own. Most have TV's in their rooms or computers in their rooms. George and I will not let them have TV's or computers in their rooms because then they would never want to come out! We only have one TV in our house and it's in the family room. We have one family computer and then this one that I just got. We have a Wii for the family and George has a Sony PSP which he allows the children to play often enough.
I'm sorry, but kids Skylar and Bart's ages just aren't responsible enough for expensive electronics. Case in point: Skylar got a really nice, slightly costly MP3 player for Christmas last year. She really enjoyed it and George helped her put songs on it. But she lost it a few weeks ago. She thinks she lost it in our house somewhere, but we cannot find it anywhere. Needless to say, we are NOT buying her another one anytime soon. Needless to say we are NOT buying her a cell phone anytime soon.
Ridiculous. What can a ten year old possibly have to say to her friends that can't be said on the family phone?
I want to know what is happening to family time?
When a kid has a TV in his room, a computer in his room, a cell phone of his own, a handheld video game device, and an iPod or the like, why on earth would he even come out of his room and interact with his parents, who are probably just going to hassle him about cleaning his room or helping set the table?
All right then...Sorry I got off on a rant there...
Back to Bart's party.
So, we invited two of our best friends and their kids bowling, Mack and his family, and Tom and Renee. Bart basically had three good friends there and then siblings, friends' siblings, and the adults. We ended up going to a huge bowling alley/mini-golf/go-kart place near the beach in Cape Carteret. It takes us about 45 minutes to get there, but the bowling alley here in New Bern wouldn't let us reserve lanes unless we were buying a birthday package. We bowled (it lasted forever!) and then crowded around a table at the snack bar to eat cake and open presents.
I had made Bart an R2D2 cake. It turned out pretty cool, if I do say so myself. I was sorry to eat it. It didn't take terribly long to make, but it was a good deal of work. It was worth it to see Bart excited about it, though. I think he enjoyed his party. He got some nice presents - not too many, thank goodness.
After bowling, we went with Mindy and Kevin and to McDonalds for a bite to eat. It was the worst MickeyD's experience we've had in awhile. The McDonalds here in New Bern are actually quite good. The employees are really friendly and polite. Actually, we also have a decent Wal-Mart. Granted, a trip to any Wal-Mart is basically a trip to hell, but at least this is a trip to the third level of hell rather than say, the ninth or tenth level.
Lucy screamed pretty much the whole way home, but we figured she had a right since we subjected her to the bowling alley and McDonalds with only one feeding. We gave her a bath when we got home and she settled down pretty well.
George and I ended the night by watching Saturday Night Live together. The fake McGyver commercials for Pepsi were hilarious. Now I'm up way too late again, but I know I'll just forget to write if I wait until tomorrow.

Snow Day

So to catch up....
I'm typing this one-handed while I nurse Lucy, on my new teeny-tiny laptop (it's smaller than a hardback novel). George bought it for me recently and I adore it! I'm starting back to school in March, so this'll make things easier for me, plus I can work on my writing anywhere....even while I nurse the baby.
George and I had such a bad holiday season, but we've worked things out pretty well and feel really good about our relationship. Deciding to go back to school has energized me (emotionally speaking - physically, I'm still an exhausted basket case). Working toward getting my PharmD has given both of us a new goal to reach for. George said the idea of helping me with calculus excites him, the weirdo. The only thing I'm worried about is whether most of my credits will transfer. For some things, it's been almost ten years. But I worked really hard and placed out of several English classes and I made all A's with a B or two. I REALLY don't want to have to take those classes over.
It's going to be a few years, but the work will definitely be worth it.
Bart ended up having an ear infection a few days after running that fever. He was up at 5am Monday (which was a school holiday) with ear pain and more fever, so I took him in to the doctor. The doctor said it was the worst ear infection he'd seen in years. By the next day, Bart was feeling better, though.
The children had a lot of days off from school this month. They had a three day weekend with MLK Jr. Day on Monday, two snow days, then two teacher workdays. So basically they had nine straight days off from school.
And the best part...
It actually snowed! In Eastern NC!




I confess I was a skeptic. Even when George's plant and the kids' school closed on Tuesday in anticipation of the bad weather. I was like, "Really, people, do you think it's going to snow in New Bern?" And when we woke up Tuesday a.m. there was only the faintest flurry drifting down - you could hardly see it. But my dentist called to say they were closing at noon, could I come in early for my crown fitting? So George drove us to Jacksonville in case the weather got worse.

When we left New Bern, the snow was just barely starting to stick to shrubs, trees, and even the ground in some spots.
While I sat in the dentist chair, George and the kids ran errands and the snow started to fall harder. By the time I was done, around noon, snow was swirling down and made the drive back home pretty tense. It snowed all day until about 7pm. The three older children played outside for hours. They built a little snowman on the back porch and collected icicles, which are still in our freezer, along with a bowl of snow for snow cream we never got around to making.
Drake had a blast. He'd never seen more than just a sprinkling of snow before and he loved it. It was so cozy inside and so beautiful outside. We actually got enough to cover the ground completely. Dad said they got around six inches in Sims.









I stepped out on the back porch to snap a few photos of the kids building a snowman. Skylar tried to be sneaky and roll a snowball to hit me with. I wasn't wearing a coat, though, so I warned her not to hit me. Well, Drake decided to throw snow at me at close range. In fact, he chased me back into the house, flinging snow the whole time. I decided it was safer to take pictures from behind the glass door. As you can see, the children had great fun hurling snowballs at my head - on the other side of the glass.





























The snow was melting by the next day, though. We're hoping for more.

Why Am I Not In Bed?

It's midnight, but I'm still up. In my defense, I only really got Lucy down for the night about half an hour ago. Still, what am I doing up? I must be crazy after the night we had last night.
Bart was getting sick on Saturday. He was acting really cranky and refused to eat dinner, even when dessert was threatened to be taken away. He actually said he did not want any dessert, my first indicator that something was amiss. Bart's first words to me upon waking, getting home from school, or pretty much any absence, is "Can I have a piece of candy?" or "Can I have a snack?"
So to refuse dessert, well, there was something definitely wrong.
Second, Bart was acting like a grump around his best friend/girlfriend Taylor that evening while she and her family were over for dinner. That was another red flag that Bart wasn't feeling well. He adores Taylor.
Well, it turned out he had a fever, so we kept him home from church. George went with Skylar for the first hour while I stayed with the boys and Lucy at home. Then I met drove to church so we could swap out and George would go home with Bart and I would bring Drake and Lucy with me. Only George was taking a really long time getting outside. Bart was still in his PJ's, but finally I had to go inside because there was someone I really needed to talk to.
As we were walking across the parking lot, I realized suddenly how goofy Bart looked at the moment. He was wearing these pajamas that are way too small, and even when they did fit him, they seemed a little too tight. So he's got these red pajama pants on that are about two inches above his socks and sneakers and over that he had thrown his huge, puffy, almost-never-need-to-wear-it-in-NC winter coat. He just really looked bizarre. And as usual, he had a goofball expression on his face.
When we got inside and found George, George made Bart go right back outside and wait for him in the car. Later, George told me Bart hadn't gone back to the car, he'd just been wandering around the parking lot. Knowing Bart, he was probably day-dreaming about light saber duels and droid armies.
You gotta love that kid.
Bart went to school Monday but was running a small fever that afternoon, so we kept him home Tuesday. Early Tuesday morning, I was stricken with some kind of stomach bug. It knocked me flat on my butt all day long. I could hardly get off the sofa by the afternoon. I was starting to feel better by late yesterday evening, though. Just in time for George to start feeling bad and Lucy to be up half the night. I could tell she wasn't feeling well, either. She seemed to have a tummyache and diarrhea.
I'm saying my prayers that Drake and Skylar stay well.
Friday is Sky's 10th birthday and she's having a sleepover with a few of her friends. She definitely needs to be well for that.
Drake is deep into the Terrible Two's right now and he doesn't need any further excuses to be cranky and difficult.
Speaking of Drake, he had sort of a rough time last week. I had brought him upstairs with me to play in our bedroom while I showered. Lucy was napping in her room. Usually Drake just plays cars and tries to close the bathroom door. But on this particular day, he decided to try turning on George's bedside lamp. George's bedside lamp is a small rectangular frosted glass lamp from IKEA. It's exactly like mine. It's also broken. In fact, George is on his second lamp. He broke the first one, too. So, anyway, it's jagged and sharp and I have told him several times he needs to get rid of it before someone gets hurt on it.
So of course, Drake cut his finger on it while I was in the shower.
I had shampoo in my hair and I was dripping water, but when I saw that Drake's finger was bleeding a good deal, I jumped out of the shower and threw a towel around me. I was fumbling to find a bandaid, and I told Drake to sit down on the bathroom floor while I looked. As he was sitting down, I accidentally hit the open cabinet door on my sink. The door flew open wider and smacked Drake right in the head, knocking him down.
Oh, he wailed! He hadn't been too worked up over his bleeding finger, but that smack in the head sure did it.
I sat on the closed toilet and cradled him to me, trying to keep some toilet paper pressed against his finger. After I calmed him down, I had to run downstairs in my towel, dripping water, to fetch a bandaid. I took the offending lamp and put it on a high shelf until George could safely dispose of it in the garbage.
I finally got to finish my shower while Drake lay on our bed, more subdued, and played with his cars.
The poor thing also fell down a couple of stairs Saturday morning and got a carpet burn over his left eye. He's been really rebellious about the stairs lately. Just today George and I both had problems with him messing around on the stairs. That's how he took the spill on Saturday. We're going to have to be very vigilant with him over the next few months.
I need to post about a bizillion pictures from the holidays, but now I am going to bed.

Lucy and Drake

Lucy had her four-month check-up and vaccinations today. She was in top show-off form as she smiled and wiggled for the nurses and the doctor. In fact, it was all fun and games until someone stuck her with a needle. Four times. And forced the oral rotavirus vaccine down her throat.
She was maaaad...
She was so mad that after I got her settled down and fed her, while I had her on my shoulder to burp her, she let out a really huge belch...
and projectile vomited across my shoulder, down the back of my shirt, and across the room. It hit the wall and puddled on the floor. I felt really bad for the nurses who had to clean it up. I kept apologizing. I wiped up as best I could, but I smelled baby puke the whole way home. The little turkey didn't get any on herself. And then, she had the nerve to smile at me, after she had done all that damage.
And what did I do? I smiled back at her, of course.
Just like that, all is forgiven.
Yesterday evening, Lucy initiated a little game with me. I was carrying her downstairs, when she spied the Christmas tree on the balcony. She just stared at the colored lights, so I took her to the railing so she could have a closer look. She gave this secret, almost mischievous, smile in the direction of the tree. Then she looked over at me, caught my eye, and grinned so big. I grinned back, laughing, and she quickly turned her face back to the tree. And grinned hugely. Then she quickly turned back to look at me and grin again. She must have done this ten or fifteen times before she got tired of it. It was so charming - I had never seen her initiate a game before.
Yesterday, Drake also initiated a game with Lucy. I was holding her facing me on the sofa. She had just eaten and was sitting up interacting with me. Drake came over to sit beside us and talk to Lucy. He would get up close to her and she would smile and smile at him. He began leaning in close to hug her or kiss her head. She'd make a swipe at him, probably trying to get a good taste of him. As soon as she did this, Drake would lunge backward dramatically, pretending that Lucy had knocked him for a loop. He would lie there on the sofa, pretending to be dazed, while we laughed at him. He did this repeatedly, until finally it was time for him to take his nap.
When we were going through the naptime routine, Drake sat down on the wooden toybox in his and Bart's room to read Lucy and me a book. I stood Lucy on her feet and let her bang her hands on the toybox to explore. While she was standing up, the tantalizing sight of Drake's little foot in its striped sock swinging back and forth so close to her face caught her eye. She went into full attack mode and grabbed his foot. She seized it with both hands and jammed it into her mouth.
Drake howled with laughter, as did I, as Lucy frantically tried to eat his foot. She even growled. From time to time, Drake would get concerned and saying, "That's mine, baby. Let go," reach down and gently pry her hands off his foot. He wasn't concerned enough to move his foot out of her reach, though, and pretty soon his sock was soaked.
Babies have got to be one of the funniest things in Creation.
Sometimes while I'm crooning to her, I'll say, "My Lucy" or "My Lulu", which is one of her nicknames. If Drake hears me, he corrects me by saying, "My Wucy" or "My WuWu". I think this is just so adorable.
Bart's relationship with her is a little different. He loves to kiss her and talk to her. He says she's in love with him and he's going to marry her someday. He is her hero. Lucy thinks everything he does or says is funny and interesting. Bart is still a bit too hyper and antsy to let him hold her unsupervised, but that he tries his best to be gentle around her is evident.
Skylar is Second Mama. She loves holding Lulu - as long as Lulu doesn't start fussing. The moment Lucy's mouth starts to open in a cry or whimper, quick as can be, Skylar notifies me: "Mom, she's starting to fuss!" Which is my cue that Skylar has had enough. I have to keep telling her, "Skylar, babies are going to cry sometimes. That's just what they do." She's a great big sister, though, and a help to me. Over half of our dinners in the past four months, I'm certain, would not have gotten made if Skylar hadn't been willing to hold the baby or entertain her for me while I cooked.
I know absolutely without a doubt that I have been blessed with four amazing children.
I used to think that my life would be a tragic waste if I didn't do something "great" by the time I was thirty. What "great" was, I was never very certain about. I suppose "great" would mean writing a book, making an amazing archaeological discovery, or making a million dollars. Fifteen years ago, I would've been horrified at the thought of not even finishing college. I suppose my fourteen-year-old self would have keeled over in torment at the knowledge that I would have four children before the age of thirty. Back then, I didn't even like kids much.
I know now that I am doing something great. Something that for me is even kind of difficult. It's hard to be patient about finishing college and starting a career. It's hard to know that I don't really have enough spare time in a day to spend working on my writing projects. It's hard to sit still while George has his degree and I don't. It' s really hard to have a million things I want to do in my head, but can't even manage to get a shower before noon (if I'm lucky).
But I also know after nearly ten years of making mistakes and wasting precious time, that there is nothing I "want" to do that can't wait awhile longer. What cannot wait is the children. They grow up so quickly. They need me far more than the archaeological community. And the New York Times Bestseller List is doing just fine without my novel on it.

Christmas Part II

Jeez. All I ever do is complain. I was going to make it a New Year's Resolution to stop complaining so much and count my blessings instead.
Today, the three oldest of my little blessings engaged in an interesting activity.
I sent them outside to crumble some leftover fruitcake in the yard for the birds and squirrels. A harmless enough activity, you might say?
When I checked on them a few minutes later, they were playing baseball with the fruitcake. It was so hard that the only way they could break it apart was with a baseball bat or by hurling it against a tree. At some point during this process, they figured it would be fun to play baseball with Mom's fruitcake.


So...for those of you who have doubted the indestructible nature of fruitcake...there you have it.
And that particular fruitcake was only a week old!
I'm wondering why I even bothered fighting the hustle and bustle of holiday shopping to get my children gifts when I could have just handed them spoiled baked goods and sent them outside to play all along.
We were pretty bummed out that we didn't go up to visit Alan and Mary Kay this holiday season, George especially. We tried to do some fun things for the children (and ourselves). We took them all downtown to Bear Plaza to see Santa on Christmas Eve morning. The little ones did really well, even Lucy, who had just woken up from a nap and was hauled out of her comfy carseat. Drake asked Santa for a "Dora present", Bart asked for a "Star Wars present", and Skylar asked for the new Harry Potter book (the Tales of Beadle the Bard).
I think Santa must have gotten a lot of requests for Wiis and iPods and Ninendo DS's, because when Skylar asked for her humble book, Santa just kind of looked at her and then looked at us and then back at her and said, "That's all?" like he couldn't believe it. It made me feel kind of good, like maybe we're raising our kids to be decent human beings, after all.
I'm not so sure what next year is going to bring, though. When Bart found out that Santa brought his cousins Mack and Leslie-Grace a Wii this year, he looked at me and said, all amazed, "Santa brings Wiis?" What am I supposed to say to that? Still, I'd rather him ask for an expensive electronic item than the request Skylar made of Santa two years running: a baby brother or sister.
Christmas Eve this year we tried to take it easy. We made and decorated cookies and the children sprinkled magic reindeer food on the front lawn. We ate a nice dinner of spaghetti, Italian sausage, and garlic bread around the dining room table. We turned on the big oil lamp I placed there on a bed of magnolia leaves and turned off the lights. It was really cozy with just the oil lamp and the glow of the Christmas tree.
After dinner, we took some goodies to some friends on our way to visit the Nicolaysens. We stopped by my friend Kelly's house and the Steels' house. We watched most of Prince Caspian with the Nicolaysens, but Drake and Lucy started to get cranky. Plus it was nine o'clock and it was definitely time to get the kids in bed so Santa could visit already.
We got home and opened our Christmas Eve gifts - PJ's. Then we read 'Twas the Night Before Christmas, set out cookies and milk, and the kids were off to bed. Skylar, Bart, and Drake all slept together in the boys' room. Bart had really wanted to sleep with Skylar on Christmas Eve, which they've done since he was old enough to get excited about Christmas. George and I watched a movie while we wrapped the last few gifts and filled stockings. We got to bed pretty late, but the children were under strict orders that they were not to even attempt to wake us up before 7:30am.
Before we knew it, it was actually 7:40 and no kids yet. Hmmm...had they overslept? We rolled over to go back to sleep, hoping for a Christmas miracle.
Nah. Their clock was just off by 10 minutes.
The hallway was full of the sound of running feet and three excited munchkins burst into our room. We fetched Lucy and marveled over the little gifts Santa had left them under their little trees they kept in their bedrooms. This is something Santa always did for my sister and me. My mom or Mimi always made sure that we had a little tree in our bedroom when we were children. Usually it was a big pine bough we cut and decorated for that special purpose. And Santa always left a small gift beneath it for each of us, a kind of appetizer to start out our Christmas morning feast.
I remember waking up in the middle of the night one Christmas Eve to find that Santa had already arrived and left a little gift under my tree. It was a book about a cat and a painter. I can't remember the title, but I started reading that book to help me fall asleep.
Another Christmas, Elsie and I, for some reason I will never be able to fathom, thought it was hilarious to say that Santa Claus had hemhorroids. We didn't even know what hemhorroids were (and let me tell you, after birthing four children, I don't find hemhorroids a laughing matter), but we knew that they had something to do with the backside, so naturally it was amusing. I think we stayed up half the night howling over our imagined cleverness.
I just really hope that our kids have as much fun as we did. I think they do...I hope they do...but how can you be sure?
Christmas morning was chaos. Duh. With four kids, what else can you expect? There was paper everywhere, Skylar and Bart both vying for the job of "Santa", and Drake trying to grab everyone else's gift and open it. And Lucy started bawling halfway through and needed to eat and go back to bed. So we had to pause the unwrapping process to put her back to sleep.
We tried to be slightly organized. George had even laid out a garbage bag the night before. He made sure everyone handed him the torn off wrapping paper, and I tried to collect discarded gift bags and tissue paper. I tried to make sure the opening process was relatively even for all three older children.
It was impossible to be organized. It's against the fundamentals of Christmas to be organized. Bart ended up opening up all of his gifts before the rest of us finished and moved on to help Drake unwrap Lucy's.
Did they have fun?
You bet.
I made a tasty breakfast casserole and put cider on to warm and mull. George and I even curled up on the sofas to take a short nap while the children played with their new gifts. We went to Mindy's for dinner and gift exchange. We played Mario Kart on their new Wii that Santa brought. The kids played outside in the balmy 74-degree December weather. We opened the windows and sweated. Then we packed up and headed home.
And just like that...it was over.
Christmas certainly doesn't linger, does it?
As much as I try to make it linger, so we can savor it a little longer, it only seems to sully it.
If you haven't noticed, I have a hard time letting go.

Christmas Part I

Guilt, guilt, guilt. That's what Christmas is all about if you're an adult, isn't it?
I really wanted this Christmas to be different. Special.
OK - I wanted it to be perfect. Is that too much to ask? I mean, it's like that in the movies, isn't it?
Every year, I try to capture that magic feeling that I had as a kid, and every year I just stress myself out.
This year was no exception. In fact, it was worse than ever. The children had a total of sixteen straight days at home, and George had twelve. I had such high hopes for the holiday.
The first difference was that we decided early on that we were not going to make the trip to PA to visit George's brother this year. We have gone every year for either Thanksgiving or Christmas holiday since I was pregnant with Bart. We even went when Drake was Lucy's age. He screamed most of the way. Instead of eight or nine hours, it took us nearly fourteen. It was hell. Which is why we decided not to travel with a newborn again this year.
So, we stayed at home. Our family has always had a hard time just staying home. We would much rather go out somewhere, to eat or shop or even just window shop. We don't necessarily have to be spending money to have fun. We just like to get out. I think it's something about George's and my emotional make-up. I know I sort of get depressed if I stay at home too much, and I think he gets that way, too. It might be that it stems from living in the boonies for pretty much my entire life. We didn't have cable or satellite or anything like that. We didn't even have a dryer or central heating and air until I was a teenager. Still...I remember getting dressed in front of our wood-burning stove on cold school mornings as a kid. Elsie and I would sometimes run out just after our bath to stand there and let the warmth radiate over our bare bottoms until it got too hot to stand. I remember the smell of orange peels drying in a tin pan on top of the stove, and falling asleep on the floor with my sister on our faux bear-skin rugs.
Those were the days when it was actually cold in the winter, even in North Carolina.
Did I mention that it was 74 degrees on Christmas Day this year?
I guess that's the other thing that made Christmas just weird. It's hard to feel all cozy and festive when you have the windows open, you're sweating buckets, and your kids are wearing shorts and flip flops.
I think the third major difference is that George and I were at each other's throats all holiday. I don't know why really. I guess we finally admitted that we were both being selfish for different reasons. I'm not even going to get into it, but it was miserable. I was actually glad to see the tail end of this Christmas. I haven't decided yet if we're even going to celebrate next year, it was so miserable.
It was like the Gift of the Magi gone horribly wrong.
I wanted to get George and Bart a Wii for Christmas. But George went and bought himself (oh, sorry, everyone) a Wii back before Halloween. So I was going to get him a really cool game for it, like Rock Band or Wii Fit. But then he went out and bought the Wii Fit and we had a big fight about it. So I finally told him he wasn't going to be getting anything from me for Christmas since he'd already bought everything for himself and spoiled it. So I didn't feel bad telling him exactly what I wanted - a pair of really nice boots - since it was pretty much the only thing I was asking for and I didn't feel that it was fair for me to just go out and spend $60 or $80 on myself because I wanted to. So I insisted that I wanted the boots for Christmas. And George told me I was being selfish. He said that he didn't care if he got any presents for Christmas or not (and thus, neither should I). And I told him of course he didn't mind not getting anything because he just went out and bought whatever it was he wanted when he wanted it, so he didn't have to wait for Christmas like I had to. I should mention that we were having pretty tight money issues. We even had the cable turned off right before Christmas. But still, he came up with the several hundred bucks to buy himself the video game equipment, right?
So...another dispute.
Then he laid on the guilt by saying he didn't want the Wii Fit any more, that it was just going to be a sore point between us, so he was going to sell it. Which made me mad, because I never really care if he wants to buy himself something nice from time to time. But I think it is completely unfair that when I want something for myself, I have to beg, plead, and defend my case to him. Ditto with stuff for the kids. And I'm not just talking luxuries, I'm talking about necessities, even. So to have him tell me that we couldn't necessarily afford much for Christmas for any of us...well, of course he doesn't mind - he just gave himself a nice Christmas before December even arrived!!
So the week before Christmas, I find out from Mindy that George is selling her the Wii Fit. Which made me feel even madder and guiltier. I really didn't want to spoil the game for him, but what am I supposed to do when I have him telling me we can't afford to buy gifts?
I spent all vacation baking gifts for people because we couldn't afford much else, and you know what? I don't really think I ended up saving any money. Plus, I was tired, cranky, and stressed out. Was it worth it? Not really. Sure I made some yummy stuff, and I love baking, but George complained that I never came to bed at a decent hour and I was snappy with him and the kids the next day.
I just wanted to do everything, go everywhere. And it didn't help that every activity or organization we were in, affiliated with, or standing within a hundred yards of demanded our presence at a holiday function. Or demanded the purchase of a gift. It was exhausting.
I know all this sounds petty and dumb, but that's the reason I don't even know if I want to get out the decorations next year. I'm almost thinking of saying no gifts for anyone except the kids, and that instead we will do something for charity or someone in need.
I did enjoy getting to go on Skylar and Bart's field trips. Skylar went to Tryon Palace on the 5th. Tom came to watch Drake while Lucy and I went along with her. It was pretty cold out, so cold in fact, that most of the children were unprepared. You never know how to dress around here. One day it's seasonably in the forties, the next day it might be in the seventies. Absolute truth. It's crazy. I can't even pack away summer clothes in the winter. Anyway, it was so chilly that the fourth grade teachers opted to cut the field trip short since the remainder of our tour was outside on the estate grounds. So Skylar, Lucy, and I went shopping in the gift shops. Drake was absolultely great for Tom while we were gone.
Bart's class and the other first grade classes went to see New Bern Ballet's production of the Nutcracker on the 15th. Mindy came to watch Drake and Lucy while I went with Bart. It was a short enough version that the children were able to sit mostly still throughout the show. I love the Nutcracker. Skylar and I miss our tradition of going to see the Carolina Ballet perform it at the BTI Center on Christmas Eve. We used to go with our best friends, the Claytons, whom we miss very much.
Thrown into the mix of things going on before Christmas was dance class, Girl Scout parties, school functions, church youth and Activity Day Girls stuff. Our family had rehearsals for a skit we were in for our church Christmas Party, and I had my wonderful dental work to enjoy.
It just didn't feel like Christmas.
Then, when I found out that George had sold the Wii Fit to his sister, I suddenly felt compelled to get him a gift. I had bought him 80's Trivial Pursuit on Black Friday, but I really didn't have anything else to give him. I bought him a used PSP game that I thought he might like, the first Star Wars Battlefront Game, but Bart had gone out with Renee and bought him the second Star Wars Battlefront game. Bart was so excited. He kept saying that Dad was going to love the game, that it was the best gift ever. I didn't want to rain on Bart's parade by giving George another Star Wars game, so I tried to return it to Game Stop. But it was past the seven day time limit, so I could not return it. I could, however, sell it to them as a used game and they would offer me $3 for it. $3? Ha! I'd paid $14 for it and never played it. No thanks, I'd just keep it and give it to him for his birthday or something. I know he said he didn't care if he got any gifts, but in woman-speak, that means "you'd better give me something or else you're sleeping outside for the next six months". And I would just feel so bad if he didn't have anything to open up Christmas morning. When the game thing fell through, I bought him a nice light sweater, but I ended up taking it back in order to get him something else, and well, let's just say that the funds never materialized. Due to a disputed charge I couldn't get them to take off, Bank of America ended up absorbing the refund from the sweater, sadly diminishing the cash I had left. Instead of the sweater, I ended up getting him the Rock Band Wii game (used) sans musical instruments because it had a great track. I thought George would really enjoy the songs. I made certain to ask the guy at the Game Stop if my husband could use it with his Guitar Hero guitar. Sure, he said.
Right. I should have known better.
So when George tried to play it on Christmas morning, we discovered it was not compatible with his Guitar Hero guitar, that we'd have to go out and buy a completely different guitar for it. So he decided to take it back. And the game Bart had gotten him, that Bart was so excited to give him, well, George already had it. So Bart was disappointed about that, and George didn't really get anything he could use. I ended up giving him the first Star Wars Battlefront game, after all, since nothing else was working out for.
I got my boots (big suprise), and I have worn them every day since Christmas. I even wore them on Christmas Day when it was sweltering. I picked them out with Skylar at the Jacksonville Mall and had the store hold them for George. I even gave him the store's business card so he could find it easier. They're black suede Timberlands with lining inside. They're waterproof and cozy and way cute. Too cozy and cute for NC. Lucky for me, the waterproofing is coming in handy, though. It rained far too much over the holiday. Other than the boots, Bart and George picked out a nice little table-top fountain for me. Skylar (with my unknowing help) tied a very warm NC State fleece blanket for George and me, and George gave me two things that I will not mention except to say that they were gifts more for him than for me - which ticked me off. I told him it would be like if I bought makeup or perfume for myself and wrapped it up for him.
The children got some really nice things for Christmas. It looked like so much under the tree, but I guess when you have four kids, it's going to look like a toy store no matter what!
For Bart, it was a very Star Wars Christmas. George and I looked everywhere for a Clone Troopers Voice-Changing helmet. We couldn't get our hands on one in New Bern, but we finally found one in Jacksonville at Toys R US. It was a big hit. Santa brought him a Tie Fighter ship. Skylar got a Soda Pop doll which turned out to have a stinky smell to it, a special charm bracelet I put together for her, and some good books. Drake got Dora the Explorer stuff and George made a train table for him. It turned out really nice, even though he didn't get it until the 30th. Lucy got mainly clothes, and a pink Disney Princess walker from Tom & Renee. They got other things, too, I just can't remember right now.
I was going to make us all new stockings this year, since Lucy didn't have one and mine and George's were picked up last-minute at the Dollar Tree two years ago and were coming apart. We went out and picked out some nice fleece and everything, but I just didn't have time to make them. So, as it was our first Christmas without Paco, Lucy had to use the dog stocking. It's light brown with dark brown spots. I was going to send it to George's Aunt Patty since Paco is living with her now, but I just didn't get around to that either. In this case, it worked out for our benefit.
So let's see...I made two batches of toffee this year, two batches (nine dozen) macaroons, vanilla and chocolate-dipped pretzels and peanut butter crackers, Pannettone, mini fruit cake loaves, Raspberry-lemon cornmeal loaves, truffles, and butter cookies. I am baked out.
Tomorrow, I'm making my Partridge bread, the kid's holiday favorite. And then I'm making figgy pudding for Twelfth Night.
George made homemade bagels with Skylar Thursday night and today he and the Big Two made homemade marshmallows.
Yep, I'm pretty sure we've all gained about ten pounds.
We gave baked goods out to teachers and instructors, friends and family, the ladies I Visit Teach at church, the young women at church, and our mail carrier.
So yes, it was a very stressful holiday season, but at least we ate well.
George and I always try to reinforce to the children and ourselves the true meaning of Christmas, and we usually do quite well. Probably our most spiritual Christmas (even with Bart's double-ear infection that made him run a fever and puke Christmas Eve and Christmas Day) was the last one we spent in Middlesex. We went out Christmas Eve for our annual light-watching trip. We also dropped off cookies at our bishop's house and some friends' homes. We left a large gift bag full of little toys and goodies at the home of a boy and girl to whom we had been giving a ride to church occasionally and who we suspected might not have a lot under the tree. On the way back home, we heard on the radio that Santa's sleigh had been spotted in the sky, so we HURRIED back so Sky and Bart could get in their PJ's.
The following Christmas was OK, but I felt guilty then for insisting we stay local on Christmas Eve (and try to recapture the prior Christmas Eve magic by delivering cookies to friends) instead of going over to Mindy's, which George wanted to do. I was just exhausted (Drake was only three months old) and I was feeling a little melancholy and wanted to be close to our new home.
Last year was pretty fun. We had our best friends the Nicolaysens and the Weekes over for Christmas Eve snacks and fun. We had a good time and Bart and his best friend/girlfriend Taylor spent the whole night glued to the computer to see where Santa's sleigh was headed next. Unfortunately, I was a pain in the rear on the way up to PA the day after Christmas. It was a really tense drive up, since it poured rain the whole way, and I was just feeling out of sorts. I felt pretty bad the whole stay, like I just could not get enough rest. We had a really good time with Alan and Mary Kay, but I just felt weird. We soon learned I had been in the early weeks of pregnancy, which would explain the moodiness and exhaustion.
Will I look back with fondness on this Christmas from the distance of a year or two? I don't know. Will the kids remember me and George fighting and sniping at one another? I hope not. Hopefully they'll just remember the stuff I remember from my own childhood Christmases: the tree crowded full of ornaments, the presents glimmering beneath the lights on Christmas morning, the smell of new plastic and Scotch tape. Cookies, milk, cold breath on the night air as we watch for a telltale red light in the sky, the thrill of mysteries and magic and old carols.
That's what I want them to remember. I guess that's what we need to focus on next year.
We got too caught up in the buy, buy, buying - even on our limited means. Just because we don't have a lot to spend on Christmas presents doesn't mean we can't be just as materialistic as those who spend thousands of dollars. Sure I love my boots and I've used them a ton. But in the grand scheme of things, do they really matter?
No, they don't.
Time and again, we are reminded that the only thing that really matters at Christmas is the baby in the manger. The story echoes down the millennia. It never goes away or loses its power, it stays with us because it is the reason we're here. It's the reminder that the only thing that endures from this life is family and the worth of one's soul.
I am not pleased with the worth of mine right now. Some people might say that I'm a pretty good person, and that may even be true to a large extent. I only know that the more your eyes are opened, the more you feel responsible to be a better person.
I don't want to get caught up in the Christmas frenzy next year. I guess like a lot of other people, I'm just looking for a way to balance the spiritual with the material. I'm not really sure how to do that. I still want my kids to have that look of awe in their eyes when they come downstairs Christmas morning, but I don't want to feel empty and sad when the gifts are all opened and the paper crumpled up on the floor. I don't want to forget about the baby in the manger.
I read something in a little booklet I received at church a few years ago, and I will have to try to paraphrase it. But basically, it's that the feeling we get at Christmas is a reminder, a brief tantalizing snippet, of what doesn't have to be just once a year, but of something that can be eternal. To have that Christmas feeling we had as a child, the one that we try in vain as adults to capture and keep, but that constantly slips just out of reach - to really have it, and to have it forever - would probably be my idea of heaven. That beats out Wiis and Star Wars - and yes, even shoes - any day.