merry christmas 2007: making of the band

A couple weeks ago I was lamenting the fact that this may be the last Christmas where all three boys still believe in Santa.

Then one night as I was reading them a bedtime story, Cole asked, "Mom, what if there is no Santa? What if you are Santa?"

My heart skipped a beat but I managed to blurt out a response that wasn't exactly deceitful, "Well how on earth would I get toys to all the children of the world?"

"Oh," he said. Apparently I managed to postpone the inevitable for a while longer.

It turned out to be a better Christmas than we've had in years. Nobody was sick and we started a new tradition: a Christmas Eve party! Based on one of my husband's family traditions, we invited our family, friends and neighbors over for eggnog, wine and lots of food. At first I wasn't sure if anyone would come, but we had a good turn out and everyone seemed to have fun. Here are the boys in their Christmas outfits: During the party our neighbors were telling us about their plans to go to Breckenridge on Christmas day and ended up inviting us, too. We've never been so of course we said yes. On Christmas morning we awoke to a heavy snow (and a tad bit if a hangover) and watched the boys open their gifts. Then we packed up everything we owned and headed to the mountains. It was my first time to go through the Eisenhower tunnel, a three mile pass that actually goes under the continental divide. On our side all the rivers flow to the Atlantic and on the other, to the Pacific. Pretty cool. The scenery was amazing and we arrived safely. It was a beautiful condo that even had a heated parking garage. We felt very hoity toity. But shortly after enjoying a delicious dinner with our neighbors, we discovered we'd left the most important bag at home: the toiletry bag. For a guy it's no big deal, but for me, I was pretty much high and dry. No conditioner, lotion, make-up, brush. I borrowed a few things from my neighbor but felt bad about using her stuff. Then we settled in for the night with two of the boys on a pull-out sofa and us on a bed. The third boy was on an inflatable bed which for some reason lost its air in the middle of the night. Then the people above us started making noise around 1am until 3am. It was a long night and the boys woke up in foul moods. We decided to cut our losses and head back early. Thankfully our neighbors were understanding and did not taunt us too much.

One of the best parts of this Christmas was seeing the boys with their new instruments. Cole asked for a trumpet, Clayton a Les Paul electric guitar, and Cooper a toy guitar. Clayton seems to be a natural and has already learned some chords from his Dad.



Last night when they were getting ready for bed, we heard Clayton whisper to Cole, "Do you know why I'm so good at the lee-lectric guitar? Because Santa's magic is on it."

If only they could all believe for a few more years.

my ten cents worth

A long time ago, I wrote a post about the misery 25 cents can bring, but I recently found out that 10 cents can cause a lot of headaches, too.

Shortly before the holidays, my son brought home a note that said the school cafeteria would be hosting a special Thanksgiving lunch. Parents were encouraged to come and eat with their child. My son seemed very excited about it so I planned to be there. When the day came for the special event, I met him at the cafeteria, where it was a mad house of excited children and tense looking parents. We proceeded to the lunchroom where I offered up my $20 but was told they did not accept cash that day. Instead, they would write my name down and I would have to come back the next day to pay.

So I showed up bright and early the next morning. I had broken my $20 since then and brought $8 to pay with. I had no idea how much school lunches cost since my son usually takes a sack lunch. Based on the taste and texture they should have paid us to eat it, but oh well. I tracked down a lunch lady and handed her my money. She looked up our bill and said I owed $8.10. I had no change on me and smiled sheepishly, expecting her to say no problem, they'd let it go. After all, it was 10 cents we're talking about. Instead, she said I should just pay when I got a chance...no hurry.

I hate having things like that hanging over my head, no matter how minute. Past experience has taught me that the very smallest things will get you eventually, and this case was no different. The next morning the phone rang while I was getting the boys ready for school. It was a collection call from the cafeteria telling me our account was overdrawn. Seriously. Turns out they didn't just call my home, they called my husband at his work and on his cell phone. I tried to no be irritated and made sure I had a dime in my pocket to pay the rat bastards later that day.

After picking up my kindergartner at noon, we headed back to the lunchroom. There was a long line for food and then a line to pay. I obviously didn't want their food so I got in the paying line and waited. And waited and waited. The lunch lady completely ignored me and just kept dealing with the kids. I finally said, "Excuse me?" and she shot me a look, actually waved me off with her hand dismissively and said, "I can't help you until all these kids are done."

"Well is there anyone else I can pay so you people will stop calling my house and harassing me?" I asked ever so sweetly. "No," she very rudely replied.

I was livid but since I had my son with me and was in a school, I had to bite my tongue and exit swiftly before I blew up. I stormed home where my husband opened the door and innocently asked if I'd taken care of our 10 cent debt. I burst into tears and blubbered out the whole story. It had been a long week of taking care of sick kids and preparing for Thanksgiving and the cafeteria lady had caused me to snap. He grabbed his coat, took the dime and marched out the door. That's the cool thing about being married to a Marine, they run toward confrontation, not away from it.

He returned shortly, successful in his mission. He had marched into the school, held up the dime and said, "I want somebody to take this dime from my hand, put it on my son's account, and give me a receipt." The flustered office ladies then directed him to the cafeteria where he repeated his request, rather forcefully, and was taken care of.

It's this kind of thing that drives me slowly insane. You can live your life doing everything possible to avoid disputes and inconveniences. You can pay your bills, follow the rules and be a friendly person. Still, inevitably, things are going to get you. Especially the cafeteria ladies. They are the worst.

a writer is born

As many people know, I have always been the anti-soccer mom. I have refused to sign the boys up for everything and run around like a crazy person just to keep up with the Joneses. Sometimes I wonder if I'm cheating them by not making them chase a black and white ball around in a tiny uniform, but my gut tells me I'm making the right choice. I believe that they should each discover on their own just what it is they love and want to pursue.

At a recent parent/teacher conference, my oldest son's teacher explained that my son is really thriving and is ahead of his class when it comes to reading. She indicated that we should keep pushing him to make sure he continues to grow. The thing is, we actually don't push him at all. It's all his doing. He decides, in his free time, to write short stories and poetry for fun. Here's one of his recent stories, exactly as he typed it on the computer. He's not much for punctuation yet but it's still readable:

One Sunday afternoon in the month of December lived a man
Named Hershel and people said there was a snow monster it
Was hard to believe but Hershel had to admit it so the next
Morning Hershel woke up early to see if the snow monster was
Real so got on his snow cloths and walked outside his house into
The wilderness while he was walking the ground started to shake and
There stood behind him a snow monster Hershel got filled
With fear he could feel the tips of the snow monsters frosty
Fingers touch his neck Hershel froze for a moment then
Hershel slowly turned his head at first there was nothing
Then something slowly rose up and out of the ground
It got bigger and bigger suddenly eyes appeared and
A mouth then the snow monster pounded the ground
With its giant hands it created avalanches and a bunch
Of snow piled on top of Hershel his hart pounded as
The terrible sight the snow monster roared with terror .
And lifted the pine tree he held it high in the air and
Swung it and hit another tree Hershel saw two kids
Playing lacrosse go home he yelled the kids ran as
Far as there legs could take them Hershel got up
His coat flapped in the wind he ran as fast as he
Could he walked in the door and lit a candle it
Flickered as the wind blew he sat down and read
About history then he came to a picture of a snow
Monster o brother he said this is a nightmare




He also wrote a poem for Halloween:

Boo

Past the moon past the stars and over mars
You may think its a astronaut but
Its not what you think it is.
If you look very closely you will notice a
Difference. You may see a black pointy
Hat and a black dress and striped socks
And you might notice a broom. You better
Be careful she swoops down to get you!

Also, his own spacing, spelling and punctuation.

His most recent endeavor was to design a robot. The amount of detail and labels he included indicate he might have a touch of OCD, but I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.



After much anticipation, my husband took the boys to Lowes to buy the parts to create the robot and here's the result:



This is just the "bones" for it, they still have to "flesh it out".


The other night I went into my son's room to say goodnight and found him writing away in his journal. His latest story is about ants being forced to make honey by wasps. He looked up, almost breathless, and said, "I've found my 'thing', Mom! Writing is my thing!" I like to think that the lack of soccer practices, boy scouts and other after-school activities allowed him the space to discover this about himself. It's hard to stand strong in the over-achiever, high pressure culture known as the suburbs, but I'll keep fighting the good fight!