FREE DAY!!!

Christmas blogging is to come, but just to share some of the awesomeness (is that even a word?) of this day at my house...

It's FREEDAY! No school, no errands (not that I don't need to run some, I just refuse) just staying at home and getting things back in some kind of order. The girls know that on free days they get to pick out their own clothes. Anabelle showed up in the kitchen in this announcing she is a super hero. Notice the new panties on top of leggings.

Taylor is wearing the new super cool princess dress that she got in the mail from Granny Ilene last night. Anabelle had hers on earlier, but you know her constant need for change. ;)
No, I didn't forget Caroline, she was just asleep during the original post. She's sporting her new baby legs (leg warmers).

It's all in a name...

Taylor completed this exercise earlier today and I think it speaks volumes. I will type it EXACTLY how she did.
T-all
A- llwase right
Y-ugn (young)
L-ong
O-dd
R-ight

I'd say, she considers being allwase right a big part of who she is... ;)

Lazy Saturday and Taylor's Famous!!

The following appeared in Sarah Goodman's weekly column, Some Kind of Crazy in The Sheridan Headlight. Oh yes, I said Taylor was famous!!!

Being the nerd that I am, I always liked the “compare and contrast” essay questions we had to answer in school. In the spirit of the season, I’d like to compare and contrast two letters to Santa.

The first was written by a little girl I taught in my Vacation Bible School class a few years ago. She was an incredibly well-behaved child, who never complained even though our class was held outside during July in temperatures and humidity that made an equatorial rainforest seem downright chilly. She never griped, even though her teacher did. A lot.

Taylor is without a doubt a sweetheart. When I saw her letter to Santa on her mom’s blog, I knew I had to get permission to use it:
Dear Santa,
I would like to tell you Sopthing (I adore this phonetic spelling of “something”).
I hav made Sum Mistacse. (Haven’t we all made some mistakes? Good to see someone admitting it!)
But I am Triying to Bee a Good Girl. (I certainly hope we are all trying to be good, but I have my doubts. Finally, in little tiny letters at the bottom, she gets around to making her one request:)
I would like a new bike.

Taylor’s mom noted that this was her third attempt at confessing her sins to Santa. The first letter started out, “I have not been a good girl.” Mom persuaded her not to be so hard on herself, so she came back with “I have not been a good enuf girl.” Apparently, it took some serious coaxing to convince Taylor that she wasn’t Attila the Hun reincarnated.

Before I get to AJ’s letter to Santa for this year, let me say that I’m never sure what to expect from him in this department. One year, he requested that Santa “bring Mama a new mirror.” This didn’t reflect (pun intended) too well on me, I decided. It sounded as though the numerous mirrors around our home just weren’t enough for the amount of self-admiration I had to accomplish every day. Or maybe AJ assessed my appearance, decided I clearly must not own a mirror, and really needed to get one quickly. I came across as vain or skanky. In truth, I think his request was because he knew I’d dropped my makeup mirror and shattered it, but it was still an odd thing to see in a kid’s letter to St. Nick.

AJ’s missive to Santa this year had, like Taylor’s, some creative spelling. They both spell it like it sounds. However, he takes a different approach to dealing with the naughty vs. nice question:

Dear Santa Place can I have a lever ashen with a skope?
(See how he gets right to the point? I’m proud of the polite, albeit misspelled, “please” in the opening line, but I’m concerned that my seven year old is asking for high-powered rifles.)
And a Bolt ashen with a skope have I been good?
Notice that he not only wants a bolt action rifle, but also a lever action, and they both need to have scopes. You never know when you might have a potential kill at long range, be it a deer, squirrel, or Bigfoot. AJ is a firm believer in sasquatches, and is constantly on the lookout for proof of their existence. He’s decided the best proof would be one huge hairy carcass.
The part that I love most about this letter is the “have I been good?” that he snuck in there at the end, almost as an afterthought.
That pretty much sums up AJ’s philosophy on dealing with wrongdoing: Never admit guilt until confronted with direct proof of your misdeeds. Just wait and see how much, if any, evidence mom or Santa might have on you before you stick your foot in your mouth. You might still be able to pin this on someone else, so play it cool!

I hope everyone out there was good this year, or at the very least that Santa doesn’t have the hard evidence to prove otherwise. Merry Christmas to all, and if you happen to kill a Bigfoot, let us know.

Big number 6!

The oldest of the little ladies is six! She told me on the way to school that she was glad she was six b/c she was sick of saying she was five and she knew she wouldn't get sick of saying she was six. She was such a big girl going on her date with Daddy. When he went to ring the doorbell she had to go wait in her 'chambers.' Shannon wasn't sure where they were going until he overheard her tell several people that her daddy was taking her to the Cheesecake Factory. Here are some pictures.

8:30 pm on a Friday at our house...

"Back up more Daddy!!!" This is my daredevil child. No doubt about it.

Dear Santa

I've been a good mom all year.

I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my three children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree in the school playground, and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my daughter's girl scout sash with staples and a glue gun.

I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmas', since I had to write this one with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next eighteen years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing kids (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy aisle in the grocery store. I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.

If you're hauling big ticket items this year, I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, two kids who don't fight, and three pairs of jeans that zip all the way up without the use of power tools.

I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your sister", because my voice seems to be out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.

And please, don't forget the Play-Doh Travel Pack, the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors guaranteed to crumble on any carpet and make the In-laws' house seem just like home.

If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.

If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice-cream in his pajamas at midnight.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door and wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don't catch cold.
Help yourself to cookies on the table, but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Oh, and one more thing Santa; you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in you.

(by Debbie Farmer)

Santa Letter

Ok, you must know that this is letter #3. Letter number one said, "I have not been a good girl..." Letter number two said, "I have not been a good enuf girl..." This child is so literal, good means perfect. I'm certain her younger sister would have started her letter with, " I have been a GREAT girl this year." It is so fun to watch the differences in these little personalities.

Blizzard hits B'ham

or not...but the girls had a great time. Shannon even woke them up in the middle of the night to see the snow. They have been working really hard to make snowballs this morning. This is a picture of Taylor and Anabelle and Caroline in the snow...kinda. (Caroline is looking out the window in the background)
Then my crazy husband went running. Really? Even in 34 degree weather? I think he is sick.