Mother's Day: I want a redo

Welcome to the 50,000th Mother's Day re-cap post on the World Wide Web!

I knew my hubby, and by extension, my little guy, would do something fantastic. Hubby is the best present giver in the history of the world. He always knocks gifts out of the park with his uncanny ability to figure out just what I want without ever asking.

I had this feeling on Saturday that something would go awry, but thought it was just based on last Saturday, when a combination of going to bed way to late and my child sleeping almost 0 hours all night left me completely exhausted on Sunday. And even knowing that might be the case, I stayed up late again on Saturday night because in my mind I'm still 25? Who knows.

Anyway.

Baby was up pretty much all night with a cold. Hubby took the first shift, I took the second, and then around 6:45 I decided just to park in the recliner in Baby Blogworthy's room. A couple hours later I woke up feeling pretty alright.

Hubby woke up and we decided I should open my presents right away since the baby was in a good mood.

First was a new charm for my charm bracelet.

It's the last charm on the right -- a pacifier -- and Hubby called it the "mute button". Before Baby Blogworthy was able to nurse really well, we used to just stick our finger in his mouth to quiet him down. Then the heavens opened and angels started singing when he discovered the mute button. Pretty cute and sweet.

The second gift was a really nice women's devotional Bible, which I've been asking for for awhile. Then he saved the best for last:

Click the picture for bigness.

And of course it made me do this:

That's the ugly cry face and Baby Blogworthy with his mute button saying, "eh."

After that the day went downhill. Baby B has a cold, so he was fussy and miserable all day. Hubby started feeling nauseous and ended up with a fever. Me? I became more and more exhausted. With only four hours of sleep, good will runs out pretty quickly. Every time I'd lay down for a nap while he was napping, he'd wake up 45 minutes later almost as soon as I'd really fall asleep.

By the end of the day I was spent, especially since he refused to fall asleep even though he was CLEARLY tired. Why babies refuse naps, I'll never know.

So that was my crappy Mother's Day. The gifts were awesome, the rest of the day not so much.

Honestly though? Even bad days seem a little bit better when you have this going on:

How was your Mother's Day? If you have furbabies, did they get you anything? If you're dad, did you spoil your wife?

Happy New Year Best Post Round-up: AKA phoning it in for the holiday

Oh 2010, you saucy wench.

It was the best of times.

We found out we were having a baby.

I became a Word of the Week Made Man by talking about celebrities.

I discovered how much richer blog posts can be with charts and graphs.

Hub and I celebrated our three year anniversary.

The Bachelorette was on and I was able to use some lyrics to Quad City DJ's song and we all died a little bit inside from the inane-ness of it all.

People at work discovered the dry erase board, to my endless amusement.

We found out our baby is a boy.

Our Publix re-opened.

I vlogged.

I had a baby.


It was the worst of times.

My Mom was diagnosed and treated for breast cancer.

It was hot.

I got a shot in the butt.

Our back-yard neighbor was a raging bitch and I got all passive-aggressive about it.

I missed an epic Boyz II Men concert because I was too pregnant to do anything.

The Situation stunk up Dancing With the Stars.

Courtney Cox and David Arquette busted up that love affair.

The clinic kept sending me to L&D for high blood pressure. But it's probably because they kept screwing up our bills.

We had some cockroaches infest our garage (and/or bathroom).

I'd say all in all, it wasn't a bad year. We'll see what 2011 has in store.

Wordless Wednesday: Holiday fun

I missed KLZ's antler "antler-up" (sort of like Barney Stinson's suit up, right?) but decided to do it anyway because she loves my baby:

 

PS that hat is ALMOST too small for his big fat head.

Baby Blogworthy must not know about "turkey" yet

NOM.

Dearest Ravenous Monster Baby,

You know what tastes really good? Turkey.

 Yes sir, it's one of life's greatest pleasures. Well, not just turkey *per-say*. We've been eating a lot of turkey, me and you, on sandwiches and salads and whatnot since you made eating ham a thing of the past back in April. Since canned tuna is out (which in salad form is Mommy's favorite sandwich toppings and I WILL eat one as soon as you make your grand appearance), my options are ham (puke), turkey and roast beef.

So turkey sandwiches on the regular around these parts, but what I'm talking about is a nice, fat, salty, buttery, cooked-to-perfection hunk of meat that is only found around our house during holidays and the occasional dinner out to Bob Evans. You'll learn someday that Thanksgiving dinner is pretty much the epitome of meals.

Ok, let me put it this way. You know how sometimes Mommy doesn't eat and you get so pissed off and start just kicking the crap out of my insides, but then after you get some nourishment you calm down and fall asleep? Well I hate to break it to you, but guess what? That's pretty unacceptable behavior out here in the real world, especially for grown-people. Except on Thanksgiving.

See, this magical day isn't just about the turkey. It's about stuffing and cranberries and green-bean casserole (the only time green beans are edible in my book) and rolls and mashed potatoes and corn. AND GRAVY. Mercy, the gravy. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I often have an uncontrollable urge to put gravy on everything. It makes all that food I mentioned above taste even better, if that's possible.

So here's how it works: People we love sit down at a table. We are all wearing clothes, so no more nakedness for you (I'm sorry to break that cold, hard fact to you, but I promise it's worth it). We put all this yummy on our plates and then DRENCH it with gravy. Then we eat that and get another plate. Then we dig into desserts -- how could I forget desserts? -- and then the men folk (that's you and Dad) sit in front of the TV and watch a football game, but make it through one possession before falling into what we call a *turkey coma*.

The women-folk don't bother with all that extra stuff -- we just find a couch or bed and go right into our turkey coma nap. This is the best nap of the year, what with the drool and how usually it's a little cool out so it's super comfy and how the belly is super full, so much so that laying down is the only comfortable position. Oh, and how it's a legitimate reason to put on your "comfy pants" instead of pants with buttons, snaps and zippers.

Then after a couple hours in the turkey coma, you wake up and watch more football or a movie, and then raid the fridge. This is usually when Mommy makes a sandwich out of a roll, turkey scraps and stuffing and then dips it in gravy.

And because Thanksgiving is a holiday, us grown-people don't have to go to work. Last year, Mommy and Daddy were both off for a lot of days and stayed up until 3 AM every morning playing video games. We'll probably be up the same kind of hours this year if you are here with us, but for other reasons.

But see, kid, this is where your cooperation comes in to play. You are due on this magical day. However, if you are actually *born* on Thanksgiving day, Mommy and Daddy and Aunt Sis and your grandparents won't get to have this yummy meal. No Turkey. No gravy. No sandwiches dipped in gravy. No nap. Just birthin' you.

Say, you know what would be helpful? You getting here this week! What do you say, bud? Hows about, like, this weekend maybe!? And while you won't be able to actually EAT the turkey, you can definitely smell it and that's one step closer than you would be if you were still in my belly.

But you'll probably be like your Dad and be a pedantic rule follower and say, "oh, no, Mommy, the doctor said November 25, so November 25 it is! Let me just get comfy here and we can wait it out!"

And if that's the case? Fine. Be that way. But just remember that if you miss this Thanksgiving, you'll miss ' wearing a wear a newborn sized pilgrim hat or turkey costume. That'll be your cross to bear.

I love you,
Momma

Wordy & Nerdy

No porch light means I'm not interested

Last year Hubby and I went all out on Halloween. We carved an awesome pumpkin.

See? Awesome. Hubby carved that last year.

We had some spooky Halloween music and set up a nice little operation from our driveway, including some pretty stellar candy options. I'm not talking, like, the generic kids mix. I'm talking Hersey's bars, Kit Kats and Nerds.

We got about 3 kids. The rest of the candy went straight to my thighs.

This year we decided to be grinches, or whatever the Halloween equivalent is. Hubby and I went out to dinner and ran errands, then lost track of time and came home right about when Trick-or-Treat was starting and our street was SWARMING with those little sugar-hungry brats.

We rushed inside so we wouldn't be spied, left the door closed and the porch light off. A few minutes later, our doorbell rang.

Who sends their child up to a dark house? Seriously, who does that?

Luckily, we had some 6-month old suckers from ye olden days of my 1st trimester morning sickness, so I popped those bad boys in the bags of those eagerly awaiting children, while their mother graciously shone her flashlight onto our sidewalk so the kids could see the dark house they were approaching. The dark house containing who knows what manner of grumpy, angry people. I mean, hypothetically, if we're cantankerous enough to deny kids their God-given, red-blooded American right to free candy on Halloween, what other deep dark secrets could we be harboring?

And additionally, I thought the international sign for, "I'm not giving out candy because I hate you. Please go away" is to turn off your light. Maybe things have changed in the past 18 years since I've been begging for treats.

We decided since we've already broken the seal, as it were, that we'd flip on the light and continue giving out stale suckers until it was over. All in all, we got about 10 kids. That includes the kids who were in such a hurry that they couldn't wait 60 seconds for me to rock my pregnant butt out of the recliner and waddle to the door. Ungrateful.

Did you give out candy? What percentage of children, would you estimate, forgot to say either "Happy Halloween", "Thank you" or both?

For your Halloween enjoyment, I present the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills

Opulence. They has it.

Bravo has graciously given us another gaggle of *frightful* women who have decidedly more money than sense. I can't figure out how this one is different than the original Real Housewives of OC, because the new crew all seem just as tanned, fake and *zombie*-like as the original OCs, but somehow it's different. Let's not question Bravo's motives too closely, shall we?

Meet the characters:

• Lisa VanderPump-Todd - "Restaurant Owner" "Entrepreneur" "Dog owner" (the last one is for real). Apparently, a type of Beverly Hills rich lady whose children have long left the nest and replaced them with dogs. Tiny, skittish little dogs. With bows and sweaters who drink Fuiji water out of gold plated bowls and who poop in handbags that cost more than my entire closet of clothing. She lives in a palatial home with her husband, a crap-ton of dogs, and a personal trainer/friend/hanger-on/squatter/possibly gay BFF who is approximately 30 years younger. Don't worry, her husband is cool with it. Unless he's not gay, in which case he might have a Situation on his hands. Lisa hasn't seen her original face since 1982.

• Adrienne Maloof-Nassif - Part of some high-powered West Coast family who owns, like, half of Vegas and the Sacramento Kings. She's also kind of bad ass -- like she did some ninja karate move on her son and slammed him on the ground just so she could prove to her plastic surgeon husband that she was a tough broad (mission...accomplished) *spooky*

• Kyle Richards - Famous for being an "actress" in the 70s. Also Paris Hilton's aunt. Also likes to make babies when she's not working. *spooky*

• Kim Richards - Famous for being in Escape from Witch Mountain when she was a child, never learned any type of social interaction skills, and now has tons of money, lots of kids and lungs that are filled with helium (apparently) (judging by the way she talks) (which is super annoying) (and she also hates everyone). *spooky*

• Camille Grammer - Married to Kelsey Grammer for one hot second, or enough hot seconds for her to have two children with him. OH WAIT. She didn't actually give birth to her children, she had them via surrogate even though she was perfectly capable of having them herself, just didn't want to lose her figure. I'm not making that up. And let's just say, Camille Grammer probably could use a hamburger. *spooky*

• Taylor Armstrong - I still can't figure out what she does. Wikipedia says she's founder of eImplement, Inc. That sounds made up. And Wikipedia can't even find that as it's own entry not associated with this show. And my high school in the hills of WV has an entry, and we only had 400 people total in the whole school, so I'm questioning the legitimacy of eImplement Inc. We all know that Wikipedia does not lie. Anyway, Taylor also likes to get botox in her temples so that it looks like she has face tumors, and stir the *cauldron* of drama amongst these lovely, *goulish* ladies. *spooky*

• A very  Scary and Rich *Boogey* Monster - Married to a hotelier and spends her days shopping, designing shoes for her new line of stilettos, and scaring innocent young children by jumping out of their closets during the witching hour.

In the first episode, the ladies take a trip to Sacramento to watch a Kings game courtside, and while they are *cackling*, *howling* and doing some funky-fresh dance moves with the mascot, some Joe Schmo, the most die-hard Kings fan on the planet, who saved weekly for months for a crappy nosebleed seat, silently weeps all his facepaint off into his #1 foam finger. *spooky*

Then before or after - I don't know, there was so much awesome that it all blended together - the ladies went to a classy restaurant and acted foolish while Kim demonstrated her competence in the art of bitchface and Lisa's dog licked everyone's plates. *spooky*

 Oh, also in the episode, Kim (whose hair I would seriously cut someone for), talks about how one time, she was out to dinner with her niece, PARIS HILTON, and the papparazi was all, KIM! KIM! Over here! And PARIS HILTON was all, "Um, Aunt  Kim why are they taking pictures of you and not me?" and the Paps said, "Don't forget PARIS HILTON, your Aunt Kim was here first!" and Kim was all, "that's right, niece PARIS HILTON, I was here first!" (snaps fingers in the air in the shape of a Z)(What a sad, pitiful little life she leads.)

 Later, at Kim's house, she's getting ready to move into a haunted house house that's way too big and expensive for her (it's not necessary for me to make this show scarier than it already is), and her sister Kyle comes over to help her move and they suddenly start screaming at each other about how the other is really ungrateful, and color me confused with the problems of rich people.

So there you go. If that isn't as scary as your regular, everyday SCREAM or Nightmare on Elm Street, I don't know what is.

Can anyone who is familiar with the culture and society of Beverly Hills and/or Orange County explain to me how these two shows are different? Doesn't Real Housewives of Atlanta basically trump both of them? How appropriate is this show for Halloween, anyway?

Getting my word on! Play along!

Birthdays and pregnancy don't mix

I have a confession to make.

I joined Studio 30+ a few months ago because it looked like an amazing place to hang out online, for cool people only. I've been solidly pimping it out on my page and Twitter. The only problem? I wasn't 30. I was 29. And 3/4. I was so close to 30 I could smell it. Everybody I knew was in their 30s. I was married to a 30 year old. I told people I was 30 because when you work with mostly 30 year olds, saying you're 29 inevitably brings lots of corny jokes like, "You've heard of Indiana Jones, right? Or was that before your time?" or "1988 was a good year. But you were still in diapers then, weren't you?" RIGHT, I WAS IN DIAPERS AT 8 YEARS OLD. I especially love it when the people making these HIlarious jokes were two years ahead of me in school. Funny guys. Reallllly funny.

Anybitter, now I'm legitimately the right age for the group and I hope founders Jules and Jerrod can forgive me for all the dirty, dirty lies I've been spreading. Just know in my heart and soul, I was 30.

But let me tell you, people, being pregnant on a milestone birthday is not all it's cracked up to be. I've been close to tears no less than 10 times this morning and it's not even 10 am. People are being so darn sweet and nice that my heart is filled to the brim with appreciation and if it gets much more full I will have a massive hysterical waterworks fest. You've all been warned (but you can be sweet anyway if you want. When you can't have wine, crying is the next best way to relieve stress.)

Indulge my nostalgia for one moment, please: I had a really terrific time in my 20s. I think of it in two pretty distinct areas. The first is my college and grad school years, where I learned so much about myself and made memories that still, to this day, make me smile. The friendships I made during that time I will always cherish...still do, in fact, since some of my best friends of yore are my best friends today. The second area is really after I met my hubby -- or AH, if you will -- when I started my first job, watch friends get married and have babies, got married myself and recently watched my baby sister get married. Hubby and I traveled all around and had the most amazing experiences during our travels. We moved, bought a house, made a baby and started become grown-ups.

And here's 30 that's full of who knows what, but if the trend continues, I know it's going to be great.

Now where's the birthday laundry elf I asked for?

What was your favorite age?

And the wiener is....

So, it's Monday again. Somebody tell me how THAT happened.

I realize I totally left my blog readers hanging after the big baby announcement. That'll teach you non-Tweeters to hurry up and get a Twitter already because I talked about it on there. I was all ready to write it on Friday, but things started getting REAL busy and I didn't have time.

And the big news is....

IT'S A BOY!

This is *yawn* old news for most of y'all, so here's a little something new...the results of the poll:

It was a dead even 15 to 15, with one vote for kitten. I wonder who voted for kitten. It was my dear sissy, who is excited for her nephew, but does enjoy kittens. He will be even BETTER than a kitten!

We're a family of girls. In fact, on my Dad's side there is my sister and I, my cousin Michelle and her daughter Gracie. I don't know what to do with a boy, although that's what I wanted. I guess a lot of sports related things? I also want to throw out there that I find it just slightly concerning that there is a picture of his little wiener on my fridge with an arrow pointing to it that says "IT'S A BOY!!!", courtesy of my ultrasound tech. Combined with the fact that I can't stop calling it his little wiener, he's coming into a pretty Klassy family.

I am still going to do a giveaway but I need to put all the guesses into the randomzier thing and decide what I'm going to give away. That will be happening soon.

So enjoy your Mondays, remember that our country's birthday is this weekend and it's time to drink beer, eat hot dogs and set off explosives (only two of those three things I can do this year, although I'll make up for it next year by dressing my son in an Uncle Sam costume, holla!), and remember, tomorrow is Bachelorette Tuesday!

Nobody reads Sunday posts anyway

Hubby and I are having the best day today, filled with some yummy food, a 2 hour nap and lots of couch-sitting. It's awesome.

I'm going to go back in time to 2008 and tell y'all a little story. That year was our first Easter in the dirty south. Back in WV, there were a few places open on Easter, including some grocery stores and restaurants. You know, there is only so much ham a person can eat. Seriously. That year we had a delicious ham filled, homemade meal, then took a nap, then woke up and decided to run out and get something fast food to save us from a dinner of ham sandwiches.

Guess what's open on Easter Sunday in the south. NOTHING. N-o-t-h-i-n-g. Not even the grocery store. So we had ham. AGAIN.***

I guess it's blasphemous to want some fried chicken or something on the holiest day in the Christian calendar. I mean, call me crazy, but I think Jesus would have LOVED some Zaxby's chicken tenders.

***UPDATE* Hubby was reading my blog with me and he reminded me that two years ago we didn't, in fact, go back and eat ham; we ate at the only place open in all of Florida which was Perkins. And this particular Perkins had a distinct vomit smell. You know what doesn't' go well with pancakes? VOMIT SMELL. We haven't been pack (obvs).

This year we prepared by ordering a pizza online on Saturday night. And it's ridiculous a person can order a pizza online, p.s. We had lots extra to eat today, although I couldn't resist a little ham on a Publix roll.

Anyway, I hadn't posted in a few days. I got another email, this one for 20,000,00020millionUSD. All I need to do is send my money to Zimbabwe. I'm on it, Mr. Samuel Muyo, the elder son of Mr. Joseph Muyo of Zimbabwe.

I'm super pleased that WVU lost last night. I do wonder if they went ahead and burnt the couches anyway up in Morgantown.

Oh, and Saturday I started a Facebook Fan page for It's Blogworthy! Go join here or it's also on the sidebar to the left.

Tomorrow's post will be better, I promise.

Can I have last year back?

So remember two days ago when I wrote this post about how I couldn't wait for 2010 to get here and  my words were overflowing with excitement, joy and love?  Pretend like that didn't happen. Read this instead.

During the first 3 hours we were awake on New Years Day, my husband accidentally stepped on my laptop and cracked the screen. It was both our bads, I shouldn't keep my laptop in the floor and he shouldn't step on things that clearly feel like a computer and not the floor. Luckily it can be fixed as long as I part with $199 of my hard earned money and send it to Texas for 7 to 10 business days.

At that point I was all, OK, twenty-ten, I see how this is going to go. You're going to try and break me the very first day of the year. Well, listen, you're not going to get me to crack that easily, try a little harder. And you guys? I should know better than to idly threaten the new year.

Today I stained some shelves that Hubby made for me. I thought they were completely covered and came back inside. A few minutes later Hubby comes in and says, "Honey, I'm not trying to be mean, but there were some spots you missed. Don't worry, Dad is getting them, but I wanted to tell you." And I just have a mini-meltdown right then and there because I do not take criticism of any kind very well. There goes the resolution about being patient and positive.

Then we went to dinner at Steak and Shake. There was this dude who came in and he had wild hair, a button up shirt, smart-person-professor glasses, a National Parks magazine and Florida Gator PJ pants. I told Hubby that this dude is probably a professor who is, like, a genius but can't relate to anyone on a personal level and sometimes forgets where he is or what he is doing because he's thinking about history or physics or philosophy.

A couple hours later, we're all sitting at church. I look down and realize I have on one brown boot and one black boot. I mean honestly, what the heck is wrong with me? I can't even make the too-smart-for-my-own-good excuse! And then I do the stupiest thing possible and tell everybody I can. Like my in-laws and husband AND THE ENTIRE INTERNET.

How's the new year going for you guys so far?

See ya, 2009, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out

We're down to just a little over 12 hours left of 2009. I cant' say I'm that sad that it's over. I have a long existing theory that bad things happen to me in odd numbered years. because I met my husband, got married and bought a house (all good things -- most days) in odd numbered years, I can't say that ONLY bad things happen, but it's more like, things are just a little bit tougher, take a little longer and are accompanied by a little more stress than when it's an even year. So let's just say, I'm glad we're moving on.

I've never kept a resolution in my life. Actually, that's not true; in fall 2001, I cut my hair very very short sort of by accident because I wasn't paying attention when the girl cut it. I was kinda devastated because that's when long hair wasn't a tremendous pain in the butt to dry and fix every morning. So my new years resolution in 2002 was to grow my hair out longer. That's sort of like saying "This year I will wake up EVERY DAY." It's going to happen naturally. I kept that one, but not a single other resolution.

But this year feels different.  what are we calling this, the 10's? Twenty-tens? Anyway, it's the first decade where I'm married, first decade where I won't be a student, the first decade in a new state. Lots of first.

I want to start it on the right foot. I've developed pretty bad anxiety since I finished school. At times it's debilitating. I know why I have it; I push myself too hard to be perfect when I'm not perfect (please pick your jaw off the floor, it's true).

Well things aren't always perfect and I am going to start dealing with the un-perfectness like this:

• have a plan B that I'm comfortable with (That way when unexpected things happen, I can deal with them)
  
• work on my health and what makes me feel good -- this includes not eating sweets just because they are in front of me, getting a haircut when I need it instead of waiting because it's "too expensive"
• be kind and honest. 
• be positive; count my blessings.
• ask for help when I need it
• be more patient, especially with Hubby when money is concerned. 
• remember that I can't change people, I can only change how I react to them. Learn it. Live it.
• write all the time. Cook from my Food Network magazine. Craft more. All these things make me feel happy and accomplished.

On a related note, I am so glad that I started blogging and started reading other blogs. I love reading what other people have to say. I love that so many people can make me laugh. I love that I can see how other people are dealing with their own imperfection; it makes me feel less alone.

I hope all my bloggy friends have a ton of fun tonight and that 2010 is the best year that it can be. I can't wait to read all about it.

Two polar opposite Christmas Day Tweets

I found the following tweets, one from Taylor Swift and one from TMZ, next to one another in my feed.

I'd say something witty, but I think the dichotomy between the two says everything I need to say.

Yes, I follow Taylor Swift and TMZ, the secret is out. It's Christmas -- don't judge me.

Having the hap-hap-happiest Christmas...

A Christmas dinner conversation. Staring my in-laws.

Father-in-law: [Puts a slice of pumpkin pie on his plate and covers it with fruit salad]
Mother-in-law: Why did you do that?

Father-in-law: It tastes good!
[Silence as we watch him eat]
Me: Is it actually good? Really?
Father-in-law: Yeah, have you tried it?
Me: No, I'm not judging, just wondering.
Mother-in-law: I'm judging. That's nasty!

Merry Christmas to each and every one of you! Hope you're having a wonderful holiday full of love and that the anxiety is at a minimum.

Christmas ornament memories

My bloggy friend Jackie asked for her readers to post about our favorite ornaments. Everybody has one -- a sentimental favorite, treasured gift or an old favorite that you look forward to hanging each year. Here are a few of mine.

My tree is filled with angels. Every year for as long as I can remember, someone has given me an angel ornament. Some are from my Aunt Sue and her many travels:

Mexican angel.

 Another Aunt Sue angel. I look for her every year -- I think I just like her hair a lot.

Beautiful long porcelain angel.

This ornament combines my two favorite things: angels and snowmen.

I have a whole series of angels from my Momma called the Mary's Angels series from Hallmark. I have 6 of them and love every single one, but here are a couple that I like especially:

 

Then there are the ornaments that have been around forever; the tree wouldn't be the same without them:

She's a ballerina and also an angel (I think -- she might just be a ballerina).

Penguin angels are right behind snowman angels as the most awesome angels ever.

Me in 1986. Over 20 years later and it's still on my tree.

And then there is my very favorite part of my tree. It's been in the family since my Momma was a young girl, purchased by my grandfather for their family tree. And now she's unofficially passed it down to me.

 

This picture doesn't do it justice; I'm not sure any picture can. A tiny light in the middle of the star causes the colored film in the middle to turn. The outside of the star is like a prisim, throwing beautiful colored light across the ceiling. The lights circle slowly, a fabulous Christmas light show all evening long. I just love it. I will seriously have a meltdown if something happens to this light topper.

I love the star on top of our tree because it represents not only the star that led the wise men to Baby Jesus, but also of the light that God shines into my life all the time.

 What are your favorite holiday ornaments? I want to hear about your family traditions and favorite ornaments, either here or on your blog (if you participate let me know!)

How Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer almost ruined my Christmas

I just want to know how I went 29 years without realizing how emotionally devastating Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer is.

 It's not like Rudolph is a holiday tradition for us. We watch the likes of White Christmas, Elf, Charlie Brown Christmas and Christmas Vacation. Apparently I don't have a problem with those.

Last night nothing was on, so we decided to get festive and watch Rudolph. I was already tired and drained and within the first 5 minutes of that program I knew that I would probably need a box of tissues.
I mean honestly, Donner is horrible to his son. Who cares if he's a little different, he's your flesh and blood! Way to be supportive, jerkoff. And Santa comes into their little cave and he's all, Donner you're going to have to get that red nose taken care of if you expect your son to EVER join my team. Donner, father of the year over here.

And speaking of Santa, mercy, what a mean old bastard he is! What was wrong with the song the elves sang...tell me WHAT? He's like, "It's horrible! I hate it!!" and Mrs. Claus gets all enable-y and says "Now, Papa, calm down and eat more so you can be a fat Santa", which I think it's less that he needs to be "plump and jolly" and more that she is trying to slowly kill him with diabetes and hypertension because he's SO MEAN. Then later he's like, "I'm sorry I can't eat this purple food that is injected with human growth hormones so I can get inexplicably fat within 5 minutes of eating it, but these elves and their God-forsaken joy! It makes me so ANNNGGRRRRYYYY!" And do they have kids? Then why are they calling each other Mama and Papa? Nothing about it makes sense.

So then there's that poor elf who just wants to be a dentist...GOOD FOR HIM FOR HAVING DREAMS. No point faulting him for wanting more out of life than slaving away making toys for some slave driver, and I'm pretty sure they are breaking alllll kinds of labor laws up in Christmas Town!

Then there are those insufferable reindeer teenagers who exclude Rudolph from their games even though he was the only one of them who could fly. And Comet the so-called coach was the ringleader in all this! You know Comet probably volunteers just because he wants to get away from his nag of a wife 5 days a week and exercises his displaced anger on these poor little reindeer. 

And that one little doe loves Rudolph just the way he is and think his nose is perfect just the way it is, and even though her song is treacly and awful, it's probably the most positive thing Rudolph has EVER heard in his short life.

I'm surprised that Rudolph isn't a cutter.

And Yukon Cornelius, what's his problem? Escape from a mental facility much? I don't understand why he thought throwing his pick in the air and then licking it would help him find silver OR gold, and besides that, what's he going to do with silver and gold? But I guess when he said silver and gold he meant peppermint, because he's so plum crazy that he can mistake silver and gold for peppermint. MENTAL ILLNESS PEOPLE.

I'm not even going to start on the Island of Misfit Toys because I can't even think about it without tearing up. Considering my niece was interested more in the boxes her toys came from than the actual toys for the first 3 years of her life, it's truly hard to believe it was THAT hard for Santa to find a home for them. And I still don't know what hideous deformity that sweet little rag doll had.

OMG you guys, I just read this on Wikipedia.

"A Dolly for Sue (as she calls herself)" is a seemingly normal girl rag doll with red hair and a red gingham (checkered) dress. Her misfit problem is never explained on the special, but was revealed  that Rudolph's producer, Arthur Rankin Jr., says Dolly's problem was psychological, caused from being abandoned by her mistress and suffering depression from feeling unloved.^[1]

 A doll with abandonment issues, that's rich. That flying lion is a saint. He should replace Santa.

OK, then the end is just so ridiculous. First, the Abominable Snowman is not scary at all, just slow-moving and awkward. Second, he's stupid as crap considering that he was tricked by the misfit elf literally saying "Oink. Oink." Like, he didn't even try to sound like a pig. But no matter -- the bumble was still completely fooled by it. I mean honestly. And my heart broke when Yukon Crazy and the "bumble" fell over the ledge, not necessarily for either of them but for those random dogs that were pulling Crazy's sled. It was like, a Pekingese, a Dachshund  and a Yorkie. Pulling a sled with a husky, full-sized man and his mining gear.

But never mind trying to send for help or anything, Rudolph and crew, they are obviously lost and gone forever so don't worry about it. Merry Christmas to you guys, too. Good thing that Yukon Crazy found his way out from the depths and rehabilitated the "bumble" so that he can help with things that are tall?

I felt like the whole show as a mexican food fueled bad dream.

Jackie has already shared with me that Rudolph scarred her, what about the rest of you guys? If not Rudolph, what's your favorite Christmas movie?

UPDATE

I just found this open letter to Rudolph. Awesome. I love the internet.

Christmas Decorating for the Lazy Person

I've recently discovered a blog called Aiming Low, featuring a bunch of really great female bloggers. They encourage women to be themselves, do what makes them happy and stop striving for perfection because striving for perfection will make you crazy!

Anyway, the great writers over there have inspired this post.

My Christmas decorations are up. I honestly didn't think they would be. In fact, just two weeks ago I tested my husband by saying, "Maybe we shouldn't put decorations up this year. Who cares?" and he agreed and then I yelled at him for agreeing.

The thought of decorating was really exhausting to me. There's putting up a tree, unwrapping hundreds of ornaments, untangling lights, and vacuuming up errant needles from the strings of garland decking our halls; and then a month later, taking it all back down. Between all the earning a paycheck, cooking meals from a box, watching TV and playing Farmville, I didn't think I had the time for Christmas decorating this year.

However, thanks go my wonderful employers and their generous paid time off policy, I was able to have Thursday through Monday off work (and got to leave early Wednesday). That's 5 -- count 'em -- 5 fabulous-stay-up-late-sleep-in-watch-tv-nap days. I felt like a college student again. All that sleep gave me energy I didn't know I had. But it still wasn't easy -- the tree was in the attic. The decorations were in storage boxes all over God's creation. Extension cords were needed.  The tree skirt was missing. It was mass Christmas chaos.

And to make things more complicated, this is our first Christmas in the new house and we weren't sure where the tree would fit. There's plenty of space in the living room but it meant moving some things around. Hubby wanted to move everything; I wanted to move one thing. We ended up moving 3 small things and are very pleased with the results.

The most daunting thing for me is, always has been, ornament hanging. I really hate it. I love ornaments and think they look amazing on a tree. I don't like unwrapping them or choosing a place for them. Last Christmas my sister was visiting and spent 2 hours asking me to "just put up one more" ornament. "Just one more, Sister, then you can stop!" And one more turned into A LOT more. It just makes me want to nap instead.

Here's a rundown of how our decorating went this weekend.

Friday Night:

6:30 - Hubby got the tree down from the attic and tracked down storage boxes
6:45 - Hubby's job is done and I'm generously given decorating duties
7:00 - Argue about where the tree will go
7:30 - Argument over tree location continues
7:45 - Things are moved
8:00 - Things are moved back
8:15 - Things are left all over the place and we have dinner
9:15 - Take the bottom part of the tree out of the box
9:17 - Discover tree skirt is nowhere to be found
9:19 - Farmville break
9:40 - Begin playing Wii and continue until 1:30 am

Saturday Afternoon

1:45 - Things are moved; tree location is finalized
1:50 - Vacuum all the dust bunnies that have appeared after moving things (Only the ones that are visible)
2:10 - Tree bottom is moved
2:15 - Tree skirt is miraculously found, along with a wreath for the door (Hubby for the win!)
2:30 - Tree is set up; begin "fluffing" the branches
2:45 - Finish "fluffing"
2:46 - Ask Hubby how it looks; he says it looks like I missed a few; Hubby is told that if it looks wrong, he can fix it himself
2:47 - Begin hooking up pre-lit tree lights
2:48 - Give up and ask for help
2:49 - Farmville break
3:00 - Decide to go to Michaels, Lowes, Walmart and to get a pizza

Saturday Night

6:45 - Minor Walmart Meltdown
7:00 - Eat pizza
8:00 - Farmville break
9:10 - Decorate the garland using premade sprays from Michaels
9:40 - Begin putting on ornaments
10:00 -Get distracted by cats
10:10 - Continue with ornaments
10:20 - Find Hubby to see what he's up to
10:30 - Continue with ornaments
10:40 - Eat a cupcake
10:50- Finish ornaments!

And that just about sums up our decorating. It wasn't easy, it took forever, but I'm really happy with how it turned out. Hubby put some icicle lights around the gutters in the front, too, so we're super festive! I'm going to enjoy them immensely  until I get around to taking them down -- we're talking mid-January, earliest.

What are your favorite and least favorite parts of Christmas decorating?

Thanksgiving is upon us and giving me an anxiety attack, actually

This is going to be a weird Thanksgiving for us in that we won't be with family at all. We aren't going back to WV and nobody is coming here. I have to say I'm a little relieved. The trip back home is such a beast, especially with everybody else who escaped the frozen tundra of the north for sunny Florida going back home to their loved ones. A 12 hour drive is far too long for what is actually just a long weekend. Last year my family visited us and I cooked for the crew; this year it's my sister's turn.

Our plans? Cracker Barrel with some friends. Is that tacky and redneck or what? Listen, as if I care, I'm from WV and besides, it would probably cost me more to cook my own turkey for just the two of us than it will cost for us to have it cooked for us. No clean up for me and no fights over alllll that food that's wasted, why can't you just eat leftovers, what's wrong with you, look at how much I have to throw out, might as well just thrown some money straight into that trash can! See why I'm looking forward to Cracker Barrel?

And after Cracker Barrel, we can come back to the house and take the world's longest nap and just lay around in our PJs all day. It's so fab and wonderful.

What I'm really anxious, though, is that Thanksgiving means the official start of the Christmas season. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas. Like A LOT. But what I don't love is the fact that I have no clue what anybody wants or needs for a Christmas present, doubled with the fact that we have a limited budget for gifts. It's no biggie because I have all kinds of ideas, however, I always second guess what I'm giving and have to ask the recipient about a million times if they like my gift. I like to craft my presents, but don't want to seem cheap. And before I even give the gift, I get worried about when I'll find the time to craft, what with all the laying around I have to do.

So then I think, maybe I'll just shop the sales and buy some gifts. And then my mind goes way back in time to my days working retail, how working Black Friday pretty much destroyed my soul for an entire month; how without fail December 23 would roll around and some middle aged guy would walk into Victoria's Secret where I worked and try to find a cute pair of PJs or nightgown for the wife he forgot to shop for. And he'd ask me if we had a Medium and I would say, "Sorry sir, we sold out of mediums about 3 weeks ago," then he'd get all pissed off and huffy and buy her fragrance instead, then ask for a box, and with thinly veiled rage I'd respond, "We haven't had boxes for 3 weeks, either, please try the Dollar Store." So basically, I don't want to be that person, and additionally, I know that things are outrageously overpriced this time of year, so Black Friday is more or less your best bet. And like HELL I'm getting up at 2 am to go shopping, no sir, not going to happen.

It's just this never-ending circular worry that starts with having a great plan and then punching holes into it until there's nothing left.

I mean, it'll be fine. I'll get it all done and everyone will be happy. But right now, it's stressful, y'all! Especially since everytime I turn on the TV I see Christmas shopping ads. The worst is that one from Target with the smug woman who talks about shopping the 2-day sale:

So how am I supposed to compete with that? I'll just stay home.


It's like yesterday was September and then I woke up this morning and. Wait. What? Tomorrow is Thanksgiving? And there's basically only 21 shopping days left until my family gets here and wants their gifts. Well then. Better get to it.