Monday, December 20, 2010

Jingle Bells, Sung in Real Life

Jingle bells,
My sons smell
My daughter loves to play

“Moms” with her dolls
in my high-heeled clogs
and wigs like bales of hay – ay!

Jingle bells
Why DO boys smell?
When will it go away?

I wish I knew
But I am through
Cleaning pee off the pott-ay.

A day or two ago…
They thought they’d take some rides
Down an icy driveway bank
Landing under the four-wheel drive

Ha! Ha! Ha!

The weather isn’t mild
My kids are now just wild
And you know that means I
just might lose my mind (where’s the bourbon?).

Jingle bells
The boys still smell
Perhaps they don’t use soap?

My main complaint
Please, please aim!
I’m at the end of my rope - ope.

Jingle bells
Little Meems melt-
ed down at 11:03.

She lost another tooth
To her brother’s hoof
but is scared of the fair-y (go figure).

The presents were all wrapped
Waiting under the tree
And now I see exposed boxes
Peeking up at me.

The tree is slowly melting
The greenery is parched
The candles are all crooked
And the heat pump has not stopped (and we’re out of bourbon).


Jingle bells
What IS that smell?
Oh, I just boiled an egg

And forgot it was there
Til it shot through the air
And burned me on the leg!


Jingle bells 
The power bill tells
We owe 500 bucks.

Merry Christmas to me
Let’s burn the tree
It’ll heat this whole place up.

Happy Holidays!

Monday, December 13, 2010


I hate vacuuming.  I love when it's done and how the house feels so clean, but I hate it during the actual event.  Why?  Aside from me hating virtually any kind of housework, it's because there's always...CRAP... on the floor.

Kid crap.  Pennies and beads and little balled up pieces of tissue and buttons and silly bands and socks and teeth (yes, there was once a tooth on the floor) and little alien figures they get from the gumball machines at the pizza joint.  Among other things.

AGH.  I get so tired of picking it up.  And inevitably it ends up in my pocket because there's not a trash can nearby.  And then it gets washed because I forget to take it out of my pocket.  And then I find it later, lurking in there.  Ick.

I've told the kids, PICK UP YOUR STUFF.  Over and over.  And over. Again.


HA- That'll get 'em.

Again, crickets.  Ah, who'm I fooling?  They've probably figured out that they don't have to clean it up that way.

So today I vacuumed while they were all gone.  And I enacted my new rule.  I sucked up silly bands, hair elastics and some play money.  Then I sucked up a shoelace (by accident -- it nearly broke the vacuum) and part of a candy cane that my daughter wanted to save.  Actually, I think I accidentally knocked that to the floor...but it shouldn't have been on the coffee table in the first place.  And she never even noticed it was gone.

How wrong is it that it didn't FEEL wrong??  It felt good.  So, so good.  That "hhhwwwup" sound, then the little rattle is makes as it enters the hose...beautiful music.  Total satisfaction.

OK so maybe I need to get out of the house more.  Or maybe it's just because of the week I've had -- I have aggression that needs an outlet.  I am a mama on the edge.  I think I teeter there most of the time anyway.

Judge me if you will.   But there are three less silly bands polluting my world.  Hair elastics cost like, $.02 a piece, so that's no big deal.  The play money -- well nobody ever plays with it.  And I don't even know where it comes from.  How do we even HAVE play money? 

They'll never notice it.  Clearly, they have too much stuff.  My rationale is that if it was on the floor, then it wasn't especially important to begin with.  And sometimes you have to learn the hard way.  That'll teach em!

Oh, I see a fake diamond and a couple tickets on the floor in the living room.  Gotta run!

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Elfie Magic

Am I alone in thinking the Elf on the Shelf is a little creepy? 

Is it a great idea?  YES.  Do I wish it was my idea?  UM, SO MUCH.  Does it work?   Pretty darn well.

But look at that thing.  Look at those laughing, mocking eyes.  Look at the way it sits, in judgement, legs crossed just so.  Always with a mischievious twinkle in his eye.  My husband says it's scary like a clown.  And clowns are creature you either love or hate.  There is no in between with clowns.

We've been visited by the elf-that-you-must-name-but-never-touch (Elfie -- don't ever think my children are not original or creative) for 4 years now.

The first year, although the kids loved, loved, loved it, Little Meems would freak out any time she thought it was looking at her.  Which was all the time.  That was the year she was three.  SheWe almost didn't survive it.

Now, it's a tradition that they look forward to with a unique combination of excitement and dread.  The other day, Elfie showed up on our doorstep during a get-yourself-dressed-or-you'll-go-to-school-half-naked crisis.  Little Meems and her little brother stood at the top of the stairs with their bottom jaws on the floor.  How did it know?  Their older brother, W, roused himself from the sofa just long enough to take a look and beat a hasty retreat into the other room.

Perhaps the novelty has worn off?  Perhaps it has lost its charm?

The truth is, now that they're older I think they find the idea of Elfie moving around in the house while they sleep, finding the best place to spy on them a little unsettling.   

Once, they loved little Elfie.  I think they still do.  "He sees you when you're sleeping...he knows when you're awake...."  Elfie is a physical manifestation of the magic of Christmas.  In this, the age when kids seem to figure things out all too soon, he explains how Santa KNOWS.  The tree is great and all, but until Elfie comes, Christmas time isn't REAL in this house. 

Even if the reality causes the occasional nightmare.