Second First Impression.

I’m pretty psyched to say I’ve gained a few new readers over the past month and connected with some pretty awesome bloggy friends.  I’m sure it has something to do with throwing my guard down, realizing it’s ok to write what the hell it is I really want to write and some good old fashion practice at crafting my words.

Ain’t that the truth!

So I invite you to take a quick glimpse at my renovated “about” page I’ve linked below.  Maybe even check out one of my posts from the beginning that got lost in my Word Press ignorance.

First Impression..

Enjoy and thanks to those who helped me get my feet off the ground and my doubts out of my way.

 

Don’t mess with a Momma “look”.

This is my “Don’t you DARE look!”. Very affective.

Does every Mom have this look?  Are we destined to make our eyes slightly bulge, tighten every inch of our facial skin and strike a tone with our eyes that put the fear of God in our children??

I know women growing up that had that look.  I have come to put my own flavor on it as a Momma now myself.

Missing piece of our hearts this Christmas.

 

My Aunt Linda had the quaint essential “look”.  She kind of owned it.  Aunt Linda very rarely raised her voice.  She wasn’t one for doing a lot of hollering at us kids.  But God help your ass if you struck a naughty note on her pretty proper handle on things.  The “look” was simply enough.  And if it wasn’t, the sound of her shouting your full name would take you down.

My one year old will instantly turn to little boy mush and look at the floor when he gets the look.  My sassy four year old will either challenge it with one of her own or she will instantly find an excuse as to why she doesn’t deserve it in the first place.  Oh man I love her.  My husband will no doubt give me the “WHAT??” or a don’t give me that look.  Even the dogs ususally drop where they are when they get it.

What is it about the look that makes it quite possibly the most affective Mommy tool available?  Is it that those on the receiving end are questioning whether or not you’re about to lose your shit and they immediately panic??  It’s powerful enough to make you regret doing whatever it is that you just did with or without any idea of what that may be.

I’d dare say the “look” is even more lethal in public.  If I have to repeat myself enough to get to the point of no words …and just the look…you better check yourself child!  My kids know it too.  It seriously makes me laugh when I think about it right now.

So do share.  Tell me, do you have the “look”?  Is it inherited?  Do your children almost shit their pants when they get it???

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!

Santa’s Elves Arrived via Hospice That Year.

Hospice had been called in a few weeks before Christmas.  Mom’s body and mind was in and out of tune depending on which medications had been fetched from her four by seven pill box.  I would lie with her as soon as I got home from school whether she was sleeping or watching her Jesus shows.  She was quite drawn to him towards the end.

That Christmas, my sister and I put the tree in the kitchen so my Mom could see it from her hospital bed in her room.  It was more of a demand than a kind gesture if I’m being honest.  We soon realized it was really just so she could tell us that the garland was too much and the balls weren’t spaced enough apart.  It made for some good laughs, some eye rolls and a picture perfect Christmas tree when the boss said we were done.

I really can’t tell you much more about that Christmas other than it was the last one I got to spend with my Mom.  It’s very blurry; however, one particular day before the holiday has stayed as vivid in my mind as the day my children were born.

We weren’t expecting any visitors that I knew of so I was surprised when I heard the knock on the door.  I was even more confused when I saw a small group of adults wearing santa hats with arm loads of pristinely wrapped Christmas presents in their arms.  I was greeted by “Merry Christmas” in unison and in they walked.

I quickly learned that these were Hospice volunteers.  They took time out of their lives to come help me, a 15 year old girl, and her mother who’s life so savagely riddled her with cancer celebrate Christmas.   They even brought gifts for my five year old niece who lived to laugh with her Grandma.  It was love and selflessness in it’s purest form.

I honestly cannot tell you what any of those gifts were except one teddy bear that I strangely named Psycho.  It doesn’t matter really.  It was a moment of joy in the midst of the most heartbreaking time in my life that I will never forget.

As an adult, I have come to appreciate it even more.  As a mother myself now, I can imagine how grateful my Mother must have been.  It was a moment that I associate with learning the true meaning of Christmas.

Nothing embodies selflessness quite like Hospice does.  Caring for not only a dying patient but their family as well is honorable.  And these individuals that showed up at our door were their volunteers.  This wasn’t a job that was assigned to them…they signed up to do it.  I wish I knew who they were so I could tell them how much that meant to me and my family.

After Mom past away in early January, we received one more gift from Hospice.  A stuffed bear adorned with skin sewn from my Mom’s favorite flannel shirt.  The bears button eyes sparkle with her spirit…even at 32 I still see it.  I cherish this bear and where it comes from.

Most cherished bear.

Joy and sorrow comes in many forms and are often intertwined.  For me, that Christmas, it was joy in the form of unfamiliar faces that came at a time when my spirit needed it the most.

 

Little Man

My little guy is 16 months old now.  I’ve joked lately that he is crossing in to the dark side as his little being is becoming more and more irrational.  Toddlerhood is upon him.  An increased wine budget with a more lax it’s-ok-to-start-drinking-time is upon his Momma.

The package that is my one year old is hilarious, inspiring, testing, heart-warming, exhausting and most of all just plain naughty!  I give you this:

My son thinks emptying/dumping anything be it milk, a plate full of food that has been all cut up and cooled down, a basket full of blocks I just picked up, a laundry basket of clean clothes, a new box of diapers, the dog’s food dish or water bowl, etc is the funniest thing he does all day.  The only thing funnier to him is wiggling out of my diaper changing Mommy hold and running his naked little butt away from me.

The naughtiness is now accompanied by a mischievous, I know I got you wrapped smile.  I give you this:

If the little man is not in eye sight or ear shot, I can bank on finding him quietly exploring whatever has landed on the dining room table.  And that is the smile I get when he has been spotted.

A Mom friend came over the other day and upon entering, cracked up laughing at our Christmas tree.  Can you figure out why?

Pardon the poor quality, once the kids go to bed very little is encouraging enough to get off the couch.  I chose zoom to avoid it this time.  I think I still managed to catch the essence of having a one year around at Christmas time though.  Even the shatter proof blue balls were moved up because Mommy thinks they may shatter the window if it’s tested one more time.

My little guy is ridiculously fast.  In the time it took for me to empty my bladder (I pee with the quickness out of fear), he accomplished this:

He was lucky those weren’t the expensive snot snatchers!

“Mr. Little Man”, as his awesome but sometimes antagonistic big sister calls him, loooves to help his Momma do chores.  Let me show you what that looks like:

He also likes to help us bake.  Or at least hold on to his favorite ingredients.  That is until we need them and then he runs as fast as his Mom and Dad on date night.  This was him “helping” last time before he enacted an all out baby chase scene.

Most of all, Momma’s baby boy just holds down his gig of melting my heart.  He smiles and his eyes sing.  I’m working on trying to focus on those notes and not so much on the sheer thread my sanity is hanging by.

Why You Shouldn’t Buy Your Wife Pots and Pans For Christmas. Even If She Asks For Them.

Maybe she said, “I wish I had a blender”.  I understand that she spoke words that sounded like, “I would love a new washer and dryer”.  Maybe you heard, “This vacuum SUCKS!” and you took that as she wants a new vacuum cleaner.  I know some women have gone as far as to look their husbands in the eyes and say, “I want you to buy me new pots and pans for Christmas”.

Listen to me. These women have been brainwashed by their ovaries, Good Housekeeping and Pinterest.  They are lost in their own over stimulated heads and think that items used to keep them busy making other people happy are what they really want.  I understand that she is happy with clean clothes just like everyone else, but for the love of God, do you really think she gets joy out of this?

Being home for the last year has taught me to appreciate working major and minor appliances.  I’ll be the first to admit when my dryer started sparking and the dishwasher started peeing on the floor, I had an Emmy worthy momma meltdown.  I will also say I would love a robot vacuum cleaner that cruises around sucking up my dog’s tumbleweed hair balls.  I actually really do want new pots and pans. But not for freakin’ Christmas.

Does this make me selfish? I don’t really care if that makes me sound selfish.  Isn’t gift giving about making another person feel special with a thoughtful, individualized present?  Isn’t it about tuning in to what makes a person smile.  It doesn’t take a lot to make (most) women truly happy.  If she knows you actually thought about her while choosing a gift, than whatever you chose will make her happy.

When I go shopping, I occasionally will put something for myself in the cart.  By the time I’m done shopping, I always seem to talk myself out of buying it, whether it cost $2 or $20.  Not that I’m not worthy of a new shirt once in a while, but justifying spending on myself doesn’t come easy anymore.  I know this phenomenon happens to almost all women once they become a Mom.  It’s a bitch of a thing.  So perhaps a gift certificate to her favorite store is the perfect thing.  It will get her out of the house and an opportunity to buy for herself, guilt free.

A male friend posted a secret poll on Facebook a few years ago asking women their thoughts on buying his wife a washer and dryer for Christmas.  You can imagine I had plenty to say about why he shouldn’t.  What honestly surprised me was that I was actually of the minority opinion.  I’ve heard plenty of arguments on the opposite side of my argument; however, none that have convinced me of any other opinion than my own.

As a wife/Mom/woman, are you ok with receiving household items and/or appliances for Christmas? What is the most offensive/worst gift you’ve ever been given?