Holiday Cheer

I posted a photo last week of Jemma in her big-girl undies, the Sleeping Beauty ones she chose for herself on one of our many, many recent Target trips. Here's how that morning went:

Me: "Jemma, do you have to go potty?"

Jemma: "Yes! I do!" (Sits on toilet, complains seat is cold, produces nothing. Repeat 87 times and take up entire morning with sitting in bathroom.)

Two hours later . . .

Jemma: "Mommy! I went potty in my undies!"

And then 30 minutes later, while we're in the lobby of Annie's dance class:

Jemma: "Mom, I have to go poop." Hustle into bathroom, sit on (disgusting) toilet, produce nothing. "Actually, no."

Three minutes later, still in lobby of dance class . . .

Jemma: "Mommy, I went poop in my undies."

Sigh.

So I'm wondering if it would be altogether too much propaganda to get her this for Christmas.

***

In other goings-on around here, Jason and I took part in a wicked-fun Road Rally party on Saturday night. Our team did not win, nor did we particularly care, as we had just spent 2.5 hours romping around the town, drinking beer in various bars and gathering our courage to perform ridiculous acts while being photographed. I sweet-talked my way to the end of a bowling lane for a photo (blinks eyelashes, smiles, "We'll even take our shoes off and everything!"); we built a ghetto snowman in Wilcox Park and did snow angels on the 50-yard-line of the football field; I pretended to be a barista at my favorite coffee shop; Dave pretended to pull a pint of porter at The Winchester; and Jason . . . well, let's just say that there are photos of Jason in Smitty's walk-in beer cooler that will not be able to be a part of this post. Suffice to say that a very good time was had by all.

We paid for it the next day, of course, when as an added bonus to our slightly-hungover/sleep-deprived states, our children decided to act in the most whiny, horrible, obnoxious manner possible. All day, Jason and I kept giving each other looks over their heads, like, could this day be any longer and crappier? Why can't we lie on the couch and watch Billy Madison all afternoon? WHYYYYYYYYYY?

AND THEN the obnoxious behavior continued yesterday and it's still going on today and Annie actually went to bed without her supper last night, a discipline trick I didn't even know was up my sleeve, and I may have thrown out a reference or two to SANTA SEES EVERYTHING. Between the (unsuccessful) potty-training and the Naughty/Nice imbalance around here, I am lacking sufficient Christmas spirit to lick 75 Christmas card envelopes or bake 4 dozen cookies for our neighborhood exchange on Thursday. Better go eat some more peppermint bark.

Theology 101

A few days ago, I thought I heard a mouse or some such thing rustling around in a bedroom upstairs (so obviously I ran out of the room, leaving the lamp on and slamming the door behind me until Jason could come home and set a trap). The mousetrap has been up there for a couple of days (no action, so far, and Jason thinks I'm crazy), so when the girls headed upstairs to play just after we'd finished lunch, I gave them a stern warning about where it was and why not to touch it in case they discovered it during a rousing game of hide-and-seek. I stayed downstairs, cleaning up lunch, and here's a snippet of the conversation I heard:

A - If I touched the mousetrap, and it was on my finger for, like, 20 days and I died even before I was 80 or 90 years old, the good thing would be that when you and Daddy and Mommy died, I would see you. I would be an angel and you would be angels and we would all be so happy to see each other.

J - When you die, you're all gone.

A - Well, your body dies. But your HEART is still alive. Part of you is still alive. And everyone dies, except Jesus and God. They die for a couple days - three days. They die for three days, then they come back to life. Then they die for three days, then they come back to life, then they die for three days again . . .

J - Butt! Potty! He he ha ha he ha he ha ha ha!!!!!

Snow!

We woke up yesterday morning to a snow-covered world, and the girls are beside themselves with joy. Annie was in our faces at 6:59 a.m. "I already got dressed and went potty, so I just need to eat breakfast and brush my teeth, and then can we go outside and play in the snow?" So Jason took her out for a while even before he walked her to school (and we were almost the only school in the area to not have a snow day - yay for no busses!).

Jemma woke up while they were out, and I scooped her up and brought her to the window. "Snow . . . " she breathed quietly as she surveyed the front yard, the trees, the neighbor's houses. She looked down at the bushes that light up each night with our Christmas lights. "There's snow even on the Christmas lights," she said. I nodded. She made a scrunched-up little face. "That's okay; we can wash them off." She nodded. I nodded. Then we ate oatmeal and went out to play in the snow.

Jemma has historically not been very "into" the snow. Last year, every time we'd bundle her up and plop her out there in her head-to-toe pink bunting, she'd stand there, immobile, and look at us like, what is this? What am I supposed to do? It's cold. Bring me back inside.

Yesterday was a whole different story. She loved it. She romped and ran and laid down to make snow angels. She hopped in the sled and instructed me to pull her up and down the driveway: "No, faster, momma!" She requested me to pull her around the block, which I did, and then she told me to sit down so she could pull me. I sat in the sled, she strained with all her might with the rope in her hands, and I didn't budge. "You're too heavy. My turn again."

It's a winter wonderland still today, with big snowflakes drifting down and the house smelling like the toffee I made for tonight's party. I spent the morning working out at a hysterical Rock n Roll Kickboxing class, grabbing coffee with a friend, working on an article, finishing up our Disney reservations, and tackling a fair amount of Christmas shopping. I addressed Christmas cards this morning, snuggled on the couch with Annie while we watched Rudolph. I'm in the holiday spirit, and right now, I even like the snow.

What I'm Doing Today

Letter to My Future Self

For no good reason at all except a semi-related girls' weekend conversation and a few recent encounters with people in the over-60 age group (ahemThanksgivingweekend), I was inspired to write a letter that I hope will be helpful to my "grown-up" self, say, thirty or so years from now. A little scolding, a little inspiration. Here goes.

Dear Stephanie,

As you enter "the golden years," a few rules and guidelines for making the most of old(er) age, parenting adult children, grandparenthood, time management, traditions, and the like:

1. Do not read this list of rules, scoff, and think, "That's not really true!"

2. Nobody wants to hear about your menopause. Nobody. Certain people might tolerate it, and these include your closest friends who are also going through it. You might think your daughters want to know what's coming, but they don't.

3. You are probably not truly that busy, these days. I hope you have filled your life with lots of meaningful activities. However, please remember that there was a time in your life when you could barely pee without doing seven hundred things first, when you literally had to get a babysitter to attend any type of grown-up event, when you met other people's needs from 7:00 a.m. until 8:00 p.m. with very little respite. As such, enjoy your meaningful activities, but definitely do not complain to anyone who is raising a young family and/or has a demanding career that you are "so busy."

4. Nobody likes unsolicited advice. This especially includes your grown children. You had your chance to teach them how to use money, believe in God, vote, treat other people, and take responsibility for their choices. If they want your help and opinion (and hopefully, they will), they will ask you for it, and you should be as honest as you like.

5. Remember how poor you were when you were starting out in adult life? Remember that time your in-laws paid for new tires and fixed the windshield on your car? Remember when an uncle slipped you a hundred-dollar bill at your wedding reception (in addition to the lovely gift they had already given) and told you to "do something special on your honeymoon"? Remember how your dad snuck you some cash whenever he thought you might not have enough? I'm hoping your financial situation as you're reading this is much more secure than it was when you were in your 20's and 30's; look around, notice the people who could use a little financial boost, and give it - no strings attached.

6. Please don't start opting out of events and activities just because you have some idea that you're "too old" to do them. This is the worst excuse ever. I'm counting on future you to have lots more time (see #3) and resources (see #5) to be involved in the things you really love. I hope you're still running. I hope you're still practicing yoga. I hope you're still writing, reading, in a book club, cooking, baking, trying to grow a garden, trying new restaurants, traveling, and being there for your friends and family. I hope you have figured out a good way to make your little world a better place, because I know you wanted to do it when you were younger but it was hard to make the time.

7. Don't play favorites with your children or grandchildren. They can see it so easily, and it hurts them. No matter who has the most money, most debt, most kids, or most problems, try to be there for all of them in some meaningful way.

8. Remember the "life list" you wrote on an airplane to Hawaii when you were 32? Dig it out and look it over. See what you've done, what you've failed to do, then tackle a few more things. While you're at it, add some more items to the list. Because (see #6) you're not "too old" yet.

Love,

Stephanie

(Even More) Things Jemma Says

While scooting in the driveway yesterday afternoon: "Mom, does every person have brefes?" (I figured out that she was asking if everyone has breath.)

*****

While I helped her put on her helmet for scooting: "Thanks, Mom. You're the best!"

*****

While "playing Disney" last night, Jason was pretending to be Cinderella. He said, "Hello, little girls! What state are you from?" and Jemma replied, "East."

*****

After watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas, I asked her what happened to the Grinch at the end. She said, "His heart grew GREAT sizes!"

*****

Standing in the kitchen last night about an hour an a half after we'd tucked Jemma into bed, Jason heard a noise coming from Jemma's room, across the hall. There's a sizeable gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, and when he got closer, he heard breathing coming from underneath. He got down on the ground and put his head on the floor, and sure enough, there was Jemma's eye, looking back at him.

"Jemma, what are you doing?"

"Looking at you."

Thanksgiving Weekend

Driving home from dinner with my parents last night around 8:00, Annie asleep in the backseat and Jemma ooh-ing and ahhh-ing at Christmas lights, Jason and I decided that we had crammed about as much into a single four-day period as was possible. We left for Petoskey at 8:00 a.m. Thanksgiving morning, returned Saturday mid-day (with a stop en route in Rockford to cut down our Christmas tree), and fit in church, the 'Twas the Night Before Christmas ballet, and a family dinner on Sunday.

There are pictures (and I'll upload those later, when my computer isn't being hogged by my trying-to-acquire-a-small-business husband), but for now I want to say how lucky I felt, over and over, to be blessed with so much; to sit down to meals of such bounty, with family all around the table; to go running through the woods and along the lake early in the morning; to be out in a field full of pine trees on a sunny winter's day, watching my little girls smell the branches and march in their boots; to watch their faces when glittering snow fell onto the stage midway through the ballet, and again when Santa himself appeared in a sleigh; to settle into our house on Saturday night, a fire in the fireplace, our Christmas tree decorated, mugs of hot cocoa in hand, watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

I am feeling a bit frantic, lately, with a lot of lists lying around and un-wrapped presents and upcoming events. I am trying to figure out how to make this holiday season one of simple, intentional moments instead of a frenzy of "have-to-do's." And I think the secret is, as usual, in the small things, and in one big thing, too: watching the girls take it all in; watching them wonder at the magic of it all.