Twas the Night Before Christmas

Thank you for all of the wonderful contributions to make this hilarious rendition of Clement Clarke Moore's 'Twas the Night Before Christmas. Merry Christmas to all!

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a stinker was stirring, not even a stinker-poo-pot;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Booger Butt soon would be there;

Sugar Lips, Turd Bird, and Sammich were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And Dingleberry in her 'kerchief, and Little Pumpkin in his cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

Tush and Mush sprang from bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window Turkey Butt flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what Little Bear's wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

Scooter Poop knew in a moment it must be Torpedo.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And Sugar Britches whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, BUTT MUNCH! now, BUG! now, BOOBULA and BUTTON!

On, BEEFY! on BOON BOON! on, BOOGA and BAPPLE NUMMY SUM!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and Cocoa Bear too.

And then, in a twinkling, Cootie Pie heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As Nugget drew in her hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney Small Friend came with a bound.

Skeezer was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And Bean Tiger’s clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys Doogha had flung on his back,

And Poopadoo looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

The General’s eyes -- how they twinkled! J-Dog’s dimples how merry!

Whoa Whoa’s cheeks were like roses, Stinker Butt’s nose like a cherry!

Goober’s droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of Cubby Bear’s chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe held tight in Elderbeast’s teeth,

And the smoke it encircled Monster’s head like a wreath;

Tiny Destroyer had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when McStinkStink laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

The Beast was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

The sister girls laughed when they saw him, in spite of themselves;

A wink of Stink Weed’s eye and a twist of Boodycat’s head,

Soon gave me to know Buggabo Buttcheeks had nothing to dread;

Sugarlump spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying Magpie’s finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

Farfurtnoogen sprang to his sleigh, to Doodlebug gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But Pupa-dooch heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!

From PSL's to Resolutions

As soon as I see a pumpkin in a store, I start to panic about how long winter will be. The dread of January-March sets in before I purchase my first Pumpkin Spice Latte (just kidding, I actually don't like PSLs - don't hate mail me.) 

In the summer, when I (re)established my early morning running routine, I would come home and tell my husband how I was dreading the dark, cold mornings (enter now) and how I just wanted it to always be light out and warm. (I may have settled in the wrong climate, but I can't afford San Diego and I think it's the only place that fits the bill.)

Planning ahead is a big part of who I am. I like to have things tied up in a bow, ready to step into them seamlessly. (Ask my friends how well I handled our surprise second child.) So when something I look forward to is actually here, like the Christmas season or beautiful summer days, I actually almost miss it because I'm worried about what to look to next. 

It's okay, you can say it. I need to learn to live in the moment and enjoy what I have when I have it. 

I'm not completely hopeless. Right now, I'm loving the Christmas decorations and music and it truly is just the most wonderful time of the year (though I'm considering long, mild summer days as competing for the title.)  But the closer the holiday hustle comes, the more I find myself searching for things beyond it to look forward to, and the more I say things to myself like, "I refuse to let the funk of January and February seep into my holiday season!"

So I am fighting the funk. I am enjoying the season. I am wrapping presents, blaring Celine Dion's Slight Night, keeping the tree lights on all day, baking cookies, and trying my DARNEDEST to remember the Advent calendar.

Because there is just something about holidays with kids that shouldn't be missed. They bring an infectious joy that can't be matched. There's nothing like watching your little realize that they get an obscene amount of presents and sugar to celebrate Jesus' birthday. And in my family, you can tack on roughly a dozen December birthday parties to go along with it. 

(This year my daughter has requested a kitty cat ice cream cake, so.... suggestions on where I can get my hands on one of them are welcome.)

When the holiday fun and sugar rushes wear off, when January rolls around and the gyms are packed with cheater-cheater-pumpkin-eaters, and all that lies ahead are days of snow and ice and much less nice... my resolution will be to find the nice in the now. Be present after the presents, if you will. Because even after Christmas, long before the long summer days, surely January to March has something to offer... (TBD)

...stay tuned for my next blog post. A fun play on "Twas the night before Christmas"

The Best of Us

Sometimes I look at my daughter and I think about how similar we are. My husband often says things like, "I wonder where she gets that from," often following a bout of hardheadedness. It's been made clear by him and all parties that produced him that her strong-willed nature comes from my genes!

I remember vividly telling my mother that I needed to make my own mistakes - that I simply couldn't and wouldn't just take her word for it. I needed to "learn for myself." As an adult, I see how positively idiotic that was.

"Oh, the fire is hot you say? I better just check for myself."

And I made a lot of dumb mistakes. I experienced heartache that could've been avoided and spent more time being grounded than I had to.

While I hope it is not an indicator of the teen years, this is already starting with my daughter. At nearly three, she already says, "let me just see." Before I can even get out the full instruction she cuts me off.

"Layna, dont -"

"No, no, Mama," she says cutting me off. "Let me just see."

Sometimes she takes it even a step further suggesting her own plan.

"You cannot have your fruit until you finish your dinner."

"No, no, Mama. How bout I have my fruit with my dinner. That be fun?"

Strong will: Team Mom.

She has been playing "house" a lot - going to the store, making dinner, making tea, taking care of her "babies," etc. The other day we all sat down to tea and she started say grace. It went like this:

“Yowd, bess (Lord, bless)... uh oh, where are the noonles (noodles)?!"

My prayers are like that 90% of the time, too.

Multi-tasking Mindset: Team Mom

Other times I think we're nothing alike. Like when I ask her if she's ready to eat and she says, “I don’t want dinner I’m still full from lunch.”

...who did you come from?

At 14 months, I'm starting to see some distinct traits in my son. From the get-go we had no idea who he looked like (aside from any character in "Grumpy Old Men") though as he grows he bears some family resemblance.

As seen by his jabs at his sister, he has inherited the teasing gene. Whether it's pulling her hair, poking her, or throwing her animals off of her bed, he has no problem getting a rise out of his sister.

Intentional antagonizing, i.e. "teasing": Team Dad.

When introduced he puts on a positively stoic air. He will drill you with unamused eyes while you ooh and ahh and goo-goo-ga-ga him (because now that he's outgrown his nose crease he's quite handsome) but he will not break until he has taken in all of his surroundings and you have earned his trust.

Thoughtful mind (and handsome looks): Team Dad.

For better or worse these children will take parts of us with them throughout this life. Parenting is funny like that. All of a sudden you find yourself reliving what you or your spouse must've been like as a child. I'm personally hoping that (aside from teasing) that Dad gene is in there pretty strong. For now, we watch in awe as they grow into little people and continue to pray we pass on the best of us. 

Myth or Fact?

"It'll be so nice that they're close in age!"

"They are going to best friends."

"It's hard at first, but it will be worth it!"

True? Or the same merit as "It's good luck to have it rain on your wedding day?" cause I got that one, too.

Here is what I see from the "boots on the ground" perspective: my daughter tackling my son to the ground. I see her dragging him by his arms and on his belly across the floor. I see her trying to ride him like a pony as he tries to crawl away. I see her walk past him and bump him with her shoulder so that his still fragile stance easily falls over. I see her grab his lovey from him and adopt it as her own. I hear her say "no, no, no" and mother him to death. I hear her plug her ears and scream, "It's too loud! It's too loud!" as he cries.

My son is usually a passive participant, simply reacting to her "affection." But he gets his digs in when he can. He's been trained to screech the second she gets within an inch of him. Last night he randomly approached her and pulled her hair. If she's particularly moody he will waddle his way right up to her and poke her. "Da," he says. His word for everything, but here I imagine it to be taunting in tone. She responds exactly the way he wanted and shrieks to high heaven. He waddles away with his two bottom teeth showing, pleased with his performance.

Two weekends in a row, we were lucky enough to have some grandparent sleepovers. A couple of weeks ago they went to Gigi and Pop Pop's, and both of them went despite my daughter's sentiments that they were "her Gigi and Pop Pop, no Josiah's." Last weekend, my daughter spent the night with my in-laws, and we were told in no uncertain terms that she wanted to go alone. 

"No Josiah tum." Josiah is not coming. 

"Nayna go Granmom Granpop's, no Josiah." Layna is going to Grandma and Grandpa's. Josiah is not.

"I go alllllll by myself." ...that seems clear.

The surprise of the century was when we all reunited the next day and she said "Josiah, I miss you so bad."(I will show it by stealing your cheerios and knocking you to the ground.)

So, perhaps all the hard is now, and all the benefit is later, and this is just a forced lesson in delayed gratification.

My brother are and I are 18 months apart, which means I do have some idea about the benefits of siblings close in age. The fact that we were completely opposite in high school didn't stop me from trying to tag along and/or steal his friends completely. We crossed the lines of dating each other friends, and I even ended up marrying one. (That fact is going to make me interview my kids friends with even greater intensity.)

Now, because we are both reasonable adults, we are much more similar. We even share some hobbies, like running. We still have some seriously notable differences: I majored in Public Relations, he will soon graduate with a PhD in Applied Mathematics. (What?) Nonetheless, we stay in touch, and enjoy hanging out when we get a chance.

So I see glimpses of hope that these statements might ring true. But here's to being hopeful that I don't have to wait 28 years to know for sure...

Keeper of the Forgettable

My husband pulled out his phone the other day and showed me a video he came across from a couple of years ago. My daughter, 9 months old at the time, was snoozing away in her infant car seat. We had arrived at her grandparents and were trying to stir her awake. Her eyelids fluttered before she resumed her slouched, head hung position resting in oblivion. My husband and I "ooh-ed" and "ahh-ed" in the background as first-time parents do for some time. She simply couldn't bring herself to open her eyes long enough to completely rejoin us yet.

Fast forward to our nearly three-year-old singing the ABC's in her bed at 10 p.m. In this season, it's hard to believe she ever had less than 100% energy. 

That video made me remember a moment that otherwise would've been forgotten. It wasn't specific enough to make a memory that lasts well into the later years of life. It was just an adorable moment that we caught on video thanks to the smartphone epidemic. Calling it "forgettable" makes it seem unimportant, but the fact is there's a filtering process that allows you to remember a first birthday more than random Wednesday.

There are a lot of things to dislike about smartphones. They are distracting, costly, and can serve as another unneeded venue to waste time watching TV or videos. The amount of accidents caused by smartphone use while driving is disturbing. The list price of your smartphone may be equivalent to that of a monthly mortgage payment. The effects of too much screen time, phones included, for children cannot be ignored. 

And yet, without them, I wouldn't have remembered that adorable moment with my baby girl. I would remember the collection of adorable moments and the sweet slope of her nose and mischievous, snaggle-toothed grin. But I wouldn't have remembered the moment we pulled into my in-laws driveway where she so cutely tried to stir awake. 

I wouldn't have the video of her first time rolling over, because it happened so quickly I barely had time to open my camera app, let alone boot up a camcorder. 

I wouldn't have a record-breaking number of photos from her first year of life. 

Without the pictures for proof, I might have thought I exaggerated just how much she had her tongue sticking out. (Every. Single. Picture.) 

There's something to be said about not parenting behind a screen. I get that. There have been many moments that I try to just "be" and experience it instead of capturing it. But so many times in my three years of parenting I have been grateful for the ease of capturing a hilarious dance, an infectious smile, or a sweet, sleeping face. 

Thanks to smartphones, I have a clear picture of every single day that little girl made me a mama that first year. And I am grateful for that. 

I'll be the first to admit that I have significantly less pictures of my son's first year. This makes me so sad, but also makes so much sense that I'm not sure I could change it even if I got to relive it. There are less pictures taken when you have divided attention 95% of the time. Don't get me wrong, I still have a ton of pictures. A ton. It's just less. 

I caught what I assume was his first time rolling over, on the second go-round. 

The moments when I tried to capture something cute were often invaded by a blur that is his older sister. 

There are more pictures of him confined by a bouncy seat, exersaucer, or bumbo... for his own protection. 

But his sweet smile is still plastered all over my 64GB iPhone. His first year and beyond is still overloading my additional iCloud storage. I still have his epic dance moves available at the touch of a finger. And for all its faults, I am grateful for the technology that allows me that freedom. The freedom to relive those otherwise "forgettable" moments we are often too tired, overwhelmed and overbooked to commit to long-term memory. 

So for that, and not for my inflated phone bill, I thank you, Apple. 

A Wonder Woman in Yoga Pants

Ah, Wonder Woman. If I had to dress up for Halloween, and I won't, I would probably select Wonder Woman. I don't know if you've seen the movie, but if not, you should. I did not fall asleep before the movie's 11 p.m. ending. From a tired mama, there is no higher praise.

What is it about this movie that kept me so captivated?

1. It's hilarious. I laughed heartily on more than one occasion and found the relationship between Gal Gadot and Chris Pine completely endearing.

2. It makes you feel like you like you, too, can be stunning and indestructible.

3. It makes you believe there are people who still care about saving the world. (Even if it's a bit unreasonable to think that said person will arrive scantly clad in knee high boots, a metal headband, and minimal clothing between them.)

But this is not a Wonder Woman review. (Seriously, though, watch it.) It's a testament to the innate desire to be both beautiful and fierce, kind and relentless, mother and warrior. Maybe that doesn't resonate with you, but for me, it reminded me that I want to be all those things and more. And better yet, that I can be.

One of the best scenes in the movie is when she is walking around London hiding her warrior wardrobe with a trench code and she asks exasperated, "What do these women wear into battle?" Followed closely by, "*gasp* A baaaabbyyyy" as she runs off to see it. A clear picture of a woman ready to take on anything to stand for what she believes in, yet cannot deny her desire to nurture and comfort.

In our culture, sometimes it feels like we've confused meek with weak; humble with insecure; gracious with pushover. If we serve our husband, we're doormats. If we're modest, we're uptight. If we value cooking, cleaning, and child-rearing we are positively stuck in the middle ages.

And yet... if we work too hard, we neglect our children. If we're opinionated, we're *ahem* witchy. If we're too revealing, we're tacky. If we order take out every night, we're poisoning our young.

Does anyone else feel like there's no better time to stop worrying about the societal approval process?

I believe that most women, mothers or not, desire to be heard, validated, and to make her mark in whatever corner of the world she is tackling. And I get that. I respect it even if she's doing it completely differently than I would. Because sometimes it's just hard enough to figure out what the heck we're doing.

I'm not running around in revealing armor, but that doesn't mean I'm not fighting. I fight every day to disciple my kids well; to show them what it means to love; and to exercise patience and grace. I fight to keep right priorities and not settle for less than I was made for. I fight to believe that I am equipped to live a life that matters, and that I can teach my kids the same. I just do it wearing practical yoga pants.

If You're Looking for a Laugh...

Thanks to a wonderful response to my soliciting, I have compiled what (I think) is a pretty hilarious montage of quotes from children of all ages. I was taken aback by the number of hilarious (and inappropriate) things that came up. So for your laughing pleasure: 

The Classic.
"I ate 100, 200, 32, 8 bites already!" -Wegman's child that inspired this entire post.

"I can't help clean Mama. My hair is grumpy and my knees are overheating. I need to rest instead." A.V. Age 3

"I'll have a root beer. Hold the root!" C.K. Age 10

"People in England speak the same language we do, just in a different font." L.S. Age 8

"Thank you for today, and thank you for everything, and Jesus, you be careful, okay?" J.R. Age 3

"I think I'll work on becoming a unicorn." K.G. Age 5

"That's just water from the trees, that's not rain." A.K. Age 2

"But I CAN'T lay down, because my hair is sticking up!" D.S. Age (almost) 3

 “Mommy, why is your hair so sparkly?” J.D. Age 4 (Because the old age fairy keeps visiting, of course.)

"Carrots have no trading value, Mom. None. Zippo." L.B. Age 13

The Mini Stories.
Q.K: "Daddy, we should buy some candy."
"Well, I don't have any extra money for candy."
Q.K: "Daddy, give me your wallet...I just want to check to make sure you haven't forgotten about any money in your wallet." 
- Q.K. Age 3 1/2

A two-year-old's attempt at asking for a bite of dinner: "bite ME!" -E.R. Age 2.5

"Aunt Ashley, are you sure there's not another baby in there?" -A.P. Age 4 when looking at her one-week-postpartum aunt.

I asked my son where the whale’s tail was in his drawing and he said “still in the crayon!” -J.K. Age 3

When my daughter introduced my husband to the neighbor: "This is Mama's friend, Dada." L.B. Age 2

My son wants a baby brother. The conversation ended like this:
"What if it is a baby sister?"
"Then that would be a bisaster!"
-M.H. Age 5

We sing a song about acorns at preschool. I asked on of my kiddos what kind of “nut” he is, a walnut, a peanut... "A pistachio!" -L.F.  Age 3 1/2 

 "Mom, what does 'pathetic' mean?" I answer that it's when someone is desperate for attention. She turns and looks back at her twin sister jumping around doing crazy things, "Yup, pathetic." J.S. Age 7 

It was super quiet in church when the woman leading songs asked us all to turn to page whatever in the music section called "breaking bread" and my middle son yelled, "Who's Freaky Fred?!" J.C. Age 3

Sometimes we overhear our son whispering or chatting quietly while playing and we'll ask him what (or who..?) he's talking to and he says, "I'm just talking to my own self." D.S. Age 4

The Not So G-Rated.
In response to seeing a bikini top for the first time. "Oh look, it is like a robe for your nipples!" Anonymous, Age 3

When your son says "crack my nuts" instead of "crack me up."

When she asked about private areas, I told her that she had a vagina. She asked if I had one too. I said 'yes' and she said, "Can I give it a high five?" -Anonymous 

"Is my 'gina getting married?" - G.C. Age 4

"When I grow up I'll have big testicles like my daddy." Anonymous 4-year-old to preschool teacher


...on that note. 

That's a wrap, folks! Thank you for giving me so many laughs. If you missed my requests for quotes, feel free to add yours in the comments!