Generation TXT

So here we are.  Someday we may not know what our voices sound like.  I was making dinner one night when I got a series of txts from one of Kiera's friends. It turned out to be a chain text message. Although annoying- it's simple to delete and move on.  Minutes later a message arrived to recant the need to forward the message- the 8 year old who sent it had a sudden realization that by txting said msg to everyone in her address book- no untold riches were revealed, health was not restored and her long lost love did not come a knocking at her door.  I then get an entirely cryptic message and am completely befuddled as Kiera enters the room asking "whatch doin?". The look on her face was pretty priceless when I told her that I was texting her friend. "What did she say?"  I hand her the phone and she starts trying to text back. When I asked her what it said- she understood- and apparently kids speak in txt these days which may explain a lot of Kiera's academic shortcomings. As I relayed the story to Phil later that night, he theorized that maybe we could work on her writing and communication skills by getting her a text only phone. I explained from what I saw in her friend's text- that would not work.

Texting has it's upsides. A quick yes, no or data exchange. It is quite useful since I am unable to pick up the phone without WWIII breaking out in my living room.  My mother recently entered the text world and that has enabled us to have quick conversations, info and picture exchanges that would have otherwise not happened. Best of all my stress level doesn't skyrocket as children test the upper bounds of my sanity as soon as they see my trying to communicate telephonically.  I still make every attempt to call my mother weekly and she will testify that I generally fail. But between sports, school, homework and care and feeding of 4 animals- somethings just don't happen- like me getting to talk to anyone for more than a few minutes or going to the bathroom unsupervised. Apparently they think the toilet might suck me away if I go in there by myself and the natural remedy is to sit on me so such action does not occur.

I have heard from many a mom of teenagers that it is easier to text their child when dinner is ready and the response is way speedier than standing at the stairs and screaming. I have found this to be true of arranging babysitters. I do worry that it leads to a desensitization of adolescents. Nothing is real- it's just a text. Yet the written word is still powerful, even if it is phonetically spelled sans vowels.  As powerful  as those words are, still nothing is as powerful as hearing  the voice of a friend or relative when you really need to. 

The Great Toilet Paper Caper

As any mom knows, we wear many hats. One of the most frequent being- detective mom hat. As in..where is that smell coming from?Remember that missing sippy cup... Where did the markers go? Ohh look at the pretty new unframed art on the wall...  But most recently in our house it has been- why are the girls so itchy? By "itchy" I mean...places it's not polite to be scratchin in public.  It was about 2 years ago that we had an unfortunate bout with worms- and by "we" I mean Lily- and by "unfortunate" I mean- unfortunate. Eww. But let's not relive that right now. I remember that was one of the signs...itchiness. So last week, I was a bit concerned when the two littlest girls kept complaining of itchiness.

We recently got a new washer, so I thought- maybe the new detergent was getting them- so I added an extra rinse cycle. No avail. I took extra care at bathtime and contantly monitored their activities. Status Quo. Then Kiera complains and Then I started having issues. Hmm this is no good. Yet the boys seem unbothered. Maybe it was all the beach time...I took extra care to get them out of their wet suits before we left the beach and showered once we got home. What could it be?

So today, Lily is screamin like a banshee from the bathroom that she is out of toilet paper. We ran out of our stock supply about a week ago. The supply usually takes up residence in Phillip's closet as it is closest to the most frequently used lavatory.  I am pretty picky when it comes to TP brand- so I have a secret stash up in my bathroom . For the past week- every day or so- yeah we have 4 girls in the house- that equates to A LOT of TP usage- I send someone up to retrieve a couple of rolls from my stash. Today it was Kiera.

She comes back downstairs empty handed. "Um mom there is windex all over the toilet paper". Now I would expect something like that to happen in the community bathroom- which is why I store the TP high in Phillip's closet- but in MY bathroom- tell mama it ain't so!!!! Phillip- pipes in "Yeah I noticed that last week- some of the rolls are soaked- you have to dig around for dry ones." AAAAAGGGGGHHH. Spoken like someone who doesn't have delicate pink parts...sheesh. I don't know what bothers me more- that he saw it and ignored it or that he saw it and ignored it.  Well I guess I know what the itchy is all about- windex does not a good intimate cleanser make. UGH.  SO I go to check out the damage. No clue as to HOW it occurred- the windex is separated from the plastic encased pack- BUT there are 4 rolls that are dampish blue. As in been wet for awhile. I grab the extra roll sitting atop my commode and dump the entire bag in the trash. It feels wasteful- but TP does not make very good window cleaners either so I've written it off as a loss.  Well that concludes the Great Toilet Paper Caper and if you'll excuse me- now I have to go procure some TP!

What's in a name?

I have seen some crazy names in my time. Every year, I had at least 3 other Jennifers in my class. This meant some years I had to go by Jenny, sometimes Jennifer, sometimes Jen M.  I decided early on that when I had kids, they wouldn't have any name that was too popular.  My search for nonstandard names led to a lot of analysis over what makes good names. First and foremost I have to like it. It has to be pretty easy to recognize and pronounce. It has to have a strong meaning- whether that is it's traditional meaning or the meaning it has for us. Finally, it cannot provide easy fodder for children to make fun of them. I had Ciara's name picked out in college. Unfortunately, not too many celts live in the south, or west, where we were- so we fiddled with the spelling. She became Kiera, our little dark haired one. It fit her. 

Phillip was fairly easy, the biggest problem was when we found out he wasn't a Kiera. Of course we could have named him Kieran, but Kiera was my girl's name, I didn't want to use it in case we had a girl later. Plus that would get really confusing when I was calling them for dinner, or when someone asked for them on the phone.  Had I known then that I would forever be calling my children by the other kids' names- I wouldn't have fretted so much over names sounding too similar. Why not alleviate all confusion and just use the same name? Plus I like the name Phillip- It's convenient when I need gas in the car- or a screwdriver- and nowadays I have the littler ones asking why daddy and Phillip get their name on the TV and Kiera wants to know why they forgot an 'L'. 

Then I had my 3rd pregnancy. I found out I was far too tired and busy to fret over whether a name was too popular. We had a neighbor with a Lily and I loved the sound of it. Our wedding flowers-all 12 of them- were lilies. Stargazer lilies, my favorite. Who woulda figured we would end up with a Tiger Lily?  I love feminine sounding names. I never have been into frilly, lacey, bowy things, but for my girls names I like girly. I lived through the trendy periods of unisex names and creatively spelled standard names. I lived through- Is that Gennifer with a G? No actually it's a silent Q in front of the J. 

But then there was the 4th pregnancy. My creative resources for girls' names had been exhausted. We had no short list. The lists had all been crossed out the year before. We had no choice but to depart with disyllabic names. I didn't even take the time to check the top 10 names of the year, I liked Isabella. Apparently most moms that year did too. We could call her Bella for short, we learned that often times names fit children- you can't go wrong with a name that means beautiful. There must be a hidden meaning lost generations ago....perhaps..beautiful but clumsy...or pesky beauty.


Today we had parent teacher conferences. Had I half a brain when I was pregnant- I would have asked my teacher friends for the perfect name. They probably would have told me that Lily's are intelligent, inquisitive, and have a stubborn streak. Bella's are quiet but constantly challenging boundaries. We learned that Phillip doesn't really love horses- but that he has inherited his father's quick wit and general likeability. As usual he is doing fine in school and has the appropriate motivation. Kiera has shown much improvement. We are trying to find different approaches to help her process and learn with minimal frustration for everyone. She's still struggling in the standards based curriculum, and I think neither the test nor the standards adequately reflect  or enhance her learning. Either way- I will stay the course and hopefully give her skills she will need to succeed.  I was slightly concerned though after our meeting with Phillip's teacher. Kiera and the other girls had been quietly coloring at desks. Apparently one of the girls "borrowed" a pen out of one of the desks. Kiera quickly commandeered the pen to point out her sibling's shenanigans and absolve herself of any blame. We had run long in our conference and I wanted to return the pen to the correct desk and depart. Kiera offers up the pen and says it has a name on it, but it's just letters. Great. Apparently Kiera took all this visual processing difficulty we discussed about her to heart.  Phil takes the pen- "huh, it's not a name, it just has Abcde written on it."  Phillip and his teacher in unison say "oh that's Abcde(Absidee)'s" and point to the correct desk. Not in all of my name quests did I think to just write down the first 5 letters of the alphabet.

Fluid Movements

Nothing says fun to me like an afternoon at the mall with 4 monkeys. Except maybe a root canal with a colonoscopy chaser. Even with my stronger, more patient partner leading the pack, it requires mental fortitude to keep everyone focused and on task. Generally I end up with a headache and by the time I get to the car, I realize I have forgotten the one thing that I needed and have somehow acquired many things that I don't need. That and apparently my children have restroom proximity sensors and when we get to the furthest possible point from any available restroom, they suddenly have full bladders.

 Phillip is back in basketball. His first game was today. We got everyone all packed up and ready to go. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it- but the game time call was good. The past two days I've struggled with a migrainish headache and some tummy trouble. I have a fairly sensitive system so it's always hard to say if it's just something I've eaten or a little virus. If no one else has any trouble within a day or two, I just assume it's me.  After 2 pieces of toast this morning- there was no reappearance or dramatic exit- so I cleared myself off for a public outing.

The game was rather short. We were all quite surprised- about 20 minutes of play. Entertaining, but kinda left me feeling like- I showered for this? Don't get me wrong- I love to shower. I would shower daily, twice daily if I could. But quite frankly with four kiddos it's like the laundry- as soon as I get clean, someone wipes their nose all over me and I'm all gross again. Like at basketball games. We visit the potty no less than 3 times, they roll around on the bleachers and then climb all over me. Ew.

We all hop back in the van and Phil starts suggesting follow-on activities we could engage in. Movie? nah. Need anything from the mall? Yeah I could use some of that new fandangled  foundation/sunscreen/mousturizer stuff a friend recommended. I wish I would have worn more comfy shoes. Which mall? I don't care. By the time I look up we have already passed the exit for the mall closest to our house- it wasn't a question- we were on a mission- we're goin downtown.  Half way there the troops are getting restless. The post game juices they had have worked their way through. Bella is doing the potty hop in her carseat when traffic somes to a standstill.  wow- this is fun, I smile at my beloved who reads my mind. Why'd you let them have juice in the car? Because beloved, when I GAVE them juice- we were 10 minutes from home and we had not formulated the 40 minute car trip plan. I get my sardonic smile right back as he starts distracting them by pointing out random things like radio towers.

We make it to the mall and I grab the children most likely to sprout leaks and make a beeline to the nearest potty. As we work our way back through the mall, the kids are fluttering here and there. This is not fun. This is merely an exercise in how many times I can apologize to complete strangers for my children running into them while a perfectly good stroller sits empty. They need to get out and learn to behave in public, Phil tells me. No, not really- I think- they need to be caged and admission charged to see them. If they can manage not to erupt into total chaos- they will be rewarded with a trip to the arcade. Oh goodie gumdrops. Nothing brings about the migraine I've successfully been fending off like flashing lights, noise and errant children. Fortunately the arcade has industrial sized containers of antibacterial at every turn.  We play skee ball- at which, I rock. Lily throws a fit because hers isn't giving her as many tickets as mine. Phil points out that the goal is to get the balls in the holes, not on top of the net. I find that to be exceptionally amusing. Lily does not- I slowly back away from the explosive situation to locate Bella who is patiently waiting on the carousel for coins. She rides it 3 times and runs to me holding her stomach. I can understand, I want to puke just watching the thing. On cue, she holds her hands up and starts to puke. I don't know what error in the mommy gene causes this- but I cup my hands, not UNDER hers- but over so she can puke directly into my hands as opposed to just catching the overflow. Nice. This is nice. The 16 year old behind the ticket counter looks at me perplexed. Sadly enough this is not the first time I have been in this position and unfortunately it will probably not be my last. I calmly ask for paper towels and he nods like I had just explained the theory of relativity. I sense he wants to pretend the episode did not just happen, which I would love to oblige save for the handfuls of puke that I wish to no longer hold onto. I clean up the mess and empty about half the container of antibacterial over my hands and look for Bella, who is perched back on the darn carousel holding out her moist little hand for more coins. Phil and the other 3 meet up with us and I explain what just transpired. He shrugs- I guess it's time to go. Yep. Out we go. I don't want the kids puking, but I feel vindicated- this headache wasn't all in my head. It was probably some bug.Hopefully the others don't get it.  Halfway to the door he stops- you feel more like buffalo wings or cheeseburgers? If my eyeballs could have reached out of their sockets and whipped him- they would have. I shrug and point to Bella- who is hopping up and down chanting- I'm hungry, I'm hungry. It was dinner time. What's the worst that could happen? I could get puked on. Been There Done That, allright let's go. 

A dream.

When Phil and I started dating, it was well after we became friends. I never really thought about his skin color much, except for the fact that it was the absolute perfect color.  I know my parents worried, not about him or whether or not his skin was in fact the perfect color, but over the difficulties that would pose for me. Difficulties that would be brought about by narrow minded fools who litter our world. Yet such fools pose great difficulty for mankind in general, no sense in letting them ruin my pretty little love story. It really wasn't an issue for us. I knew there were a few girls in High school who liked to sing Jungle Fever at me as we walked by, but again that is an example of faulty logic. I wasn't drawing the lines, they were. Lines that were set up many many years ago. You can't just cross the line and look over- you must no longer see the lines.

I realized this past year how far we had not come in erasing the lines of discrimination when President Obama was elected. First Black president this, first black president that. It is monumental- but quite frankly I am embarrassed that it took until 2009.   There are plenty of qualified Americans who could be President, and quite frankly not all of them are white men. I do find it quite ironic also that President Obama is "from" Hawaii- my current homestead.  I was relatively unhindered by his "visit" over Christmas- Operation No Christmas Vacation some of the wives in other military branches also tasked with his security detail called it. My husband on the other hand earned a medal- woot woot(sarcasm intended) for his meritorious yada yada- while the President was here. I do appreciate my husband and I know he has a great work ethic. I am not devaluing his work- I am scoffing the reason he, the Air Force, Army, Navy, Guard and Honolulu Police had so much more work over Christmas vacation. $250 million in overtime for the HPD alone. Unfortunately active duty military don't get overtime, but some government employees did to help protect the president. If you ask, most of them will dutifully reply that it was an honor to serve the President. I respect that. He is an American icon, whether or not you agree with the politics.  I severely hope though- that the President saw, while on vacation here that Hawaii has a lot of work to do. I am slightly embittered by $250 million being shelled out for 1 family's vacation while thousands of families live in tents on the beach. Yes I understand there is this nubulous generation of income by the president coming here. I wonder if any of this income might be applied towards the education of Hawaii's children?  I love the laid back, slow pace of the island. When I go back to the mainland, everything moves so.....fast. I do not believe slow needs to be synonomous with stupid,uneducated, illiterate, or backwards though.

One of the main reasons the president's visit didn't affect me is because he stayed on the "affluent" side of the aina.  Which is ironic to me on a lot of levels that I won't elaborate on here. I live by the tracks. There are literal tracks. Physical lines that come to represent the figurative.  We were warned about this part of town when we moved. I don't subscribe to that kind of thinking. People are people.  After being half of an inter-racial couple in the Florabama area- you learn that not all people subscribe to that theory and you do your best to navigate around their ignorance.  I used to get chided by little old women that I needed to put more sunscreen on my children, they were far too pretty to be too brown.  Didn't get those warnings, when Phil was with us! The looks said something a little different. I was surprised by some of the racism I have experienced here. It's covert, a look, a gesture. But it's still there. I know it's not the same everywhere on the island, but it does disappoint me.  I just don't understand it.  You can be proud of your heritage without alienating others. You can take pride in your beliefs without devaluing others. That is what I try to teach my children when they are called names based on their skin being a different color.

So I figured today was a good day to reflect. Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream. I think we as society have come a long way in the years since he first uttered those words to the tired, poor, huddled masses. But there is a long way to go. Skin color is a descriptor, but it does not define a person. Children see that. They are taught different. I remember after a preschool field trip, Phillip got to ride on a bus for the first time. He was so excited. They sat in seats without seatbelts. Who drove the bus? I asked . I don't know, but he had brown cheeks, like daddy.  That was the first time I realized, he knew there was a difference in skin color but it didn't matter- it was a descriptor- it wasn't a commentary on class or social status or education. I have hope. I hope there are others like me who try to see people for who they are and in turn teach this to their children. On that note- I will leave you with one of my favorite lines of Martin Luther King's famous speech- because when all else fails we can still dream.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

Since we don't have snow...might as well enjoy the sun!

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

Happy New Year!

I spent some time looking through pictures for a year in review smilebox. As many things that sucked last year- there were some really good things that came out of it. I found a couple of things to be true- we went to the zoo a lot last year and we really tried to make the best of the time we weren't at the hospital. I don't do resolutions. Resolutions are like sure fire ways to sabotage yourself. I'd be better off saying I will not watch what I eat and try to be less active. I will play less with the kids and do more housework. I will stress over the little things.

We never go out for New Years Eve.  It started one of the first years we were married. We lined up a sitter, got all dressed up to go out and our sitter stood us up.  So we put Phillip to bed and played games while we watched TV and had a ton of fun. From then on out it became our tradition. Mostly because I have extreme difficulty staying awake until midnight- especially armed with the knowledge that my wake up call will be tugging at me by about 5. A couple times we have invited close friends to join us or stopped by friends' houses for a little while. When we moved here to Hawaii, we learned of the crazy firework mayhem and that gave us even more reason to stay home outta the smoke.  So this year I got some fireworks, some "kid wine"- the really gross carbonated juice that the kids love and snacks. We played the game of Life- which was pretty funny and quite ironic.  Lil Phillip's word of the day was ironic-he kept throwing it around. We experienced a coincidence and he said- oh isn't that ironic? No. That's not ironic. What's ironic? Not that. Of the 20 some games we own, choosing to play the game of Life , that's ironic. But I guess we wouldn't be here if we hadn't chosen to stay and play.

Lily and Bella celebrated Colorado New Year with a toast to Grandma and were sent off to bed.

So here we are deep in the game of Life.  Kiera skips the University route(big surprise) and manages to land on every big money square there is. She flat out refused to get married. Phil didn't want to allow it- but I said there is no reason she had to. It's a game right? She later went on to adopt twins.  She had enough money to support them and we didn't have to field the awkward- I thought you had to be married to have kids discussion, again.  Phil became a doctor, and gradually worked his way to millionaire, Little Phillip and I struggled to get around the board- never quite getting ahead. That seems about right. 

The New Year came. We hugged, we kissed and I went right to bed. Grateful to see 2009 go and grateful to be able to look forward to a New Year. Mostly just happy for the promise of a new year.

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Christmas Comes to Town

This Christmas was such a wonderful, crazy mix of emotions and festivities. Most of the time I just wished that I was snowed in somewhere so I would have an excuse not to go out and face the crowds again in the shopping centers. BC, I would start shopping the week after Halloween and finish shopping the week after Halloween. The rest of time could be dedicated to crafts and cards and consuming obscene amounts of sugar. Last year was the first year that Phil did 98% of the shopping as I couldn't bring myself to leave Lily's side to go fight crowds and shop. As it turns out, I'm not a big fan of shopping, or crowds. I think there actually may be a phobia in there brewing.  We usually do a date night to get the kids squared away and with true Christmas Spirit this year- a friend's daughter donated her babysitting time to us. It was fabulous and meant so much to us. This was just one of a series of events that caused me to ponder the true meaning of Christmas and how to convey to my children that true gifts come from the heart.

One of our big events was an enexpected invitation to a special breakfast with Santa given by Neiman Marcus.  So I felt a little vindicated for spending that extra time finding the perfect outfits..we had another occasion for which they were needed! The breakfast was amazing. Although if it had been planned by a mom, pictures with Santa would occur BEFORE the smorgasbord of yummy treats. The night before was Phil's Squadron's Party, and we had to sneak out early since we knew we had to be downtown by 8 the next morning. It's funny how understanding people are when you tell them you have to be to town by 8am with 4 kids. Of course maybe that was because said 4 kids were exhibiting their lively natures at the time. Upon our arrival in "town",we were shown to a formally set table, with extravagantly decorated cupcakes and pastries. The meal was amazing and followed by the Shining Stars, a great song/dance troupe of kids. The floor shook as they danced causing both Bella and Lily to cling to us like spider monkeys. They were amazing. Of course their final song was a lively rendition of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town".  Lily's eyes grew wide and I saw her poke Phil's shoulder. "Daddy! Is THIS "town"? "  He immediately started chuckling as he told her yes.  She was positively giddy "Santa Claus is coming HERE!" And sure enough as the words left her lips, Santa bounded through the door, pack in hand.  It was magical. Of course in a few years, when one of her  friends has to explain that Neiman Marcus is not in fact considered town, it might not seem so magical to her.

Then I started shopping. This is when I started questioning the true meaning of Christmas. I don't like to shop when it is necessary much less than when it is crowded. That is why I am a pack rat- I stuff away things so that some day I can spend a whole bunch of time searching for that one thing I squirreled away to save myself a trip to the store. I used to love wrapping presents- now I hurriedly fold the paper together and figure I can blame the wrap job on the children. But mostly I don't have the time to spare to be the perfectionist I want to be. That bothers me, but then I try to remember big picture. Big picture is that the best part of Christmas was walking around looking at Christmas lights. It began to sprinkle and the kids pretended it was snowing. It was still 76 degrees out. The best part of Christmas is that gift that touches you. They each got to open 1 gift Christmas Eve night and since I hadn't wrapped any yet- they got to pick 1 sent from Grandma who had the foresight to send Snow. I am convinced it is the stuff they stuff on the insides of diapers- you mix water in it and it swells and then you put it in the freezer and it gets cold. Bella took a taste...that stuff probably causes cancer, great. Phil tracks Santa's Flight with Norad and then we assemble the cookies and carrots and egg nog on a special plate with Mickey on it that my Grandma and Aunt sent and we tuck the sugarplums in. The whole while, magic is in their eyes. Lily is putting the pieces together. So santa lands on the roof? Yep. And he comes and leaves presents tonight ?Yep. Maybe he can get Phillip's helicopter down while he's on the roof. Brilliant. (Phillip flew a toy helicopter up there on his birthday...we have been waiting for it to blow down...and waiting...and waiting.)

SO Christmas came to town. I have Bella, naked skating( think bambi with kneepads) in the back, Lily on her scooter that has a special scooter for Barbie that attaches to it- Kiera left as soon as humanly possible to compare gifts with her friends and Phil, Phillip and Stewart tend to the technological things that need tending on Christmas morning. It was a really good Christmas just because it was.

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

This is my favorite part of the holidays, the together times. 

Make a Smilebox scrapbook Every year we make a Gingerbread house(or train, or mini house- depending on rations and time..)

decorate cookies and take a trip to the mall to visit Santa and ride the train. This year we get to have breakfast with Santa, so the girls and I went to the mall so they could ride the train.  We have found the decorating is faster and a lot more fun if friends are invited. Aspen helped us with the Gingerbread house and Madelyn, Sophia and Olivia helped with the cookies. 

We always write letters to Santa and this year I was thrilled to participate in Macy's Believe Campaign. For every letter in their store mailboxes, a dollar is donated to the Make a Wish Foundation.  Lily and Bella both wrote their own, but I wrote a couple too for them in case Santa is too strapped for time to translate toddler scribbles.  Last time I was in the store- I picked up some for Phillip and Kiera who both wrote nice letters asking how Santa was and hoped that he was keeping warm in the North Pole. I was all tickled that they didn't go on and on about what they wanted and hoped the spirit of the season was present. I asked them if they wanted to add anything about what gifts they wanted and Kiera said- Oh I'll tell him that IN Person.  Apparently she doubts the middle-mail person. If you have time- stop by Macy's and drop a letter in the box to help more wishes come true!

A few days ago I was touched when Phillip came home from school and asked about getting one of "those ornaments on trees".  Here they are called Lokahi Trees, the trees in the malls with wish lists from children in need. Tomorrow we venture back to the mall to do some angel shopping- there were still A LOT of angels on the angel trees and it broke my heart to see so many kids asking for basic necessities for Christmas.  This time of year I am grateful for these silly furlough fridays that give me that extra bit of time to spend doing the things that matter with my kids that we usually have to cram in.  Tomorrow's lesson will be on the spirit of giving. No matter what you have, there is always someone with more or someone with much, much less. I am always amazed that those who have the least to give- whether it be time or material- are always the first to give.  I hate to say it- but I can only name a couple of gifts that I got for Christmas as a child ,but I clearly remember how magic Christmas felt. I remember the smell of cookies baking- my stomach hurting from eating too much frosting while decorating. I remember the jingle bells ringing outside stores. I can't think of a time when we weren't handed a dollar or change to slip into the red buckets. I remember worrying that the ornament shaped by my tiny hands wasn't good enough and the elation when my mom gushed over how wonderful it was.  I remember the spirit of Christmas. Now I only hope to do it justice when I pass it on to my children.

Just smile...

It just doesn't slow down, does it? The days are blending to weeks. The tree lighting was yet another exercise in my central nervous system tolerance.  Last week, we procured dresses that were to everyone's satisfaction. By everyone, I mean everyone lacking a y chromosome in our family. I grabbed the first red aloha shirt in Phillip's size, threw it at him- to which he responded- cool, Thanks. Now mind you -I had been on 3 separate dress hunting trips with the eldest of the princesses. She liked the dresses we picked out for the little princesses, but of course it did not come in her size. She held up a different red dress and said- hey mom, how about this one? Of course that one was also not in her size.  Fast forward a week - I find aforementioned red dress in store, procure with sweater and present to princess. Princess erupts in tears and shouts- I was just showing you that one- I didn't want it. I won't wear it. I want the blue one. After shouting profanities in my own head, I calmly and rationally tell her they are wearing red, blue is not an option. Princess storms to room. I return dress to store. Return home to father and princess solving dilemma by finding a red dress hidden in the abyss that are the princess' quarters. 

Dilemma 2- footwear. I have approximately 85 shoes scattered outside my back door. That is approximately 10 pairs of shoes per child. How is it that none of said shoes fits any of said children? HOW? Lily says these ones are too little and these ones are too big and I want one that's just right. Bella's adopted an old pair of Lily's which are 2 sizes too big, Kiera's wearing a pair of green slippers of Phillips because of 85 shoes, not a single one belongs to her. Well, about 4 do, but all of their mates are mysteriously missing and although she can wear green slippers with everything- mismatched shoes are not allowed, and Phillip stole a pair of my slippers because none of his fit and he can't wear one of the 4 pairs of cleats out there to school because it is against the rules. So I embark to Payless with Lily who is a stickler for comfort- a paper cutout of Bella's foot and an idea of what sizes the kids wear.  I have also learned that the only child I can buy shoes for is Bella.  Lily tried on about 10 pairs. All were too big and she swore they were perfect. Of course I have been repeatedly chided for having her in shoes that are too big because they fly off her feet as she goes careening down the hall at the hospital. So I am hell bent on getting her a pair of shoes that fit. We find such shoe. But Bellas have to match and those don't come in Bella's size. We finally find matches. Now we have to get matching for Kiera- no such luck. I convince her it is acceptable for Kiera's shoes to be different since her dress is different.  Kiera's current slippers are a size 4. I get her a size 4. We get home and they are way too big. She shrugs and says she can grow into them, they have a strap. Of course I was armed for tantrum con5. whew.

Wardrobe malfunction-While we are at Payless, which is not so much less... Lily declares that she wants to wear a headband to light the tree. Ok. 3 stores later- I get her to settle for a crystally headband because I cannot find a red headband with a flower on it that she MUST have. They come in sets of 3- but in order to get 3 crystally ones, so all girls can have one- I have to get 3 sets, fine. We finally get home an hour before we have to leave.  The girls get washed up- which sucks because now I have 3 heads of hair to dry and fix. I go to unzip Bella's dress- the zipper is mangled. It's never been worn. I didn't notice before I cut the 12 associated tags off because I was  trying to avoid the scene of mere peasant tags touching any of the princess' skin. I shake the dress in front of Phil who with brute force unzips it.  He can tell by the evil glare that that was the wrong answer...he offers to go exchange it. Mind you we are now t-minus 30 until we have to be out the door. The event coordinator called me 3 times last week to confirm time, date and location- he was a little high strung- I was half expecting my phone to ring any minute with a very polite but urgent reminder. 


I try to tie up remaining loose ends. Phillip's dress pants don't fit. I'm pretty sure they fit a week ago when he decided to dress up as a spy and roll around in the grass. Crud. We settle for a  less tight version. Lily has been begging to put her pants on and I keep telling her she's not wearing pants and she keeps saying- yes I am! Finally she brings me her pair of tights and we wrangle her in them.  As we finish, Bella bounds through the door in her new dress, all smiles. It is all coming together.

We make it to the hospital and are immediately greeted by the event organizer who gives us the run down. We usher the kids to a quiet corner courtyard to grab a quick photo and let them get their wiggles out. I don't know why I keep trying this approach, there seems to be an unending supply of wiggles. The kids are acting goofy- Lily is refusing to wear the headband she had to have and keeps lifting her dress up over her head. I am on my 3rd round of my keep your hands at your sides and don't make funny faces lecture when a PR rep comes to interview us. Lily promptly pulls her dress up and makes a funny face. Phillip and Kiera have decided that there's no time like the present for a good game of freeze tag and Bella takes a tumble into the bushes. This is why I don't go out.  A few minutes before start time, we work our way to the seats. They are front row.  Less than ideal and front and center for public meltdowns. Too late to back down. We take our seats. It starts to mist. Phil runs to get the umbrella. It is now pouring. We all run under the awning at the entrance to the hospital. The good news is that we are no longer front and center- the bad news is that there is no view of the lights.

Lily is called up to the little candy cane switch on a platform. Remember- I tell her- hands at your sides and when you feel shy, look at me and smile.  She steps up, stops and turns, puts her hands at her sides and smiles. Thatta girl! She helps the General turn the lights on, turns puts her hands at her sides and smiles right at me.  The ceremony ends and I take her in front of the hospital to see....she looks at me  "I did that?"  I nod. "I did that!" She looked thoughtful for a second, then put her hands at her side, looked at me and smiled.