Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

From Our Home to Yours

Happy Mother's Day from the Manic Boys

 Happy Mother's Day to all my wonderful mommy friends and those who do the work of mommies. 


From Gremlin:

My Mommy's:

Name is: CHRISTINE

Favorite thing to do is: KEEP THE FAMILY SAFE (I love this one because it proves he does actually hear me)

Favorite clothes are: HER BEACH CLOTHES (where beach clothes = t-shirt and capris)

Favorite Food is: COUS COUS (Dude, it's ready in FIVE minutes.  What's not to love?)

Favorite place to go is: ON VACATION (ding, ding, ding!  We have a winner!)

Favorite color is: GREEN

Likes if when I: HUG AND KISS HER (Yes, yes she does.  Very much)



From HRH:

Happy Valentine's Day, Charlie Brown!

Gremlin and I spent this afternoon volunteering in HRH's class. We helped the kids decorate their brown paper bag Valentine Holder Bags, watched as the kids distributed their cards, read Valentine-related stories, and cleaned up. I love how truly excited the kids get over their little die-cut valentines; lots of Star Wars from the boys, lots of Disney princesses from the girls, a few really cool, homemade ones (not from my kid).

The ritual itself really hasn't changed that much in the *cough* thirty+ years *cough* since I performed it. Each year, I can't help but think of the best, worst Valentine's story I ever heard. My friend, David's.

Back in grammar school, David's teacher sent home the requisite list of names for every kid in the class. The night before Valentine's Day, each child conscientiously wrote out their Scooby Doo/Holly Hobby card for each of their classmates, alphabetically, according to the list.

The next day, the children took turns walking up and down the rows of the classroom depositing a valentine on each desk...or almost every desk.

As the valentine piles on every other child's desk grew, David shrank lower and lower in his seat. His teacher, conversely became more and more agitated, frantically searching for the list of names sent home. Sure enough, David's name had been omitted from the list.

In her vain attempt to correct her error, his teacher then had each child select one card from his or her pile to present David with a second hand, name-scratched-out valentine.

David's okay now. Surprisingly not a serial killer but a rather accomplished Harvard grad, living his life with his beautiful, intelligent, younger wife - and a great group of dear friends, who mock him mercilessly every February 14th. He laughs too. As he puts it, Charlie Brown ended up with the little red headed girl after all.

What's your best, worst Valentine's story?

Only Four Days Old and Already 2010 is a Disappointment

Scene: In the car on the way home from first day back to school.

HRH: Jade and Sean got to stay up to see the ball drop.

Manic Mommy: Really? Do you know what that is? I can show it to you on the computer when we get home.

Home and settled, MM clicks over to YouTube searching "Ball Drop, Times Sq, New Year's Eve". Voila!

MM: Hey guys! Come watch the ball drop!

(watching Dick Clark, Ryan Seacrest, et al., hugging)

HRH: So? When does it drop?!

Gremlin: What does it break?!

MM: It doesn't really "drop," it just sort of slides down a pole and lights up.

Gremlin: It doesn't drop on anything?

MM: Um, no. That's just one of the ways we celebrate the new year here in America. You see, we --

Boys depart kitchen, eyes rolling.


Better luck next year, guys.

Do You Believe in Magic?

I could never have planned it this perfectly. It started completely innocently, with my sister dialing her pediatrician, who happens to share our area code and exchange, and accidentally calling us. HRH answered the phone and ended up chatting with my five-year-old nephew on speaker (HRH talks to everyone on speaker). Josh's first question was "Did you make a bed for your elf?", which was met with a resounding "huh?" from both boys.

Now our Elf on the Shelf has been residing in my glove compartment since I purchased him at Barnes and Noble last week. At first, I was trying to figure out how to introduce him, perhaps a letter? should he just show up? did the book seem a little cloying? Then, quite honestly, I simply forgot about him. But this? Kid-to-kid rumor transmission? Flawless! Auntie and I finally wrestled the phone away from the young 'uns and - still on speaker - we asked her a series of questions regarding the Elf's mythology:

The magic Elf is on recon, sent by Santa to monitor the behavior of boys and girls and report his findings back to The Big Man and Mrs. Claus.

Rule 1: You must prepare a bed for the Elf
Rule 2: Children must never touch the Elf
Rule 3: Children may speak to the Elf but only grown ups can hear him talk back
Rule 4: You adopt your Elf by naming him
Rule 5: The Elf returns to the North Pole each night to provide intel.
Rule 6: Each morning, you will most likely have to search for the Elf, who likes to hide, the little trickster.

We had just bought Gremlin a new pair of sneakers today and have a brand new, cozy shoe box that seems like a perfect Elf bed to me. Step One? Check! Next, we went up to the linen closet to find a nice, soft hand towel for a blanket. The first one I pulled out? Red with green piping and a big Santa appliqued on the front. Step Two? SCORE! We were so on our way!

Lastly, some concern has been expressed about Santa knowing that it was time to deploy the Elf. Through a follow-up phone call to Auntie, we learned that while she did indeed already have her Christmas tree, she felt sure that Santa, seeing the Christmas lights on our house would know we were preparing for Christmas, regardless of our tree status.

In addition to the bed, the boys have set aside cookies and a juice box, and queued up a movie - A Christmas Story - should the Elf wish to watch it. And just in case, instructions for operating the DVD player have been yelled out the back door. In a little less than an hour, Daddy will arrive home to find an Elf sitting on our stairs and will bring him inside, to meet the family.

I can hardly wait!!

Quick Takes Friday - Post Thanksgiving Edition

1. Sung before meals at our preschool:

I'm thankful for my friends
And my family
I'm thankful for the food I eat
I'm happy to be me

I think it sums things up rather nicely.

2. This Thanksgiving, we went over the (Cape Cod) canal and through the traffic to Andy's sister's house on The Cape. His brother's family came up from Tennessee. My other two BILs were also in attendance. I understand so well the look of contentment on my MIL's face at having all her children and grandchildren together under one roof. True cause for giving thanks.

3. After staying at the table for a very civilized amount of time, HRH went up to his Auntie Sally and asked to be excused. When my BIL's parents were leaving, Gremlin shook hands with Mr. H and gave Mrs. H a hug. This is me, beaming with pride.

4. The problem with eating Thanksgiving away from home is the decided lack of leftovers. I will be remedying this situation by cooking a turkey tomorrow.

5. This afternoon, we've been sitting in front of the fire, watching Christmas movies (and Star Wars), eating popcorn and drinking hot cocoa. Not a bad way to spend the day.

6. One of the movies was a recently acquired DVD of Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. One of Andy's very favorites.

7. Daisy spent the night alone at our house with my siblings coming by for company and pee breaks. Maddie never spent a night alone or in a kennel in her entire life. Day-Z is definitely headed for second child syndrome.

I hope you all enjoyed your holiday and were able to spend it with friends and loved ones. Having you as my friends is one of the many things for which I am grateful.

'Nuff Said

Happy Mother's Day

The pay stinks but the benefits rock!

Happy Easter

May you color your days with happy memories this Easter!

Another Reason, Another Season...

For Makin' Cookies

Happy Valentines Day, Peeps!

Nearly Wordless Wednesday - The Dirty Little Snowman Edition

He's been around ever since I can remember. He's survived a basement flood, broken hangers, poor packing, and years of loving abuse.

I kidnapped my dirty little snowman from my Mom's when I moved into my own place. He's the first ornament to adorn the tree each year. The boys know he's special and why.

He's part of my Christmas magic.

Wondrous Wednesday

Happy Halloween

...and may the force be with you.

DaVinci Has His Last Supper, I Have This

Nearly two years ago, we were hosting Christmas at our house. As we were piling the food onto the table and guests and family members settling themselves in, I opened a couple of bottles of wine and began pouring. As I did so, I called out "Who wants Merlot?".

From the living room, the 1 1/2 year old voice of RC answered enthusiastically "I do!".

It's gone on to become a standing family joke, with someone or other yelling out the question and the rest of us replying, Marco Polo-style.

Today, HRH brought this home from school:

DaVinci can have his Last Supper, I'm going to frame this work of art to be immortalized in our dining room.

Independence Day Traditions

From the time I was 8 years old until just a few years ago, this is where I spent every Fourth of July (and often the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd as well); The Hatch Shell on Boston's Esplanade, watching the Boston Pops.

The first thing everyone always says is "how do you deal with those crowds?" The answer is simple:

No kidding. Back in the day, Front Row Center involved showing up with my dad and siblings around 8:00 pm on the night of the 3rd with a tarp and a blanket to secure your spot, then hanging out all night. I lived my tween and teen years there. First under the closely watchful eye of my father and later with increasing freedom to move.

We met hundreds of people, spent time with family we might not otherwise have seen, made friends with all the police and service people you could think of, and met a ton of local celebrities. I've brought my closest friends, flirted with my cousins' friends, walked along the Charles River, and watched the sunrise over The Public Garden with my father. I know what it is to truly feel patriotic. In those moments, I'm supremely proud of my country.

The question the reporters always asked is "Is it worth it?" I've been there in the pouring rain, like today. I've been there in the broiling heat with my parents demanding I drink more water and contemplate taking us home. And I've been there in jeans and sweatshirts - and one year even a turtleneck! But as the sun begins to set and the orchestra arrives and begins to tune up, you know; it's so worth it.

As the years passed and we "went national," and especially as the world became a more dangerous place, it became necessary to get there earlier, and more and more restrictions were placed on our movement. It became more work and less fun. And that's when I said 'enough.'

The Pops used to play a few more concerts at the Esplanade throughout the month of July and even after the 4th became a major event, you could still go to the Esplanade with just a blanket and picnic basket and enjoy a wonderful summer's evening set to an amazing soundtrack. I miss those days.

Lying on a blanket in The Oval, watching the sky darken, listening to live classical music remains 'my happy place.' In my mind, I go there often.

Today, my brother and younger sister are there (sans significant others - for some reason, none of our four S.O.'s ever really 'got it'). My older sister turns 41 with her family, down in Williamsburg, VA (Happy Birthday, Dan), and my mom's joining us for a barbecue with our neighbors.

Whatever you do today, celebrate and enjoy. Happy 4th of July.

Reason Number 573...

...to hold off opening all Christmas presents at Christmas. The boys are off the couch today and already getting restless. My godmother gave us a giant bag 'o presents that I've had off in a corner waiting. And today was the day! This is HRH's really cool bumper car/maze. It even has two separate play surfaces and two bumper cars so when the boys start bumping each other, we just take down the little bridge connecting the two.

On the cough medicine front, I'm giving up on the Delsym. I didn't find the results to be overwhelming or at least worthwhile enough to justify the side-effects. Both boys had nightmares two nights in a row, which is a little too close for coincidence. I already have to contend with the bug keeping them awake, they don't need to have what rest they get interrupted by bad dreams.

I'm going with the tried and true; fluids, rest, time, and some very judiciously allocated medication (see Tylenol and Benadryl).

The Face of Belief

As Andy's twenty-something cousin entered the livingroom last night dressed as Santa, I saw the faces of belief. Six little kids; three five-year-olds, one-three-year old, and two, two-year olds all jumbled together on a couch near the fireplace. Two of them, mine. I saw belief too on the faces of the many adults in the room. Including Mrs. Claus, busily snapping pictures along with the rest of us and grinning at her husband of one year. And I believed as well.

Oh, Santa handed out presents but astonishingly, not a child ripped into his package. They simply stared, a little hesitant, a lot shy, each with the forgotten toy dangling from his hand. After Santa departed, the adults each eagerly grabbed a child and ran with them onto the back deck pointing at various stars. A few of us were sure we could see a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer traveling far off in the sky.

Throughout twelve years (yes - 12!) of Catholic school, I was taught that faith is not seeing and yet believing. Here were a bunch of young kids who still do believe. When Tim walked into the room in his Santa suit, there was no doubt to be found. Of course there's a magical old man who sees us when we're sleeping, and loves us, and gives us precious gifts, and just asks us to be good. Santa is the embodiment of the goodness that even this ala carte Catholic can't dismiss.

Whether and however we believe -- in Jesus, in Heaven, in God, in good in the universe, it's all out there for us.

Merry Christmas my friends.

I'm Dreaming...

Oh, the weather outside is frightful.

But the smiles are so delightful.

Mark This Date

December 19, 2007 2:30 pm EST - Manic Mommy resents Santa for the first time ever.

HRH and I are leaving the craft store with $26.00 worth of crap crafts. Specifically, we bought the molds, chocolate, sticks, and wrappers to make cute little Christmas lollypops. We also bought coloring/sticker books. Apparently, I missed the memo that this year, we'll be giving small presents to each of our classmates at preschool.

HRH is only in a class of nine kids so it's not a huge deal but we also do Halloween treats, cupcakes for birthdays, and one intrepid mommy actually had Thanksgiving gifts. I would have to say it's out of control. God knows I feed into it as much as the next mom. But I digress.

As we're leaving the store, HRH states that I've hurt his feelings because I always say no when he wants to buy something. This time, "something" was the entire display box of cheap Hot Wheels candy. (In his defense, I don't think he realized they weren't a set). I went into a my song and dance about how it's a mere six days from Christmas when we will awaken, run downstairs in our PJs, and marvel at the wonder of all that Santa has generously provided.

And I got a blank stare. Santa is the one who goes to all the trouble, money, time, thought, and energy. Mom and Dad are just the ones who videotape the aftermath. Irrationally, I thought, "so why does Santa get all the glory?".

I also wondered if we're doing a good enough job instilling the proper values in our children. I grew up without much money and sometimes felt that I was missing out on things that my friends had. In reality, it was the crazy father that upset our homelife rather than the lack of another Barbie. Still, even knowing this, I tend to overcompensate; big birthday parties, big over-the-top Christmas, small purchases almost whenever they ask.

Is the result that my kids take things for granted or do they know that these things they have are hard-won? We talk about kids who don't have enough, we talk about giving to others. We try to model all these values but really, how do you instill a sense of gratitude in a preschooler - and how do you know if you're doing enough?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Ed: Got an email from a friend providing me some perspective along with this little pearl of wisdom:

"It's like Jeffrey Dahmer writing a book on food. "

JOY BEHAR ~ on celebrity mom Lynne Spears' upcoming book on parenting, which has been delayed indefinitely after her 16-year-old daughter, Jamie Lynn, announced that she was pregnant. ]

Why Nick Jr. Should Pay My Visa Bill

HRH (running breathlessly into kitchen):

Mommy!

Flippin' Frogs!

You put it together!

Batteries not included!

Exits