Yes, I Really AM That Weird. Thanks For Asking.

Many mornings I try to convince myself that 5 more minutes of sleep will make the difference between a perfect day and a day in the life of grouchzilla.  So I hit snooze, but since I can't actually get back to sleep, I use my half conscious brain power to develop the best blog ideas ever.  I'm thinking most of the really good ideas are in the half I routinely forget before waking, because the ones I do remember don't usually look so good when fully awake.

Anyway, the other morning I was thinking some of my strange quirks might be fun to share with the entire world.  I not only (generally) remembered the the quirks later in the day, but it still sounded like a good idea.  Then Christine from Thoughts of a Lite Mocha Mom awarded me a Kreative Blogger Award.  The acceptance of which involves telling you things you may not know about me.

Convergence of half formed thoughts and opportunity can only lead to success, right (especially if it involves randomness, my regular state of mind)?  I enjoyed Christine's post, and am flattered she wanted to learn more about me.

So, are you dying to know all the deep secrets of my life?  Here goes:

(1)

I am a conversation jumper.  I think it perfectly normal to go from "Did you hear about that new species of birds in Britain?"  to "I prefer chocolate pie over banana." without any inbetween sentences.  The worst part is that in my head I've made the 1000 steps to connect the two ideas and have no idea the leap of sense everyone else has to make.

My husband finds this quite humorous and sometimes asks me to play connect the dots and explain the logic jump.  I married him because he was the first person who could follow an extended conversation with me.  Also, he was cute.

On a related note, I begin conversations from time to time with "What do you think about that?"  and end conversations mid-sentence, getting so distracted trying to find the right word that I enter a whole new thought process.

(2)

I have an unusual love for commas and, despite what it may look like, always take many out before I post.  Commas are not my favorite punctuation, though; I love semicolons best.

(3)

I have an unusual fear of looking like a tourist.  This really makes taking pictures on vacation as a . . . tourist . . . quite difficult and is why I have no pictures of my trip in September into New York to see Wicked.  I'm not sure, but I think this came from living in central Pennsylvania and feeling bad when the tourists would gawk over the Amish (not to mention downplaying my own desire to do the same). 

(4)

For Christmas I asked for and received a Shark Steam Mop and a king sized electric blanket.  I love these new toys way more than any self respecting 33 year old woman should.

(5)

For a long time I thought that Jack Nicholas was a famous actor who also played professional golf.  This speaks volumes to my (lack of) pop culture savviness.

(6)

My husband owns more shoes than I do.  He is also more likely to come home with a new outfit.  I am the frugal one and he is the spender.  So when women complain about their husbands stingy budgets, I daydream about what our life could be like.  You know, tiny house eating rice and beans in perpetuity.  Sounds lovely, right? (By "our life" I mean my husband as a penny pincher and mine not "our life" as the friend's husband and mine, that would just be creepy.)

(7)

Do you ever wake up in the morning and are surprised when you open your eyes because you are not laying in the position you thought you were (like you thought you facing the edge of the bed but were really on the opposite side)?  When I wake up that way, I shut my eyes and try to trick my proprioception into thinking it again.  That's right I try to talk my body into thinking I'm in a different spot on the bed than I know actually am.

  ____________

And those are seven things you probably didn't know about me and might rather you didn't know now.  I also have a bizarre phobia about asking people to do things, a sort of fear of rejection (Bonus!  You get 8 things about me).  So if you'd like to take the chance to tell people about yourself, go ahead.  If you want to help make me feel less weird, but hate memes, you can tell me some odd fact about yourself in the comments.  If you do a post, I'll link to you.  Here are the rules:

The rules for accepting this award are:
1. Thank the person giving the award
2. Copy the award to your blog
3. Place a link to their blog
4. Name 7 things people don't know about you
5. Nominate 7 bloggers
6. Place a link to those bloggers
7. Leave a comment letting those bloggers know about the award

That Time Peter Forgot to Tell Me He Hired a Housecleaner. No I'm Not Kidding.

It all happened a lovely September morning three years ago...

With my sixth child under one month old, my ensemble of sweats with limp elastic waistband and shirt decorated with spit-up perfectly matched with the tornado worthy wreckage that was my house. My husband was in the car heading to a convention lasting several days and my sister had driven up to visit her newest nephew.  We were chatting away when the phone rang.

The caller spoke in a heavy Spanish accent (which made it harder for my sleep deficient mind to understand) and asked if this were Dr. Later's wife.  We have had drug seekers call our house before so I warily asked the reason for the call. 

"I am coming over to talk about the housecleaning." 

Huh?  I have no idea what she is talking about.  Which I tell her.

"The doctor said I should come over and we could decide on a price for housecleaning.  I work with him at the hospital where I clean.  He hired me to be a housecleaner for you."

There are three obvious problems thus far.  First, my house is a disaster.  DISASTER!  No way I'm letting a stranger come in and decide what the cost of cleaning it would be NOW.  Second, I have company over.  Company that has driven 2 hours to get here.  Third I am the WORST negotiator in history.  Once, at the age of 12, I left a garage sale with a porcelain cat statue for which I payed double the first price quoted.  That's right I ended up paying MORE THAN THEY ORIGINALLY TOLD ME.  (Please don't ask what I needed with a porcelain cat, I was a weird child and it was the 80's.)

I had no idea what a housecleaner was expected to do or get paid.  None.  Never even considered it.  Do they wash toilets, windows, baby's rumps?  Paid fee for service, by the hour, set fee per time?  Combining my cluelessness with my negotiating skills and the lady might end up getting paid 25% our net income for changing the garbage liners every month, disinfecting extra.


"I need to talk to my husband.  We'll have to set up a time when he's home."

"No, I just pulled up outside your house.  I got lost, it took me a long time to drive here.  I am here now."

Please note that it was a little over a week since that woman had answered her door to a stranger and had her throat slashed and her newborn baby stolen.  Even if I was an excellent negotiator who knew everything about housecleaner expectations, had my house was in decent shape, and  didn't already have plans for the day, I wouldn't have opened my door.  I was freaking out at this point. 

"You CAN'T come in right now!  I'm sorry." 

"But I'm already here, I'm sitting in front of your house.   The doctor said he was going to hire me!  He said to come over and look at the house and agree on a payment!"  She was obviously a little freaked out by my freaking out.  Nevertheless, I wouldn't let her come in.  So she hung up and left.  I called my husband.

If oh-carp-my-wife-is-about-to-kill-me could be captured in tone, that is what my husband used when he replied to my less than coherent query with, "Oh, yeeeaaahh, I forgot to tell you about that.  One of the ladies that cleans the hospital is coming over to talk about cleaning being a housecleaner for you." 

I will not lie.  He got a tirade.  That included gems like "How could you leave me to negotiate?  You should know better by now!" and "Are you trying to tell me your embarrassed by our house?"  and "You would rather pay someone money than help do the dishes once in a while?!?" and the all encompassing "How could you do something like that without asking me and then forget to even tell me about it?"  In his defense both our mothers had been pestering him to hire help since the birth of our baby.  Something about making my life less stressful.  He had followed through on their advice, just not in the best possible way.

That poor woman wouldn't even speak to Peter after that.  And us?  We have never again discussed hiring a professional housecleaner. 

You are probably thinking along the lines of my friend who laughed herself silly when I told her the story and then laughed when she told her husband, but made it clear she would be perfectly happy if he hired a housecleaner, even if he neglected to tell her about it.  If so, I understand.

No Longer a Young Mother of Young Children

I foolishly thought, when I stopped having children, my family was done growing.  But my family is growing: taller, heavier, louder.  It was painfully apparent during Christmas break that my kids are taking up a lot more space than their younger selves.  We long outgrew cuddling on a couch and now we can't even squish onto two couches; we can barely crowd into one room!  What would have once been a rough house game in the middle of the carpet now spreads across the entire house, even at times spilling outside.  Silly giggles are replaced by hearty laughter and playful taunts.  We are already developing long-lasting inside jokes, the sort that carry into adulthood and make family reunions complete. 

I have lost my "young mother of young children" status.  This year my oldest has left Primary and my youngest has entered.  I am actually sitting through entire Sacrament meetings again.  I'm even able to pay attention to speakers!  Each week as I observe my family spread down the aisle (each with their differing levels of attentiveness), I am forced to admit that my kids are getting older.   As I look in the mirror I am forced to admit the same about myself.  Just when did that wrinkle go from seen-when-smiling to permanently-there?

I must admit I woke up the other day in a panic.  Years of parenting have been spent.  What if I'm wrong?  What if I should have been a helicopter parent after all or I have a fatal blind spot allowing major problems to fester for years unseen?  If I've been very slightly off course for YEARS how far off will I have dragged my children?  By the time I notice could it be too late to correct?  HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO NOTICE ANYWAY?

Then I remember.  The Lord sent me my children and it is my calling to be their mother.  I have done the best I can, I continue to do so.  After all, I can only offer my best and trust the Lord will magnify it to be enough.  I will continue to pray for guidance and try to do better.  And I will continue to watch in amazement as my family grows in ways I never imagined.

And I will use that recently bought eye serum every night, too.  Just because I've lost my young mother status, doesn't mean I have to have too many wrinkles, right?

A Year in Review

January last year started out with a healthy laugh.  My brother-in-law convinced my husband (and my eight year old) to bring in the New Year by wearing nothing but boxers while taking a midnight run in the ocean while everyone else trailed behind, properly dressed and thouroughly enjoying the display.  Did I mention there was lots of snow on the ground?

And so started a wonderful year for our family.  Below are some highlights of each month (at least the highlights I remembered to bring my camera for!):

~ January brings cabin fever which brings activities like turning oneself into a smurf. 

~I  did manage to sneak in a photo of Peter preparing for his snow run.

~ It snowed so much last winter that the kids didn't have a full week of school the entire month.  Of course, they loved the sledding opportunities.

~ Ethan had his birthday (an entire month late) at a local skating rink.

~ Peter loved his Darth Vader cake, even though I abandoned any attempt at black and went with varying degrees of chocolate.

~ Elise's performance with Chamber Choir.  Turns out it was her last before the teacher she adored left.

~ A quick (and COLD) trip to D.C. and Gettysburg.

~ After a several year hiatus, I began to make homemade bread again, this time with freshly ground wheat and my new Bosch mixer.

 ~ Kirsti's art was selected to hang in the local library!

~ My grandmother died and I was fortunate to able to attend the funeral and say my goodbyes and see family I haven't seen in a decade. 

~ My oldest turned 12 and started Young Womens {gulp}.  12 (being a multiple of 4) is a party year and she decided on a sleep over.

~ Ryan performed in his choir concert.

~ Easter break was spent in North Carolina with my sisters and their families.  We LOVE Marble Museum.

~ Dyeing Easter eggs before we left.

~ Ethan won 1st place at the pinewood derby!

~  What?  You don't play on the beach between sessions of LDS General Conference?  This was our first day out after winter.

~  Ryan and Ethan started baseball.

~ Elise went to a Trivia Bowl.  Her team went for the geek look.

~ Ryan and his recorder recital.

~  My love and comfort:  the new hammock (until the stand broke a month or so later.   We have to fix that BEFORE next summer).

~ Zoo, where it was clear to me that my kids are just as wild as the animals.

~ Dinosaur water park.  It was too cold to play, but that didn't stop the kids for a minute.  Are they still shivering in the picture?

~ Piano recital for older three kids.

~  Kirsti & her Tinkerbell cake.

~ Submarine museum- Peter has yet to go and he would probably like it the most!

~ Black scratch art, one of many crafts we did over the summer.

~ Six Flags with some friends.

~  The two instances of stitches in one month ("Stitches" including staples and glue, of course)

July was so fun it got to go twice!

~ Playing around in a local fort.

~ 4th of July (not the best we've had, but an adventure all the same.  I prefer my adventures NOT include trying to figure out how to proceed without toilet paper in the portapotty).

~ Some of the kids first attempt at bowling.

~ I indulged Ryan's request with a fancy dragon birthday cake.

~ Joseph started kindergarten and Ryan began middle school.

~ A trip to a disappointing aquarium (Boo!) which we accidentally found out butts up with Coney Island (Hurray!)

~ An early 1700 village with friends.

~ Swim lessons!!

~ Robot birthday cakes for 5 year old Joseph.

~ Annual Ward Picnic.

~ A trip to a corn maze.

~ Matthew turns 3.

(And of course there was my trip to see Wicked in NYC of which I got 0 pictures).

~ Our Halloween pictures.

~ A ride on a steam train.

~ Reenactment of Revolutionary war battle with friends (here they are fascinated with the ox).

~ A lovely (if not COLD) river boat tour.

~ Sisters came for Thanksgiving!!

~ Joseph had his first school play.

~ A broken dryer resulted in lots of clothes hanging (and a new dryer).

~ More sisters came for Thanksgiving!  Because that is doubly exciting.

~ First snow of the season was HUGE.  We're talking at least 3 feet to shovel off the driveway.  We did enjoy the new sledding hill we found!

~  I took a Girls' Day Out to tour some AWESOME mansions.  Of which I took no pictures but the one you see here (In my defense, it was cold outside and pictures were not allowed inside).

~  Ethan's sword cake, months is anticipation.  It is supposed to be Riptide from The Lightening Thief.

~  Matching pajamas.  I'm lucky in that this year only one person's didn't fit, unlucky that the one person was me.

A smattering of my Christmas photos.  Nintendo DS's, Rockband, custom made snuggies from Grandma Red, Legos, puzzles, & coloring stuff.

Happy New Year!!

My Progress in Making Resolutions is Hindered by My Lack of Initiative

It is once again that wonderful time of year where every one is guilted into making resolutions, the achievement of which would bring about absolute perfection, never ending happiness, and possibly world peace. Unfortunately I am too lazy to reach that far, so I am hoping to become just a little, teeny, barely noticeable bit better. In fact I am so lazy I decided to only make one resolution. With such a limited supply of motivation, and hoping to be fair, I decided to interview each resolution and choose the best one. Here is how it went:

So, Stop Yelling at the Kids, what brings you here today? What? You think I’m too quick to raise my voice? Psychological damage to the kids and all that? Well, I’ll consider it, but my house is noisier than a jumbo jet, so I’m pretty sure picking you would equal never being heard again (and as far as I can tell, I’m only heard 5% of the time already).

NEXT!

Loose 10 Pounds, what are you doing here?!? I thought if I ignored you long enough you would really go away. Some goals just can’t tell when they aren’t wanted. Yes, I’m aware I still have those pants in my closet, “just in case" and I think of you every time I accidentally look in the mirror clothes-less, but let’s be real; I can work on weight when I have less stress in my life. Take a look at my 6 kids and husband’s job- it ain’t happen’n anytime soon. Can you hand me those cookies on your way out?

NEXT!

Stronger Effort to Keep My House Clean, I’m sorry but you came at the wrong time. With Christmas exploded all around me and my kids under my foot for two weeks, I know there is no way my house will ever be anything close to clean until my kids are closer to 30. If you tried me at the beginning of the school year when I am basking in less kids time, you might make more headway. Hey, don’t cry. It’s not MY fault New Year Resolutions come when my kids are on break.

NEXT!

You do realize, Spend Less Time on the Computer, that I am typing this on my computer right now. Why are you wasting my time?

NEXT!

Bwah-ha-ha-hee-ho-ha-ha-ha-ha, gulp, sputter. I’m sorry, bwah-he-he, snort, I don’t mean to laugh. He-he-he, cackle. No, Replace Chocolate With Vegetables, come back! Ho-he-he-he. I didn’t mean to laugh. Bwah-ha, snort, gulp, sputter. No, really, you maybe should go . . .

Ho-ho-he
.
NEXT!

Where did Go To Bed and Get Up Earlier go? Already off to sleep?  Well, I guess that’s an automatic disqualification.

Stay on a Budget? I’m sorry my husband is conducting his interviews down the hall.

Read My Scriptures Every Day, you’re so worn out and frail from years of use, I’m afraid to even interview you.

NEXT!

What?!? There’s no resolutions left to interview? Did they all just give up and go home? Isn’t there anything I can do that involves absolutely no personal effort or growth? I suppose I will resolve to resolve nothing this year. That is something I’m sure to keep.

Are you making better headway deciding on your New Year’s Resolutions?

(In actuality, my list making mania could never let an opportunity like New Years go by without seizing it. I’ve already spent a few days evaluating and deciding goals I want to make for this year. Also tweaking my routine and reorganizing how I create and follow my lists. But that would be boring to write about, so you get my blowing off steam instead.)

Keeping to Tradition (of Forgetting Garbage Day)

This morning my dear husband stood in the middle of the kitchen and excitedly asked, "garbage?"

I, always on the same wavelength as my soul mate, tried to figure out how we could have lost the garbage can.  "It's missing?"  I ask, for an instant thinking he may have never known where it was in the first place (he did need help finding the dishwasher soap the other day).

"Did you take it out?"  he replied (complete with eye roll).  And that is when it hit me that, despite my best efforts, I have forgotten garbage day the week after Christmas AGAIN.  You'd think after I posted this last year, I would have remembered...

The Trouble With Garbage

{posted January 2009}


There is a fast held, unintentional tradition at our home: I will forget garbage day leading up to and winding down from Christmas. I'm not sure why this tradition persists. After the first few years you'd think I would make a more concerted effort to NOT forget. Yet, every year you can find me hitting my forehead with my palm as I see the line of now empty garbage cans lining my street.

The worst part of this tradition is that I am too cheap/lazy/determined to see it through to take the excess garbage to the dump myself. I choose the much less fun option of over stuffing my garbage can every week until all the garbage is gone. During most of the year this can be accomplished by the next week (as long as I don't decide to clean out my fridge/basement/closets that week, I'm sure I'm too smart to accidentally do that more than a few dozen times).

But Christmas provides enough trash for a week all by itself. In fact I have more garbage the entire month of December. Add to that the missed week (or two) leading up to Christmas and there is a lot of build up. One year, I forgot two weeks before and one week after Christmas. Yes, I do hold to this tradition that strongly. I spent three months compressing sacks and filling my can overflowing. If you don't believe me, ask my neighbor, who had to notice the sacks of extra garbage piled on my back porch. I really am that cheap/lazy/determined to see it through. (I do make sure the garbage waiting to go has the paper, packaging remnants, empty food boxes, and other nonrotting type things in it.)

This year I was determined to break with tradition. Until two Mondays before Christmas. As I drove through my neighborhood on the way home from running errands, I couldn't help but notice the blue garbage cans sitting along the curb. In front of all driveways but one. Palm, meet forehead. How did I not notice the cans on my way OUT of the neighborhood? I must have a strongly developed BLIND spot for the sake of tradition.

I went out to the garage for some forgotten reason early the Monday before Christmas. While frowning slightly at the unsightly pile waiting its turn from last week I realized the day. ACK! I almost forgot again. It had snowed all weekend so I ran into the house grabbed my boots and coat and ran the garbage can over the icepacked driveway entrance and out onto the street.

Then the week after Christmas, Monday morning again, my mother-in-law was kind enough to remind me of the big day. Of course, I don't know what led her to believe I'd forgotten. Hmmm. Anyway, she saved the day and my forehead from another slap.

Despite these two saves I'd still missed a week, so now I sit exactly where I am every January, with a pile of garbage sacks waiting their turn to enter the garbage bin. With all the extra company and accompanying trash, I should be trash free by at least February. As long as I don't forget garbage day again. I mean, who would be silly enough to forget garbage day on a regular basis?

Once a month isn't "a regular basis", is it? In fact, while writing this post I realized this isn't so much a Christmas tradition as a monthly tradition in my house. Christmas just makes forgetting garbage day A LOT more annoying. I hold that it is Peter's job to take out the garbage, even though I am the one who has always done it. "Always" not being the most accurate term in this case. But if I can pretend it is his job, then I can pretend it is his fault, right?

Normal? Don't Waste Time With That Fallacy

The other day I pulled out the good hot chocolate.  Stuff that requires milk instead of water, may cost more than drinking shaved gold, and must be how heaven tastes.  I keep it hidden from my children so it doesn't get wasted on their less cultured palates (it might kill me to see it congeled and forgotten on the cupboard like I regularly find the other hot chocolate).  So when my oldest son asked to have a cup, it was a big deal to allow him 4 tablespoons from my hoard.  And when I saw the teapot heating up as my oldest daughter pulled out a packet of Swiss Miss, I felt rather gracious informing her of my temporary generosity.
"That's okay, Mom, I like this kind just as well,"  was followed with a reflective "I know that's not normal, but I don't mind not being normal all the time."  Those are words of comfort to the mother of a near teenager.  I have noticed lately that many people, even at my age, are still battling the idea of Normal.

Normal.  There are three lifestyles I've noticed that are based around it. 

1. There are those who spend their whole lives on a quest to achieve Normal with all goals centered around reaching that blessed state.  Differences sprout embarrassment or self castigation and are often hidden in shame.  If only I {whatever} like everyone else, then I would be happy, productive, liked.  If Normal is crafty, so must I be (even if I hate crafts, I just pretend).
2. Then there are those so frightened of Normal they spend their lives running or hiding from it.  They think if match up to Normal too often, they will cease to exist as an individual.  They spend their whole life making sure they don't like Normal.  If Normal is crafty, I'm not interested in crafty.  I won't even try.   (I must admit that there was a time when this described me and I didn't do things merely because it was Normal or popular with women my age.  It wasn't until I overcame my fear of Normal that I found I liked scrapbooking and baking bread)
   
3. With similar fear, but stronger reactions, are the fighters.  Somehow they see normal as an evil that must be eradicated, with shame and superiority as favorite weapons.   Normal is wrong and they seem bent on proving it.  Normal is mundane, small minded, ignorant, and low class.  They are different and that somehow makes them better than Normal. If crafty is Normal then those who like it should be ridiculed, I have too refined taste for such things.
   

What none of these people seem to understand is that Normal is really quite imaginary.  There are certainly norms and things many people have in common, but nobody typifies everything.  The longer I live the more I see how little anyone has in common with Normal.  Actually, a lot of conceptions on Normal depend on where you live.  I may be Normal with my 6 kids in Utah but I am odd here.  And it doesn't matter to me if I live where it is Normal or not, I enjoy my large family.  If you still think that everyone else is Normal and you're the odd one out, you need to look a little harder.  Besides, if you spend your time seeking, fighting, or hiding from Normal your going to miss how fun it is to be you! 

Don't be scared of not being Normal.  Hate chocolate?  Embrace that fact.  Prefer odd hair colors?  Why not!  But don't be scared of Normal either.  Like to scrapbook?  Read Twilight?  Prefer McDonalds?  Don't let a fear of Normal get in the way of liking what you like.  And if you find a knee jerk reaction to Normal is to argue or feel superior?  You need to reevaluate.  There are norms that should be argued, but there are norms that have good reasons, too.

So I say be who you are and throw Normal out the door.  It is when you stop worrying about Normal that you see how illusive a concept it is.  I hope my daughter keeps wanting to be herself.  I hope she continues to not mind Abnormalities and that she doesn't shun something merely because it's Normal.  I hope she knows that the only thing completely Normal is the lack of Normal.  I hope she can embrace that fact wholeheartedly.  (And I hope she continues to prefer the cheap hot chocolate so I can enjoy my expensive stuff in peace).

Christmas Decorations (I'd like to claim temporary insanity)

Ever have a great idea that then becomes a teeny tiny bit of an obsession?  My cousin's wife gave me the idea for the ornament wreath and making it somehow gave me a bug.  A make all homemade ornaments this year bug.  I'm happy with the results (although I lack the photography skills to give it justice).

Homemade Ornaments:

Paper Triangle Balls:

Snowflakes:

(I made these a decade ago, but homemade all the same!)

Gingerbread Men (& Women):

Popcorn Garland:

The Wreath that Started It:

Bought this (but it took 3 years to figure out how to get it to stay on the top of the tree):

I'm thinking of posting tutorials these ornaments (wreath tutorial here), since most are a conglomeration of lots of google searching.

I'm finished now.  Except a Christmas banner and possibly these trees. 

Spontaneous Dancing

It is completely normal to break out into spontaneous dancing, right?  I was going to cut down the video into smaller clips, but I figured some of my friends and family might enjoy the entire 2.5 minutes.  A  few notes:

• Elise was once grounded from her ipod and I begged Peter (who had done the grounding) to finally give it back because repeats of songs like this were making me crazy.
• Last time my sister was here, her husband concocted a plan that involved running around the beach on New Year's Eve in boxer shorts.  Took video of Peter and him doing it, but Peter didn't want me to post it.  So I didn't.  May not have told him about this video.
  
• This was during Thanksgiving break.  I had 6 adults and 10 children in my home (although at the time one sister and family had already left to go home), so judge kindly the state of the kitchen.
• Don't ask about the kitchen cupboard doors, it is a sore spot and one of the joys of renting.
• Don't ask about the decorating, either, as I am reluctant to spend too much money decorating a space unique to a rental (first person to point out we may live here longer than any other house our married life will get their pinky toes broken).
• Yes, my sister really is that skinny with 2 babies the age of my youngest or younger, and yes, I am behind the camera the entire time so you can't compare our stomach sizes (or dancing ability).
  

Peter, Black Friday, & Sleep Deprivation are NOT Budget Friendly

Like all good Santas (are they all female or is that just my house?), I had made my list and checked it twice (or 100 times- don't judge my list making ways).  Nearly everything had been ordered, shopped, or at the very least planned.  I was a little short on Joseph so I scanned the Black Friday ads for ideas.  There, on page 4,096 of Toys'R'Us, was a {*Christmas*Present*Censor*}.  Five-year-olds love to jump and this might direct his energy in a less parental back straining direction (how often must I remind him not to jump on my back?).  So at the lovely hour of midnight I sent my husband out to purchase said item and promptly went to bed.

Now if you are unfamiliar with Black Friday, let me tell you it has long ago stopped being about the exceptional deals that save our meager budget.  Now we do it for the joy of the hunt.  We love pouring over the ads, making a grand scheme, and dreaming (in much too short dreams) about the deals we'll be making.  We've never been in a riot, instead having many a pleasant chat with all the other crazies waiting in line at 4 in the morning.  My husband and I find it, well, fun, something we look forward to and are disappointed if no door busters call our name.  I, however, was eschewing the nontraditional midnight time in favor of a 5 o'clock run to JoAnn's for $1.50/ yard flannel.

I knew I was in trouble when I woke to the phone ringing at 4:00AM; it could only mean one thing and Peter's brief message (when I was unable to find the portable phone in time) confirmed it: he was in Walmart and had been since leaving Toys'R'Us.  I knew he had been looking at that ad a little too long and often.  I stumbled around (I am blind without glasses, contacts, or light of any sort) until I found my cell phone and dialed my husband's  number, which promptly rang on the back of the couch.  He must have borrowed someone's phone to call me!

Even in my half awake state, I realized nothing good could be had from Peter wandering the door buster filled aisles of Walmart for 4 hours.  I grabbed his phone, threw on a jacket and trudged through the rain to the car.  Due to my husband's schedule, we had yet to doorbust in our new state and I was unsure about how busy it would be.  Pulling into the parking lot left no question: the entire thing was filled!  The doors were blocked off with one small entrance for the floods of people entering.  I walked the aisles for an hour, with no success, looking for my husband to deliver the phone and check his cart (in retrospect I should have used my cell phone to take pictures for People of Walmart, but I was too tired to think about it at the time).

Admitting an inability to find him among the throngs, I trudged home to await my fate.  My husband made it home by 5:30 and I surveyed the damage.  While waiting for the 3 {*Christmas*Present*Censor*} he stayed around all night to buy (arguing quite reasonably that it was the best deal he had ever found), he had wandered the store adding things to the cart.  For. FOUR.  hours.  His purchases included the board game, {*Christmas*Present*Censor*}, which we already own, and a {*Christmas*Present*Censor*} game that I had already bought (and showed him!).  There was also the {*Christmas*Present*Censor*} and the {*Christmas*Present*Censor*}, oh, and a {*Christmas*Present*Censor*} that we had discussed and decided not to buy for Joseph this year (ironically he was the one who wanted to wait till next year).

To make a long story even longer, he spent way more than the $30 I planned.  He did finish off the two older boys lists (even Ethan's list, which is always double due to his late December birthday).  He laughed about some of his choices (later when he wasn't sleep deprived).  Some of it will be waiting for birthdays, others will be added to Santa's list in lieu of things I hadn't yet bought, and still others will sit and taunt me with their hilariousness.  And Peter is grounded from Black Friday shopping alone.

The End

P.S. I had a lovely time at JoAnn's and A.C. Moore.  Hardly any crowds and plenty of flannel to go around.  Even spent time talking to a lovely woman about our Thanksgivings while waiting in the fabric cutting line.  I stayed within my own budget (kind of).


P.P.S.  I am glad Peter likes to be involved in the present buying and that we are blessed enough financially that blowing the budget was funny and not stressful (I do allow extra room every year in the Christmas budget because he buys something not in my plan for the kids) .