But Once A Year

Yesterday I took down the tree... because I'm efficient like that, wanting New Years to be a new year, not just a long drawn out extension of the last. 

Not quite fair for my littles I know. 

"Why did you take down the tree?" Zip asked.

"Because Christmas is over."

"CHRISTMAS IS OVER?!!"

We had a lot of fun and I think he was beginning to believe that Christmas was now a permanent fixture in our lives. 

Returning to the store where Santa had unknowingly purchased a megaphone for $10 that required $25 worth of batteries, (oops... returned!) we came across this:

Tizzy was horrified. He stopped in his tracks, looked the window up and down, and then marched inside. He went around the back of the display window looking for a flue.

"How is he going to get out of there?" He asked the shop woman deploringly.

"Well, he's magic." She answered him, shrugging her shoulders sheepishly and whispering, "Is that good?" to me over his head.

"Oh! Don't worry mama," he said, turning to me. "He's just magic."

Holiday Yin-Yang

So, we've been baking:

And we've been decorating:

But, I'm not going to lie. The house is a mess!

That's what the magazines don't tell you!

(And those cakes? Family Fun – December issue. Mmm - They're really good!)

Ho Ho Ho – He's A Jolly Old Soul

It's that time of year again... Time for the neighborhood Christmas party!

While their parents ate, the children were entertained by a screening of Frosty the Snowman.

But wait! Who's that you say at the front door? Only Jolly old Saint Nick himself.

With a, "Who do we want? – SANTA!  When do we want him? – NOW!" Santa was greeted by a few of his most adoring fans.

While simply uninterested in mall Santas, Tizzy could barely sit down with this handsome fella by his side.

And before he knew it, Tiz was called up to make an appearance on Santa's lap, which he readily accepted. 

Being the second to last of nearly 20 children, there was some concern that maybe Santa had nothing in his bag for a boy named Zip. When his name was indeed called, Zip wasted no time jumping from his seat and making his way to the man himself.

The only reluctant child of the bunch, was Santa's next of kin. A young Mrs. Claus had to carry her up struggling, and despite the bearing of gifts, junior remained warry of the man in the suit.

With one nights work done, Santa had to be on his way, this being his busiest time of year.

Tizzy declared that "Our Santa" was good. The one at Santa's house in the mall – Not so much! 

 

I think the kid oughta give the man more credit. After all, he obviously put in his request for a book!

Jolly Old Saint Nick

Yesterday morning, I asked the boys if they wanted to go see Santa.

“Oh YES! Yes please! Mmm-hmm.”

I got them dressed, and there was much discussion about how Santa was doing and inquiries as to where he would be.

“Mama, Santa would not want me to comb my hair like this,” Tizzy exclaimed, while brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Here, this is MUCH better.”

“Whaz his name?” Zip asked once we were in the car.

“His name is Saint Nicholas,” I said. “But you can call him Santa if you want to.”

“I’m just going to call him Santa Clause,” Tizzy replied.

“Yeah, me too, Santa Clause,” Zip chimed in.

Not surprisingly, parking was hard to find. We drove around the lot several times and finally resorted to the street, where we were lucky to catch someone leaving, and took their spot.

Oh, the anticipation was building. Bells were ringing, the boys were skipping, and laughing merrily at the fake snow in the store front windows. 

“Look, there’s Santa’s house!” I pointed out. “Almost there!”

The boys took off running. I managed to catch up to them, entering the doors just in time to see them screech to a complete halt. Sitting in the middle of the room, on a large candy cane striped bench, was the man himself. Big! Almost filling the bench completely. He had a thick, real beard, with long white hair spilling down over his shoulders. Neither boy would budge. 

“There he is,” I said. “Do you want to go sit on his lap and have a chat?”

“No-ooo.” 

“No? I thought you wanted to have your picture taken with Santa?”

“Mmm, just not right now,” Sang Tizzy.

“I’m a little bit ‘fraid,” Shuddered Zip.

Tizzy started dancing around the cottage, studying the pictures on the table, fingering all of the decorations, anything to avoid the big jolly elf in the middle of the room.

I tried carrying Zip over, his body pushing me back toward the door.

Tizzy cautiously sauntered over, and sidled up to Santa with a frown.

“Do you know what you’d like for Christmas?” Santa asked helpfully, trying to move things along.

“Umm, just a book,” Tizzy whispered. 

“A book?!” Santa was surprised.

“Yeah. I just want a book,” Tizzy replied.

Santa reached out and handed him a coloring book.

“No, not this one,” Tizzy chided, “just a real one.”

I tried to get Zip to, at the very least, stand in front of the two of them.

“NOOO!” Zip shouted, jumping back into my arms.

“I think were going to try again later,” I said to the photographer.

We started to leave just as a little girl was nuzzling her face into Santa’s belly. “Oh SANTA! I LOVE YOU!” She cried as we walked out the door.

Outside, the boys promptly found their own photo opportunity.

Indulge The Fantasy, By Keeping It Real

Honoring our adult fantasy of the holidays can be difficult, even in the best of times. Who doesn't want to create memories of a childhood filled with fairytales and magic for their children? And yet, we forget, particularly when we deem times hard, that our children posess the most magical gift of all: The Suspension of Disbelief. 

For example:

I suspect it was completely lost on my children that the jeans-clad prince and princess in this carriage were no longer donning their Sunday best.

                                  

They were far too distracted by watching Tweetie, Clifford, The Tas, and Maisy cruise down Broadway in their hot new Mustangs.  

                               

And, as long as there are all dog bands, life is bright, colorful, and filled with music.

Public transportation can be a blast! Both getting to the parade, and once there.

Sure there are dark forces to contend with, but they can easily be dealt with by hiding behind your mother's leg, and burrowing your head into the back of her knee. If all else fails, your younger brother will deflect the attention away from you, by stupidly waving his arm about, drawing the focus solely to himself. Oh well, survival of the fittest, as they say.

Once in the clear, one can easily imagine oneself in lands much greater than those one is in, as huge monuments to ones favorite celebrities breeze by, allowing one to forget there was ever a care in the world.

If none of these impress, bagpipes are always a sure bet. Impressive, if nothing else!

And marching bands... who can't get lost in the throbbing tempo?

Of course, no holiday celebration is complete without the man in the red suit carting around a couple of clowns and spraying fake snow and bubbles at the crowd!

While they may not conjure up visions of Sugar Plums – Tap dancing Christmas trees, who charge only your presence – Priceless!

Happy Holidays! Keep it Cheap, Keep it Sweet, and it'll be a Happy New Year!

Change is Hard

Got my haircut today. Really short. It was a spontaneous decision based on the fact that I kept saying, “well maybe just a little more,” until my hairdresser finally said, “I don’t think we can call this a bob any longer,” and we just called it "short."

I got compliments from the other moms in the preschool parking lot, and one jokingly said the boys probably wouldn’t even notice, being boys and all.

They noticed.

“Tizzy, you’re lovely mama’s here,” his teacher sang out as I came through the gate.

Tizzy came flying from the sandbox, swung around the corner, reached out to hug me and then came to a screeching halt. He gasped visibly, and started to back up, trembling.

“It’s OK honey, it’s me, mama,” I said, reaching out to him.

His lip quivered, and his eyes filled with tears.

“It’s just a haircut sweetie, I’m still your mama.”

He tentatively reached out and gingerly fingered my necklace. Shaking, he inched closer.

“Feel it,” I said. “It’s just a haircut,” I repeated.

“It’s a STOO-PID haircut!! You should not be allowed to get THAT haircut!” He sputtered.

I tried to suppress my laughter. 

“I’m sorry I surprised you honey, it’ll grow back.”

He couldn’t look at me, and seemed reluctant to follow me to the car.  I picked him up as we entered the parking lot and held him close saying, “I may not look like your mama, but I’ll bet you recognize my hugs and kisses.” 

I covered him with butterfly kisses, which made him laugh, but he still looked dubious.

On the drive home, when I looked back at him through the rearview mirror, he would only meet me with sideways glances.

Finally, he accepted me, but still scoffed.

Later this evening, I asked Zip, who seemed very good natured about the whole thing, what he thought of the cut.

“It’s good,” he said matter-of-factly. “It surprised Tizzy.”

“Yes, it did.”

Just then, Tizzy walked through the door, back to his normal self.

“Feeling better?” I asked. “What do you think of my cut now?”

“It’s OK,” he laughed. “But I still think it’s too short, Short, SHORT!”

A Little Taste of Magic

Last week, we loaded the boys into the car for a 14-hour tour up north to, you guessed it, Washington State to visit Brad's sister Lisa. After one night in Klamath Falls, Oregon, where Zip was impressed with the "good bed" and the "good TV," we arrived at Aunt Lisa's, where she had lovingly reserved a neighboring guest house for the two of us and our barnyard boys. 

Tizzy was SO excited. 

"Mama," he kept saying. "This is a people barn, not for animals!"

We finally got to see the country house that Aunt Lisa moved to from Arizona three years ago.  We were joined by Grampa Steve from Arizona and Aunt Sharon from Chicago. Good company, wonderful food, but mediocre weather.

After three days of adult conversation and being cooped up indoors, we decided that we owed it to the boys to leave a day early, both to break up the drive, and to give them a chance to run around. We were also worried that if we tried to do a 7-hour drive the Sunday after Thanksgiving, it could easily turn into 20. After a lunch of Thanksgiving leftovers, we headed down to Bend, Oregon, and spent the night in the Mc Menamins Old St. Francis School Hotel.  This was a lovely, if precious, convertred schoolhouse, with lockers and drinking fountains still intact in the halls. The boys enjoyed our brief stay, even though we didn't have time to enjoy their movie theater, or Turkish-style soaking pool.  While it was fun for our family, if you're young, hip, and child-free, this is the place for you.
The next morning, we jumped back in the car, and, after a subtle introduction to the snow, were able to give the boys a taste of the real thing up on the stunningly gorgeous Crater Lake.

Aside from their obvious pleasure, I was quite relieved by the wintry distraction, which kept the boys away from the sheer slopes that slid right down into deep icy waters.  Brad and I took turns marveling at the natural wonder, while the boys were invited to join a group of neighboring kids in building a snowman. 

If a day in the snow wasn't enough excitement for our little guys, they found themselves sleeping at the base of Crastle Crags that night, in the Dunsmuir Railroad Park Resort.

A wonderful road stop, where every room is a refurbished caboose.  The boys could hardly contain their excitement.  Brad and I fell asleep that night to the sounds of tiny feet running up and down the length of caboose.  In the morning when Zip woke up, we asked him if he knew where he was. 

"I sleeped on a TRAIN!" He squealed.

While we still have yet to sleep in a gingerbread house, the trip was filled with magic, and, with any luck, it will leave the boys with cherished Thanksgiving memories for years to come.

The Teaser

Except for a brief encounter when Zip was 3 weeks old, and Tizzy just under 2, my boys have had no hands on experience with snow. Like all of us who grow up in California however, that doesn't mean they didn't know what it was. When we were driving home from our trip on Saturday, we had to pull off to the side of the road for a bathroom break, and low and behold, there was SNOW! It was a good 45 minutes before we could pry them away from the slopes...

Low expectations meant they were easily pleased.