Thursday, December 29, 2011

Christmas Commentary

Christmas Eve Eve we had a small handful of friends over for dinner. It is one of the many highlights of my Christmas Season. I look forward to it all year. And it did not disappoint.

Christmas Eve I got the best surprise of all and he didn’t fit under my tree. My brother came to my house for Christmas Eve dinner. He stayed until late in the night and we all talked and laughed, and Mom cried because her baby was home.

Tradition is a must for me. Christmas Morning is never complete for me without my Cinnamon Rolls. My, crack the can on the counter, pop it open, through them in the pie pan, Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls. Thank you, Hubs for running out and finding them for me.

SuperNanny ain’t got nothing on me. Those that know me know that I am a sucker for sitting with JP each night until he falls asleep. It’s as much for me as it is for him. Ok, probably more me. Hubs doesn’t care for the idea and thinks JP and I should have long ago outgrown this. However, when I opened my annual Willow Tree Figurine to see that Hubs got me this one (which I had never even seen), I teared up. He loves me. He really does love me.

Favorite gift of this Christmas? Well, JP names everything as his favorite. But by the looks of the camp out in his room each night, I’d say the Pop Up Tent he received (a complete “on a whim” gift) takes the cake. In fact, the tent was forgotten in the car until later in the day. He has been in it as much as possible since we gave it to him.

Fans for Trinity

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Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Mean People SuCK

Mean People Suck

You can quote me on that.

The kiddos and I went shopping (and beach combing and eating and visiting) at the beach yesterday. Our last stop was to Kmart to see what Christmas items they had on sale and possibly winter boots for JP.

We pulled in and drove parallel to the front doors. It was raining. Not pouring, but not sprinkling. When I entered the crosswalk with the van and noticed a man himming and hawing about to go or not to go in the rain I took a left and went down a closer parking aisle. Figured let him do his deciding and I’d be on my way. That’s really neither here nor there.

I circled around to the next aisle and here was the man and his family of four heading to their car. The spot next to them was empty. We pulled into it while he unloaded his cart. We donned our coats and got out in the rain and rounded the back of the van to head to the store (having to walk behind this family’s car). As we approached, the three of us hand in hand, I yanked JP back as the man backed out not even looking behind him at all. JP is always two steps ahead of us, even holding hands.

As the man backed out he stopped when his window was even with us. I was, at this point, rudely asking him “Really? Really?” He rolled down his window confused. I said “Really? You almost backed into us and you left your cart RIGHT behind my van? Really?”

No doubt, I was ticked. I didn’t curse, I didn’t yell, I didn’t call names. But I was ticked, and he, and my kiddos, knew it.

He turned to his wife and spoke to her in his native language. He turned back to me and spouted “she was supposed to put it away, I had the kids.” He then calmly gets out of his car in the rain and returns the cart to the corral across the aisle.

We continue on our merry way. At the entrance to the store, I looked back one last time. For what? I’m not sure.

The kiddos and I found some deals in the Christmas aisle, no boots, but had fun looking anyway. We exit the store to see it’s now pouring rain and I stop dead in my tracks. Madi follows my gaze and says “Mommy, who DID that?!”

“That” being three shopping carts up against the hatch of my van. Yes, mean people suck. I looked around wondering if the family was off in the corner of the lot somewhere to bask in their gloating somehow. I didn’t see anyone. I got the kiddos to the car and put them in, still slightly looking around. I then, admittedly failing at my own shopping cart kindness, moved all three carts to the empty space next to mine. I was PISSED. I glanced at my bumper and didn’t see any scratches.

I then, as any Tweeter would do, tweeted to my peeps my “displeasure in the situation that had just occurred.” Ok, Ok, so I tweeted out some vulgarity in lieu of screaming at the top of my lungs in the car for my children to hear. Madi asked me why someone could be so mean and hurtful to a stranger. Thankfully, she was still talking about the man, as she didn’t know the language going through my head.

I drove home.

This morning, Hubs sends me this picture of the back of the van while I’m on my way to work in his jeep as he had some errands to run with the van. I never even thought to look again since I had glanced at the bumper in the parking lot. The reason I didn’t notice? It’s higher than the bumper! Right about where, oh, I don’t know, perhaps a shopping cart would hit it!

Thanks to having the nerve to stand up to a stranger about what I thought was not right and not observant, I get my car smashed with three shopping carts. I also had the pleasure of spending time on the phone with the State Police, my local State Farm Agent, the corporate Agent, and the Auto Body Shop. I must add though, that they all were as nice as could be and some even apologetic that this happened.

Miss Mary at my local State Farm Office even calmed me down enough for me to stop crying. The State Trooper was nice enough to tell me that he was proud of me for standing up for my kiddos and myself but “gently scolded” me for not calling the Police to take care of the situation. He assured me, even after I reminded him there are more important crimes and issues to deal with than something as minor as a shopping cart and a driver not looking while backing up, that this too is part of their job to protect citizens. He thinks I should have called when I entered the store. My argument, not to him, but to myself, is that it seemed handled. The man seemed more upset with his wife and happy with that excuse to me that I thought that was the entire situation. That was it. Over.

So the Mommy van goes to the Salon on Friday for an estimate and then back sometime in the next couple of weeks for a makeover. We’ll see where the Trooper’s investigation leads us.

In the meantime, he filed this as a Criminal Mischief complaint and said it was definitely malicious. Although he completely validated me, it was not as comforting to hear it aloud.  

PS. Always look, twice, when backing up.

PPS. Be the kind of person that returns the damn shopping cart.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Poor Pluto

Pluto has been part of our family for over two years now. He’s been shopping with us. To Cape Cod with us. And just recently survived our family vacation to Disney World: amusement rides, dinners, bus trips, monorails, boat rides, tours, plane rides (including the #pukeonaplane incident) and more.
So, we get home and a week or so later, this.

Poor Pluto. Daisy decided that since Mommy was sleeping in and the kiddos were playing downstairs not paying attention to her she would play with Poor Pluto. Poor Pluto sacrificed his ear and his tail in the process.

When JP discovered Poor Pluto, we had tears. And then Mommy calmed him down. And then more tears. And some more tears. And even an offer to give Daisy away. And them Mommy calmed down.

JP then decided Mommy would get a new Pluto at WalMart and all would be right with the world. Although I was surprised it was just that easy for JP to get a new one, I was reluctant to give up on Poor Pluto in case we couldn’t find another one. But why wouldn’t we be able to, right? I mean, WalMart has everything.

Ignoring said reluctance, JP gave Poor Pluto to Daisy and told her she could have that one. “Ummmm? JP, that’s probably not such a good idea.”

After realizing Poor Pluto had been dropped into the shower with Sissy, I decided we’d put Poor Pluto away so Daisy didn’t have her way with him even more.

In addition to Sunday lunch break with Daddy, Karate, and a wonderful holiday Party an hour north, we managed to hit two WalMart Stores and a phone call to a third in search of Pluto. No luck (unless you want to consider Sissy encouraging JP to move on to Tigger or Pooh, or a teddy as luck. No, thank you, Babe. Let’s focus).

We encountered more tears. (Just JP’s, I swear).

On our gallivant home from the Holiday Party, I finally pitched the idea of Mommy fixing Poor Pluto’s boo-boos. I am not a seamstress by any stretch. I don’t even care to do buttons (that’s why I call on my Mommy). So this was a desperate measure on my part. I pictured all that Poor Pluto has been through and figured if blankies can make it through so much all these years in all these families, so can Poor Pluto.

In the dark, in JP’s room while sitting with him that night, Poor Pluto became whole again. I promised JP that if he went to sleep just this one night without Poor Pluto in this arms that he would awake with him right by his side in the morning. Mommy would fix him, give him a bath, and return him to his rightful spot.

And I kept my promise. Through needle stuck fingers and all.


Friday, December 16, 2011

Photo Card

Sparkling Snowflakes Christmas
Quick and easy: Christmas photo cards at Shutterfly.
View the entire collection of cards.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Boobs & Balls

Men in my life, here's the deal. You don't have to reply or acknowledge me. But you do have to make me a promise.

My Montana pal, Clint Miller passed away last night after a painful fight with Testicular Cancer. He was 40. FOR-TY!

Your task at hand (yes, it's a pun, smile) is to give your "ahems" a self check. Do it for yourself, your loved ones, your life. Just do it.

If I can self check, you can self check. Boobs or Balls, just check them!

Peace Be With You, My Friend

Cancer is a terrible thief. 
Clint Aaron Miller 03.08.1971 - 12.11.2011
~~ Angela Miller