"What would you think if I moved the refrigerator into the foyer?"

It comes around every year.  De-decoration day.  Little Prince has been after me for about a week or so now to take down the "decorate."  So I have been preparing Mr. Wonderful and Daddy's Girl for a couple of days that today was the day.  I got up this morning and got my "box-up" on setting out to first take everything down and grouped on the dining room table and the bookcase.  Mr. W got up a little later and began dismantling alongside me.  I decided this would be a great time to organize my little 14 year collection of Christmas what-not.  So I began sorting through.  I've inherited some decorations from both sides of the family and still for the life of me can't figure out how my biological family amassed so many stocking hangers.  

I thought about my dad a lot today.  His distinctive ALL-CAPS handwriting on boxes.  "Dad" in glitter on an elementary craft stocking.  Christmas decorations he and Mom selected.  And all the great Christmases-lots of laughing, lots of love.  

Another thing brought Dad to mind today.  But first I will have to explain another inevitable of post-Christmas days, the rearrangement of a room.  For whatever reason, Mr. W cannot go six months without rearranging a room.  After Christmas it is the den and in June-ish it is our bedroom.  I should have seen it coming.  A couple of days ago we were in LP & Sunshine's room, discussing the chilliness and he began to discuss how we might better feng-shui the furniture to "keep the kids healthy."  He was getting the fever then.  

So today I could see the writing on the wall when he brought a "living-room" chair into the den to fill in the empty spot left by the Christmas tree.  So after I made him promise that we wouldn't hear a word of complaint about any aches or pains and that all the Christmas boxes would be in the attic before the day was over, I consented.  

One of the things that had to be done was to move the massive TV off my hope chest where it resided.  Now, I am not bragging about the massive TV.  It is as the old song goes, "deep and wide."  It is one of the last of the models that they sold for less because they knew that flat-screens would be the only way to go the very next day.  So we are the proud owners of a television that I am sure the entire family could fit into should there ever be a world-wide calamity.  (I am not complaining...just stating a fact.)

Anyway, if I am around and a hope chest is uncovered, then I (like a pirate) must open it and peruse.  There are all sorts of things in mine.  Things from "yester-year," my children's stuff, a small box of Mr. W's, items of my grandmother's, etc.  And there are letters and cards from my Dad.  So I sat down and read through most of them.  And I was very thankful for a daddy who was not shy about telling me he loved me or he was proud of me.  I was thankful for a daddy who loved my husband so much. I am thankful for that and so much more.  Daddys, write to your daughters.  Tell them how you feel about who they are and what they have done for you.  One day those letters will be tied up in satin ribbon and untied when she needs to remember.

So back to the day.  Mr. W finished getting everything re-arranged and even covered up the paint splotches on the wall where we were "testing."  DG has given it her stamp of approval and the Christmas boxes are back in the attic.  All is good.  Until June.

Not a thought in her little head.

Blogging seems like it would be a fabulous outlet for a woman like me.  The majority of my interaction everyday is with the little tikes and I am believe there should be something left in my brain to share after they crawl into bed.   I mean, I'm a talker.  Come from a long line of talkers.  I was a journalism major for pete's sake!  (Please no comments about my pathetic spelling and punctuation!)  But night after night I sit here on this little new post screen and can think of nothing to say.  

So I pose the question to you dear reader, what would you like to read about?  I can go off on some pretty self-righteous rants, but I imagine that wouldn't interest you.  Or, flip the card and there are hours of self-realization which might just send you screaming.  I could tell lots of funny stuff about my husband and I, but then he screams of bus marks on his back.  And then there is the predictable "Stuff my kids said, ate or pooped."  So you tell me.  And if you really aren't interested, well, I will miss you but I understand.  No hard feelings. 

G'night!

Seriously, are you serious?

I'm exhausted. It is ten minutes after 1pm and I'm just flat out pooped.

I really don't like the last three or four days before Christmas. I love from Thanksgiving till the 19th and adore Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but these few days when I have a list a mile long and absolutely not enough time in the day I dislike.

So today was "get it done or quit day." I had a few things I had to get done or it was pointless for me to even begin. So, as you may or may not know, when you have little ones you must plan carefully for "errand day." This was my first mistake. A lack of planning. You see, the our little tribe is down to one automobile. And the 4-wheeled chariot that I speak of is not ours it is a rental. And it is not just a rental. It is the "my insurance will cover only up to $30 per day, gimme the $30 car" car. A Dodge Charger (shiny rims not included).

Now , I have to admit, there is more room in this little coupe than one would imagine. In fact, if it wouldn't be wrong and the kids could ride in the enormous trunk, we'd be set. However, three children, ages seven and under, with carseats all jammed, er, I mean lined up in the back seat is another blog in itself. Which reminds me, I'm off track.

So I got up this morning (late) because I didn't plan and got the kids breakfast started. Breakfast that consisted of leftover french bread from last night that I sliced and covered with butter, cinnamon and sugar. Fixed Daddy's Girl's lunch and got everyone dressed temperature appropriate. Got myself dressed, haven't had a shower since Sunday, but dressed, face washed and teeth and hair brushed out of the bit of consideration I have left for others. Made sure to grab wallet and phone and concealer/mascara/lash curler(I mean really!). Kid's bag had diapers and wipes in it (score!) and I filled and packed 2 sippee cups! Yea me!

So the entire tribe heads to car. "Do you have house keys?" "DG get in the car." "Sit still." etc. etc. etc. And we are off, Christmas music playing. Drop DG off at school. "love you have a great day." Drive Mr. W to Daddy Dome where he has to go in to get something for me. "I wanna go with Daddy!" After stating he couldn't get things done with Little Prince, he quickly saw the error of his statement and took LP with him (without my prodding or daggers from my eyes-thankyouverymuch.) Sunshine and I sit in car and wait and soon LP and Daddy return and we are off again.

Hot rod is almost out of gas. I did remember to grab cash from the Ramsey-friendly cash folder and so we stop. Lock kids in car (did I?) and take cash in. Pump and we're off. Went to the church for a quick stop where LP was entertained by our pastor and a impromptu call from "Santa." Had to use the laminator so I barracaded our little crew in the work room and gave LP the carpet sweeper, which he kept picking up and "placing" on the carpet so that the crap in it kept falling out. But they were pretty well behaved and we finished and headed out to the car. Got in and off to Kinkos.

Arrived at Kinko's where I quickly sidestepped the shady man with crazy hair that decided to watch my son rummage through the candy bin. The sweet man who always helps me (sans children) took my instructions and I walked around the store SS on hip and LP surprisingly content to point out everything he saw instead of pushing it to the floor. Sweet man had to ask several questions about binding the booklet I had given him. He obviously didn't catch the "I could care less if it is even or flush or perfect--bind it quickly before little man here passes the point of no return" tone in my voice. (By the way--UPS just arrived, all our Christmas packages are home!) So anyway, we got finished and LP almost knocked over the card rack on our way out, but we made it.

A quick run through the drive-thru at the bank and we are off to Target where we pick up a few last minute things for Christmas (you know the stuff you have to shove under the buggy undetected). Of course when we get in there we must wipe down the buggy with the Purell wipes that brilliant customer service people leave buckets of at the entrance (I love you!). We get our items and it is last stop to pick up our 4--that's all--4 pictures for sweet Granny down in Floridy! Get the envelope, pay for all my items ("look over there LP") and head out. Wait, no card for Granny. Ugh! We'll have to get one and go back through the checkout. No big deal. So I stop to look through my precious pictures before we pick out a card. Awwww, LP, the kids with Santa, SS.....Daddy's Girl? Where is DG's pic? Turn around, back to the counter. Gotta call E-the photo lady. E is working on a chemical spill. E shows up (not washing her hands-yikes) and explains that she can try to resend it, but they are backed up and it will take about an hour to an hour and a half. Seriously? I didn't loose my cool, although LP and SS were beginning to loose theirs since it was lunch time and I forgot to grab the well-packed bag off the kitchen table. "Do you have the original with you?" "Yeah, in the car." "You can print it at the 'instant-picture-station'(my words) if you want." "OK." Back out to the car. Get USB dealy and back into Target. I decided I'd get the change in my purse and get the kiddos some popcorn to munch while we picked out a card and it would be ok. So I go in, print photo, go sanitize hands, into the snack place...no popcorn. Are you serious?!!! Forget it. No popcorn, no card, no post office trip...probably no Christmas gifts on time. Home to feed two fussy, sleepy, spent children and one fed-up mom. Now we're fed, they are sleeping and I'm going to wrap my UPS deliveries! Merry Christmas to all!

Only 15 minutes left

Monday is almost over and I'm about to miss another day of my self-proclaimed 25 days of blogging. Don't have much to tell today. My Little Prince has RSV. Sweet Sunshine has another ear infection (anyone see tubes in her future?). And the Camry needs a new motor. I think I'll get Mr. Wonderful fuzzy dice while were at it.

Went to Walgreens (no hypnotic music playing like in the commercial), but as I wandered the aisles I thought...

...I think I might look like an exotic dancer if I used the Bumpit (from the neck up I mean).

...Fake Drakar? Really? If you are still using Drakar at this point, I say spring for the real stuff.

...This box cutter laying open on the shelf is really not a good idea. Especially with all the pseudoephedrines lining the pharmacy shelf behind the very low wall that could easily be jumped by a junkie with a box cutter. (I promptly delivered it to the lady behind the photo counter.)

...I wonder if I could be a silver if I washed with that rinse in shampoo? Just for a day or so.

Anyway, that's about it as I sit here by my little Charlie Brown Christmas tree and tap out my blog. Wow! Ten minutes left...

Watch for an Mr. Wonderful on a burro

Not really sure if there will be a transplant of large automotive vitals or a burial of our tried and true Camry.  But tonight what we have feared for quite some time has happened.  It died.  So now, we wait.  It's not a big surprise, mind you.  The precious hunk of metal has over 250,000 miles on it, but now?  Seriously?

In other news, it looks like both of the little ones may also have pneumonia.  So tomorrow morning means a trip with both of them to the Dr. in order to get a diagnosis and/or catch the swine flu.  Daddy's Girl has to prepare and teach a lesson to her class on French Christmas traditions on Wednesday and the way things are going I'm feeling like a visit to the French Quarter might be the best way to research.  Can I get a witness?! Christmas decorations are still laying all over the floors and how the boxes will make it to the attic, I just couldn't tell ya, but they have to because I'm having a party for Un Chaz's graduation on Saturday.  

Now at this point of the rant I have a few choices:

1.  Turn it into a meaningful, thought provoking reflection on how these things work to make us stronger,

2. Bitch and moan some more, or

3. Find a way to put a funny little anecdote in here to make it less awkward for you to read.

I think I'll go with 4.  Let you end it however you wish.  Gnight all.