The Old Man and the Boogey

For the third year in a row, our family has bought a wii for Christmas.

Two years ago they were the IT item of the season, people were waiting in line to get them only to walk away empty-handed. I happened to be at Target a couple of days before Christmas and two of the guys working there were talking about how they had just gotten two in. I had them dig one out of the boxes and bought one for D. He was excited about it for a couple of days until he decided he didn't have time to play and we returned it!

Last year, PK was already working for Nintendo and we could get a small break on the price. I, once again, decided to buy one for D because he had showed some interest in it. I was smart enough to give him a coupon for it instead of the actual machine in the box. He never had P get it for him. Again, no time to play.

This year, it was his idea to get a refurbished one at a great price from P. It was Js gift from Mommy and Daddy, and this time, it's been opened and set up. J loves it and because D has been off all week, there's been a lot of playing going on.

A couple of nights ago, the whole family was going to go upstairs and play. While they were waiting for me to show up, D and J were playing bowling. I have to say that J is pretty good for a little guy and apparently he wants to call people out about it. At one of Ds turns, he said, "Come on, Old Man." We have no idea where he got the idea to call him Old Man, but it's in his arsenal of intimidation tactics.

Golf was next and this time all three of us played. We're all pretty bad. Even D who is a "real golfer" had some problems, but we continued on our three-hole journey. We all had some "boogeys" in our game. As a matter of fact, most of our holes were boogeys. There was no shame in Js game...he kept saying, "Oh, I got a boogie," like it was a good thing.

I don't know why I think this is so funny. It just is. It's the type of priceless stuff one day the Old Man and his even Older Lady will talk about with each other and laugh about. We'll tell J and M about it once or twice; maybe three times; maybe 300. We'll bore them to death with the same stories told over and over and over again. A lifetime of laughter (or yawns depending on who you ask) over one moment in time.

A Magical Evening

Santa came early this year. Nine days early to be exact. It was the strangest thing, but Santa was at our house last night. Unlike other years, he wasn't sneaking in through the chimney. He just showed up in our family room. Unlike other years, he wasn't wearing his bright red suit; however, he did have his Santa hat and a Gap t-shirt and jeans to go with it. He looked a little shorter and a lot thinner. And, he was missing his front teeth. I guess all those cookies finally caught up with him.

(He was gracious enough to take a picture with Daddy)

Also missing was the huge sack full of toys that he throws over his shoulder. This year it was replaced with a small paper sack. The cool thing about it was that no matter how big a gift was, he could keep it hidden inside the small bag until it was time to see what it was.

Speaking of gifts, he didn't disappoint. He gave M a rattle and Daddy a dog. For me he brought a glass which apparently was to replace a broken bottle of wine?? I don't remember breaking a bottle of wine, but if Santa can see you when you're sleeping and he knows when you're awake, then he must know that I broke a bottle of wine. And I can't argue with that. He must also know that some of the bulbs in our house were out and so he decided to help Daddy out because his next gift was just that: light bulbs. Iced tea was up next. Daddy, once again, was the lucky recipient of Santa's wonderful concoction. Finally there were Santa hats for M and me. And just like that, he was gone.

Later that night I was flipping through channels, and because there was no Law and Order on, I settled for Tinkerbell. I'm pretty sure that up until then I didn't know her story. I always remembered her as Peter Pan's sidekick. The day after Disney on Ice, however, I Googled her to find out more. And last night there she was on TV, so I tuned in. J walks down a few minutes later to say goodnight and as soon as he realized it was on, ran upstairs and fibbed to Daddy that I wanted to chill with him and watch Tinkerbell. D was confused, came down, and agreed to let him stay up until 9pm. I didn't think he would last that long but we snuggled under the Snuggie anyway.

To my surprise, 9 rolled around and he was still interested. We negotiated with Daddy and because there was only 25 minutes left he said it was okay to watch until the end.

It was a cute story and a wonderful night. If you would have told me I was going to let my kid stay up until 9:30 on a school night to watch Tinkerbell with me, I would have laughed. Yet it was par for the course on an evening that was strange, magical, and filled with fantasy. Santa must have had some Pixy Dust hidden in that sack of his.

Rich in Thanks or Thanks for Riches?

Thanks to my pal Lacey and her great ideas, I decided to do a Thankful Turkey for J this year. We made a body and each day we added a feather telling what we were thankful for that day.

On Day One, J was thankful for playing computer games. That came about because I used it as an example when I told him about our new project. For a couple of days there it seemed like it was a fruitless effort because they didn't get much deeper than that. Computer games made it in there twice, playing with his toys was another entry. And then, one day he said "Daddy." He's right up there with computer games and made it twice. Another day it was "Being Healthy" and once, after taking him to Disney on Ice, "Spending the Day with Mommy."

We're getting somewhere I thought. And then we ran out of feathers so we stopped a week or so into it. (Note to self: make enough feathers the first day or you may never get back to doing them later on.)

Anyway, I was happy with the results especially when he showed interest after the feathers were gone and asked if we could continue it through the Christmas season.

A couple of days ago, though, he and D were having a discussion where socioeconomics became the topic. D asked him if he knew what poor was. His answer was that it's when you don't have money. That prompted the next question of where he thought we sat on the financial totem pole. We, of course, are "wich." D tells him we aren't wich and he asks, "So are we poor?"

My question is, Did we create a monster here? I don't think that he's a spoiled kid. We don't buy him everything he wants, he knows he doesn't get something each time we go to the store. I thought we were doing okay in that department.

I want my child to appreciate the things that he gets, to realize that his many toys and games and clothes come with two price tags -- the one that tells you how many dollars you will need to take it home and the one of hard work and dedication that the person giving it to him has gone through to get it into his hands.

I want him to understand that not everyone is as lucky as he is. Each year the moms' group adopts a family and I try to pick a child his age for him to buy a gift. I've explained to him that not all parents have enough money to get gifts for their kids so they have to rely on Santa. I told him we're lucky we have a little bit of money left to be able to help out the parents so that their kids too will have a nice Christmas. Two years ago we got a train, last year we got Barbies for a little girl, and this year a Transformer for a six-year-old boy. He didn't come with me to get it because of timing issues, but he was well aware that we were getting it and I showed him what we got when he got home from school. He said it was "cool."

I don't know if he grasps the meaning of this, but he was telling M the other day pretty much the same story I told him. "M, we're lucky because we have a little bit of money to buy a gift for some kids. Their mommy and daddy don't have a lot of money, but we can help."

I hope that's a start in the right direction but I think I have my work cut out for me.

Little Dude, Big Pimpin'

Let me start by saying that when we say "pimping" we don't use it in its literal meaning, ours is more of the slang definition which means to look cool, act cool, or anything that makes you stand out above the rest in a particular arena.....now that the housekeeping is done, I'll get to the story.

Anybody that knows D knows that he's a cool guy who is always in pursuit of situations and/or things --material or otherwise -- that will contribute to make him or his surroundings "fresh, smooth, or pimping." From his clothes to his golf swing and especially his sneakers. Ever since J was small D would go out and buy him things to put him in one of the aforementioned categories.

He likes to joke that I treat M like a doll that I like to play dress up with, but he's the exact same way, not only with J but with M now too. The other day when he had her by himself he dressed her up in an adorable Nike getup that he bought for her. He put boots on her feet and a ribbon in her hair off he went into the streets of Olympia in search of props about his daughter. He was pretty much "pimping" out his little girl in return for compliments.

So, it should come as no surprise that with all of this fresh-smooth-pimping attitude, J was going to inherit a little bit of it himself.

Fast forward to yesterday....when we got home from Baby Gym, for some reason J's Mickey Mouse shirt came off w/ his jacket leaving him with only black sweats and a black T-shirt. As the time neared to go to school I told him to put on his MM shirt over the black one, which begs the question: Why, so I can look like a pimp?

And there you have it....fashion tips from the Pimp Style Guru himself. When in doubt, just add a Mickey Mouse shirt and instantly your day will get a lot more interesting.

Carry On.

Hair Don't Comes Full Circle

I should have listened to the hairdresser that told me that kids don't cooperate with their parents when scissors and hair are involved, but at the urging of my loving husband I decided to try it anyway.

She was so good at first. Sat in her high chair and let me part it and clip back the portion that is soon to be her cute bob.

And then, just like that, as soon as I went in for the first cut, she moved her head and it all went downhill from there.

So now we're back to the dreaded Hair Don't she had the first few months of her life. We used to call it a Mulhawk because it was part mullet part Mohawk. She lived with that do for several months and then her hair started coming in and growing. A few months later she was actually getting compliments on her hair.....it was adorable without even trying.

Enter Daddy and his "concern" that her hair was in her eyes. I understand the frustration firsthand for I too have grown out bangs numerous times. I bought clips to no avail. As soon as she got wind of one she would pull it out. So I gave in and took her to Jack and Jill's for her very first haircut which turned out to be just a little cut of the bangs that set me back $16.

I can do that, I thought. And last night I tried....poor little M. I was so angry at first. At D for his insistence and at myself for one, falling prey to it and second because I'm the one that had the scissors in the hand that caused it. And then just like that I realized that it's only hair. In a few weeks it will grow back a little, a couple of months from now we'll never know what happened, and those little dreaded clips, she's been keeping them in today. It's like she knows they are now her best friends. It doesn't hurt that M is adorable and she could be bald and still be beautiful.

So, the Hair Don't has come full circle and so have my cosmetology days. I'm hanging up the scissors and going to the ATM instead.