Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Back to Boring We Go

I always have mixed feelings about putting away all the Christmas decorations. On one hand, my postage stamp sized living room feels downright spacious after taking out 6 feet of Christmas tree. For a few weeks, the husband and I will marvel at all this new found space and how big the living room looks! Until we remember that it's always been this size and it's not that big of a deal.

The problem is, the magic is gone. The Christmas season brings fun and joy and wonder. And if you have kids, it doubles the sense of wonder because you get to see the world through new eyes again. There's Christmas movies, Christmas music, Christmas shopping, and Christmas cookies. There's parties and presents and the smell of fresh cut Christmas trees. There's snowmen decorations and Santa decorations and stockings hung by the chimney with care. (Or in our case, on the wall with those little 3M hook thingies.)

Once Christmas is over we just start looking forward to summer.....in six months.

We do get a small transitional moment in the form of New Year's Eve. A party, one last food free for all before you start your diet (like you do every year) and a celebration with family and friends. My in laws always make a big to do and have a game filled food fest and it's pretty spectacular. I figure if you're going to celebrate how fricken quickly time has gone by that year (and the older you get, the faster it goes) this is the way to do it. Food, booze, and (drunken?) pictionary. (That would explain some of the attempted drawings we've seen over the last few years!)

Unfortunately, the next day brings with it New Year's resolutions that we all know we're probably ditching by February 1st, more than likely a diet (ugh) to get those stubborn holiday pounds back off, and the frustration of writing the wrong year on everything for a month. Plus, possibly a hang over if you were playing drunken pictionary the night before.

So yes, I do miss the magic of Christmas. Until I remember that the new year brings new possibilities. New chances for friendships and gatherings and special moments with my children. (Not to mention a new child altogether! One I haven't screwed up yet! A blank slate, baby!) And if we're honest, it's really only January and February that we mope through. By the time March comes around we're already feverishly looking for signs of spring. We're in the home stretch. Spring, in all its muddy glory, is almost here!

So for all my fellow Moms (and Dads too!) who don't know how they're going to make it another 3 months with cooped up heathens who desperately need the chance to gallop in fields of wheat (or even just the back yard) and give them a much deserved breather, I say hang in there. Once the weather finally hits above the freezing point you can always send them out bundled up like a winter burrito and earn back a few precious minutes of sanity.

All That Crap and More!

So, I've been looking online at baby crap recently. No, not actual crap, that's nasty. I mean all the things that are designed to care for and carry your baby and some things that I've found are just a savings to my sanity. By baby number four, you know what products you need and what are just designed to suck those first time parents into flushing money down the drain on something that they are convinced they absolutely need.

I start with the baby bath tubs. Now, this is a particularly sore subject for me right now because of the toddler bath seat. I had a bath seat that I used for the younger two that I loved, loved, loved. Literally, I had just gotten rid of it 3 months before finding out I was pregnant. Of course, I can't find another one like it since it was an archaic piece of plastic equipment that was 12 years old. But I digress. I'm looking online at bath seats and I come across this little gem:

I might have bought it if it had jets and a head rest.

This is the Aqua Scale 3-in-1 Infant Bathtub. Yes folks, for a low $69.99 (SEVENTY DOLLARS!) you could have a combination bath tub, water thermometer, and scale. Forget just bathing your baby, now you can make sure that they maintain a constant weight through out the entire bath! Make sure that you aren't boiling baby's precious skin with the built in water thermometer. Never again will you have to make the water "tepid" and rely on using your boring old hand to gauge if your baby will scream bloody murder from the scalding water of if they're screaming bloody murder from being cold, naked, and wet!

I just want a plain old bathtub. Now they are inflatable or have slings or are combination bath tub-infant barcalounger-highchairs. They fold up or are designed specifically for sink bathing. When did a bath for my itty, bitty baby become such a huge task? Give me some water, a washcloth, some Johnson's and Johnson's baby bath, and a naked baby. Sure, having something to hold that naked butt is handy, but where are the cheap $15 tubs with the foam back rest and the "bump" that qualifies as a seat? The closest thing I could find was $30 and it's "The First Years Ultimate Comfort Musical Tub". For Lord's sake, we really need a musical bathtub? Does having music for those 9.5 minutes make it that much less traumatic for my baby who's only thoughts are "Waaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" Also, isn't anything electronic meeting water a bad, bad thing?

The other part of me though, does realize that some things have been made better in the years between children. One thing I think is really cool is something called a "Sleeper". This is basically a fancy way of saying portable bassinet. You can get them for about $40 and they are angled, which is great for babies with acid reflux or new moms who need to check if their baby is still breathing every 37 seconds. (You don't have to bend so far since the baby's elevated.) The best part? It folds and goes easily. It's like a pack and play without all the heavy lifting and confusing set up/dismantling. The only downside I can see is that you'd still end up having to get a pack and play since the Sleeper is only designed to hold your baby up to six months. (I'm definitely thinking I could get $40 use in by the time six months are up though.)

I guess what it all boils down to is that everything they make for baby is now the Cadillac of baby gear. You can't even buy the Ford or Chevy versions anymore. And they know you'll do it too. Because who wants to be the parent who cares less about their baby's safety and comfort? (But that still doesn't mean I'm buying the BMW of bathtubs.)

It's Beginning to Rush a Lot Like Christmas!

Every year I tell myself that I will not be as disorganized and unprepared as I have been this year. And every year, not only is that NOT true, but the amount of chaotic disorganization that I have in my life grows. It's like bacteria that expands and takes over when you're not looking.

So true to course, this year I'm left scrambling to get everything on my list because the idiot in me put everything off just one more day, until I realized "Holy crap! Christmas is in ONE week!" The sad thing is, Christmas is the same day every year. It doesn't change. It's constant and faithful with it's December 25th arrival. But somehow I think it's gaining days on the calendar. At least, that's what it seems like.

Sure, it says the 25th, but I think it's coming early this year.

The only problem with last minute scrambling is that there are a crap ton of other people also trying to cram in last minute shopping. I think, "Okay, I just need 2 gift cards, some wrapping paper, and hand lotion for Grandma. That's like 25 minutes tops." Until you get to the store and have to park in Timbuktu because the lot is full. Then you get to trudge the half mile to the store, dodge and weave around the other frantic shoppers, and then stand in line half a lifetime to check out. Then the cashier informs you that, not only do the gift cards have to be done separately from your other stuff, but they can't even be combined with each other. One checkout becomes three and you furiously begin apologizing to the sour faced woman in line behind you for taking even longer. You just turned your 25 minute store run into an hour and a half.

The worst part? There are people out there who leave their shopping this late on purpose. (Ninety five percent of these people are husbands, mine included.) I will repeat it for you if you didn't catch that. They wait until the very last minute to do their Christmas shopping. Willingly. Knowingly. Happily. I can't imagine knowing I have 364 days to shop for one special day and then leave it until 3 days before the actual event. (That's the best case scenario since my husband tends to leave it until the 24th.) So you have the people who, like me, planned but need last minute whats-its and the people who waited until T minus 24 hours, all in a mad dash to grab whatever is left. And you thought Black Friday was bad!

So if you see me out this weekend doing another run to the store for butter to make cookies or more tape because "Not Me" is being a klepto, please smile and offer a kind word. I had really good intentions on January 1st, but apparently February was hungry and ate all the months between it and November.

Next Stop, The North Pole!

When I was a kid, we believed in the magic of youth a lot longer than today's generation. What were we, 12 or 13 before we gave up that ghost? (Personally, I choose to still believe because my happy little world has a purple sky, endless rainbows, and a side of Chardonnay.) Of my three children, I have a firm realist (the 16 year old), an on-the-fencer (the 13 year old), and the "Well duh, he's totally real don't be stupid" (the 6 year old).

The on-the-fencer is a wily one though. I can't imagine that she's retained that youthful innocence. Especially not after riding the bus, not to mention going to middle school. At 13, there HAS to have been some bubble bursting by now. Yet there hasn't been once single indication that she's too old to believe and in fact, seems reluctant to even hear any blasphemy that points to the contrary. It's all true and you can't convince me otherwise, that's basically her motto.

Now, while I'm a big fan of kids not growing up too fast in our over sexed, over exposed, too adult world, it's frustrating that I can't just induct her into the "secret club" like I did with her older brother. I have pulled out the old speech (Everyone has the right to believe in magic for as long as they want to without other people deciding that for them and P.S. please do not spoil it for your younger brother.) and polished it up every year for the last 3 years now. While a large part of me thinks she's savvy to the ways of the elves and the big guy, part of me truly worries that she does believe and I'll have to do some bubble bursting of my own before she reaches high school and gets laughed out of freshman year. (Kids can be so cruel.)

The youngest, on the other hand, is surely destined to get off the Santa train effective this year. I've seen his Christmas list and it just ain't happening. He's listed half the stock of Best Buy. Among his top four choices are: iPhone 4, iPhone 5, a Nook (basically a tablet), and a Nintendo 3DS. (Keep in mind none of those are under $129.00.) He's too young for tablets and iPhones (or even cell phones in general) and he doesn't need a 3DS. So he's going to debunk the Claus clause because he's going to think, "Well that fat bastard didn't even get me anything on my list." Ok, so he wouldn't swear. But he might start contemplating why the old guy didn't cough up what he asked for. We told him to ask Santa for what he wanted and the geezer couldn't even produce something lame like the iPhone 3GS! OMG!

The best part of his list is that he asks for half an electronics store worth of plastic gadgets and ends the list with erasers. Like pencil erasers. So maybe I do have a shot of redeeming the old guy in his eyes. Surely good ol' boy Nick can swing that one, right? Especially if we explain that even the North Pole was hit by the economic downturn and had to downsize their electronics manufacturing division.....

Bad Santa! Wasting resources!

Waking Up in a Winter Wonderland

Well, winter has officially slapped our asses with a heaping amount of snow. These are the things you deal with when living in Upstate New York. Secretly, I'm thrilled to have a white Christmas (or at least a grayish, dirty snow white Christmas, but it beats the brown, dead grass Christmas we could have had) since there are only 10 days til we wake to our bounty from jolly ol' St. Nick. Having lived in New York my whole life, however, I've observed the following things about snow storms:

1. If you are over the "Yay it's a snow day and there's no school" age, it's NOT acceptable to be happy about snow. In fact, it must be the worst news you've heard all week. Constant bitching and complaining must follow in the form of such comments as: "Look at all this white crap!" or "Great, now I have to leave 10 minutes early so I can brush the car off!" or better yet "I can't believe the god damned plow came right after I finished snow blowing the driveway!"

2. At the first prediction of a snow storm you must immediately rush to the nearest store and purchase copious amounts of milk, bread, toilet paper, water, and batteries. It does not matter if you already have a six month supply of any of these items. BUY MORE! It doesn't matter that you could technically walk to Walmart in 10 minutes if absolutely necessary or that we live in 2013 and have handy things like plow trucks, rock salt, or generators. It common storm preparation etiquette numb nuts!

3. A storm will only come on the one day a week that you pray it doesn't. You could have a completely clear schedule and have an engagement on one single day. One slice of a day. Four measly hours of a day. And that is when it'll start snowing. Don't utter any sentences that contain the words, "As long as it doesn't snow on _____." In fact, don't even think it.

4. No matter how long people live in snowy climates, they always forget how to drive in the snow after a 6 month hiatus. It doesn't matter if they've lived through 5 New York winters or 50. It doesn't matter that they've had the same vehicle for 7 years. Somehow, they forget how to drive in snow without being a complete and utter moron. This happens in one of two ways: They freak out at the first snowflake and drive 14 miles per hour to their destination or they think they're invincible and drive 14 miles faster than the actual speed limit. On the highway. Without clearing their car off first so that all the snow comes flying off and hitting your windshield. By the way, thank you very much for that!

5. Adults will be happier with storms that occur on any non-working days. (For the most part, the weekends.) Kids will complain about wasting snow on weekends because it deprives them of a snow day at school. It doesn't matter if the little turds have 5 piddly days of school left before leaving for a 16 day Christmas vacation. It's the snow day that got away.

6. If your husband or wife is the one who does the snow clearing at your house, you are most definitely not allowed to be happy about snow until a minimum of 12 hours after the official ending of the storm have passed.  You must sympathize and be prepared to offer inane comments like "I'm sorry honey, snow sucks!" or "Would you like a cup of hot cocoa/coffee/tea?" Under no circumstances should you make a positive remark about being lucky to have it on a weekend instead of a workday or that we could have gotten much more snow. (Refer back to number 1.)

And last but not least:

7. Make a huge deal out of the fact that you are "stuck at home" because of the "stupid storm". Even if your pre-snow plans included sitting in your pajamas all weekend reading the newspaper and watching the Classic Movie Channel on tv. Act as of this storm is the biggest inconvenience you have ever had to deal with and you aren't sure how you'll cope until the 12 hours have passed when life returns to normal again. When you'll still be in your pajamas reading the newspaper. But this time with clear roads.

What The? A Two Month Vacation?!?!

Apparently, these days, working in television is the gig you want to have. Work for two and a half months, take two months off, work three months, and be off the rest of the season until new episodes come back in September.Thank God for my DVR because I can never tell when the show is going to be on half the time.

Now, I understand how shows take time off in December. I will admit that is really a smart idea. People have holiday parties (and Christmas movies to watch) and shopping, (Christmas movies) and all the other joyous tasks like baking and wrapping and tagging and shipping. Oh, and did I mention watching Christmas movies? Not being a slave to my television schedule for the month of December so I can concentrate on my kid's holiday concerts, making ornaments, and party hopping is a nice little break. Or it should be. Little that is.

Unfortunately, that's just how it started. Now they morph that break into 4, or 5, or sometimes as much as 8 (EIGHT!) weeks off. The best part? The last episode before break is called "The Mid-Season Finale". When did this become a thing? Because now almost all of my shows are advertising the exciting "Mid-Season Finale" that's airing. (Or well, maybe they were, I live in DVR-land where everything is new, even when it's been there for a week or two.)

Do you know, after eight weeks, it's going to take me half the episode the remember what went on in the mid-season finale? That's 30 minutes of confusion while my addled brain plays catch up and 30 minutes of relief that I DO (finally) remember and the brain's not completely gone yet. For what? Why torture us television junkies who need our "fix" of new episodes and fresh scenes with our "people"? What did we do to deserve sitting through dreary January, twiddling our thumbs, looking for old Friends or Seinfeld re-runs to keep us busy? It's not as if they do it to extend the season. Nope, they still start in September and end in May. And they've even played around with those dates, stretching the premiere to the very end of September, or maybe the beginning of October, and ending the first week of May, maybe second if you're lucky.

The Walking Dead fans are not so lucky because those bastards end in March and make us salivate six months until new shows start again all the way until October!! (The horror!)

SO, yes, it's a trivial and superficial gripe that I have. (And believe me, I know how lucky I am to have such petty things to complain about. Thank you Lord Jesus. Amen.) But it's a legit gripe dangit. And once my sugar high of Christmas movies ends, I'll be jonesing for a new tv fix like the addict I am. I wonder if I can DVR enough movies to get me through January? Hmmmm......

The Pee Pee Perils of Pregnancy

You know how some pregnancy symptoms are grossly over exaggerated? Like the whole pickles and ice cream thing? I know some gestating female, at some point in history, had to have had this combination for it to be linked to a pregnancy craving. Personally, the thought of combining those two things just makes me want to revert back to the morning sickness phase. Unless they meant that women crave some weird things during pregnancy like ice cream comma pickles. (Not ice cream with pickles on top with some chocolate sauce.)

Then there are the things that aren't exaggerated. Like the part where your bladder must have gone through a shrinking process because you pee so much. (Yes, I could have said "urinate" and been all fancy and all that, but it's pee. I'm just calling it like I sees it.)

When you're freshly pregnant, your body is working overtime to flush the toxins out and you spend a lot of your new found pregnancy joy in the bathroom. (If you have morning sickness to boot, you're probably spending  more than half!) Then, you have a bouncing bundle of baby bouncing on your bladder. (Phew! That was some serious tongue twisting alliteration there! Say that one 10 times fast!) I think your sweet fetus thinks that your internal organs are there for their amusement with the bladder, of course, being the trampoline.

So, when you're about halfway through your second trimester and you get to combine phrases that should never be in the same paragraph, let alone the same sentence (like uterus size and soccer ball), you start to become intimately acquainted with every toilet in a 20 mile radius. You know where they are at work,  stores, school, church, and family abodes. You probably even have a rating system for the public restrooms you've gotten up close and personal with recently. (Target scores an A- by the way, although they always smell like fruity pebbles and give me the strongest craving for Flintstones inspired cereal.)

So pregnancy is probably not a good time for one conveniently located bathroom at work, where I am spending 40 hours of my weeks, to go on the fritz, right? Yeah, it's awesome. Instead of waddling 10 feet from my office to the toilet, I get to waddle down a few hallways with the boy playing, "Let's see how hard I have to kick Mommy before she's stricken with sudden incontinence." Yay me! Because it doesn't matter if you peed 20 minutes ago or 2 hours ago; as soon as you stand up and that baby ping pongs down onto the organ o'pee, you're in desperate need of a bathroom break. STAT! (The real irony is that I've worked in this office for almost 9 years and there hasn't been a single out of order sign utilized.....until this year.)

Luckily, I work with a bunch of nurses so if they keep up the crap (pun intended) with the out of order toilet, I'm just going to ask for a catheter. Or a chux pad. Maybe both. Hey, it's my potty and I'll cath(eterize) if I want to.

White Dream Versus White Nightmare

Remember being a kid and all the simple things that came with the youth and innocence? Wouldn't it be nice if we could keep that joyful bliss in all things small? Instead we get old and curmudgeonly and cynical. If you've ever seen the movie "Grumpy Old Men", well, that's where we're heading folks. (Scary, huh?)

Yesterday morning there was a small coating of snow on the ground. Not much, maybe half an inch (if that). My youngest is now ecstatic. Literally jumping for joy. Why? To wear his snow boots, duh! And what do I do? I instantly pop his bubble, even if ever so gently, by pointing out that he doesn't really need to wear his boots for that itty, bitty amount of snow. I continue on that it's going to be a pain to change shoes at school and he should wait until he really needs it when we have A LOT of snow. Meanwhile, I'm mentally praying this goes over well and he doesn't choose now to be stubborn because we really need to get out the door so we aren't late.

It wasn't until later that the dreaded mom guilt set in. Now I'm thinking, "That poor child just wanted to wear his snow boots. Imagine getting so much pleasure out of a pair of boots and I callously squelched his happiness by talking him out of wearing his boots. What kind of mother does that?" (Seem overly dramatic? Remember the pregnancy hormones that make me weepier than a pubescent teenage girl after her first breakup? Yeah, tons of fun.)

The thing is, we DO lose that innocence. We see snow out the window and our thought process immediately turns to, "Ugh, now I have to let the car warm up even longer or go out there and scrape everything off. I better get the snow brush out of the trunk now. Where are the spare gloves?" Meanwhile, our children's thoughts are more along the lines of, "SNOW!!!! I can't wait to play outside. I wish I didn't have to go to school. I would play in the snow right now! I know, I'll wear my boots to school! It snowed and I'll need boots, not sneakers. My teacher said I could bring my sneakers and change when I get there so it's okay if I wear boots. I love snow!" (Some children may not be that ramble-y, but sadly, none of them belong to me.)

An inch of snow? It looks a lot like this in a kid's mind.

So, the moral of the story is this: Let the kid wear his (or her) damn snow boots! You're not the one who has to deal with hot, sweaty feet or dragging a heavy back pack that has your lunch box, homework folder, and sneakers all jammed into it. Nope, you get to be Super Mom, the one who let your child wear his boots so that the dusting of snow on the ground has zero chance of making his socks damp. Because honestly, wet socks just suck.

Overachievers Hit A New High

Okay, so you all know I hate those overachieving Moms who make us normal (tired and barely functioning) Moms look bad, right? Well, I've found a whole new branch of over achieving mom-ness this week: The expecting over achieving Mom.

Now, if you've ever been pregnant (especially in the last few years), you know that there are lots of things you can make a fuss over. From conception, to outing your pregnancy to baby gear and shower dates. Apparently, the OAM's in the world got together, had some hand made scones and fresh brewed chamomile tea, and decided to micromanage these womanly functions as well. Now there are picture cards to announce your pregnancy, gender reveal parties to announce your baby's penis or lack of a penis, (Okay, totally guilty of that one. But in my defense it was an excellent excuse to have a party, eat a lot of food, and get together with friends and family.) and themed baby showers.

Let me repeat that. THEMED baby showers. Apparently having a party for your unborn lovely in order to score free baby swag from your friends and family wasn't enough, now it has to have meaning. There has to be a theme of some sort and apparently it has to involve crafts, backyard barbecues, or onesie decorating.

Now, the original article that set me off on this tangent popped up in my Facebook feed from a site I follow called "What To Expect". I went online to their site to try and find THAT original article to post a link for all my disbelieving readers, or maybe the ones who are slightly amused on my behalf, and alas, could not find it. I did, however, find a plethora (I love that word, don't you?) of other related articles. Now I'm even more incredulous.

Not only are there themes for showers but there are ideas for cookie decorations (Sugar spindles? I tried to follow this description but without a picture my pregnancy brain just couldn't follow.) and even what to do for a boy shower when you don't want that old over used blue theme. (Try a celestial theme....really? Because stars and planets make me think of newborn babies? Um, ok.)

Probably the best article I found was "10 Budget Baby Shower Ideas For Girls". Now, I have no problem with the theme at all. I love budget friendly anything. But then this was the picture shown along side the article:

Budget friendly cupcakes? Mmm hmm.

Yeah, those look budget friendly, not to mention super easy making what looks like a perfect fondant flower to decorate each one. Aside from that, a few ideas were really cute. Using baby blankets for table cloths, using Mom advice for an ice breaker, and making it dessert themed. (Heck, you could make anything dessert themed and I'd be thrilled.)

Some things though, just struck me as less budget friendly. Like this one: Use your own cups and dishes instead of buying paper products. Okay, good, yup. Then it proceeds with: "One idea is to serve punch, champagne or cocktails in your stem ware. Then, tie a pretty pink ribbon around the base of each glass. Any ribbon will do from light pink to gingham and they don't all have to match." Okay, first of all, I can get behind using my own Corelle plates and cups, but busting out my special, potentially breakable stem ware? I'd rather splurge on the paper products. Not to mention that I have big issues with alcohol being served at a baby shower for cripes sake. Is the idea of my gestating so appalling that you can't get through two hours with me without some sort of libation? Also, isn't alcohol expensive? (Unless you're serving Gennessee beer in a punch bowl?) And who happens to have ribbons just lying around? So, isn't this really just another expense? Here's an idea. Go to the dollar store, buy pink paper products and then go to Walmart and buy a five or six 2 liters of their awesome Dr. Thunder or Lemon Lime drink or whatever the Sam's club generic is. It's all soda and it's under $1. Bam!

Another one I had a problem with, and this very well could just be a "me" thing, was the substitution of a baby sitting certificate for a baby gift. Now, don't get me wrong, the idea is fabulous. New parents need some time to recoup with a nap or some adult conversation now and again. But honestly, I'm less inclined to hand my baby over to anyone outside my trusted three: Husband, parents, and best friend (and even then I might have to screen you before I feel comfortable leaving my progeny with you). I know you're my sister/aunt/cousin/brother/uncle twice removed, but I'm worried about your capability to handle my fussy newborn when you have a "Let them cry for 10 minutes before picking them up policy". Or when you think that kissing brand new babies on their mouths, possibly transferring germs they haven't had an opportunity to build immunity to yet, is an acceptable practice. And if the baby is breast fed and Mom doesn't want to have to pump for three days just to have an hour's supply of milk to go out and make sure there's still a world beyond her home, it's definitely not looking worth the effort. 

I'm not saying you have to get a gift. Come, eat, laugh at how fat I am or how I'm resembling a penguin because I waddle. If you want cheap gift ideas, get a $3 package of baby wipes. Or go to the dollar store and buy hand towels we can use as burp cloths. We will be eternally grateful that we have either thing at 3 AM when we're bleary eyed and trying to calm a crying newborn.