New Year . . . New Me? Ha! Very funny.

Happy Friday the 13th everyone!

I know popular culture suggests we all make resolutions this time of year to change who we are for the better, but this year I'm not resolving to change who I am but rather figure out who I was in the first place. 

Every year I vow to change this or that, to be a better mom, wife, teacher, Christian, person, etc. I work at all of these things for about a week, a month if things go well, then life happens and reality sets in and I get flustered with my failures and give up. It donned on me this year that I've been going about things all wrong. I'm trying to change to fit a certain mold that I most certainly am not meant to fit. Like my voluptuous rear end and cute jeans . . . . some things are just not meant to be.

It's common knowledge that we're supposed to spend our 20's "finding ourselves." We're supposed to change majors, jobs, cities and significant relationships till we find what we love, then spend our 30's "settling down" into our new, lovely lives. My stark reality is that I was married and had two kids by the time my 20's started. I certainly don't regret any of it and couldn't be more happier with the way my life has turned out, but when contemplating my resolutions for this year, I realized that every other year was spent focusing on who I was expected to be and not improving who I actually was. Because I don't know who I am.
But I do know who I am not. So that's where I'm going to start. Who knows, maybe by the end of the year, I will have figured life out and while others spend their 30's getting their real adult lives started, I'll be coasting on pure bliss : )

My List of Things I am NOT:
1) School Teacher - I have been mad at myself for the past year because I still feel like I haven't figured out the whole home schooling thing and as a consequence, I am failing my children. I know very few home school moms, but the ones I do know are fantastic. They're also college educated school teachers. They sit down in August and make lesson plans for the whole year. They spend their evenings grading papers and going over the next day's subject matter. I'm lucky if I grade my kids papers at all. Not because I don't care, but because I am sitting right next to them while they do it and correct as they go. I also plan as I go. I find out what's on the page at the same time as my kids. Yes, this has gotten me in a jam with big projects I didn't know were right around the corner, but the joy of home schooling is that if you're not prepared, put it off till you are. It's not going to kill anyone to get a day or two behind in Botany because you didn't have an empty coke bottle and two tons of potting soil on hand. While I have learned that I'm not a structured school teacher type, I've also learned that I'm not the awesome un-schooling type either. I'm pretty convinced the great un-schooling moms I know are from another planet. I can't fit an entire days worth or curriculum into a baking project or a walk to the park. Maybe it's my lack of higher education or just that I have a hard time making my brain work on their level all day long. I know it's not lack of creativity, just maybe lack of wanting my entire existence to revolve around making sure I can put a history lesson in sandwich making. Also, I like books. Books give me guidance because I know I would probably forget to teach my kids how to conjugate verbs and then they'd come at me with fire in their eyes when they get lower than fantastic SAT scores. Also, I like the 15 minutes I get to screw around on Pinterest while they work on their sentence structure. So, I'm not a school-at-home-er and I'm not an un-school-er. I'm in the middle somewhere and now all I need to do is figure out where and what that is.
2) Maid - One blogger I follow is a perfectly nice individual who usually posts craft ideas, recipes and fun things to do with your kids on rainy days. When you read through her posts she seems like super mom meets Martha Stewart meets Mother Theresa. But if you scroll down, you'll see a little headline that reads "People I Want to Punch in the Throat." Priceless.
I have the same list, though I don't post it on line and instead keep it in my head where no one can see it. I am going to post one, and that is the over enthusiastic house cleaners. The ones that claim they LOVE cleaning house. I have determined three things about these women:
        a) They're liars. No one LOVES to clean, especially moms. Moms clean, then two minutes later everything that they've done has been undone. They have husbands who leave their dirty socks under the coffee table, sons who pee on the toilet seat, daughters that get nail polish on counters, dogs that shed mounds of hair, the list goes on. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
        b) They're on something. And I want some.
        c) They really do love to clean, and they spend all day doing it. If not, it's because their kids aren't allowed to bring toys or crayons out of their rooms which turns them into hermits, their husbands are afraid of what might happen if they leave their coat on the back of the chair instead of hanging it in the closet, and their guests feel like they can't touch or breath near anything for fear of smudging the shiny polished oak. Nope, not me at all.
Not only do I not love cleaning, I actually LOATHE it. Keeping a house clean with a husband, three kids and a dog is the definition of insanity. Every year I make a cleaning schedule for myself and every year it lasts a week or two. I can never get caught up and when I spend an entire day cleaning I feel guilty for ignoring my kids (who consequently have destroyed whatever room I've locked them in). So, I hate cleaning but I also hate a messy house. My cleaning resolution is to spend the half hour before my husband gets home cleaning up whatever mess we've made during that day, making the kids learn how to clean their own bathrooms and do their own laundry, and hiring a real maid to come in once or twice a month and do all the time-sucking stuff that makes me want to take up drinking.

3) Athlete - Yes, I pretended to be one in high school, but I never really liked sports. I liked volleyball, but mainly because it was the one thing I was better at than most the other girls. I hated running, hated lifting, hated that if I didn't run or lift I'd look like the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man by the end of the month. I'm short, I have zero metabolism and hips that are perfect for delivering babies but terrible for losing weight. Thankfully my husband likes curves. Unfortunately, my curves are starting to get curves of their own and while I have the utmost respect for women who are proud of their bodies no matter what they look like, I am not. So here's my delimma. I can pretend that I love to work out, get a gym membership and quit because I don't have any kid free time to speak of while also pretending that I can live off of three celery sticks a day and quit because chips and salsa are just that good, or I can find a happy medium. I need to lose 30 lbs, but I'm not going to set a deadline. I'm just going to resolve to work at it, and when it happens it happens, as long as there's progress. I already eat a mostly vegan diet, so eating healthy isn't much of a change, I just need to eat more and eat earlier. I live off of four cups of coffee, an afternoon snack and a decent sized dinner. It's not good even if it is only 700 calories. I'm also getting an elliptical. I can do it while I watch the news in the morning and it won't kill me like a treadmill so I may actually stick to it. Here's hoping.
4) SAHM/HSM/WaM- If you follow family-related blogs, you'll interpret these to mean "stay at home mom", "home school mom" and "wife and mother". While I know technically I am all of these, I have a really hard time defining myself as any of them. I do envy those women who wear their SAHM title like a badge of honor. Their lives are filled with cupcakes, play dates and Starbucks. They drive mini vans and wear yoga pants . . . every day. They have routines and their kids and husbands are generally happy. There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of it. Except that it's not me. I have tried and tried to be these things, but no matter how fulfilled someone else might be, I am not. Though I know the world would fall apart if anything were to happen to me, I still feel like I'm not contributing or living up to my potential. So this year, instead of trying to be an acronym, I'm going to figure out what I really need to do to feel fulfilled. Not happy, because I really am truly happy, but instead not feeling like there's something missing. I'm going to finish my children's book, start a novel, make things, hopefully sell them, get involved in our new community, dabble in politics and do my best to give more.

So that's it in a nut shell. I'm hoping that spending ten years finding out who I am not will make quick work of figuring out who I really am. So buckle up, because this could get interesting : )

10 Teachings of (This) Christmas

I could not have asked for a better Christmas than this years. That said, here are a few lessons learned that we can either duplicate of abolish next year:
#10 Christmas lights make everyone happy. Angry Birds themed Christmas lights make everyone think you're either the most wicked awesome neighbor ever . . . or the worst for making their lights pale in comparison (cue demented Grinch smile).

#9 I love big family Christmases. When I was a child, we did one of two things: Every other year, we would stay in Amarillo and participated in the massive Baker Family Christmas dinner (think Robert Earl Keene). The food was almost always cold by the time everyone got there, there were so many people that Christmas gifts were frowned upon (because, honestly, if you could afford that many gifts, you were just showing off. Or you weren't buying something for everyone which makes you a punk . . . unless you just bought for Grandma and then you're forgiven), and nine times out of ten a "disagreement" broke out. Good times. But fun, none the less : )

When we weren't in Amarillo dodging Grandma and her "Where's my present from y'all?" face, we trekked up to Erie, CO to have Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa Fay. I don't remember any other family members ever being there, so it was always like our own little spoiled rotten Christmas. We would bake pies with Grandma and go sledding outside with Mom and Dad. If Christmas fell in the middle of the week and we had more than just a day or two there, we'd go eat at Casa Bonita and visit Uncle Corky who would always pull a silver dollar out of our ears. Those were the best Christmases. They always felt special, even if there wasn't anything out of the ordinary about them.

I was hoping that moving closer would mean bigger family holidays for my kids. We have a big house with a guest room and a huge den that could easily fit five full/queen size air mattresses and still have room to walk, plus sleeping bag room for extra kids in our kids' rooms (well, maybe not Bugs . . . her room is always a disaster. Like the Barbie isle at Toys R Us exploded all over it). But, to my dismay, no one was able to join us for Christmas this year. They all had their reasons for not being able to come up and we had ours for not being able to go down (hubby was on-call all weekend and had to work Friday and Monday), but I was bummed none the less. Until Christmas morning, that is. I woke up and it was still dark out (and before the kids so, like, 3am?) and rolled over to snuggle with my exhausted hubby in my new Christmas pj's (thanks babe! I love 'em!). It was then that I realized I hadn't spent Christmas with extended family but twice in the last nine years, both times because my husband was gone. So instead of pouting about missing out on crazy, cold dinners and the kids making cookies with their G.G., I snuggled in closer and thanked God for our little family Christmas, for a husband who was willing to spend holidays and birthdays and anniversaries in Baghdad so that others would know what it means to be free, like us, and for having our whole family together this year when so many soldiers and their families . . . my friends . . . are spending them apart. I'm thankful that, no matter where wars take us from now on, I will always have my husband home at Christmas time. I'll take that over cold turkey and snoring grandpas any day.

#8 Nothing beats being able to get your kids everything on their lists (within reason) and seeing their faces when they come in Christmas morning to an entire living room full of presents after ten years of getting just one thing from mom and dad and one thing from Santa. I may never go back to small Christmas mornings again.

#7 Buying your kids everything on their lists (within reason) and letting them wake up Christmas morning to an entire living room full of presents is a mistake! They get so obsessed with the gifts piling up under the tree that they completely forget the real meaning of Christmas. No amount of church services and Bible story readings or threats to never get presents again if they keep comparing who has more gifts can undo the damage done by mountains of presents Christmas morning.
Yes, to all you clever observant readers out there, I just contradicted myself. I do that often. But I think I have a plan for next year that will fix our Christmas morning selfishness.
All these years of going to church and I was never taught about advent until just recently. I have to do more research, but next year I plan on celebrating advent and not just Christmas. Each day leading up to Christmas will have a family activity, Bible lesson, and the kids will each get to open one present a day. Then, on Christmas Eve, we'll have a big dinner and they can open the rest of their gifts. This will free up Christmas day for focusing on Christ's birth, his sacrifice and find a way for the kids to do a little giving themselves at the hospital, nursing home or somewhere else in the community. I hope this will become a tradition that my kids will eventually share with their own families (and us, too, because I plan to invade their homes every Christmas long after they've moved out).

Yes, this would happen to an elf in our house. 

#6 The "Elf on the Shelf" is just plain creepy, and I refuse to give in to the further commercialization of Christmas (Linus would be proud).

#5 Sedatives . . . must . . get . . sedatives. For next year, that is. No more of this kids screaming at 5:40am stuff. Humbug.

#4 No amount of brilliant outdoor lighting combined with the hours spent outside installing said lighting will draw your neighbors out of their homes and encourage them to come by and introduce themselves. At some point, I'm going to have to man-up and do it myself. Just seems a little odd, though. "Howdy neighbor! I just thought I'd come by and introduce myself and welcome myself to the neighborhood. Here's a plate of cookies."

#3 The Santa issue is . . . well . . . an issue. As hard as I've tried to not put too much emphasis on Santa and elves and all that nonsense, my kids still turned out to be hard core believers. Especially Bugs. She's 10 and still thinks that a big fat man in a red velvet suit breaks into our house every year and leaves her a present. Besides the fact that he was obviously stalking her all year to know that she was good and exactly what she wanted. Why kids aren't completely terrified by the idea is beyond me. I blame the media. Heaven forbid they make Christmas movies and music about the real meaning and origins of Christmas. I even heard a song on Radio Disney by Mitchel Musso (I'm already revealing too much about myself just knowing that name) that says we all need to pause on Christmas morning to thank Santa Clause for all the things he does . . . for Christmas. Tragic. Other than Phineas and Ferb, I've boycotted Disney all together.

Chris really wanted to just come right out and tell them the truth . . . on Christmas eve no less . . . but I didn't have the heart. I don't do well in those kinds of situations. Words elude me and all I can say is "ummm" and "I don't know, I'm just really sorry." But one thing I can do is write. And that's what I'm doing. A book that helps parents transition from department store Santas to the real magic of Christmas without breaking their kids hearts and destroying the whimsy that young children associate with that time of year. Two wonderfully gifted friends are going to help with it, one to edit and one to illustrate, and hopefully by this summer I'll have it in print and on shelves. You'll know when it's done, because this is partly a shameless plug and I WILL try to sell it to you.

#2 Don't waste your time cleaning house before Christmas morning unless you plan on having company. My house was clean . . . and now it's not. Still. Four days post-Christmas.

#1 Christmas lists are great, but there's nothing better than giving or getting a gift that has had a lot of thought put into it. A fancy, delicate robe from your husband, an antique bound book from your son, a dress from your daughter that she's seen you drool over on-line for months . . . or seeing someones face when they open something totally unexpected since it may not have been on their list but it suits them perfectly. Next year I'm going to strive to put more thought into all the gifts that I give (and start shopping before the middle of December). Imagine the smiles we'd see if everyone did that : )

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from My Family to Yours!

"Is your house on fire, Clark?" "No, Aunt Bethany, those are the Christmas lights."

 

Most of you either know my husband or know of my husband. But even his closest friends and family are completely unaware of his dark secret. My husband has a disability. A mental one. It's called OGS, or Obsessive Griswold Syndrome. 

While most wives would view this as a very expensive and time consuming handicap, I embrace it. To me (the creative, big project lover), his OGS is a gift wrapped in multicolored LEDs topped with fresh noble fir garland. I'm, of course, referencing the *Award Winning* Gingerbread House of 2010 and the blazing white spectacle that was the 5,000 sq ft my-neighbor-is-deployed-so-I'll-make-his-kids-happy-by-putting-lights-on-their-side-of-our-duplex-too Christmas display in North Carolina, affectionately nick-named the Icicle House. He was over the moon after that one because, for the first time since joining the military, our exterior lighting was perfectly balanced : )

He is so particular about his exterior lighting and decorating, that he has developed a point system which he uses to evaluate not only our home, but everyone else as well. I'm not sure how many points everyone starts with, but points are deducted for each day your lights are up and ON before Thanksgiving, sagging lights, blinking sections combined with fading/running/non-blinking sections, rope lights, blow ups (that's a lazy man's Christmas decor), using only one color (white is the exception) . . . the list goes on and on and, frankly, I don't even know it all and am pretty sure he makes up more deductions as we go. I'm sure there are bonus points, but no one's earned them yet to my knowledge.

This year is no different, except that he's been presented with obstacles we've never encountered before. First, we skipped decorating the weekend following Thanksgiving because my parents were in town. Big mistake. Apparently, the snow can't stay at bay long after Thanksgiving in Colorado. We had every intention of creating his Christmas masterpiece this weekend. That is, until we checked the weather forecast yesterday. Snow . . . all weekend . . . and lots of it.

The ground work can be done rain or shine and so can the icicles since we invested in a ladder yesterday, but the trim lights require climbing onto the roof and that can NOT be done on a wet, snowy, steep pitched second story. So last night my husband, completely overwhelmed by his OGS, mounted the ladder and ascended to the roof where he completed the trim lights in the freezing cold pitch blackness of night. And I, the ever faithful and always concerned wife, stayed outside with him (on the ground), tossing bags of gutter clips and extra strands of lights up on the roof for him.

By the time we reached the back side of the house, we had worked through all the spools of lights we had purchased this year. He was so careful, even spent a little extra per spool, to buy Phillips lights only, since that was the brand we purchased last year and they MUST match exactly. It was only after I retrieved the bin of lights leftover from last year's gingerbread creation from the garage and tossed a strand up onto the roof that he realized Philips had betrayed us. Some disgraceful schlub at Philips headquarters whose sole job is to come up with ways to make even more money off men who suffer from the same mental disorder as my husband, realized that if they added an extra colored bulp . . . purple . . . to the pattern of colored lights, men with OGS will be forced to trash last year's strands and replace them all with the new purple strands or be left to suffer with mismatched strands. So my husband had a decision to make: Use last year's strands on the least visible side of the house and deduct points, or descend from the roof and haul off to Target and risk being gone long enough for the storm to blow in. The stress was almost too much to bear. But finally, he came to the conclusion that missing an entire section of lights (all be it the far back corner) due to snow was utterly unacceptable. He hung last year's strands and took his deductions like a man.

Though, I have a strong feeling I'll be heading to Target this weekend just in case the Philips punks decide to add periwinkle or chartreuse next year.

At this point, my husband's poor fingers were near frost bite stage. I commented, JOKINGLY, that he didn't have to put a clip on each individual bulb and save his fingers by only putting a clip on every fifth bulb. Would go so much faster! What follows is his rebuttle:

"Not acceptable. I refuse to have flaccid lights. Each bulb must stand erect. Christmas lights on Viagra!"

I do love him . . . . so much : )

Hanging our "gingerbread" last year

Pics of this years lights will be posted after the snow stops falling this weekend.

And here they are! I love having a husband that can take any crazy idea I have for a Christmas theme and make it reality. I mentioned possibly doing the Calvin and Hobbs snowmen next year . . . . 

  . . . he's already researching do-it-yourself snow making machines.

Good grief :-p