Tag Archives: parenthood

I never claimed to be Martha Stewart.

Last night, Grammy, MP and I made Christmas cookies — the sugar crash came fast and hard, and after a minor meltdown, MP was out cold. Christmas can’t come soon enough for that kid — every morning she wakes, crosses off another day on the calendar, and literally jumps for joy that we’re another day closer to SANTA!! I love, love LOVE experiencing the holidays through her eyes.

Which reminds me … if you haven’t seen the NORAD Tracks Santa site, go check it out. NORAD counts down until Santa takes off around the world and then “tracks” him. We’ve tracked Santa the last two years — not only does it help kids with the concept of other countries/states/time zones, etc., all you Internet addicted mamas will totally dig it. AND, while the kids are waiting for Christmas Eve to roll around, the site has some super cute (and somewhat educational) online Christmas games — MP gives ’em two giant thumbs up.

So, until the big night Wednesday, we’ll be saving a few select cookies for the Man.

xmascookies08

Question is, WHICH ONES?!?

Grammy’s accidental Patrick (Spongebob’s sidekick) IS impressive, but I’m thinkin’ my entirely deliberate Snow Monster blows him outta the water. Especially after MP added the blue M&M bellybutton.

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Filed under Holiday Piece

Pass the tranquilizer gun. Mama’s getting on a plane.

Just a few more days and I’ll be soaking up the rays in Hawaii with my five oldest BFFs. The MILFs Gone Wild ’08 Tour.

Whatever. Humor me.

No husbands, no significant others, no children. I should be psyched. I should be dreaming of surf and sand and drinks adorned with pink umbrellas I’ll collect to bring home to MP. I should be counting the minutes because I can’t wait.

Not because I’m FREAKING OUT.

I am, by nature, a worrier. I’ve purposefully pushed the trip from my mind because I knew as my departure drew near, I would start the nauseating downward spiral toward mild panic. The longest I’ve been apart from MP is three nights and that was hard enough. This is a little longer.

I know by the time I finally GET to the island I’ll be okay. And the first few days will be full. But I also know by the third day I’m going to be missing four-year-old declarations of “heavy poops that stretch out the poop hole.” And subsequent four-year-old concerns that if she takes a drink of water it will go right through.

That I’m not a good flyer only makes it worse. Metal detectors are not my friend. When I travel, I wear a hefty silver cross around my neck. And a smaller cross choker. And cross earrings. Back when my job required a fair amount of travel and time spent at airports, co-workers would be all, “Hey, wait for Mommypie. She’s the one carrying the enormous wooden CRUCIFIX on her back. That thing gonna fit on the plane?”

I worry more than anything something will happen to me and I’ll leave MP an orphan. I worry that maybe I’m being selfish and needlessly putting myself at risk by flying over the ocean. I worry something will happen to MP and I’ll be thousands of miles away.

Exhale. Aaannnd breathe.

MP worries that pirates will get me.

Argh. At least we got THAT straightened out.

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Filed under Piece of Paradise