Emma Knows Christmas

I'm not just saying Emma knows Christmas because I am dog gone crazy about her and think she is the smartest, cutest, best three year old Beagle there is....she really does remember Christmas!

It was Christmas Eve, I as always, still had all the presents to wrap and stockings to stuff. The kids were still up, wrapping presents for each other, for us, for Emma and Sarah. I was anxious to get started myself, so I thought I'd get the dogs stockings stuffed.

This is Emma when she woke up, on Christmas Eve, and saw her stocking. She was literally jumping to try to get it!
We took it down and hid it in our room so she would settle down for the night. First thing Christmas morning, she was in our room searching for her stocking. We got it down for her, and those peanut butter dog cookies quickly disappeared.

Sarah has learned what a chow hound Emma is, so she ate her cookies just as fast as Emma.

Emma knows Christmas is different than other present days. She never comes over on birthdays or father's days or anniversaries to try to get into presents being opened, but on Christmas day she knows, there is a present for her, so she checks out what everyone is opening, just in case they accidentally have something for her. The only mistake this year was Dad giving one of David's presents to Sarah!

Emma does have one present under the tree, and she loves to tear it open. Sarah was a little unsure of what was going on, but she sure loved her squeak toy. And actually, she loved Emma's toy too!
Then all the presents are opened, and all the wrapping paper on the floor has to be sniffed and dug through. Emma then settles down with a sad 'is it really over' look and tries to remember how good her cookies tasted.

Meanwhile, Sarah is loving having four new toys, her two and Emma's also!

The Ability To Realize Puke Is About To Happen

I love my kids dearly, love, love, love them. They are the best things I've done in my life.

But. But. BUT. They do not have the ability to realize they are about to puke! When they were babies, I thought, well really, a baby won't know what puke is, they just do it. As toddlers, I kind of thought the same thing, this must be a weird feeling they can't decide what it means. I figured they'd grow out of it.

So I've been through years of puke happening wherever we are, the library, the living room, the car, their bedroom floor covered with toys, and I keep thinking, now, now they must be old enough. They have to know this terrible tummy ache, the mouth suddenly flooding with saliva, the urge to let loose, all means make a dash for the bathroom!

Sadly, it does not. The first puke in a throwing up illness is always done on the floor, or the bed, and always in the middle of the night. After that, they have the puke bowl, and seem to do okay between the bowl and making it to the toilet.

All I can say is, thank you God, that my husband is home. He is the killer of spiders, unclogger of toilets, and cleaner upper of puke, which by the way, he does with a smile and jokes to make the sick kid feel like it is no big deal. Last night, I got to stay in bed knowing he was taking care of everything. And when I got up this morning, the house smelled of Murphy's oil soap and not puke.

Whew! Now if only the kids would just grow the gene that alerts them of impending puke!

Snow, Snow, Snow, Snow!

As I look out the window this morning, all I can hear is Bing, Danny, Rosemary, and What's Her Name sing, "Snow, Snow, Snow, Snow!" Sorry, What's Her Name, I did recently look you up on Wikipedia and learned that you were one of the most talented dancers of your time, highly sought after for films, but also rumored to be an anorexic, which I absolutely believe to be true....hasn't anyone else looked at her legs and thought, 'yikes', but I can't remember your name, only that it's like two first names and no last name and I'm too lazy to look you up again. My favorite line is Rosemary saying she wants to wash her hair, her face in snow......

That sounds unpleasant!

But that kind of joy they are singing about, the excitement of seeing a foot of snow, all crisp and clean, with the air very brisk, I can understand that. I might not want to go outside to play, but I don't mind a walk, enjoying all that loveliness.

Our yard, our neighborhood, our whole town looks like a winter wonderland. It's beautiful! And totally not what Western Washington expects to see, or what we are prepared for.

I'm not entirely complaining! We're having a great time, using 4 wheel drive to get around, the kids and husband going sledding twice a day, the second time late at night, watching the beagles run around the snow like it's cat nip for dogs....What a great way to start our winter break!

Vera-Ellen! That's her name!

So sing it again, Bing, Danny, Rosemary and Vera-Ellen. Snow, snow, snow, snow!

My Nephews Are Monkeys

I have often said to my nephews J and M, "You two are monkeys!" To which the three year old tells me he doesn't have a tail, so he is not a monkey, and the 1 year old vigorously shakes his head no.

But I have proof! I was down yesterday to babysit and I was groomed by those two monkeys! First M found a comb and lovingly combed my bangs. Okay, I thought, that's interesting. Later, when J came home from preschool, the very first thing he did was find a lint roller and proceed to lint roll me. He kept telling me I was covered in dog hair, but he would help.

I asked if it was Emma and Sarah fur, or Nemo fur.....he started laughing and managed to giggle out, "Emma and Sarah hair!" I moved to kneel, since the roller was now firmly rolling fur off my backside, and the roller moved up to my shoulders. Much better! J told me he was making it all better, soon I would look very nice. Thanks, monkey boy! Meanwhile, M stood there nodding his head yes and smiling. He agreed with monkey number one that Oh Cho needed to be de-furred!

After nap, after our craft project, J found the comb and came out to the dining room table where I was picking up makers. He stood on a chair and asked if he could comb my hair. I said he could comb the ponytail part, but as anyone with a ponytail will tell you, it's impossible for a three year old to just comb the pony. Soon I just took the rubber band out, which made both boys laugh, and my hair was combed. When he was finished, J said, "Now you can put your pony back in. It's all better."

Awesome. I'm not sure it was all better. I felt like my hair looked wild when I was leaving their house. So dear sister, the mother to those grooming monkeys, I did not have a wild day that resulted in running my fingers through my hair in desperation. It was a great day. The crazy hair was thanks to some hair help from monkeys.

The Reason I Love Romance Novels

Yesterday was totally awesome. My mom, both sisters, my daughter and myself went to see the stage production of Seven Brides For Seven Brothers. It was fantastic! Even sitting in the nose bleed section, suffering a serious bout of vertigo as I looked down on the stage settings start to move back and forth, it was totally worth it. The songs! The dancing! The shirtless men doing suggestive things! The kidnapping and romance!

I have always loved the movie. I don't remember the first time I saw it, I only know that I loved it from that first viewing. It was so romantic! Adam coming down off the mountain to sweep Millie off her feet with 3 years of courtin' done in five minutes, the six brothers stealing the town girls hearts at the barn raising/dance social, the brothers carrying off their sobbin' women, the end when all the girls claim the baby is 'mine' so they can marry the brothers....man, I love it. I also remember wanting to love the short lived TV show of the same name. Sadly, that was not even close to being as good as the movie.

As I sat there yesterday, grinning from ear to ear, watching the brothers throw their girls over their shoulders and carry them off into the sunset, I realized this show is why I love romance novels. After all, it has all the components of a good novel: a quickie marriage, the realization that the girls romantic dreams are not the reality of her husband, a husband who thinks at the beginning that all girls are the same, add in some kidnapping in the name of love and the town bad boys making good in the end.

Now that is some good romance!

As much as I love Millie, I'd rather be Frank's girl. A man named Frankincense is going to be the most spirited in the bunch, and that's how I like. Scrappy and feisty!