A Pre-Emptive Christmas Morning Strike

This year my youngest, AJ, turned three in September. He is the upwardly mobile type, in that he is up and mobile long before everyone else rises in the morning. Usually this only creates small areas of chaos in the kitchen, the worst has been his fascination with removing all the keys from the laptop keyboard, but that only makes his dad really mad so I won't dwell on that.

Since he is three and I know a few things about three year olds, having lived through two already, I knew not to put out any Christmas presents prior to Christmas morning.

Now being a woman with a scientific background (I majored in Biology for a semester in college with aspirations of one day being a science teacher) I felt it necessary to test the limits of my three year old's capabilities.

We had received a few years back a box of books from my parents that was intended for the kids but never seemed to make it into the massive collection of books that they had already given us. So this year I told my parents not to send any gifts for the kids and I would wrap the books that I already had and put grandma and grandpa's names on them. I labeled them with the appropriate child's name, dressed them up with red ribbon and put them under the tree about a week before Christmas Day.

Now this is where having a three year old with a two letter name can be a drawback. He already knows how to read and write it.

The next day being Saturday, Kevin and I were enjoying being able to sleep in until 7 am. At which point the house started to buzz with the activity of my early riser and we reluctantly decided to get up. I was the first one out of bed and in my absence AJ came to our room asking his dad to read him a story. My first thought was, "Oh how adorable. I hope Kevin says yes." But it was quickly interrupted by his dad exclaiming his two letter name followed by a "where did you get this?" That is when I knew something had gone very wrong with my experiment.

He had located the beautifully decorated package bearing his name and since it of course was his decided to open it.

The present was re-wraped and placed again under the tree with strict instructions not to touch it until Christmas morning.

It turns out I wasn't specific enough in my threat.

Christmas morning the crafty AJ again arose early and using his stealth like ninja powers, he slipped downstairs before the rest of us. Now as any parent knows you have to put the presents out on Christmas Eve, nobody wants to wake up to an empty Christmas tree.

My problem is that I should have known to lock the door behind myself.

Eli, our oldest, was the next one down the stairs.

Now, you have to understand that all our bedrooms are upstairs and the floor creeks and moans like nobodies business but apparently you have to have a certain amount of weight in order to trigger the not so silent warning that someone is up and moving and a three year old just doesn't have the same mass as a nine year old and is thus able to slide by undetected.

When I heard Eli going down the stairs I knew it would be time to get up because it wouldn't be long before the other two had descended the stairs and I wanted to see all the fun.

What I wasn't expecting was Eli's exclamation of that now infamous two letter name.

It turned out that AJ took advantage of his sleeping parental figures and helped himself to all of his presents, which even though they had no name on them they were easily identified with the Cars wrapping paper that I knew he would love.

He opened every single one of his presents...and then one of his brother's...and three of his sister's.

Now he is a smart boy and I would like to think that the opening of the wrong presents occurred prior to him realizing that all of his were in the same wrapping paper.

You may be laughing right now about the whole situation, but I'm not, not yet. Maybe in the years to come I will but it is still too close. I wouldn't say that he ruined Christmas morning for me but I was a little less motivated to go downstairs.

He on the other hand was very excited about his presents. They were just what he wanted.

Next year there will be some different rules about Christmas morning because I will be one year older and wiser too.

O Christmas Tree

AJ, my three year old, might have a bit of OCD. He becomes completely fascinated and fixated on certain things and there is no stopping him.

Well this Christmas he turned his fascination towards the beautifully decorated Christmas tree.

Now our tree isn't the type with all coordinating balls, bows, and other bobbles. We have made it a family tradition to collect Christmas ornaments from all of our travels and vacations. It makes the tree very personal and I love how it is a storybook of our lives.

This year we laid out all the travel ornaments and put them on the tree one by one reminding the kids where we got each one. It was fabulous to see them remember the small details from each of those times spent together as a family.

The kids also have their individual ornaments that are usually a gift from the grandparents. Two of these were the center of AJ's world for several weeks and both of them belonged to his older brother. One was a hallmark Buzz Lightyear, complete with buttons for sound, and the other a Blue Han Solo M&M that Eli's Grandma Gibson acquired for him from an ornament exchange we attended together in Wichita.

The Buzz Lightyear turned out to be very well made and only ended up suffering a single leg amputation below the knee.

The Blue M&M on the other hand (no pun intended) started off by loosing both of his hands. After they were repaired and re-hung they disappeared again, this time suffering from a total loss of both arms and one leg. After more super glue was applied and they were once again re-hung, a little higher up on the tree, they mysteriously vanished again. This time one foot one leg and both arms needed the healing powers of the Super Glue.

After their last re-constructive surgery they entered into the "Christmas Ornament Relocation Program" and were hung at the top of the back of the tree. Here they lived out the rest of the Christmas season peacefully until the taking down of the tree a week later.

I'm sure next year, when he is a year older and wiser too, this won't be a problem. Until then I think it would be prudent to invest in 3M stocks.

Take It Or Leave It But It Ain't No Suggestion

I'd like you to meet Slim and Shady. Or at least that is how I like to think of the two boys that Eli, my oldest, has decided to become friends with at school. There is just something that can rub you the wrong way when you meet a person and/or child and these boys definitely possess that quality. A day later it all made sense when Kevin, my husband, asked Eli to tell me what happened when he and Shady were walking home from Shady's house. In his own words he said,

"Well Mom, I know you are not going to like this but this is what happened. On the way home from "Shady's" house

(the names in this story have been changed to protect the anonymity of the Slim and Shady, Eli doesn't actually refer to them the way I do and I have never referred to them as such in his presence because I know kids can say the darnedest things and I don't want to have to defend myself from an angry mob of English mothers later on, so back to the story)

and we stopped at the store

(which is very small and about the size of a postage stamp which is ironic because they are the local post office as well, again I diverge, so sorry)

and he said to me, 'Hey Eli, you wanna steal something?'

(all my worst fears coming into realization)

But I (again this is Eli telling the story) said 'No way.' And then we came here and played."

Uggg. So we talk about how he made a good decision not to steal and how he would think he would feel if he did steal something and all seemed to go pretty well. Then the next day he comes home from school and says,

"Hey Mom, this morning "Shady" wanted to steal some Pokemon balls from a kid that was younger than us and I said that wasn't a good idea."

And I said,

"Eli, maybe it is time to find some new friends at school. One's that won't ask you to do that kind of bad stuff."
And he said,

"Yeah, maybe."

Again just another parenting suggestion. Personally I am putting my valuables in a very high spot to keep them from Shady McStickyfingers.

Adeline on the other hand is faring much better with her friend making. She got off to a rough start claiming that she was shy. I told her no way she was shy and we went over a few friend making strategies. She ended up gravitating towards the other new girl in her class. And since Slim and Shady got a picture I thought it only fair that she did too.

Unfortunately she has no older brothers.

Everything Is A Little English

I live in England. There I said it. Now maybe one day I will actually start believing it. It's not that I don't want to live here I am very excited that I do. In fact I couldn't be happier, but it is just such an odd feeling to wake up every morning and think "I just woke up in a foreign country" or to be driving down the road and think " This is not America." It leaves a surreal taste in your mouth. But I am just going to have to accept the fact that I do and move on with my life. I only have three years here and I need to start seeing some things and doing things that I am going to look back on and think "Oh yeah, I did that while I lived in England." So let's just get it all out there at once and be done with it. "I live in a little English house in a little English village where my kids go to a little English school and I drive my big American vehicle (some things you just can't give up) on the wrong side of little English roads where other little English cars are going way too fast and I am loving every minute of my little English experience."

The Better Booger

My two year old son has an addiction. He likes to pick his nose and then "play" with the booger. I have tried to make him stop, really I have. At first I thought it was a harmless fascination as he gets to know his body. But very soon after it started he would become upset if I asked him to wipe it off and not long after that he would cry if I would take his booger away. Well knowing that this is not a socially accepted habit, I put even more effort into controlling it when we are in public. So there we were (a classic AF expression) sitting in church, AJ on his dad's lap and I was sitting next to them trying to wrangle the other two when I noticed that he had just pulled a fresh one out of his nose and starting to rub it in between his thumb and fore finger. I, knowing that there might be witnesses to his behavior, quickly snatched it out of his hand. Little did I know the response that this would bring on the cry heard round the church..."NO, I WANT MY BOOGER!" Seriously, I have to stop wondering why these things happen to me and just start accepting them.

Legacy

I am an Air Force wife - a member of that sisterhood of women who have had the courage to watch their men fly into battle, and the strength to survive until their return. Our sorority knows no rank, for we earn our membership with a marriage license, traveling over miles, or over nations to begin a new life with our husbands.
Within days, we turn a barren, echoing building into a home, and though our quarters are inevitably white-walled and unpapered, we decorate with the treasures of our travels, for we shop the markets of the globe.
Using hammer and nail, we tack our pictures to the wall, and our roots to the floor as firmly as if we had lived there for a lifetime. We hold a family together by the bootstraps, and raise the best of "brats," instilling in them the motto, "Home is togetherness", whether motel, or guest house, apartment or duplex.
As Air Force wives we soon realize that the only good in "Good-bye" is the "Hello again." For as salesmen for freedom, our husbands travel far from home, leaving us behind for a week, a month, an assignment. During separations we guard the home front, existing until the homecoming.
Unlike our civilian counterparts, we measure time, not by years, but by tours - married at Lackland, a baby born at Travis, a promotion in England. We plant trees, and never see them grow tall, work on projects completed long after our departure, and enhance our community for the betterment of those who come after us. We leave a part of ourselves at every stop.
Through experience, we have learned to pack a suitcase, a car or hold baggage, and live indefinitely from the contents within: and though our fingers are sore from the patches we have sewn, and the silver we have shined, our hands are always ready to help those around us.
Women of peace, we pray for a world in harmony, for the flag that leads our men into battle, will also blanket them in death. Yet we are an optimistic group, thinking of the good, and forgetting the bad, cherishing yesterday, while anticipating tomorrow.
Never rich by monetary standards, our hearts are overflowing with a wealth of experiences common only to those united by the special tradition of military life. We pass on this legacy to every Air Force bride, welcoming her with outstretched arms, with love and friendship, from one sister to another, sharing in the bounty of our unique, fulfilling Air Force way of life.
Paraphrased from Debby Guisti ©

Stranger Danger

Anxious is not a word that I often use to describe my feelings. But yesterday as I watched from down the street as the first set of strangers walked into my house to basically judge it, I pretty much thought I was going to die.
I have been working for the past several weeks and then at an even more feverish pace this last week to get our house in a condition where it was suitable to show to potential buyers. I have been okay with that, I don't mind the work. But the waiting as I saw the lady walk in with her real estate agent just about killed me.
They had a whole hour blocked out to view the house but I knew that there was the potential for them to turn around and walk right back out. Well they spent the whole hour in here, I know, I was watching. Which I am guessing means they loved it. And really who wouldn't. It is an awesome house. It pretty much sells itself.
Well that wasn't the only showing yesterday, we had four. And it was the first day it was on the market.
I realized last night after everyone had come and gone that I would much rather sell the house to someone I know who is going to take care of it. And then maybe they will let me come back and visit it.
I know that once I am in my next house that will be my home and all of this anxiety will seem silly, but right now I just wish it didn't have to happen and I wish is was over all at the same time.