My Girl, Barbie

When I was a little girl, I loved Barbie.  Everything Barbie!  I was so jealous of my sister one Christmas because she, who was totally into baby dolls, got THE Barbie airplane! 

Really, Santa?!?!  She doesn't even like Barbie that much.  Every time I try to play with her, she strips off all of Barbie's clothes and just won't play right! 

I was pissed.  And green with envy.  Lucky for me, though, my sister wasn't stingy like moi.  While it wasn't technically my Barbie airplane, I had full access to it.  Thank you, Jesus! 

Though my parents never could afford that Barbie Dream House, I loved all the things I had that were adorned with the always famous Barbie logo.  I even got Barbie skates one year!

Which is exactly why I was freakin' stoked when my daughter's letter to Santa contained these words:  I want some Barbies and a Barbie house for Christmas, please.  Hot dog!  Mama's getting...um, well...I mean...G is getting Barbies for Christmas!

Because G's  interest in Barbie is fairly a new phenomena, I didn't go apeshit over the Barbie gear.  Besides, that little Christmas list also included a 4-wheeler and an iPod Touch.  My kids are spoiled, but I couldn't convince my husband bring myself to spend fifty grand on Christmas this year.  Luckily, my husband's step-mother (NO, not the infamous bitch known as the MIL from Hell) gave her new Barbie dolls.  Santa got the Barbie Vacation House.

Wooo Hooo!!!  Did I tell you how freakin' excited I was about the Barbie stuff?!?!?!

Fast forward to Christmas morning.  There I was in the middle of the living room putting together all the gifts from Santa.  Just like every Christmas morning.  My job.  Because Mr. OCD tends to lose his shit and break all the little parts by forcing them into the wrong places!  And because I am a glutton for punishment, I found myself, once again, in Lego Hell.  Yes, as in previous years, my son requested Legos.  He loves Legos.  As long as someone else puts them together.  That someone was ME!  AGAIN!

After several hours of tedious Star Wars battleship building, I was rescued by the Barbie Vacation House.  Mama, will you put my Barbie house together?!? 

Yes!  Time to play Barbies! 

First off, those instructions.  Phew!  The tiniest print I have ever seen.  It took me a moment to realize that I was initially following the French instructions.  It didn't matter, though.  The English version was just as bad.  Can we say, Mama needs some glasses???

After struggling a bit, it was finally together.  Correctly.  Time for stickers and even smaller instructions.  Great...

While I'm going through the house applying stickers, I notice a disturbingly common theme among them.  Picture of Barbie partying with friends on the frame.  Check!  Blender in the kitchen.  Check!  Bar.  Bar stools.  Check!  Wine glasses.  Chips and other appetizers.  Bottles of pink bubbly...

Wait a damn minute.  What the...  *light bulb*

Barbie is a freakin' party girl!  This vacation home is nothing more than a trap house with nice furnishings!  Barbie and her girls and Ken are damn lushes.  No wonder she has that sleeping mask.  It's the keep the disco lights from disrupting her sleep once she passes out! 

OMG!  And why am I letting my daughter play with this stuff?  Luckily, we don't have alcohol in our house so she doesn't know what those wine bottles represent.  She's only five! 

Then I thought, is this why I loved Barbie so much?  Or worse, did I become a party girl as a result of my obsession with all things Barbie???? 

Holy crap!  I smell class-action lawsuit!  Can you imagine the generations of warped women who started out with a healthy love for Barbie?  Lindsay Lohan?  Britni Spears?  Andy Dick?

I'm no rocket scientist, but it certainly makes me think WTF?!

Christmas Is Coming

Do you ever get a song in your head, and then change up the lyrics for funsy?  This little diddle has been in my head all day long.  I'm hoping by sharing it, I can erase it from my mental iPod.

Join me.  Sing along with the music to the song, "Christmas Is Coming."

Christmas is coming,
My ass is so damn fat.
Please stop it with the cookies,
The candy, 
And junk like that.
If you must make holiday yummies,
Mix in some baby poo.
I haven't any will-pow-er,
None at all, thank you!
None at all, 
Thank you, sister friend.
I'm a glutton this is true.
I haven't any will-pow-er
None at all, thank you!

Now go; all of you!  Spread some Christmas cheer...and some glaze on my ass.  I'm curing this holiday ham while I type.

Move Over Jim Carrey!

I think my son is probably going to be famous one day. Seriously... All my posts lately have been about him. Today is no exception.

Last night, his preschool had their Christmas program. He looked so handsome and grown up. I'd love to post a pic (this one is from last year); unfortunately, my husband was rushing me out the door (as usual), and I forgot my camera (again -- as usual). I only hope that my friends got a few shots and are willing to share.

Regardless, there he was in his Sunday best ready to sing his heart out. His class was the first to perform. As they entered the stage area, I saw him looking around for me. He was grinning ear to ear, and very excited. He'd been practicing so hard! He knew all the words and all the dance "moves."

Let me preface this story by saying that my little man is C-L-U-M-S-Y, clumsy. He wears glass and is nearly blind as a bat. He still hasn't adjusted to his glasses either. He is near-sighted so he gets a bit off-kilter when he looks down at his feet. "Watching his step" is literally a task for him.

Having said all that, where do you think they placed him on the stage??? Yep, you guessed it! They put him on the top of the risers. If you know anything about risers, the steps are not very wide. They are definitely NOT wide enough for an energetic dancer like my son.

So they placed my son at the top on this very narrow step. Like I said, his class was first. There performance included two Christmas songs. The first song was a very lively number, and Eli was getting into it. He was a dancin' and a singin' away! It was one of his best performances. He was so proud...until he fell off the freakin' stage!!

Yep, he was dancing like his daddy with his arms and legs just a flailing when he went off the back. He fell behind the curtain! My sweet little boy went down like a shooting gallery target! And the rest of his class just kept on singing!

I'm a bad mom because I couldn't help but laugh. However, I did run up to the stage to check on him. Hopefully, God will consider that some kind of consellation.

When it first happened, he didn't make a peep. However, by the time I reached the stage there was full-blown crying going on. I hugged him and kissed his boo-boo, but he was still crying. Finally, I asked him if he wanted to get back out there with his class and sing. With a tearful whine, he said "Yes, ma'am."

He stopped crying and got back on stage. He even went back to that same top riser. Of course, this time his teacher stood behind the stage with her hand on his back. His dance motions were a bit less animated, but he finished his performance nonetheless. And the crowd cheered him on...

For the finale, all the students got on the stage to sing. This time he did not go to the top riser. Instead, he went to the very front by the microphone. He was determined to be a star! Even when the teacher moved the microphone away, he followed it. His determination was even more apparent when another little boy tried to sing into that same mic. Each time the other boy got near, my son would stretch his arms out and push him back. We nearly had a UFC match on that stage.

All in all, it was a good time. Between my son dancing and falling, my friends' son singing LOUDER than any other child in the school, and the fight for the mic, I laughed until I cried. Christmas just doesn't get any better!! It's certainly a night I'll never forget. I wonder what he has in store for us when he performs again at his daycare program this Friday night???

One more letter to Santa... <3

So in my last post I talked about how sweet my little boy is... Well, today I am nearly speechless. His sweetness factor just went up tenfold. I have never been so proud of him as I am right now. And if he continues in the same direction, he will probably get his heart smashed into a million pieces in high school then finally make some pretty girl an extremely lucky wife. I am not kidding. I am in awe of his ability to think of others.

I always thought that little kids were self-centered and only feign interest in others because that is what they are taught to do. Like when I made him apologize to his sister for throwing my shoe at her... I doubt he was really sorry, but I want him to be well-mannered (even when he acts like a heathen) and to understand that it is not okay to hurt others. I thought that the empathy trait would develop much later in life, though.

Apparently not so. This morning Eli was acting quite determined and stubborn. He got up at 5:00 a.m. and was hell-bent on going to the mailbox by himself. He just HAD to mail yet another letter to Santa. He said that this letter was very, VERY important. He even made his dad put a Christmas stamp on it.

There I was in bed feeling annoyed because he got me up so early. I laid there thinking, "Great! He needs something else??? Like the 500 other things he listed in his last letter aren't enough?? How in the world do we pay for this? We've already spent 50 gazillion dollars on Christmas. He already has EVERYTHING available for purchase on toysrus.com. Now what?" Needless to say, I was not being a sweet, affectionate, oh-how-cute mom.

After some stern reprimands, my husband finally relented. He addressed the letter to Santa (aka Daddy at Daddy's work). He got himself dressed then got Eli dressed and headed to the mailbox with that very important letter. By this time, I'd gotten up and into the shower. When I got out of the shower, my irritability turned to curiosity. I had to know what was so important. So when he came back from the mailbox with his dad, I asked him what was the important item added to his list.

I nearly cried when he answered. My sweet little boy asked for the most thoughtful gift I could ever imagine. He said that he wrote Santa and asked him if he would go to heaven and pick up his grandma then leave her at our house on Christmas Eve. I gave him the biggest hug ever after that.

As you know, my mom passed away over the summer. This is our first Christmas without her. While my son did not get to spend much time with her, he has fond memories of her. He still thinks about her and talks about her often. It makes me sad that he never got to know her like I knew her as she was sick his entire life. It makes me even sadder that his time with her was so limited. If only Santa could grant him that wish... Unfortunately, I think he might be a little disappointed.

Christmas 101: Lesson #1 - It Is Good to Give!

We love Christmas at our house! My son especially loves Christmas! I've never seen a kid who loves a holiday more than his birthday, but mine does. He loves presents -- the more the better. Even more, he loves OPENING presents. Oftentimes, the excitement he displays prior to actually getting the darned gift open is climatic. The gift itself is only a nice byproduct of the gift opening experience.

While I really enjoy seeing him so happy, I have been trying to make him understand that the joys of Christmas come from the giving and not the receiving. (Anyone who has successfully taught this lesson to a four year old, I need your number.) I have tried to stress the importance of being humble and the value of sharing. As a result, I had both of my kids take a gift request from the the Junior Auxiliary/Carl Perkins Christmas Tree.

My son chose to give to a little boy, and my daughter chose a little girl. I let them choose the toy, help me wrap it, and put the gift under our tree. (My 3 year old daughter is still trying to figure out how she can acquire that gift instead of the needy little girl for whom it was purchased.) The whole process was very sweet, and I think my son understood...kind of.

Today, E wanted to play Santa. All by himself, he put on a red Christmas shirt, some red shorts, and his red and black snow boots. My kids are always pretending and dress up nearly every day. This get up was nothing out of the ordinary, and I really didn't think much about it.

After putting on his Santa get up, he asked if he could go out outside. Obviously, I said no since it's rainy and 40 out there. He got so upset with me, and went into this lengthy explanation of why it was so important for him to go outside. I'm embarrassed to say it, but I let him go on the porch just so I wouldn't have to listen to the whining not really understanding his mission. At least his dad made him put on a pair of black sweat pants under the shorts. Of course, mom had to convince him that the sweat pants looked like the boot covers Santa wears. He bought it and conceded.

He wasn't out there long before I realized why it was so important for him to go out. Beforehand, he filled a box with some toys he doesn't play with anymore. He then went outside on the porch, and began yelling at the cars passing by. He wasn't having much luck, so he asked me to make him a sign. The sign said:

Free Toys from Santa Eli!

He took his new sign out to the porch and taped it to our front door. He continued to chant "Ho, ho, ho! Come get your free toys! Free toys here!"

After a little while, our next door neighbor came outside and took him up on his offer. He was so proud of himself. He gave some of his toys to the little boys visiting next door. The smile on his face was worth a million bucks! And the generosity in his heart was PRICELESS!