keep calm and party on.

The fourth birthday is officially on the books. Finite Incantatem. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. You get the picture.

Last night was the big Princess birthday party, otherwise known as S's Royale Birthday. There were kiddos in princess dresses and boys with swords tied around their waists with their belts. There were homemade cards. I probably don't say it enough, but we are so blessed to have wonderful friends and wonderful kids in our lives. I am thankful for the people in my life constantly. I should probably tell them instead of you as few of them read this blog.

Alas, without further ado…the Royale Birthday in pictures.

something new to complain about.

Little Ouiser had a great birthday. I'll lead with that. And a picture for good measure...

...because I'm good to you, right? I made her biscuits and eggs for breakfast. We decorated some delicious cupcakes together. She played for hours with her friend S, and I don't think that either of them took a swing at the other. Her mama and I chatted. Little Ouiser rested on the couch watching the Strawberry Shortcake movie that I DVRed for her. Her daddy came home early, and we gave her her big present (more on that later, I assure you). We had the Feathernesters over for dinner, and the girls made their own pizzas. We ate. We sang to S. We had cupcakes. I read books to S and L (and T, I suppose). That's the birthday rundown. That's not what I'm hear to talk about today.

Today I want to talk about stuffed animals. I am serious.

I hate stuffed animals. Hate them. I fear I might be alone in this loathing because stuffed animals are everywhere. It's a kajillion dollar industry from what I can tell, and it's not slowing down because the darn things are so cute that people just keep buying them. And they are cute. And cuddly. Don't get me wrong, I see the appeal. Here's what I don't like.

S has approximately fifty-seven thousand stuffed animals, and she wants them all to live on her bed. Every morning we have to say "Good morning," to Froggy and Bubblegum Cake (a plush doll) that she sleeps with. Then when we make her bed, we say, "Good morning" to Rosie the Pillow Pet, Bea the bear, Pinky Princess the tie-dyed bear, Mouse, Duck, Sleeping Beauty, Curious George (who moonlights as Cosmo Brown from Singin' in the Rain, the aforementioned Froggy masquerades as Don Lockwood), Sheep, and Baby Stella the doll. We have to pile them just right onto her bed. Then we have to unload them again for rest time because there isn't room on her bed for her and all the animals. Then we reload after rest time. Then we unload again at bedtime. It gets tedious, and every single time that I try to move an animal to the play room, she drags it back because, "That's not where it goes, Mommy."

So what is one supposed to do with all the animals? I could buy one of those hanging toy basket things. I could buy one of those stuffed animal nets that hangs in a corner and makes stuffed animals a dust-trapping part of one's room decor. I could put them in a big basket. I know there are options, but if you employ one of those options, then the animals probably won't get played with, so what's the point in having them? This is not to imply that S plays with hers because she doesn't. The goofy things just take up space and make me crazy.

Look, she loves Froggy. He's been with her forever, and I could never part with Bea. Our friends B and S gave her to S when she was still in the hospital. But all those other ones? I'd throw them into a nice hot fire if I wouldn't get thrown into Mommy Dearest jail.

Am I alone in this? Am I?

Probably I'm the only person who cares enough to blog about stuffed animal hatred, but I think about it almost everyday, and when I saw this post during my morning internet surfing, I just couldn't contain my complaints any longer.

Now, I'm going to check on my daughter, who may or may not be hypnotized by her new Leapster.

and just like that...

...I have a four-year-old. Really. Four. Years. Old. It's hard to believe that I have loved her so much for so long already, and that I've spent so much time simultaneously wanting to hug her until she pops and pinch her head off. Parenting is nothing if not contradictory. It's amazing what being a parent can teach you about unconditional love.

The point is this. As of 1:01pm (13:01 to my Colgate hubby), my darling girl will have been a part of my life for 35,064 hours. I wouldn't trade any of them. We've laughed. We've cried. It was better than CATS and certainly better than actual cats.

Happy Birthday to my gorgeous four-year-old. The one that made me proud by actually recognizing the number four on her new birthday shirt. That's my brilliant baby. She also just told me that she'd dress herself today because she's four years old now. This'll be a treat.

it begins today.

Let the birthday celebrations begin. S doesn't turn four until tomorrow, but we're taking cupcakes to school today. Her request? I assumed it would be pink, pink, pinkalicious, but I was wrong. She wanted "yellow like the sunshine." Could it be that my darling daughter is finally catching on to the fact that sunny warmth is vastly superior to the dreary gray of winter? Probably not, but just the same there is a platter of orange slices and vanilla cupcakes with yellow-orange butter cream and yellow sugar crystals. Plus an enormous jug of that hugely healthy kid favorite: orange Hawaiian Punch. At least there will be a warm color palette in her classroom even if it's cold outside.

As for me, I'll be spending the day with my newest mountain of laundry. You are so jealous.

ohio, go home.

Back when I was a working stiff, my friend Tommy Taco introduced me to the following concept: no matter where you are (grocery, mall, farmer's market, library), the prime parking spots are almost always occupied by cars with Ohio license plates. Also, no matter where you're driving, you'll always spot Ohio plates. Anyway, he'd see cars from his home state of Ohio and yell, "Ohio! Go home!" It stuck with me, and four years later I still say, "Ohio! Go home!" every single time I see Ohio plates. It never fails. (I'd like to say that I know some awesome Ohio natives, so this has nothing to do with not liking Ohio or it's peeps. It's just a fact that Ohioans are everywhere.)

All that was just to point out that the Ouisers have been in the Buckeye State. S and I headed north with M for a meeting he had on Friday morning. We drove through some lovely weather. Weather that turned a five hour road trip into an eight hour road trip. The drive up was awful. The trip was not awful. The trip turned out to be pretty nice. Here's the rundown:

• The person who invented hotels is a genius and was likely a parent. Between mini fridges, continental breakfasts, swivel desk chairs, heated indoor pools, and lamps that are easy to turn on and off, hotels are like Elysium for preschoolers.
• One hour alone with a three-year-old in Ikea is fun. Two hours is Hell. File that away in your brains in case you ever take a three-year-old to Ikea without help. Or take a flask.
• No matter where you are, your child can be entertained in a bookstore or library. This idea has never failed me. Ever. We spent an hour at the West Chester Barnes and Noble, and if this pregnant mama hadn't had a blood sugar crash, we could've stretched it into at least an hour and a half.
• Henceforth, we will plan a trip to an art museum in every town we visit that has one. We didn't hit in museums in Cincinnati because the weather made travel conditions less than stellar, so M's meeting ran over a couple of hours. We did patronize the Speed Art Museum in Louisville. It was wonderful. They were hosting the Madcap Puppet Theater on Saturday, and we took in a performance of Peter and The Wolf, which S loved. Then she was able to make her own hand puppets. She made a pink princess and a purple princess. You're shocked, aren't you? I hope to go back to the Speed someday without a child because it seemed like they had a really, really nice permanent collection in addition to traveling exhibits. We didn't get to explore much because S wasn't in the mood, but I did get to see a Rembrandt portrait, and it made every trying moment on the trip worth it because it was that good. Really, the masters are the masters for a reason. All the lovely Renaissance pieces on display in the same gallery paled in comparison. And they were gorgeous, too. I love art. Really, really love it. All the way to my bones.
• Carmen the Garmin must have been mad at us on Friday evening because she made us drive literally in circles through Louisville. I was very mad...I had not seen the Rembrandt yet, so I was allowed to be furious.
• The new Honda has now been named. I christened her Amelia because I decided she's a girl. And she's a Pilot. Get it? If she disappears somewhere over the Pacific, I'll know that I was tempting fate.
• We are now home, and I'm baking cupcakes because someone who lives here is turning FOUR in a couple of days and we're taking cupcakes that are "yellow like the sun" to preschool tomorrow.

Now I must go watch some football. My darling Mr. Ouiser keeps pointing out that there are only three games left this season, and I need to watch the Pack win it all. Just so you know, we're mostly pulling for Green Bay because we like Aaron Rodgers, who looks freakishly like our future son's namesake when he has a helmet on his head. Food for thought. Clearly, the comparison would be easier if I had a picture of Aaron Rodgers hugging a younger, thinner version of me or if I had a picture of T the Elder Geomorphologist (as he will henceforth be known) in a football helmet. Alas, you'll have to make due with what we've got.

Later, peeps.

Please note that I used the term "henceforth" twice in one post. I'm bringing that word back into regular circulation.

a collection of random observations.

1. I found out this morning before my doctor's appointment that my OB was the three-time national Rollerblading champion. This is highly amusing to me, but I now know that good ol' Dr. C does not get my humor. When we were discussing the little "growth spurt" I've managed since my last appointment, I asked him, "Would you recommend Rollerblading as exercise for a pregnant woman?" He thought I was serious. Please. I can barely hoist my enormous butt out of bed. Like I'd get on Rollerblades.
2. Speaking of my growth spurt, allow me to tell get all deep and philosophical for a minute. Indulge me, it's a rare occurrence. I have proof that God exists. (For the record, if I were Catholic, I'd probably be excommunicated for this reasoning, but I'm an Episcopalian, so no one will care.) When we bought The Castle, there was a huge full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. One of those great big ones that you only see in old houses. I desperately wanted to keep it intact, so it was carefully taken down and stored in the garage for the duration of the remodel. A month or so ago, M called me out to the garage to point out that a huge shard of it had broken off, and he was going to chuck it. Fine with me. I'm a pregnant klutz. I would likely sever an important artery if it stayed around here. While we still have the $4 mirror from Walmart that we purchased in grad school, I refuse to bring it into The Castle on principle. So, we're living in a world with no full length mirror. This is seemingly a problem, but here's where I realized that it was God who broke that mirror. I suffered the huge indignity of having to try on a bathing suit this weekend. (Huge being the operative word.) When I saw my enormous beached whale of a body in the dressing room mirror, I knew that God took that full length mirror from me to keep me from having to see myself in it everyday. Thank you, Lord.
3. Because I am pregnant and a beached whale, I've been letting things slide lately. Like not coloring my hair as regularly as I should or not coming out of pajamas for days or not even knowing how long my hair is because it's been in a ponytail for six solid months. But I've decided that looking like fat roadkill isn't helping me to feel better about myself, so I'm going to start wearing lipstick all the time. You know, like little old school Southern ladies who put on lipstick to check their mail. In fact, I put on lipstick right after I brushed my teeth this morning. I am certain that this will boost my self-esteem, and when it works, I'm going to market the idea and make millions of dollars. It will be awesome.
4. Pioneer Woman's Chicken Tortilla Soup makes me happy.
5. Now I need a cup of decaf. Later, peeps.

the strawberry that loved to play in the patch.

If you've got kids, you already understand the following statement...and if you don't have kids but plan to someday, you will eventually understand that:

There are very few moments that turn out as awesome and perfect as you really want them to be.

That's not to say that life isn't full of awesome moments, it's just to say that you can throw your expectations out the window. Almost nothing ever turns out as you imagined it. Babies don't sleep during the hours you want. Toddlers won't cooperate with projects and outings. Preschoolers (at least my preschooler) are wildly opinionated and stubborn (so I suppose I should still be in preschool). I don't know what's coming next, but I assure you that I've mostly given up on expectations. As much as I can, I have to just go with the flow, and if you know me, you know that's something.

I digress.

The point is: last night was perfect. It was exactly what I wanted it to be.

After dinner, I mentioned that we should have some family art time. We all dutifully grabbed paper and markers and crayons, turned on some music, and headed to the table. We drew and colored and had a grand ol' time. S wanted to take turns drawing fruits, so I drew and colored a strawberry. Then I suggested that we make up a story about the strawberry, and she embraced the concept with vigor.

We wrote three pages of S's first masterpiece The Strawberry that Loved to Play in the Patch. I will save it forever because she may someday be a famous author, and I'll be able to prove that her illustrious career in words began at the tender age of three. The story is illustrated, it has a cover, and it's bound together with red embroidery thread. It was a lovely, lovely evening.

Of course, now we are going to have to write more and more stories, which is fine until I want to blog about them instead of writing them. Alas, I must encourage the creative genius.

I'll leave you with M's rendering of our family. It's classic Mr. Ouiser.

one of those days.

I still haven't puked. It's not about that. And I refuse to be ruled by fear.

Today is one of those days, though. It's not what you're thinking. It's one of those days during which I must make/do something to my house. If I weren't pregnant, and I knew how to put the third row seat down in the new car, I'd be on my way to pick up the antique bench I bought for our "entryway." Alas, I have to wait for Mr. Ouiser for that.

So these are the days on which bizarre things are born. Like today's Vintage Tea Towel window treatment. Tea towels, embroidery thread, and nails. Done.

For the record, this is the window that's being replaced. My windows are not that dirty. Also, don't say anything about the lighting or picture quality. I'm such a slacker that you're lucky you get pictures at all.

squeaky clean.

This is going to sound bad, and I don't mean it that way. Trust me, I don't. But, somehow. Somehow our house is just neater when M is out of town. I don't know why because he is not a messy person. Maybe it's because I spend less time on dinner when I'm not feeding him and thus more time picking up toys and crayons. Really it's probably an illusion. Anyway, he's been out of town for the better part of the week. He was in Washington being awesome on Tuesday and Wednesday, and he went to Kentucky yesterday. So the house has been pretty well picked up.

On top of that, S came down with a stomach bug yesterday and yacked all over the place. So, now things are picked up and disinfected. I mean, wow. My house is clean. At least the parts we go into are clean. I don't even count the formal room or the baby's room yet (though I did dust and sweep them the other day).

S's sheets and blankets are being washed in hot water as I type, and I'm guessing that I'll acquire said stomach bug as soon as I get her bed remade. I think that's the way it goes, right? You think you're in the clear...then WHAM! I'm seriously hoping that doesn't happen because being pregnant is miserable enough without adding a stomach bug into the mix.

I'm hoping that all of you have a lovely, puke and snow free weekend. Now, please send me all of your barf-free thoughts. I'd appreciate it. And you know I'd do it for you.

Happy Friday, peeps.

a change of attitude??

It's been a busy few days. Since I know you were all waiting anxiously, we did unload the Saturn on an unsuspecting auto dealership. If you're in the Nashville area, and you see a used dark blue Hybrid Saturn Vue, don't buy it. Seriously. We are now the proud owners of a 2008 Honda Pilot, and it's a pretty sweet ride. I've been driving around in the snow like a professional. So, that's one less thing to worry about.

There's also the aforementioned snow. We awoke Monday morning to a few inches' accumulation, so school is naturally cancelled indefinitely. Now it's snowing again, so I'm afraid people are going to start digging out their Y2K stashes.

Here's the whole possible change of attitude thing: snow gear. When I realized on Monday that I was going to have to march my pregnant butt out into the snow for the second time this season, I cringed. And shivered. And maybe even cried a little. Because as a not pregnant person, I hate the cold, but I have the option to layer. There is no layering as a pregnant lady as nothing fits this expanding belly. But then...oh! I remembered that M has an old ski bib/pants/thing hanging in the closet. And a big Colgate-worthy parka in another closet. Let me tell you, I will never play in the snow again without serious clothing. I didn't even mind being out there despite the fact that my hands kept disappearing into the coat's sleeves. Never again, people. It was magical.

My friend J across the pond commented that she purchased snow gear for herself last winter, and it's made a huge difference. Previously, she'd get her boys all bundled up but they could only play so long before she was frozen like Audrey Griswold, but now they can just play outside in the snow until everyone wants to come inside. Really. I realize now that as mamas, we (I am admittedly new to the game) try to keep our kids safe and warm and comfortable, but we never want to spend the money to keep ourselves in the same state. And, people, the kids' stuff will have to be purchased over and over and over again. Those little twerps keep growing. If you buy stuff for yourself, it'll last forever if you don't gain a bunch of weight or catch it on fire. So, I've declared that I will buy myself snow gear next year. (Not this year...I'm preggers, remember?) I will be prepared and mildly pleasant when it snows. I urge you all to do the same because, seriously, if I can embrace the idea of enjoying snow, anyone can. Anyone.

Now, completely unrelated...I've decided that I must not be all bad when it comes to parenting because my daughter told me this morning that she wants to be Kathy Selden when she grows up. Not Hannah Montana or Dora or anyone else. Kathy Selden. Know who that is? It's Debbie Reynolds's character from Singin' in the Rain. I love it. I also love Gene Kelly. He's a handsome devil, he is. Now go enjoy your day.

divine comedy.

I just spent the better part of an hour playing with polly pocket-sized princess dolls. Don't worry...S was playing, too. The chimney gas hasn't fried my frontal lobe just yet. Anyway, we were pretending that the princesses were having a royal ball in a ballroom that happened to be the metal container for S's Victorian Couture Magnetic Paper Doll. (You read that right.) Snow White was wearing Belle's ball gown. Sleeping Beauty (aka Princess Stella) was wearing Snow White's gown. Jasmine was sporting Cinderella's dress, which is actually ripped. There was an actual Polly Pocket doll at the party, too, and she was wearing something that looked like it was designed by Hannah Montana for skanky-kids-r-us. Also, we don't have polly pocket-sized princes, so we had to improvise. We had to use Gus Gus and Jaq (the mice from Cinderella) and The Mad Hatter and a member of the Lollipop Guild that were Happy Meal toys as princes. There was also a nurse, which was an actual doll from her doll house...the doll whose skirt came off long ago and was inexplicably worn by the Lollipop Guild prince today.

Anyway, Sleeping Beauty/Princess Stella got sick and needed to go with the nurse to the hospital. The nurse suggested that she needed to rest for a week in order to feel better. The nurse then made her a cozy bed and gave her a cup of tea (Chip from Beauty and The Beast). Upon putting Sleeping Beauty/Princess Stella to bed, the nurse was instructed to let Sleeping Beauty/Princess Stella's prince (Gus Gus the Mouse) know where she was so he wouldn't worry. So the bottomless nurse went to tell him, and he asked if he could visit her. He then went to visit her, and asked if he could snuggle in the bed with her to make her feel better.

Now, this is a perfectly reasonable request. Especially from a three-year-old who relies on snuggles to make her feel better when she's ill or cranky. But my mama brain fired up and my internal monologue went something like this:

If I say yes to this, what's next? Sleepovers with boys? Thinking her prom date can spend the night? Bringing home boys from college and expecting to sleep in the same bed? Am I dooming my daughter to a future of questionable morals if I let this mouse-masquerading-as-prince snuggle with the polly pocket princess?

The answer is no, but I literally laughed OUT LOUD at myself for being a complete moron. And then I realized that this was a story I had to share.

I hope you all have wonderful weekends full of princess parties and wholesome fun.

the one in which i freak my husband out.

So the chimney repair thing is slightly out of control. We had the drywall guy come in to put some holes in the walls and look for signs of damage or mildew or mold or dead bodies buried within said walls. As there were no major issues to be found, he started patching the holes that he created and threw some primer up over the creosote that had seeped through the bricks and caused some issues with the portion of the chimney that runs through the corner of our closet. The stuff just came right back through the primer, so the drywall guy has suggested that the only way to guarantee that it doesn't eat back through our paint is to frame the corner and put up real walls. This tripled the price of an already too expensive job. We were more than willing to pay for someone who knew what to look for to come in and make sure we weren't slowly poisoning ourselves with mildew. The new issue is another story. Seriously. We're talking about a major chunk of change, and lest you've forgotten, we've got a new car to buy in the immediate future.

Anyway, it turns out that we need to let the whole thing dry out for awhile before we do anything to the brick, so we're just sitting on it for a bit. It's the interior corner of the closet, and other than the inconvenience of having a lot of my closet stuff hanging out in the corners of the bedroom, it's not a big deal.

Now to freak M out. As Paul-with-Drywall (I like how I just made him a rhyming nickname) was leaving today, I told him about my conversation with the chimney expert about needing to let the bricks dry out thoroughly. He responded that as long as we could live with the mess, it was worth seeing if it would solve all of our problems. And then he added, "but you need to watch out. If any of you have persistent flu symptoms but don't have the flu, it could be caused by chimney gases leaking into the house."

Dang.

I've been sick for awhile, and even after a full course of antibiotics, some crazy illness has reared its ugly head again. I'm hacking up a lung over here. Now, I am confident that there are no gases leaking into the house. I am certain that there were leaky gases, but I am also certain that we've fixed the issue. So, I am attributing my illness to the fact that everyone is sick with one thing or another around here. I sincerely don't know anyone who lives within fifty miles of us and hasn't been sick in the last month, so really I'm not worried. It's just food for thought. Plus, I am curious to see if M totally flips his lid and starts making us all sleep in bubbles ala Bubble Boy.

Seinfeld image courtesy of Film Stew.

five minutes and the demise of productivity.

Over on Simple Mom today, they talk about simplifying your life by adding routine to it. Let me tell you, that is Kool-Aid that I drink. I believe in routine. I believe in it with every fiber of my being. Seriously. I learned the power of routine when S was a wee one, and I've not looked back. One night recently, she wanted to read books before brushing her teeth and using the potty, so I let her. We read oodles of books. Then after the bathroom portion of the evening routine she wanted more books. There was a meltdown when I explained that we'd already read all the books we were going to read because it was bedtime. In the mornings, if we ditch the usual get out of bed/make the bed/utilize the facilities/brush teeth and hair, things just don't go right. Dragon breath lurks. S's hair looks like Einstein's. Ten o'clock rolls around and I'll realize the child still hasn't peed and is probably doing serious damage to her kidneys/bladder. It's like that in our lives. There isn't a set schedule, but our routines are important. They keep us moving. We dig it.

So, Simple Mom had a link to someone's every morning five minute routine. Said routine was:

Minute one: make bed

Minute two: open blinds

Minute three: turn off porch lights

Minutes four and five: empty dishwasher.

That's awesome for that lady, but it ain't working for Ouiser. When I am able to pry my eyes open after I hear S moving around upstairs, this is my morning: groan about having to wake up, locate and don slippers and glasses, stumble like a drunk to the bathroom, open the curtains, pee, brush teeth, head upstairs to get the kid, then fake happiness until I am actually happy, which actually happens pretty quickly when I am snuggling with Little Miss Dragon Breath.

So I'd like to say that I understand that in order to make my personal routine happier in the mornings, I should shoehorn myself out of bed before my daughter wakes up. I get that. And sometimes I do because sometimes she sleeps an extra 15 minutes and sometimes I just can't sleep. On those mornings, I make the bed and brew the coffee before I head upstairs to slay the dragon breath. It's lovely. It is. But I'm no fool. To declare that I'm going to get up before the absolute last possible second is a lie. A big, fat lie. It's just not going to happen. No matter how much I like to have the bed made in a timely fashion. I am emphatically not a morning person.

Also, when I was reading that lady's five minute routine, firstly I wanted to know when her teeth got brushed. Secondly, I was amazed at the logistics of the routine. Bed to windows to outdoor light switch to kitchen. Her house must be laid out differently than mine because around these parts, those things don't flow in any semblance of an order. Thirdly, did she actually time her routine? I think it takes me longer than one minute to make my bed.

So that's the five minute part of the post title. Now on to the demise of productivity. I read Simple Mom pretty regularly. It's in my google reader. Of course from there I linked to the five minute lady. Then I realized that I needed to look at a bunch of her other posts because I was so intrigued by her five minute routine. Then I wanted to look at some of her sponsors. Now, luckily, I had places to be today, so I just made a mental note to visit all the links later and left that window open in my browser. Since then, I've thought about it. If I head down the rabbit hole of links, I will inevitably spend an hour looking at random stuff online this afternoon. And, peeps, when I say I've got a mountain of laundry to work on, I mean it. I've got lots that I need to be doing, but there's a good chance that I'll pop my head into the office to look at the computer (just for a second, I swear) and get sucked into the black hole that is the blogosphere. And I realized that I am less productive that I should be because the internet is the demise of productivity.

So there. That's my two cents worth for today. I must now tackle the mountain of laundry. I've got two loads done, and I've got about five to go. Yowsers.

a monumentally bad day.

Let me start this post by saying that I don't need any, "Oh, golly, that sounds awful. Are you okay?" responses. This day was just so ridiculous from top to bottom that I feel the need to share it with the world (or the nine people who read this blog.) Besides, maybe if something bad happened in your day it won't seem so bad when you add it to the stack of mishaps that happened in Ouiser-land today. Or maybe you'll say, "Ouiser, you fool. Listen to what happened to me and be grateful that your life is awesome." And for the record, I've even managed to find a silver lining in this day...which I'll share at the end.

To begin.

Yesterday on the way home from church there was a fairly overwhelming smell of something burning in my car. (This is the same POS Saturn that's been taken in for service three times since Thanksgiving.) When we got home, M investigated all the parts of the car that might be on fire and nothing was even hot, so we assumed it was a fluke.

Now on to today, which was scheduled to be the last day of M's Christmas vacation. I say "scheduled to be" because his boss emailed him on Saturday asking him to go to a Metro Nashville RFP meeting this afternoon. While he tried to get out of it, he couldn't, so the last day of vacation wasn't really going to be a day of vacation. We were determined to make the best of it, though, and we really wanted to go see the Impressionist exhibit at The Frist. So the plan was that we would go to Nashville, eat lunch, go to the museum, and S and I would take M to his 30-minute meeting. We borrowed a portable DVD player so S could watch a movie while M met with other people that got conned out of vacation time.

We're also planning to trade the aforementioned POS Saturn for a Honda Pilot, and there was one that we were thinking of looking at and potentially buying today. So we thought that if S was hanging in there, we might head to the dealership to look at the Honda this afternoon.

Off we went.

It was only 10:45 when we got to Nashville, and S wanted her typical chickenandfriesandasprite so we thought that Buffalo Wild Wings would work. Anyway, at about 10:43 it occurred to me that it was slightly early for lunch, and hey! maybe that smell in my car had something to do with the fact that I was 1500 miles overdue for an oil change. Since we were on a road that I was certain would have plenty of oil change places, we decided to get the oil change before lunch...especially since there was a chance we'd want to trade the Saturn later in the afternoon. We passed a Firestone, and M ran in to ask of they could get our oil changed quickly.

"Yeah, man, right away."

Yeah, right. We unloaded S and headed into the waiting area. We emerged one hour and twenty minutes later. I am not exaggerating even a little bit. One hour and twenty minutes is an eternity when you're pregnant and sitting in a Firestone waiting area with a three-year-old. It seems even longer when Fox News is what's on the telly. So, time check. It's 12:10 by the time we leave Firestone. We head back to Buffalo Wild Wings. Our experience with the dumbest people ever to work in a Firestone was followed by an experience with the dumbest server in the history of the restaurant industry.

Por ejemplo:

"I need the children's chicken tender meal with a Sprite for her, please."

"What kind of dipping sauce would you like with that?"

"Oh, no dipping sauce for her, please."

"Do you want some ranch or something for her to dip her chicken in?"

What I wanted to say: "No. That's what I meant when I said no dipping sauce."

What I said: "No thank you." And I might have kicked M under the table.

Also, let's not forget that we were at Buffalo Wild Wings. This was not a great culinary experience. At least the Cherry Coke was good. Anyway, it was five after one when we stood up to leave. We were about ten minutes from the museum, which we were going to have to leave at 2 in order for M to get to his meeting. We discussed it and decided that M could leave us at the museum because S can play for hours at ArtQuest at the museum, and she is easily entertained for twenty minutes or so in the gift shop. Plus there's a cafe. With cake. We'd be fine as long as his meeting was really only going to be about half an hour.

That was the modified plan...for M to leave us. But then we arrived at The Frist. And there with us? The entire population of the Metropolitan Statistical Area for Nashville. Seriously, there were people everywhere. I don't know why there were so many people there, but they were there in force. S had no interest in any paintings except for one Renoir that held her attention for nine seconds and two of Degas dancers that she looked at for a total of half an eyeblink. She just wanted ArtQuest. Upstairs we headed. The half of the MSA that wasn't in the Impressionist exhibit was there. S couldn't really participate in any of the activities she wanted to participate in because there were so many people. We couldn't visit the Gift Shop because it was closed for inventory. We decided to leave with M after all, and we placated S with a promise of ice cream if she cooperated.

And she did cooperate. She was as good as gold while M was in his meeting. She was even cute. She watched Singin' in the Rain and laughed her head off because she thinks that movie is hysterical. When M got back to the car after what really was (miraculously) only a half hour meeting, we decided that she was happy enough that we could go look at the car. When we got to the dealership she was downright giddy about the Pilot we were looking at. She says we have to have it for Baby T. She was awesome. Until she realized that we weren't actually going to buy the car today. And actually we might have...except that it would've taken too long and it had already been a long day for her. So, we headed to Sweet CeCe's for FroYo deliciousness. Things were going just fine. You could tell that all three of us were tired, but we were fine. We left downtown Franklin and headed home.

Then the big bad battery light came on. I looked up what that particular light meant and was greeted with the following,"If the battery indicator light comes on while you're driving, there is something wrong with either your battery or the charging system. Cease using auxiliary power devices like the radio or cooling system and have your vehicle serviced immediately. Also, you're screwed." I might've made that last part up. As the only place that can service my POS Saturn was pretty close to where we were, I called. They told me we'd be fine, to go on home...besides no one was there who could look at the car until tomorrow anyway. I was supposed to see if the light was still on in the morning. About fifteen minutes later we were broken down on the side of the highway in the middleoffriggin'nowhere, a little place known as Fairview to those of you in the know. S was in tears because without power, there was no DVD. I was almost in tears because I was so over the day. M was not crying or teary-eyed.

First call placed: my brother. "Please come rescue us." Done.

Second call placed: Walker Chevrolet. "I know you said my car would get us home, but we're stranded in Fairview. Now what? How do I get my car to you?"

Third call placed: GM/Chevrolet Roadside Assistance. After a few minutes of "Press one if you're in America. Press two if you're not an alien. Press three if you like Sweet CeCe's. Please enter your VIN number and blood type," I heard, "We are connecting you to an agent." Then my call got dropped. I nearly screamed.

M called them back, and eventually we were rescued by my darling brother. For all I know, my car is still sitting on the side of the highway, but I'm hoping the tow company found it. If not, I hope some arsonist found it. Or a common thief. Because, seriously, as soon as it's fixed, I'm trading it. No more fooling around. I'm sick of it.

So, here's the silver lining. We were all together. If we'd made it home, the car would've died tomorrow. And tomorrow, S and I are driving to Franklin for my sister's birthday dinner...and S and I might've been stranded in the middle of nowhere alone, which is just the kind of thing that ends up on America's Most Wanted or at least in a Friday the 13th movie. We had M with us, and that made it better. Because frankly, I am pregnant and hormonal and it's cold outside and I forgot to take a coat with me today. It would suck to deal with that alone. In the dark. In a small town where Deliverance is probably rented regularly.

That's really all I've got to say. I'm exhausted, and I'm going to find something to take the place of the gallon of wine I wish I could drink. Maybe there's some slightly fermented apple juice in the back of the fridge. Slightly fermented is probably safe for the baby, right?

wild kingdom.

This morning, while I was at the pediatrician's office with S, M set out onto the castle grounds to clear up some trees and branches that had fallen. When he pulled a chunk of fallen tree, it disintegrated in his hand, revealing what was a completely hollow fallen tree trunk. And there sat an owl. It just stared at him, looked around, and crawled back into the relative safety and darkness of the hollow tree. So, that sucker is staying right where it fell, and we are desperately hoping that its inhabitant will stay there. M has talked about it almost nonstop since we got home, and there is a look of utter awe on his face when he tries to explain how beautiful the owl was. He said it was pretty small, so we're wondering if it's a baby owl...or maybe it has babies in the tree. We don't know, but we love having it in the backyard. I, of course, want to see it but am smart enough to leave it alone. It's probably been scared enough.

He also found what appears to be a small network of mole tunnels in the back yard, which actually surprised me. I didn't expect us to have moles since we have such huge trees and what I'd expect to be a pretty extensive network of tree roots. I was under the impression that tree roots acted as a deterrent to burrowing animals. Oh, well. I guess not.

So, we've got the bunny who lives out front on the tennis court. The owl in the fallen tree. The moles under ground. The neurotic dog in the house. Eight hundred fifty seven thousand of the fattest squirrels ever up in the trees plus their chipmunk cousins. Loads of various bird species hanging out in the trees and the tangly branches of our edge habitat. One neighborhood dog that likes to do his early morning business in our yard. And multiple neighborhood cats that I want the squirrels to breakfast upon. It's practically a zoo around here. That's just the way I like it.

Other than those darn cats.

Also, the garbage can just got fixed, so I think the discovery of the owl plus the fixing of an issue makes this an awesome day at Casa de Ouiser.

a low, agitated growl.

Right now, when I think about our house, I emit a constant growl. As in, "ergggggh, really, something else??"

So, here's the deal. The chimney problem is being fixed. Actually, the chimney is fixed. Now it's time to tear into the plaster and the drywall and make sure there's not mold growing anywhere because of all the moisture that seeped in. It's not been a huge deal, but it's already become an expensive deal that could become way more expensive, and for-crying-out-loud-it-was-just-Christmas-and-I'm-not-made-of-money.

Here are the other things that have popped up.

• The super awesome drawer that houses our garbage can and recycle bin will not stay closed. The dog is constantly in the garbage, and that's not endearing him to me. At all. I've already made a call, and this will be fixed promptly and for free, but it's annoying.
• The window over my kitchen sink has issues. It seems like there is some sort of air or vapor or something trapped between the two panes of glass, so the window always looks dirty or foggy. Another call has been made, and it's another free fix, but it's still a window that will have to be replaced during the winter. Ugh.
• The very lovely floors upstairs are falling apart. The previous owners had some hideous putrid green carpet covering the lovely knotty pine floors up there. We had them refinished. Unfortunately, there was a lot of spacing between the boards, which the floor guy filled with an apparently unheard of amount of filler. Now, because the air is dry and cold, the boards are shrinking and the filler is cracking and coming out in big chunks. It's awful to look at, and I'm pretty sure that finished floor filler is not something I want my son to eat when he starts crawling around and putting stuff into his mouth. Based on the way our floors are built, the floor guy told our contractor this would probably happen, but he didn't tell us. There is apparently nothing we can do because if we fill the cracks, when the lovely southern humidity comes back in April, the floor boards will swell and push the filler out anyway. So, we're either going to have to rip out the existing hardwoods and put in new ones or cover the floors with carpet. I am not happy.
• The shower floor is not properly sloped. I've already had the shower guy out once to jack up the corners of the shower pan, but it didn't work. There is always a puddle in one corner of the shower. Always. I refuse to live with this for the rest of my life, so they're going to have to disassemble the beautiful marble shower and do it all over again. They'll have to do it for free because it was their fault, but it'll mean days without a shower in the house. I've not called them back out yet.
• The dog is causing a lot of wear-and-tear on my cork floors. Again, mama ain't happy 'bout it.
• We need about a dozen truckloads of dirt in the backyard to ensure that we don't end up with water damage along the back of the house. Again.
• We need a tree surgeon before the seemingly dying tree that's as tall as a skyscraper squashes us all like bugs.

There's other minor stuff, but it doesn't really matter. In fact, the big stuff doesn't really matter. It is what it is, and we'll fix it. It means that I'll have to live a little longer with bare windows. It means that I can't get the new guest room finished as soon as I'd like. It means that I can't start designing and building the perfect new patio that we're going to create with a fireplace and all the works (oh, the patio where I want to drink coffee every morning while lounging idly and reading Michael Pollan or Bill Bryson or Jane Austen or anything). But that's life. And I really am cool with that.

Also, here's the thing.

Despite all the problems...all the cracking floors and bubbling walls and waterlogged showers, I love this house. This is our home. None of these problems has ever made me wish that we hadn't bought this house and left the old one. None of them has ever made it seem like a very, very expensive and stressful mistake. Instead, I look around me. I look out the windows. I look anywhere and I know that this house was built right here on this piece of land just for us. We are supposed to be here. We are supposed to raise our kids here. We are supposed to have grandkids visit us here. Right here. Despite the problems. And that makes it all extra okay.

very merry.

The Ouisers had a wonderful Christmas. S was insanely thrilled about everything.

Christmas Eve was a low key day of making and decorating Christmas cookies. Then we went to Mellie's for my mom-family Christmas. We came home and read Twas the Night Before Christmas. We put S to bed, and we watched Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed get their awesome on in It's a Wonderful Life.

Christmas morning, we banned the family from joining us for the opening of presents, and it was a very wise (though bold) move. It meant that M and I were able to really watch S open gifts. We got to see her little face light up. We got full-on thank you hugs for all of our gifts to her. She excitedly helped us open our gifts. There was no stress at all. M and I were happily in the floor, coffee and cameras in hand. We even called Mellie's house, where we were supposed to officially breakfast, and said we'd be late because S was having fun and we weren't going to make her stop playing for breakfast casserole. It was great. Also, this almost-four-years-old Christmas was pretty magical. S was in love with everything about the holidays, and frankly, I wanted to share that with her as a family. It won't be the same next year (or ever again) because she'll have a little brother. So, just this once, all of the excitement was hers, and it was amazing. There will be more excitement when there are two kiddos, I know, but this one was about just the three of us, and I do believe I'll treasure it forever and ever and ever.

There is an inexplicable love for this Pillow Pet.

This was the gift S chose for M. Do not call it an ornament. It is a Good Luck Charm, and she made him hang it on the doorknob to his office when we went there yesterday.

Mr. Ouiser loves Peyton Manning so much that he's branded me.

Eventually we did make it to Mellie's. Then we made it to Mr. P's to give him the stocking that Santa left him at our house. Then we played a bit at home. Then we headed to Columbia for Christmas with my dad-family. There were presents. There was soup. There was a very tired Little Ouiser. Then there were board games and bed.

It was a great Christmas.

Since then, we've mostly chilled out, though we've managed to run loads of errands together and M and S had a campout in the family room floor. Christmas really is pretty awesome, especially when you're blessed enough to get to spend two weeks together as a family.

Now, though, the house must be dealt with, and that's a whole different post...but I wanted to get to the good stuff before I started to complain. You know, since it's Christmas and all.

*Completely unrelated. In the six-plus years that we've been married, I don't believe we've ever broken any of our dishes. The technical exception is one cereal bowl that we somehow chipped the edge of. It's not bad, and I've never gotten rid of it despite it's imperfection. Now I'm glad. I just realized that it serves a very important purpose. I've been enjoying a bowl of black bean soup while I wrote this post, and the little divot in the edge of the bowl provides a perfect resting place for the handle of the spoon. I've never noticed it before, but I have now, and I have a new favorite bowl. You're welcome for the information.

run for your life.

Christmas is almost here. I should only be posting happy things about our Advent-ures and Christmas cookies and holiday magic. But I am so not going to do that. I'm too afraid. Way too afraid. I am living in fear of Nicole Kidman's insane forearm-length toe.

Really. It looks like her big toe is trying to attack the paparazzi taking the picture. Doesn't it?

In case you don't know, I don't like feet. Seriously. Keep your feet inside your shoes at all times. If you're riding on an airplane, cover your toes. I don't care how cute your little tootsies are. I don't care how recent and expensive your pedicure. I don't want to be in close proximity to any feet except my daughter's...and my son's soon enough. I assure you I will outgrow thinking that their feet are cute, too. Anyway, I want Nicole Kidman to have toe reduction surgery. They can do that, right.

Happy Holidays. I hope Nicole Kidman gets socks. Aaaaaghhhh!!!

how things went down.

The verdict is in. We're having a boy. Mr. Ouiser and I are thrilled. When we came home, my cousin Abbe was curled up on the couch watching a movie with S. And we were all excited and said, "S, we're going to have a baby brother!"

S immediately curled into the fetal position, buried her head into a cushion, and started bawling.

When we got her to calm down enough that she could speak, she just said, "but that's not what I wanted it to be. I wished for a girl."

She's happier now because we explained that she'd be the only princess in the house...the new baby will be a prince. That seemed to calm her down.

So that's the news from Dickson. Later, peeps.

rocks.

This morning, S went out to play with her cousins before they headed back to Indiana. The three kiddos were cute all bundled up picking up rocks and whatnot. After they left, I had about twenty minutes worth of stuff to do before we left for her to spend with day with Mellie, so I sat her in front of the TV and went about my business. One item of business was laundry. As I came back up the basement stairs, I noticed something odd about M's voice as he talked to S. I couldn't tell if she was in trouble...or hurt...or had been possessed.

When I walked into the room, M was kneeling in front of her, with a disgusted and panicked look on his face. Here's what went down...

M: "S, do you want me to take your coat off of you?"

S: "Yes, but can you get a bowl for my rocks?"

M: "Sure. Why don't you give me the rocks, and I'll put them into a bowl."

At this point, she digs into her pockets, and starts dropping things into his outreached hands. And then he realized that while there are some rocks involved with the process, what she's mostly pulling out of her pockets are dog terds.

Her coat has now been washed. And I think M boiled his own hands because he was so creeped out...but really the dog is on such major antibiotics right now that his poop is probably like vitamins. Anyway, I hope your day was as hysterical as mine.

the one where i chill myself out.

Despite the best intentions (you know that whole road to Hell thing, right?), things are a little stressful around here. Oddly, it's nothing holiday related that is stressing me out. It's just life. I think this may be one of those moments where I have an epiphany about adulthood. Like, maybe part of being an adult is learning to deal with the stressful life moments in the midst of chaos (the holidays being an example of chaos.) We've got some chimney issues, but it's nothing that can't be handled, and though I'm not stressed in the least, Mr. Ouiser is very stressed about it. He just needs a vacation. (I really believe...and this is directed at you because I know you're reading it, M, that if this situation had come up while he was away from work next week, he'd be taking it in stride.) The man's just got too much on his plate. Anyway, it's causing some stress. It just is.

So, somehow, suddenly, things seem to be snowballing around here. Which is ridiculous because I can't even really think about other reasons to be stressed. It's just one of those things- once you're stressed, you're stressed. Now I'm in a mood, and I've decided that the best way to get out of this funk (besides copious amounts of peppermint creamer with a side of Jack Johnson) is to sit down and remember the things in my life that I love and appreciate. Here goes.

• M, stress-wad that he is. He makes me laugh everyday, and that is a wonderful quality in a husband. Also, he makes me feel safe.
• S, who I want to beat often, but she always rallies. She is very funny, very precocious, very sweet, very pretty, and she surprises me constantly. For the record, I have never beaten her.
• My friends. I don't think I'd have made it through this week without HS and SB.
• The chimney sweep that was here yesterday. He was a genuinely nice person, and even though he gave us the verdict that stressed M out, I was happy that he was here. I feel like giving him a present (Actually S already did. She gave him the leftovers from Baja Burrito that were going to be my snack. I almost cried.)
• The guy who's coming to try to fix our garage door today. He was funny on the phone yesterday. Also, the prospect of parking in my garage and not navigating winter weather with a three-year-old is enticing.
• My Adam Egenolf coffee mug. I love it so.
• The family wall of pictures that I finally hung yesterday.
  A terrible picture of the family wall, but you get the idea.

S, helping hang the family wall. She's holding the pencil. Obviously, her help was invaluable.

• Newly sharpened pencils with good erasers and micro point vision pens by uni-ball (I just laughed because I typed uni-ball, which reminds me that I'm appreciative of my sixth grade sense of humour. I also love the extraneous Brit-like use of the letter "u.")
• Fruit Loops. I let S get them this week because it's-Christmas-for-crying-out-loud! She has eaten more than half the box in two days. I ate a bowl this morning, and it was like childhood in a bowl. And now I'm all doped up on sugar.

Of course I'm thankful for lots more than that. But those are all things that I can actually see (or things I can see reminders of) from where I'm sitting, and life can't be that bad if I can be grateful for that much stuff in my immediate area, right?

Here's a list of things that I just need to accept.

• There will always be a pile of laundry to be done and a mostly full dishwasher.
• There will always be something that should live in the attic or basement that is inexplicably living in my bedroom.
• I will always hate making the bed, but I will always hate seeing an unmade bed more.
• My daughter will eventually wipe her own bottom.
• The suede ties on S's slippers will never stay tied, and she will always be upset by this.
• Our local newspaper will always be terrible.
• I will always miss the Rick Reilly column at the back of Sports Illustrated.
• I will never, ever like Sarah Palin or anyone on FoxNews. Under any circumstances.

So thanks for the free therapy. I need to prepare for our daily Advent-ure and my day in general...

whoa. two posts. one day.

It's just that kind of day. Here's the updates:

• I ordered some snow stuff for S, so once this snow melts, there will be no more snow here until she has grown exactly enough that the stuff we bought won't fit. It's Murphy's Law. I'm sure you've heard of it.
• The Peppermint Bark. Oh, Good Lord. Make this. Eat this. Love this. When Molly mentions that the ugly, trimmed off edges are yours to nibble, I think she may have meant that you should set them aside and nibble on them over a lengthy period of time...or at least take longer than four minutes to eat them all. I've got a tummy ache and a sugar-overload headache. It was totally worth it, though. Totally. I will say that this didn't end up being a S-friendly activity. I thought she'd really love crushing the peppermints, but she hated it, and I quickly grew insanely nervous that she'd crush her fingers. She sprinkled the candy onto the two layers that needed sprinkling, but there was a lot of waiting on her part...and three-year-olds aren't big on waiting. Luckily, she was happy to play on her own and continually pick out Christmas music while I made candy. It all worked out rather nicely.
• A Clean Sweep. While I was making candy, S noticed that there were lots of little bits of crushed peppermint that had fallen to the floor (more like EXPLODED onto the floor as I crushed the candy...minor difference). She dutifully went and got her toy broom and told me not to worry about the floor because she'd sweep it all clean for me. She was occupied, so I didn't really pay attention until she told me that I could look because the floor was beautiful and clean. When I looked down, the floor was spotless. You're impressed, right? It even took a minute for the light bulb to go off in my head. This is a three-year-old without a dustpan. What happened to all the peppermint? Turns out, once you get the detritus out of the immediate kitchen area, you can just sweep as violently as you can to disperse it all over the house. I'm finding tiny shards of peppermint candy all over.
• Next year, I'm buying this. And, Toddler Tamer, I didn't find out about this until after our email exchange on the subject of crushing peppermints.
• Now I'm making Ham and Bean Soup, and I'm not sure if this is an exclusively southern thing, but it sure tastes and smells southern. Translation: it's got pork in it and it's delicious. If anyone needs a recipe, let me know. It's easy breezy to make, and it costs about three dollars to make a huge pot of it. It's a win-win.

Toodles, peeps.

snow.

2010 has been the year of snow. I don't remember a year of my life growing up when the calendar was bookended by snow quite like this one. It's killing me. Dickson County got as much snow or more than any other county in Tennessee, and the last count I saw was 6 inches. (Disclaimer: all my northeastern-living friends can make fun of me, I don't care.) I realize this isn't a lot of snow, but comparatively it is. We close schools around here for way less than that. Six inches is a blizzard and requires Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs -like quantities of bread and milk to be purchased by all families. Luckily, we are always able to get milk and bread because we buy organic milk and eat good bread...and even a blizzard can't get most southern papas to approve the expense of organic milk and anything other than white bread.

Now let's be clear: I don't like snow. I don't like cold and wet. I like humidity and heat. That's just how I roll. I have spent my entire life avoiding snow. I don't really remember ever wanting to play in it. When my brother would get all bundled up to go sledding or build snowmen or have massive snowball fights, I'd sit under a blanket and probably read or catch up on homework (because I've always been a dork.) When high school friends went on ski trips, I think I probably laughed out loud at the concept. So it's ridiculous to me that my daughter thinks that snow is the best stuff ever. Because her love of the most awful substance in the world that is legal (yes, I'm still talking about snow), we are going to have to invest in some actual snow gear. Last winter, when we were under-prepared, it was toward the end of winter, so we didn't feel bad about not purchasing snow pants or snow boots or anything else. We just bundled her up in layers and sent her out. She'd get cold and cry, then we'd come in, strip down, put on dry clothes, and that was that.

No more.

I thought I had until after Christmas this year to purchase snow stuff. It almost never snows here before Christmas. Snow comes (if it comes at all) in January and February. This snow blindsided me. Luckily, on snow day #1 (Sunday), I bundled her up, and as it was still snowing, she didn't have that much fun (also, she was only with me, and I'm not that fun frankly). We were outside for about half an hour. We achieved frozen lips and eyelashes full of snowflakes and we were done. Yesterday was a different story. We went to some friends' house where there were lots of kids and sleds. The sun was out, but there was lots of snow to play in. And play she did. She ate facefuls of snow, and snot literally froze to her face. She zipped down the hill with her friends. Mostly, she'd do this bobsled-style...meaning that one of the older kids would want to sled alone, and she'd give them a push then dive on behind them. It was pretty funny as long as you weren't the older kid. After what seemed like an hour, the mamas ventured inside and left the dads that were there to look after the kiddos. They stayed outside for what seemed like another hour. When S came in, I had to strip her down because, let's not forget, nothing that she was wearing was waterproof except her RAINBOOTS. She was so cold that her entire body was the color of a fire engine. I almost couldn't stand to touch her skin because it was so cold and looked so painful. She was just mad because she had to come inside. I do not understand this type of behavior. At all.

Anyway, that's what's been happening around here. Sunday's surprise for M was his favorite cookies: his mother's chocolate mint cookies, which are really excellent. They were well received. Yesterday, Elmer the Elf delivered the new pajamas I made her. Today, we're going to decorate Mr. P's tree when M gets home from work. (I know you all needed an Advent-ure update.) Also, to keep us inside today (because no one can realistically expect me to brave this snow THREE DAYS IN A ROW), we're going to make peppermint bark. We also got a package that contained egregious amounts of green packing peanuts, which we're going to string like popcorn because she's been asking to string popcorn, but no way that's happening as our dog would destroy the project almost instantaneoulsy. As a last resort, we can repaint her fingernails. I've seriously got this day planned out...with no plans for snow.

Now, I must get to it. We've got lots to do. Here's some pictures.

New pajamas and new slippers.

advent-ures.

I felt too guilty to let S forget about the centerpiece, but I remembered that I could control how involved she was in the process. During her rest time, I went outside and cut magnolia, holly, and some sort of evergreen branches. Then she just told me what to put where. She also ran around waving two branches of holly, pretending to be a flying Christmas tree. Despite the huge centerpiece-in-the-punchbowl on the dining room table, she's more proud of the one branch of holly tree that she put into a vase on her own, and that's just fine with me. I feel better knowing that I didn't flake out on her, and she had a great time. Friday was "Spend the night with T and Grandma" night from the Advent Calendar, which gave M and I a chance to go on our annual Christmas date and a chance for me to fix M's flat tire (correction: pay someone to fix M's flat tire) and to drop my car off for service. We had an early dinner, grabbed some coffee, and came home. It was awesome. Yesterday's activity was to go see Tangled, which was really good. M had to miss it, though. He's been working all weekend, trying to get caught up from being sick and being out of town for meetings. Today, we're making a surprise for him. I don't know what she's more excited about: the surprise for Daddy or the fact that it's snowing. She's pretty stoked about both.

So our Advent advent-ures are moving right along, and it's mind-boggling to realize how fast it's going. I'm super glad we're doing it. It gives me/us a chance to do something together, and a chance to at least recognize the season. It has always seemed to get away from me in the past. Not this year, peeps. This year, I am in the moment. Well, as in the moment as one can be who has meticulously mapped out her plans. You get the point, though.

Now, S and I have a project to work on. Enjoy your Sunday, peeps.

i hope she forgets.

Today is the first day that I hope S forgets what Elmer the Elf said we could do today. Today, we're supposed to make a Christmas centerpiece...which means scavenging outside for materials. Um, it's cold. I even swapped yesterday's Gingerbread House activity with today's because it's supposed to be something like five degrees warmer. Honestly, five degrees is not making a lick of difference. It's too cold outside, and I really don't want to traipse all over the place cutting branches of holly and magnolia and picking up sticks. I really, really don't. I want to make a cup of tea and curl up under a blanket and sleep. Alas, it will not happen. Know why? Because even if she forgets about it today, which could happen...she'll remember it tonight before bed or tomorrow just before we have to go out, and she will FREAK OUT that we forgot to do it. There would be tears and probably bribery with tootsie rolls. So it's probably just easier to get it over with. Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced my Christmas spirit somewhere last night. I think I coughed it up or something. I think I'll go try to find it now.

Oh, unrelated...S's first dentist appointment was this morning. If you have a small child that hasn't been to the dentist yet, I highly recommend finding a pediatric dentist. She had been to the dentist with us before, and even though the hygienists ate her up and the dentist told her jokes and gave her stickers, she wouldn't even consider letting any of them near her mouth. Today, however, there were toys and brightly colored walls and cartoons, and she thought it was actually fun. So check it out if you've got a little one with dental needs.

Now, I'm off to brew some tea and turn this humbug day into a fun day. Or at least a day that's not quite so humbug*.

*S heard the term humbug yesterday and she'd like to know what kind of bug it is...like a spider or a mosquito? And if you leave it alone, will it leave you alone like most bugs??

nice house.

This is what happens when you let your three-year-old completely decide what to do with the gingerbread house. I think she only stopped because she probably has a tummy ache from licking all the frosting. I know I do. Of course, she still had the ability to eat three of the tootsie rolls that didn't become trees. We won't be winning any awards for this gingerbread house, but she and I both had so much fun...and the results are colorful. Just like S. I love it.

Also, I realized after the fact that the picture from yesterday's post is the first that I've shared that shows the inside of the new house. So now you know a little about what the kitchen looks like. You're welcome. I know you were waiting.

Aside from all that...months ago we decided to try to get S to talk about what she was thankful for before meals. They sing a prayer at school before lunch, but I've never really been one for reciting prayers even if watching my child sing a prayer is crazy adorable. Somehow it becomes auto-pilot, and I think the point of the exercise is easily forgotten. (The point, of course, being to recognize that you're grateful for your food. Or anything else.) So the "What were you thankful for today?" thing began. Now we each have to tell something we were thankful for before we eat dinner. When we started, S would come up with something unusual, but that was cool. Then the stock answer at every meal became, "You and Daddy." Don't get me wrong, I'll take it...and I'm thankful for her and M everyday, so I get it, but I was worried that she was missing the point and had already zoned out. And I desperately want my child to understand and appreciate how fortunate we are. Because we are so, so fortunate. Anyway, a few days ago, I think she started to get it. Suddenly, there's a list of friends that she might mention. Or yesterday it was birds and butterflies and squirrels. Another day it was all the pretty trees and plants. So she's at least not giving me a stock answer. Maybe it's starting to work.

I just thought I'd share that because I'm feeling really, really blessed these days. Even though the heat is turned down to make us a little greener and I have to stay all bundled up, I have a warm house and more than enough to eat. I'm one of the lucky people on the planet who can afford to eat fresh produce and dairy all year. I am healthy. My daughter is healthy. My husband is amazing. I have a jar of fruit slices cheering up my kitchen. I was able to make a gingerbread house with my child today. I could go on and on and on. But I won't.

salty and sweet.

I can safely say that the salt dough ornaments were a rousing success. S loved it, and having mixed, rolled, cut, and baked the ornaments ahead of time was probably a wise move. If she had helped, she would've been upset that the shapes got distorted when they were peeled off the counter (which The Artful Parent had warned me about, but I threw caution to the wind). However, when presented with colorful pots of paint, three shakers of glitter, a bowl of "diamonds", a jar of paintbrushes, and a handful of ready-to-paint ornaments, the kid was in heaven. The result was half an hour of bliss. She wanted to surprise me with every ornament, so I had to look the other way while she painted and glittered and bedazzled. Then I would ooh and ahh over each creation, and I don't know of many activities that have ever made her happier. Seriously, you should do this if you have kids...or if you have nieces or nephews and want to be the cool aunt/uncle. Or if your friends' kids are coming over and you need something to occupy their time. And the clean-up wasn't even bad. I'm telling you, total holiday success.

I will give you this heads-up. I had done a little research on salt dough before I prepared ours yesterday because when I made it two years ago I was flummoxed by the consistency and annoyance of the process, so I'm going to share how I made this batch because it was really simple and non-stressful, and that's what we're all about around here, right? I mixed one cup of iodized table salt (48 cents at the Dollar General!!) with two cups of all purpose flour and one cup of warm tap water. I threw that stuff in the Kitchen Aid until it was mixed, then I put on the dough hook and let the mixer knead the dough for a solid ten minutes. The dough was very, very smooth and pliable, and I remembered it being grainy and difficult to work the last time, so I think the extensive mechanical kneading was a great success. Then I rolled that goop out, cut the shapes, poked some holes for ribbons, and baked the ornaments at 300 degrees for just under two hours. I started checking them at one hour, and kept them in the oven until the middles weren't squishy anymore. The only thing I'll do differently in the future is the step The Artful Parent mentioned. Next time around, I'll roll the dough directly onto parchment paper (or my handy silicone faux parchment paper) before I cut the shapes. The edges really do get a bit wonky when you have to peel the shapes off your countertop. Not that it matters because the ornaments were painted by a three-year-old...they were destined to look a little wonky anyway. We painted the ornaments with acrylic paint and added glitter and little fake jewels. Now they're drying...and once some ribbons are added, those suckers will find homes on Christmas trees throughout the family.

*The recipe makes enough for more than a half dozen ornaments. We're giving some baked and unpainted ornaments to a friend to paint, and I threw away the scraps instead of re-rolling/re-cutting. You could safely get about a half dozen ornaments out of the recipe amounts I referenced.

Now, the sweet thing I mentioned in the post title. It's really a small thing. When the fruit slices were all cut up for the gumdrop cookies yesterday, there were a couple of handfuls leftover. As M loves them, I threw them into a mason jar to keep for him. Now there's a mason jar of brightly colored fruit slices sitting on the kitchen shelf. For some reason, I am unable to look at their colorful sugariness and not smile. That jar is making me so happy. I might be a little unbalanced.

yowsers.

So the perfection didn't really last yesterday. Somewhere around the time the chicken and rice went into the oven, I got a wicked headache/backache combo. And you know how that goes...how physically feeling bad can just ruin your whole mood. After dinner, we were on the couch and my head completely filled with congestion and that was all she wrote. M graciously sent me to bed about 645, and I stayed there until this morning (minus the preggo potty breaks). I'm amazingly well today, which may have something to do with M being out of town for the week and my not having the option to be sick. I prefer to think I'm actually well, though. I was well enough to go to the gym this morning, so that's something, right? Anyway, tough night. We're righting this train now, though. Let the holiday cheer commence.

This afternoon, S and I will be making Mr. P's favorite cookies: the infamous gumdrop cookies. This is one of those tasks that you do only because you truly love someone. Making these cookies is a chore. I worry that involving a three-year-old will make it worse, but then I remembered that I don't know if the process could get worse. Seriously, have you ever cut fruit slices (because we've never successfully found gumdrops and fruit slices are the closest substitute) into tiny little pieces? It is not fun. They stick to everything. The knife. The cutting board. Me. I've tried greasing the knife. I've tried using flour. I've tried using the Cuisinart. Nothing works. You just have to stick it out and cut those little twerps by hand. Luckily, M's dad is always really happy to have those cookies. Because I'd scrap those from my repertoire in a heartbeat. Wow. What happened to that holiday cheer I mentioned?

I'm also going to make salt dough this afternoon. Tomorrow's advent activity is to make salt dough ornaments, which we did a couple of years ago. From our previous experience and some quick internet research, I've discovered that the mixing/rolling/cutting/baking is probably too tedious for S, so I'm going to do that ahead of time. That way, she can just paint and glitter to her little heart's content tomorrow. I think that'll make the activity more enjoyable for both of us. And the whole point of this calendar of advent activities is to allow us to ENJOY things together.

Beyond that, we're just trying to stay warm. It's in the 20s here, people. The 20s. That doesn't even compute for me. I had to get out gloves and hats this morning. What is the world coming to??

Until next time...

4th and 21.

I started this post yesterday. It was supposed to be adorably titled as it would be about the Advent Calendar...but sound like football. Ah, football.

Today's Advent activity (technically, yesterday's) was supposed to be "Buy our Christmas Tree," but it looked a little rainy. So, it got changed to "Help Mellie decorate her Christmas Tree," which gave M and I an opportunity to go purchase ours and bring it into the house as a surprise. And quite a surprise it was. When S came home, she literally hopped up and down and spun in circles for a solid two minutes, giggling with excitement. Then we could swear we saw little Christmas tears of joy. It was fabulous. The day ended up being pretty great. We ate biscuits and drank coffee/chocolate milk as a family. S helped Mellie. S puked (not fabulous, but not a big deal). S got crazy excited about having a tree in our house. M and I put lights on the tree during S's rest time. We listened to lots of Christmas music. We gobbled up some pizza while we listened to more Christmas music. We watched a movie as a family. We read more Christmas books. We tucked S into bed. M and I watched Love Actually by the light of the Christmas tree. It was an awesome day.

Today Elmer the Elf dictated that we should decorate our tree, and decorate we did. Before we decorated, though, S helped me make chocolate chip muffins. While they baked, M read the paper with coffee in hand and S took a marker to this week's Toys R Us circular. After muffins, M brought all the Christmas boxes down from the attic and decorating commenced. There are a LOT of ornaments on the bottom two feet of the tree thanks to a certain three-year-old. She was very particular about not wanting the ornaments to be lonely. ("Mommy, this snow-woman needs to be next to this snowman so they can be friends!" or "Mommy, this guitar ornament needs to be next to this nutcracker ornament so the nutcracker will have an instrument to play!") Once the tree was all finished, we busted out the nutcrackers and the very extensive Irish Nativity set. S is pretty jazzed about all the Christmas around the house. She's even gotten into helping pick out which music we listen to, which is cool as long as you want to listen to one of the two Disney Christmas CDs.

The other big deal around here is her apparent continued adoration of snow globes. Last Christmas, the one thing she really begged for was a Snow White Snow Globe, which stays out in her room all year. But she notices other snow globes everywhere we go. She came home from Mellie's yesterday with a little one, and when we unpacked two that were put away this morning she was crazy thrilled. I worry that she'll grow up to be "Crazy Snow Globe Lady" instead of "Crazy Cat Lady" and much like her father is "Crazy Nutcracker Guy." There are worse things...

Now I'm going to see what my family is up to and prepare to make my grandma's chicken and rice casserole for dinner. Delish!

a mostly non-holiday post.

I'll go ahead and get the holiday stuff out of the way. Day two of the Advent calendar was a success. Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer was watched. Unfortunately, Mr. Ouiser is really sick, so he fell asleep in the middle of it. It's okay, though. I think he mostly just likes that Burl Ives is the snowman, and he gets his Burl Ives fix through listening to Christmas music nonstop. Today's activity had to be altered. Because M is so ill, and S is a little ill, we might have to skip Christmas in Downtown Dickson this year. I really don't want to share our germs, and I don't want to pick up any new ones while our immune systems are already depleted. So, today we'll be painting nails red and green. Of course I reserve the right to head downtown anyway if S seems to be recovered because, frankly, I want to go. I love Christmas in Downtown Dickson. It's really, truly like walking through It's A Wonderful Life...with newer clothes.

Now, here's our dilemma, which you'll just have to imagine because I'm too lazy to take a picture. Our new house is pretty big. Huge compared to our old house. Our family room, which includes our kitchen, pantry, and some extra space that is breakfast nookish, is a BIG room. However, the space that's breakfast nookish is tiny and blocks the path into the ballroom and the path into the library (sounds like we live on a Clue gameboard, doesn't it?). When we replaced the light fixture in that space, we weren't really thinking about where it was. We just put a new one where the old one had been. But we now realize that it's placement is problematic. When you walk in the door, there is a vast amount of open space. Vast. Then there's the kitchen table smooshed into a tiny space that you can't comfortably walk around. We can't move the light fixture too much because there's a header across the ceiling in one area of the room and there's a partial wall on the other side. Like I said, problematic. What's crazy about it is that looking at designs for small spaces seems and feels absurd because the space is quite large. It's just laid out badly, which I understand is a result of that room being added on at some point. Oh, well. I'm just throwing this out there. If I'm too lazy to take pictures, I can't really expect help, can I?

I was just worried that maybe you wanted me to talk about something other than Advent activities. I know you all feel more complete now. Don't you? This post is ridiculous. Have a great weekend, peeps.

2 down.

I really wanted to take a picture of S opening the first little drawer of her Advent calendar yesterday, but I left the camera at my parents' house on Thanksgiving...and I forgot that I own two cameras. And a phone that takes pictures. I can only be expected to remember so many things.

Either way, the first two days have been very successful. S was insanely thrilled to get a treat both mornings, and when I read the little paper to her yesterday that said, "decorate your Christmas tree," she actually squealed. I take that as a good sign. Then last night, after going out to satiate my craving for a cheeseburger, we decorated her tree and then spent a solid hour reading Christmas books. It was a wonderful first night of December. I wouldn't trade it.

Moving on...we haven't really started decorating yet, as Elmer the Elf (he's the one putting treats into the calendar according to S) won't be telling us to get a tree until Saturday. However, I felt a desperate need to put a big red bow on the lightpost on the edge of the courtyard Monday and then I desperately needed to cut some holly yesterday. So, there's a bow outside, and holly in the bathroom and on the kitchen table. I can't put anything on the dining room table yet as that will be an activity for S.

When all is said and done, we've achieved two days of December without my wanting to put my head in an oven, and I think that's farther than my mother ever got. Cheers!!