The Walrus

Okay, so this is what I looked like last night.  Sort of.  Add a mouth guard, some crazy hair, two dark circles, my Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire book, and we're golden. 

I had just drifted off good and was getting going in dreamland.  I'm pretty sure I was fighting a dragon over a golden egg, when a scream jolted me out of sleep--my scream.  I was screaming out loud and everything, over the tremendous roar of a dragon!  Which wasn't really a dragon (duh), but my dog bark/growling at my very fat cat, who had made a risky jump for it from the hall, over the dog, onto our bed and landed on me--with his very fat cat body.  Well, when I screamed, it of course woke The Hubbs and made him jump really big, and get in the Ninja crouch on top of the bed, all ready to take a dragon dooooown.  It was pretty impressive. 

And really scary! I saw my heart come out of my chest shaped like a heart too.  That really does happen.  So after we yelled at the dog, comforted the cat until his big tail went down to normal size, checked on the kiddos (somehow they can sleep through their mother screaming bloody murder at Midnight, but wake up when the neighbor opens their garage door three doors down at 5:00 a.m.), we settled back in. 

It took me a while to calm down and stop shaking.  I couldn't believe how much my dog sounded like a dragon. I heard The Hubby chuckle.  It was already funny to him.  Then he said, "So that's your scream?"

This reminded me that I totally thought I couldn't scream anymore.  I've tried.  We're always making fun of our little girls that scream like little girls very well.  And when I try to imitate them, it totally doesn't come out like a little girl scream.  If it comes out at all, it's kind of like...like...a walrus.  Have you ever heard a walrus?  You should Google it if you haven't, cuz it makes this story better.

I was sure that's where The Hubbs was going with this.  He continued to chuckle to himself, reliving the whole episode. Embarrassed, I said, "What, The Walrus?"  Laughing, he said, "No, it was a good scream--very high pitched and shriek-ey."  He was proud of me. I can still scream like a little girl--if I have to.

This & That

In an effort to keep blogging, despite the lack of time I have right now to sit and write out everything that's been going on the past couple weeks; I'd like to share things, via pictures.  It's quick (you have things to do) and each pic says so much.  If not, just make it up.

This year's Christmas tree.  I wanted to find a tall, skinny one to fit in the family room this year.  We usually have a big one up front, but we spend all our time in the family room, so it was a goal this year. Isn't it so cooooozy? You want to come over. It's okay, if you call it a Snoopy tree too.  I might love that.

I would like this dress for Christmas, Santa.  Given that it costs over $300, I figure it would be better if you got it for me, versus The Hubbs.  I know I'm probably only going to the neighbor's house for New Year's Eve, but Momma wants to look special. Did I mention I'm in deep looooove with this dress?  It makes me kinda happy.  I would hug it.  For you, I'd even wear it to PTO meetings and grocery shopping.  I would wear this sucker out. Thanks, ahead of time.

Me & My Dad.  I just have nuttin' but loooove for this guy! I am so much like him in many ways (we're Taurus's) and I love being in the position to share my life...my kiddos...with him as an adult. He has a great sense of humor and is reeeeally good at growing Amish beards (not shown in this pic, but stay tuned for the Christmas day pic).  He also plays a maaaad game of Hucklebuckle Beanstock with the kiddos.  Good grandpa.

This is my girls looking all sweet (cuz I made them).  They appear to like one another, so soak it in while you can.  This gingerbread house was totally a kit.  The gingerbread part was ready to go.  All we had to do was frost it and decorate. It took a...veeery...looong...tiiime. I've decided I have no skills whatsoever in frosting things to make them look like anything other than globs of frosting.  I got an "A" for effort and then gladly passed the job over to the girls.  So this is all them.  Which I flipping love.

This is of the girls and their cousin after a dance recital. I apparently need to read my camera's instruction book, cuz all the actual recital pics turned out too dark.  I am very upset about this, but needed to have "proof that we were there". So here you go (see the stage they are sitting on?). Yes, the pajamas are their costumes. The boots aren't part of it though. I promise, they are real life daaaaancers, with tap and ballet shoes and errrrrthang. :)

O was in a school play version of The Nutcracker this week! It was quite special, indeed, but you're gonna have to imagine it, cuz THE PICTURES ARE TOO DARK. (Please refer to to the previous photo and notice the ballet shoes in this one.)

Stage.

The Fans.

I have a weekly date with this Rock Star. I get pretty grumpy if I don't get to see him. He's kind of awesome like that.

O's Santa Letter.  Hope Santa's on the ball!

A-girl's Santa Letter. Don't we always want a puppy?

Well, I actually have things to do too.  So I'm gonna go and do that.  And then tell you about it, in pictures and big, bold, sometimes slanted words. 

Momma Needs A Nap

Okay, I seriously need to blog a lot, so that my last post gets pushed down and maybe even to the next page, cuz it's creeping me out a little every time I see the Reborn pics. I probably could've used one pic to get my point across, versus twenty. Also, also, it's making me want a newborn.  A little baby boy newborn. Not a Reborn newborn, a real, keep-me-up-all-night-and-drain-every-last-drop-of-energy-and-beauty-I-have-left-but-dang-they-smell-SO-GOOD, wonderful newborn baby boy. And that is REALLY creeping me out. (smiiiiile)  Instead I will blog and sleep.

Speaking of sleep.  I'm tired.  Like dog-tired.  I knew it was serious when I went to tuck A-girl in her bed and actually climbed in, under her covers and positioned not one, but two pillows to make myself comfortable.  I let the girl read the whole book to me, which is usually excruciating coming from a 6-yr-old who just learned how to read.  Slow as molasses. 

Then I went in O's room and repeated that whole scene.  I even pulled the second blanket up and got real cozy.  We snuggled.  It's her favorite. 

Then reality flipping crept in and I remembered I still had lunches to make, a coffee pot to set, a dog and cat to feed, laundry to fold and the garbage and recycling to take out.  Dang. 






It is just that crazy holiday season that makes the Go, Go, Go even more so.  You all know what I'm talking about, cuz you're doing it too.  Aren't you tired?  I'm not gonna be all Scrooge, cuz I loooove Christmas.  It's my favorite.  I love sitting in the family room all cozied up on the couch with just the Christmas tree lit.  I love taking the long way home to see Christmas lights. I love seeing Christmas trees tied to car roofs. I love Christmas music. I love Eggnog lattes.  I love online shopping and especially love the gift wrap option.

I don't love getting stuck at the stop light for THREE lights in a row, to turn into Target. I don't love the mall normally and won't even look at it during this time of year.  If I don't see it, it's not there. And the post office gives me hives. That's about it.  I love everything else about this time of year.  Though I'm probably forgetting something...cuz I need sleep.

Oh yes, sleeeeep.  Just typing that out, makes me jealous. I'm just thinking about the day I have in store and it's making me upset, cuz I need to not be blogging right now.  This week has been nuts.  With all the regular stuff I have to do as a single mother (cuz the hubby is never, ever here)--plus the dance class, dance recitals, the Christmas rush, carpet shampooing, school play, unclogging the toilet--I have all this PTO stuff going on.  Today, I deliver cookie dough all over Portland.  I have to cross bridges and everything.  I even have the PTO duties on Saturday.  It's movie night at the school, so I may be able to squeeze a nap in there. My only day "off" is Friday, of which I will fill up to the brim with stuff I actually want to do, like drive in my car with a friend and get coffee and absolutely not go to the mall or Target or the school or over bridges.  Maybe we'll just nap in the car, in the driveway.  I think I can talk my friend into this.

This is another indicator that I need sleep.  I slept on the couch last night.  Not like dozed off (which is the norm), but crashed.  I fell asleep watching Ghost Hunters (also a huge indicator that something's off, cuz I turn into a werewolf if I miss this show) and woke up at 3:00 a.m.!  Never, in the history of Sunshine has that happened.  I was so upset, cuz I love my bed.  It's good.  Plus, it's weird shutting down the house, turning off the outside Christmas lights and turning on the dryer at 3:00 a.m. I don't know why it's weird, but that thought occurred to me. 





I'm daydreaming about January.  Which stinks, cuz #1, it's January and #2, I love Christmas.  I really do.  I just want to enjoy Christmas like you do when you're eight-year's-old, is all.  I want to wear feety pajamas (not really, I didn't even like them when I was eight), beg for candy canes every five minutes, open the little window on the Advent calendar and get really excited over a little window-sized piece of terrible chocolate, tell you what I want for Christmas, and just show up. Plus, you could care less about naps when you're eight.  That trumps it all. 

Let's Be Real

It's been a pretty low-key week.  Still busy as ever with the kids, dance classes, PTO stuff, Christmas shopping, Christmas decorating in and out and all around (I need a wreath for the car--errrbody's doing it), winterizing the house and the normal hum of our routine, just not too much *extra*, if you know what I mean.  This week I subtracted a coffee date (I missed my French toast latte with B and The Boy big this week) and added a Civil War game (Go Ducks!  Go Beavers!--I love everyone, which makes me a platypus), Bunco and a nap at Barnes & Noble (thanks Jen), so you know, it all works out.  Can you believe that's "low key"?  'Tis.

Okay, I totally have to write about this, cuz I saw it, and I can't stop thinking about it.  That's when I know it goes to the blog.  I was switching around on the telly (my pretend British accent, cuz I'm about to tell you a British tale), and came upon the BBC channel, and a documentary called, My Fake Baby.  I stopped, immediately pulled in (pushing the Tivo button as I knew I'd want to show this to someone).  It is here I was introduced into a world I had no idea was out there.  I am so sheltered.  And normal. 

Apparently there is a very good sized market out there for these dolls called, Reborns.  They are dolls made to look incredibly real.  They are exquisit, beautiful, dolls that will absolutely make you siiiigh, and stir your maternal instincts.  They are that good.  Doll collectors adore them.  They can be custom made with birthmarks, little newborn scratches to their face, forcep marks, dimples, crooked pinkies, real hair, heartbeats, breathing mechanisms, can be weighted and pretty much anything else you can think of that would make a doll look real enough to pick up, cradle and sing to.  They are amazing.  Amazing, I tell you.  I called my girls down to watch it with me and we all went a little goo-goo. Little bit.

And then...and then, here came the world I had no idea existed.  Apparently there are people that will go out in real life with these dolls and pretend play that they are real babies.  They will buy car seats, strollers, bottles (filled with liquid fabric softener, so that it doesn't go moldy) and go in real life situations (playgrounds, restaurants, shopping, etc...) as if these dolls are their children. 

One couple (yes, I said couple, like not only is there a woman who is doing this, but a married woman with a partner that will do this with her), were at an aquarium with the doll and had someone take a picture of them with the doll in front of the shark tank.  What?  I'll type it again, WHAT?! 

This poor woman even went as far as to fly from Britain to Washington D.C. to "adopt" a "baby girl".  She even went shopping for a take home outfit and paid just under $300 for one little designer outfit.  (faint) While in D.C., she spent a couple days "bonding" with her baby, only to realize that her baby had a crack on its head, which made the doll (cuz as soon as she saw the baby had the crack, it pretty much became a regular old doll again) useless and the woman returned home empty handed, and completely distraught. 

What is GOING ON?!  Okay, look, to each their own. This poor woman isn't hurting anyone. I know there are probably many reasons why people would do this.  I don't even want to think about what I would do if I lost a baby.  I won't even go there.  And really, these dolls are amazing!  The six-year-old little girl in me WANTS ONE (or eight).  But two seconds into that thought, reality settles in, as it should, and all these bells and whistles start blaring that I'm bordering crazy.  Do not go there.  And like a normal person, I don't go there. 

I can just imagine if I popped one of those dolls in a sling and went to my girls' school to do my PTO duties,  "kid in tow".  For a second all the peeps in the teachers' workroom would melt, cuz they'd really think I had a baby in there (I didn't even know you were pregnant).  Then they'd realize and it would become very uncomfortable and awkward and they would be patting my back and saying, "Awwww, poor thing," and then, in a big group, they'd all go see the school counselor to discuss an Intervention For Sunshine.  Or I'd get fired.  But I'm a volunteeeeer... I'd still get fired and The Crazy would go on my record and I'd have to move. By myself, cuz my hubby don't like crazy.

I don't want to move.  I like it here.  So I'm totally not getting a doll.  And don't you do it either.  Now go look at these pics and do not get sucked in and go crazy.  Just look, be amazed, tell your friends, siiigh at great length and then go back to reality and stay there. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klmhNSu2ZbY

Snippet of the BBC documentary--My Fake Baby

Okay, I'm done now.