Troublesome Little Elf

By now, everyone is probably sick with all the Elf on the Shelf photos floating around the Internets in December. But I was going through my Christmas photos (finally!) last night and doing my monthly external back-up when I happened to spy this one photo of Rupert's Shenanigans that I absolutely loved.

Rupert is our Elf on the Shelf brought to Cyra when she was in kindergarten, before the huge Elf on the Shelf bandwagon was formed (OMG please tell me that doesn't make me hipster!). After a pretty rough November in which said kindergartener was misbehaving, Santa brought Rupert to keep an eye on things.

For the most part, Rupert just moved around, watching...watching...like the burning eye of Sauron. That is until 2012 when Rupert decided to have some "fun" and got into plenty of trouble: TPing the Christmas tree, dying all the milk green, using all of Cyra's bodywash taking a bubblebath. You get the idea.

This past Christmas was probably the last that Cyra will be a firm believer in the Magic of Christmas. And Rupert, willing shenaniganer that he is, was a willing participant. That is until some of the other toys in the house got tired of his crap...

A Paizo Goblin, a Dalek, and Sebastian from Black Butler all ganged up on Rupert and Irish Princess Barbie (Rupert's love interest) and tried to feed Rupert to a collection of evil monster miniatures.

Cyra, the calm, collected kid that she is, came out in the morning and just shook her head.

"Oh, Rupert," she said softly, "What have you gotten yourself into now?"

I Made It Monday

So crafty hasn't really been on radar lately. I've been...lazy. Yup. Just plain lazy. That isn't an excuse or maybe it is. Maybe the current financial issues that I've been going through have finally broken my creative side. Maybe I've been just a bit too obsessed with Legend of Zelda: The Twilight Princess (it's an old game, but new to me!). Maybe it's because the cold snap that settled on us over the last few weeks has done a number on my hands (what does that mean anyway? "Done a number?" Tap danced? Belted out a song?) and now they are cracked and crusty with dry skin that no amount of moisturizing can fix.

Whatever the reasons, I proudly present a Christmas project that I made for the girls. I didn't take photos of the process which is unlike me but I didn't want the girls to accidentally find them on the camera or on the computer since it was a surprise. We've always used store bought Advent calendars in the past so when I saw this for sale at Hobby Lobby, I knew I had to give it a try.

Remember all that glue I spilled over my dining room table because I was mod podging? Well I was working on this along with some other projects. Actually, this is the second Advent calendar I made.  The first one I nearly completed but with the Florida humidity it was still a bit tacky when Scott put some other things on top of it as he rearranged stuff in our closet. The resulting gluey mess was not pretty but I was actually okay with the wanton destruction as it allowed me to learn from the first one and make the second one better.

I filled it with some chocolates and charms for a holiday themed charm bracelet that we assembled as the month went on. The girls had fun rushing for it every morning; of course, they said I needed to make another one so that they can each have their own for "later on."

Friday Photos

Alright so these are older photos from December, but I figured that since Blogger and I were taking a break and all, I'd go pull some funny shots I would have shared if I could have.

Every year I buy a gingerbread house kit from Wilton. I know I might lose some of my baking cred here, but I really don't like gingerbread all that much and for me rolling out dough is a pain. The kits are relatively cheap, offer an afternoon of shenanigans (and yes, it always ends with shenanigans!), and the end result is a pretty "creative" center piece during the lead up to Christmas.

This year I got the mini village kit with four tiny houses and another kit to make trees. What started out are a serious endevour quickly degenerated into a nonpareil food fight with Ashleigh and I slinging sprinkles across the table at each other. Cyra was definitely not amused. In fact, she was so serious and determined to make her two houses perfect that she didn't even throw one sprinkle! And she yelled at us to "stop acting like children."

Jeesh. Ten year olds are so bossy.

This was our finished project. I used two lemon Starbursts and molded them into stars for the tops of my trees. Ashleigh and I got crazy with the decorating and ended up making a mess.

Notice how the right side looks as though it has been attacked by the Cake Boss if he had broken all his fingers and his arm in three places and was psychotic. Yeah. That's Ashleigh's side.

Now the problem with leaving out an edible decoration, we've discovered, is that our dog Junie likes to counter surf. Nothing is safe. And though she has gotton much better about behaving now that I watch her like a hawk all day and keep the counters and tables free from temptation, I knew that a tray laden with sweet cookies and icing would be her downfall. In order to keep our village safe, each night I would slip it into the oven.

Surely nothing could go wrong with that plan.

Nothing that is until a few days before Christmas when I forgot to take it out and preheated the oven for dinner...

A delicious sweet smell wafted out from the over as I was chopping up a pepper. And all of a sudden it dawned on me: The Village!

Pulling it out of the oven I couldn't help but laugh. Cyra came running out to see what was so funn an nearly burst into tears.

"It's okay," I told her. "Look, only the icing roads and my stars seem to be melty. It'll be fine."

Unless, of course, you're the dingbat who pops it back into the oven that night and promptly forgets about it until Christmas morning, when once again, the oven required some preheating. This time, however, distracted by the chaos of the morning, I didn't remember until I was about to put in the blueberry stuffed French toast.

"Cyra," I cried out, "I did it again!"

"MOMMY!" she hollered from the living room as she rushed into the kitchen shiny new presents temporarily forgotten. Her shoulders sagged a little in defeat and my mom stifled a giggle. I couldn't help it. I burst into laughter. Cyra glared at me for a second before running back into the living. She returned a few seconds later camera in hand.

"Here," she sighed. "You might as well take pictures of it."

One of Crya's houses completely collapsed, but the others stood up well.

My handmade stars, on the other hand, didn't fair as well.

The lesson? Always check inside your oven before you preheat it. Or maybe just don't store things in your oven in the first place.

Boxing Day Gratitude

Christmas was a success. It typically is so it goes without saying but it is nice to acknowledge when things go right. The presents were all under the tree, wrapped and ready to go by 11pm Christmas Eve so I potentially would have gotten a good night’s sleep if in fact I had been able to sleep at all. The blueberry sauce didn’t bubble over, which meant that I didn’t have additional kitchen clean up. And most importantly, to me anyhow, the Girls loved every second. Granted, I could probably wrap a couple of brightly polished rocks or a couple of packs of funky socks and they’d be thrilled (no joke, those kids love rocks and socks!).

I managed to keep Christmas reasonable and budget friendly by starting my shopping way back in August (in some cases even earlier). I knew what they would like and I started looking for sales and discount and coupons and for the most part found them easily while convincing the Girls that the few things they did asked for were ridiculously expensive.

I’m kind of mean like that.

But on the other hand, I lucked out with my kids because they are so unimpressed with gadgets and technology it is a rare Christmas that finds mp3 players or e-readers under our tree. This year was no exception. Legos, board games and DVDs dominated the top spots. For Cyra the Lord of the Rings Lego set was her big gift and for Ashleigh seasons 1 – 5 of Doctor Who were hers.

I’ve mentioned before that we are a family of gamers. Board games, video games, card game, RPGs, we play them all. Our living room is taken up by DVDs and games. We have two storage ottomans stuffed with all manner of games. My point? We are always looking for new games to play.

And that brings me to some very sincere “thank yous.”

First, to my BFF Sara for marrying such an awesome guy. Geordie introduced Sara to Settlers of Catan and then shortly thereafter, introduced it to me and the girls. Who would have ever thought sheep herding was a fun thing? But we loved it, especially Cyra who quickly developed a knack for the game.

Catan was the first game to find its way under the tree.

Next, for the rest of the board games, I’m going to have to give a huge shout out to a celebrity, something I’m fairly sure I have never done before. But a big thanks to Wil Wheaton.

Yup. Wil Wheaton, awesome actor and avid gamer.

Wil Wheaton who, among other things, hosts a cool web show called Table Top on Geek and Sundry (I’ve mentioned them before too) where each episode he gathers some of his friends around a beautiful gaming table that I so desperately yearn for, and plays a game. Wil Wheaton introduced Ashleigh and I to Gloom, Star Fluxx, and Dixit which all found places under the tree this year too.

There were a bunch of other games that were features on Table Top that I was willing to get but…budget, budget, budget.

I’d also like to thank Ashleigh for insisting that we trade in old Wii games for some new used ones. If she hadn’t I would have never found what is clearly the best Wii game in existence: Dinosaur Strike.

I can barely describe it because words can not adequately explain the awesomeness that is this game. So a very brief description: You get to fight dinosaurs AS A DINOSAUR!!!! OMFG!! This is a game that was designed specifically for me. It is, as Sara said, like a dream come true. Why Dinosaur Strike was not the most heavily promoted game of 2010 I have no idea. Even worse? They’ve stopped making it and while I got it for a song at GameStop, I looked it up on Amazon and the prices for it there range from $50 to $250! Yikes!

Scott and I played it last night while the girls ate dinner (I make a huge Christmas brunch rather than a dinner so later meals are a ‘get it yourself’ deal). He played as a T-Rex (of course) and I was a velociraptor (totally my favorite carnivorous dino. FYI: pachycephalosaurus is my favorite herbivore). And oh how the hilarity ensued! Fun fact: I am horrible at fighting games. In fact I am so horrible at them I tend not to play them at all. But Dinosaur Strike takes the cake! I am pretty sure I will never stop playing this game!

My very last thanks is to my Mom. (Hi mom!) Mom is pretty awesome in and of herself so any gift she gives me is pretty cool. This year she got me a pressure canner and cooker that I’ve been longing for since last spring when I planted my very first garden. While the garden didn’t turn out as fabulous as I was hoping for, that didn’t stop me from reading and researching all the cool things I can make and preserve. Remember that sour orange tree out back? Guess who’s making marmalade this week??

Making marmalade might just be the only thing that tears me away from dino-fighting this week! Or maybe pie-making. Did I mention the awesome lime green Le Creuset pie plate that Scott and the Girls got me to replace the one that broke last March? So. Very. Beautiful.

And there you have it. I hope that your holiday (which every flavor you like) was shiny like mine! And a happy Boxing Day to you all…whatever that is!

Christmasy Stuff

DISCLAIMER: The following post contains frank discussion about my beliefs and feelings regarding religion. I don’t often discuss serious things here and I’m sure I’ll go back to posting silly stories soon. Please read with caution.

I knew in elementary school that my family was different from other families because if a sleepover at a friend’s house ended on a Sunday morning I would be dropped off at home early so my friend could go to church. Sometimes though I tagged along; I sat on the hard backed benches and watched the people around me. They were always dressed up like they were going to a wedding. It made me uncomfortable because I was not and I knew that I was the odd one out. I stared at the stained glass windows in awe at the beauty of them. I followed along with what my friend did. If she stood or sat or kneeled, so did I. But I didn’t understand a thing.

I knew who Jesus was. We celebrated his birthday every year. And I played with the Nativity every year. I loved the little sheep and donkeys. I loved moving baby Jesus around, trying him out in different places before finally putting him back in front of Mary. I knew the basic story – I watched all the Christmas specials each year and Linus explained it succinctly every single time. I loved Christmas time. It was the only birthday party I knew of where the guests got all the good presents! And boy did Santa bring me great gifts.

I started paying a bit more attention in middle school. My friends talked about church and I listened. They went to Sunday school and confirmation classes. They spoke of accepting Jesus as their Lord and Savior. I wanted to understand. I wanted to belong. One night, I took my mom’s old King James Bible with its fancy thou’s and ye’s and I read it. Well, I skimmed it to get the general idea.

But I was skeptical about the whole Jesus is God thing. Actually, I was skeptical about the whole book. None of it made sense to me. Right about that time I was big into archaeology and paleontology. I was dumbfounded that the bible made no mention of dinosaurs. That it didn’t explain cave paintings and artifacts from civilizations that came ten thousand years before. I put the King James Version away and left it at that. It didn’t make sense and therefore it was of no use to me.

By eighth grade I knew. Well. I didn’t know, know. I had an inkling, a tickle in the back of my mind that I was somehow different from my friends. I didn’t know there was a name for it but I knew. I was a nonbeliever.

In college many of my friends were quite open about their religious beliefs and after learning about my skepticism, encouraged me to attend church and mass with them. I willing went along. I wanted to understand and maybe, back then, I wanted to believe. I mean I believed in aliens, Bigfoot and the possibility of a Loch Ness monster so why was it so hard for me to believe that an all powerful, all knowing, all loving being watched over us? Why was it so hard to accept that Jesus was the Lord and Savior? There wasn’t any real proof of aliens yet I readily jumped on that bandwagon. So what was the deal? It wasn’t until I dropped out, pregnant with Ashleigh and moved home that I really started looking at my beliefs.

Maybe I was searching for a meaning. Maybe I was confused by my sister’s sudden interest in the church when we were raised to look for answers in ourselves and in facts. I tried to understand. I went to midnight mass at St. Joseph’s on Christmas Eve that year thinking that I would find something in the pomp and circumstance of the night. And though I was near to bursting with excitement over the holiday and Ashleigh’s impending arrival, I felt more awkward then ever before. I didn’t belong in this building, I thought, with all these believers. It was hypocrisy. I didn’t…couldn’t…wouldn’t believe and yet, there I was.

When Ashleigh was three and I went back to college I decided to study religion, philosophy and history alongside with my English curriculum. Maybe, I thought, if I understood religion from a factual sense, then I…I don’t know what I expected. But the more I learned, the more I questioned and the more I questioned the more I realized that religion would not be something I would ever benefit from.

History showed too many problems sprouting from religion, too many misunderstandings, too many battles, too many deaths. It didn’t matter what religion or beliefs one espoused the end result was bad. Philosophy introduced me the Euthyphro dilemma – is something good because it is inherently good or because a god says it is good? My religion professor, a deeply religious man himself, made us dig for the historical aspects of the biblical text and asked us to question each verse.

Studying made me question all over again but this time it wasn’t about finding faith it was about how I was raising my daughter.

I gave a few brief thoughts about not celebrating Christmas anymore. I thought if I could eighty-six it when Ashleigh was young, she wouldn’t feel like she was missing out on anything. But then I thought about all the fun that Christmas is: the decorating, the celebrating, the presents. Sure there is a religious meaning behind it all, but Christmas is a conglomeration of different traditions that early Christians adopted to get the so-called pagans to convert. What farmer leaves his flock out in the fields on a winter night? Where in Luke does it mention an evergreen tree lit with candles or a Yule log? Guess who else was begot by a god: Hercules, Helen of Troy, and Julius Caesar.

Once I started thinking about Christmas in that sense I felt better about celebrating. In fact, I probably celebrate Christmas more enthusiastically now then I did before I got a degree. I decorate the house, I make ornaments and gifts, I love giving presents and spend a good part of the year thinking about and planning for Christmas. I start singing carols as early as August and despite my very vocal complaints about stores putting Christmas displays earlier and earlier each year, I secretly love it.

My sister a year or so ago shook her head at my while I was decorating my house, making room on the shelves for ceramic Santas that my mom painted. I was singing, giggling and just about spazzing out with joy that Christmas was coming - something that I have never outgrown.

“What?” I asked.

“You.” She said. “I don’t get how you can love Christmas this much and not believe in Jesus.”

I’m not sure how I responded. Maybe I made a witty comment or just shrugged but as the years have passed I have come to terms with my love of Christmas. Christmas isn’t just about Jesus anymore. Not really. It's about hope. The story of Jesus offers people hope. You don’t need faith to have hope. And in the middle of winter when nights are long and cold it is good to remember hope.

I will never claim that Jesus didn’t exist. There’s factual evidence. And I will never claim that I know all there is in the universe because really? It’s just too big for us to understand. And that’s alright. Besides, who am I to pass up on Birthday Cake? Yes, I celebrate the commercial side of Christmas and next to my beautiful Nativity are Santa Claus’s, nutcrackers, mistletoe, a decorated tree and many other things associated with Christmas that actually predate Christianity. When the girls ask about them meaning of Christmas I explain to them the religious and the secular, the biblical and the incorporation of other beliefs. I may not believe that Jesus was or is the son of God, I may not believe in an omniscient god and my point with this post is not to spark religious debate; in fact, I’m pretty sure that this post has moved entirely too far away from my original point I wanted to make which is:

OMFG!!! IT’S CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!!!

Photo A Day - Grateful

As I spent yesterday and this morning in the kitchen, struggling to cook while dizzy on pain killers (don't worry, my girls helped me out a lot!) I thought about what photo I'd use for today. But then I realized in a moment of clarity (or as the pain meds were wearing off) I might not be able to post a photo here (Oh Blogger how you disappoint me!) but I probably wouldn't have posted a photo today anyway because I don't do people photos here all that much.

And that, my friends, is what I am grateful for: people.

Amidst the potatoes, pies and turkey, I knew that even if I hadn't a single thing to put on the table today except a bowl of cold gruel, I would still be grateful because of the people I have in my life.  By nature, I am a people person. I like to pretend otherwise, but I really am. I like having people around me and with me. I like sharing my experiences with my friends and family. People make each day fuller especially when they are people you love. And I love me some amazing people!

Today as many gather around the dining room table to celebrate a completely made up holiday I am grateful for:

My Friends - Sara, Natasha, Amanda and Ericka. BFFs who've shared with me good times and bad, dreams and disappointments, celebrations, quiet times and adventures.

My Family - My Mom and Dad, my sister, who at the drop of a hat will be by my side if I need her, my brothers who grew up watching over me and protecting me even as I tried my hardest to annoy them, my extended family that I don't get to see very much but when I do it is as if no time has passed by and the family I married into, the strangers who opened their homes, hearts and worlds to me simply because I married Scott.

My Husband - We have been together for half my life and I can't imagine anyone else I'd want to share my love and life with. He loves me in spite and despite all of my flaws and idiosyncrasies. He makes me feel beautiful on days when I feel ugly, he holds me when I am sad or scared and he dedicates his life to making mine wonderful.

My Girls - If there is a center to my universe it is clearly my girls.  I am beyond grateful to have two compassionate, intelligent, playful and beautiful girls. From the very second I knew I was carrying them I loved them unconditionally. They make my world better. They make me a better person. They make me who I am.

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it today!

I (un)Made It Monday

Remember that beautiful crochet project I was working on a while ago? The orangey sunset one?

 

The one where I knew, just absolutely knew that I would need more yarn to complete? Guess which one I can no longer work on because the store where I bought the yarn discontinued carrying it?

So very frustrating, my friends, to be in the middle of a project and not have enough yarn to finish it. Oh, I'm sure I could order it online somewhere...but that's not the point.

Because, I'm impulsive, see. And my level of spontaneity correlates directly with my level of frustration. So I end up with something like this before I even realize it.

Admittedly, it was kind of satisfying to pull the entire thing apart.

There is a new project in the works for this yarn, but as it is a gift, like many of my other projects at this time, and thus cannot yet be revealed.

On a side note, guess whose family is already getting sick of my impromptu bursts of Christmas music? And the stack of Christmas movies sitting by the DVD player? They just don't understand that when I'm in a gifty making mood, I need a gifty making environment to encourage my creativity!

Mother's Day Brunch

It is not often that I have the chance to go to my daughters’ school activities. So when the opportunity arose that I was home with Ashleigh and there was a Mother’s Day Brunch in Cyra’s class, I jumped at the chance. Mom had originally been slated to go in my place, so instead, Mom stayed with Ashleigh and I was able to go to school.

Sara often says that Cyra is terminally cute, meaning her cuteness is apparently fatal to others. I wouldn't know, of course, becuase I have survived 7+ years of it. But it should be obvious then that Cyra plus 30 other pretty cute kids is 30 times more fatal. We moms were entertained to tears; thirty six-year-olds singing an updated “Wheels on the Bus” and reciting a poem about how hard moms work. Cyra was a ballerina on the bus who twirled around…I can’t help feeling that this would be a dangerous activity to participate in; especially if one is a ballerina; especially on a moving vehicle. In any case, it was adorable. I have pictures of her twirling and singing, but as other children, who don't belong to me, were also in the photos, I will not post them here.

Throw in a PowerPoint, set to highly emo music, with then and now photos and it is no wonder Cyra’s teachers made sure there were tissues at every table. The kids took great delight in pointing out each child in the classroom as their picture came on the screen.

Each mom was presented with a card with one of the songs that they sang printed inside, as well as a little matchbox painted silver with the child’s school picture glued on the inside.

We also got a poem about little handprints and a yellow towel with a “dirty” handprint on it.

The kids served the moms a plate with a mini bagel, mini muffin, mini donut and a scoop of fruit. They served drinks, cleaned up afterwards, thanked us for coming and ushered us out the door. Apparently, they were eager for their lunch which they wouldn't get until after we left!

At the end of the day, when I picked Cyra up, I received the following pictures that Cyra had made in class.