New Midlife Mommy

A Lump Of Coal By Any Other Name

My daughter has been acting terribly lately.  Tantrums, oy, the tantrums.  Two nights ago, she went at it for a good 20 minutes in front of our friend/handyman who'd come over just to see her.  We told her that we would be ignoring her until she decided to act in a better way, but she just threw herself against the door. 

She's made lots of bad choices lately as well.  Case in point -- Christmas Eve at my brother's house this evening.  I caught her standing on the arm of their couch, jumping on their couch, and jumping on their bed.  Holy cow.  She knows better.  She has also been mouthy, and when she loses a privilege, I hear a snarky "whatever," "I'm fine with that," or "I don't care."  At one point recently, I suggested that perhaps we should take one of her unused toys (she has several that she hasn't even opened up from her birthday party in August) and donate it to a child who would appreciate it, since she was acting like such an ungrateful, awful child.  Now, that got her attention, and she decided that retreat and an apology was the better option.

My brother made me smile this evening.  He suggested that before Santa will cut a child off from her Christmas wish, he will bring a Christmas rock as a warning.  Of course, DD believed him.  And, before we left, my brother gave me the rock that he'd given to his own misbehaving child when he was just a tyke (no idea why he saved it, and he wants it back, which is even more strange, I think).

You should know that DD is absolutely convinced that Santa is going to bring her a soccer ball.  She asked for one during a Breakfast with Santa gathering recently.  At the same time, she is also a little concerned that Santa is going to bring her a piece of coal because of all the bad choices she's been making.  On the way home from my brother's house, she was able to list every bad choice effortlessly, and she admitted she was mean to me and shouldn't have been.  This evening when we were snuggling, DD said that she didn't care if Santa brought her a lump of coal rather than a soccer ball.  If that's what he wanted to do because she's been bad, that would be just fine.  She would paint it black and white and turn it into a soccer ball.  So there, mommy.  (She wins?)

I think we'll start with the rock.  It's already wrapped and under the tree. 

Right behind the soccer ball.

Different, But The Same

Yesterday, I stayed home to work on clearing my "office," which will someday be DD's bedroom (not soon enough for DH, I think).  DH went to work, and DD went to school.  At school, the teacher read a book about Dr. King.  It made for an interesting conversation going home -- "Mommy, they wouldn't let people sit on the bus! . . . Mommy, they had different drinking fountains!"  "Yes, sweetie.  People were treated differently because they had darker colored skin.  Grandma remembered seeing things like that, but daddy and I haven't ever seen that.  Do you think that was that the right thing to do?"  "No, mommy, that's not right at all."

I have deliberately avoided talking about race to DD.  I've been watching and listening as her class has discussed how people are different on the outside, but the same on the inside.  DD has noticed that both of her teachers have dark skin, but that's the extent of it.  No difference in her mind.  And, I've liked it that way.  I've deliberately not used the words "black" and "white" to describe people, and even if I had, I'm sure that DD would have corrected me.  "Not black, mommy.  Dark brown.  Not white mommy, really light brown."  I've even avoided talking about the first "black "president (though we have talked about Barack Obama), at least until yesterday.  It's nice to have a dialog with someone who has never realized the ugliness of dividing people up based on the color of their skin.  It's a blessedly foreign concept to her.  Though now, after the discussion on the history of race relations in the United States, DD knows she's "white."  A distinction without a difference to her, but still a distinction that, after Monday, she now knows runs a little deeper.

DH and I have also not talked about gender differences, beyond the obvious, and this is not a subject that has come up in school.  While mentally I may have cringed when DD first reached for the truck as opposed to the doll, she never knew it.  And for me, it was just a passing thing.  Rather silly.  So, DD, who loves Handy Manny, has her own tool belt, accompanied by the talking tools (that only talk in the series, I'm sad to say). 

I cannot begin to understand what it is like to be a person of color in America, though friends and acquaintances have given me a partial glimpse.  I can speak to gender issues though.  I remember my mother's stories about doing the same job for half the pay, and her telling me that women were the first to be laid off, because men had families to support (and I guess women didn't!).  And, even though I stood on my mother's shoulders and ultimately became a professional with more college than I care to remember, it wasn't always that way for me either. 

I remember taking a test in high school called the Kuder Occupational Interest Survey.  The purpose of the test was to counsel young people about what college majors and professions matched their interests.  The results were delivered on an 11 X 8-1/2 piece of paper.  On the left hand side were the "girl" majors and professions.  On the right, "boy" majors and professions.  I still have my test.  As a girl, I was counseled to think about becoming a dental hygienist, paralegal, or medical assistant.  But, if I were a boy, I would have been counseled to think about becoming a dentist, lawyer, or a doctor.  Apparently, the people at Kuder wanted to perpetuate the institutional sexism that already existed by suggesting that women of the future should not strive for the higher paying professions.  Fortunately, the test has been revised, but I have never forgotten it.  Nor have I ever forgotten what it was like to experience sexual harassment, and not of the subtle type.  The kind of harassment where a man you hardly know thinks it's perfectly OK to walk up behind you while you are making copies and grab your breasts.  Or the kind of harassment where your married boss (30 or more years your senior) is forever talking to you about setting you up in an apartment so that "we could, you know, be together."  All of this occurring at a time when it was the woman who was fired for complaining, even though the laws were certainly in place to protect us. 

Now, just as my mother before me, I look ahead and see many changes, mostly for the good.  I still see women judged more harshly than men, and I hope that changes.  I cringed when Hillary Clinton and Sarah Palin were excoriated in ways that no man would have ever been.  How dare someone say "iron my shirt!" to Hillary Clinton.  Seriously.  She was a lawyer in a large firm.  She was the First Lady.  At the time, she was a f*cking senator.  "Iron my shirt?"  P*ss off.  And, on the other side of the coin, I was angry beyond belief at the suggestion that Sarah Palin should be home with her kids, that she must not care about her family very much, or that she should have aborted her Downs child (or that perhaps the child wasn't even hers -- WTF?).  It doesn't matter what your politics are; the women's tent should be big enough to accommodate all of us, regardless of our position on the political spectrum.  Where is a woman's place in today's society?  Why, it's any damned place she wants it to be.

I hope and pray that DD's world will be different.  Where people truly are judged not by the color of their skin, or the sex of their bodies, but by the content of their characters. To DD, all of these stories about segregated schools and drinking fountains are historical artifacts.  And by the time she learns about the women's movement, I hope that she will see it the same way.

As it should be.

(x)PC = VPOM

Or, put another way, too much political correctness equals one very p*ssed off mommy.  Warning -- if disdain for political correctness as it relates to religion offends you, please click away.

DD had her Christmas pageant last Friday.  It was supposed to be scheduled before Christmas, but there was a pretty bad snow storm that day, and they canceled to avoid any risk to life and limb.

It was a simple program, and one that the Pre-K and Kindergarten teachers have been doing for seven years now.  The Kindergartners sang five or six songs.  They were vanilla-type Christmas songs -- Rudolph, etc.  There was one one cute dreidel dance.  And then the Pre-K'rs came in.

What followed was a silent rendition of the manger scene with various songs playing in the background.  First, Mary and Joseph walked in slowly with Mary carrying the baby.  When they reached the stable, Mary handed the baby to Joseph, sat down, Joseph handed the baby back, and Mary put him in the manger.  They hugged, "because they love each other and the baby" (per DD).  Then they sat there and stared at the parents until the music stopped (it seemed like forever -- poor kids).  Then the angels came.  DD was the last one of five.  Very sweet, and not one bit of stage fright.  The shepherds came, and then the kings, but only one of the kings remembered to actually give the present to the baby.  And then they filed out waving streamers.

It was just -- nice.

Afterward, we had a chance to talk with DD's teacher.  And she told us that this would be the last year that they will be doing the Christmas program. 

Why, you ask?

Because the new director thinks that it is offensive to have a f*cking Christmas play at Christmas time.  (Or perhaps she thinks it might be offensive to some fictional person who hasn't yet voiced an opinion.)  Now, mind you, the pre-K teacher has had Muslim and Jewish parents during the seven years they have put this program on.  She talked with each family separately before proceeding with the program, and every one of them wanted their children to participate.  Sometimes, the child could only be an angel.  But no one had an issue with a Christmas play at Christmas time.

This is not a public school.  Our collective "tuition payments" (that's what they prefer to call it) fund the entire center.  So, it's not a question of government endorsement of religion, or a "church and state" issue.  But frankly, even those arguments get under my skin.  I can almost guarantee you that the founding fathers would never have dreamed of the wholesale repression of any religion. 

Sometimes, it seems to me that every other religion may be freely exercised, and we are all to be ever so respectful to the point of being ridiculous.  Yet, if you are Christian, you are supposed to shut up and take it, the "it" being things like a display of the crucifix in a jar of urine.  That's OK, that's free, artistic expression.  Christians should just lighten up.  Really?  Well, wasn't it free expression to draw a cartoon of Mohamed?  Yes, it was, but we all know how that turned out.  Muslims don't take cr*p about their beliefs, to put it mildly, though they are really, really over the top (death threats anyone?).  Jewish people have the anti-defamation league (I literally had someone take offense when my at-the-time Jewish boyfriend advised me that someone who'd sent me an e-mail was Jewish [he was forever pointing out who was a compadre and who was not], and he stupidly replied to "all" -- holy cow, was this guy irritated -- because one Jewish person called another Jewish person Jewish -- but whatever). 

Christians, on the other hand, are expected to be universal doormats.  I actually heard someone once say that a school, that had opened itself up to all other activity for after-hours use of their facilities, was perfectly justified excluding a Christian group activity "because they should take that stuff somewhere else."  (Fortunately, a court would be on the side of the Christians in that case, a rare occurrence.)

Have you heard about the latest Newdow lawsuit?  He wanted to stop the President Elect from using the words "so help me God" in his oath and to prevent prayers at the inauguration.  He didn't get an order to stop the inauguration from going forward as planned, but the case wasn't dismissed either.  You can read about it here.

I am so very tired of this.  I celebrate Christmas.  Because it is the date we've chosen to recognize Christ's birth (even though he was likely born at some other time and the December date had more to do with bringing pagans into the fold who would have otherwise celebrated the Winter Solstice).  Do we give presents?  Of course.  We're celebrating a birthday.  And I say "Merry Christmas."  Scr*w "Happy Holidays."  Scr*w snow man Christmas cards.  Scr*w "holiday" celebrations, for that matter. 

I don't know where I'm going with this.  I do try to learn about other cultures, other faiths.  I do think that companies should have floating holidays that can be used for religious days -- Yom Kippur, Eid ul-Fitr, Good Friday, and even Festivus (if that's what you're into). But I don't think that we should be establishing atheism as a national religion, though that would certainly delight the atheists.

OK, rant over.  Just know that if you see me during the holidays, be forewarned that I will wish you a Merry Christmas.  And I will mean it, from the bottom of my heart.

The Reason For The Season

DH is not very religious.  Which is kind of odd, I think, since at one point in his life, he wanted to be a priest.  He went so far as to go to a seminarian high school, and he was enrolled in a formal seminary for a short time.  His best friend, who was the best man at our wedding, went even further in the seminary that DH did.  And now he is a total atheist.  So strange!  What in the heck goes on in a seminary that would be so off-putting?

I've had my ups and downs with religion.  Someday, I might tell you about a time that I felt incredibly close to God, even experiencing my own little miracle along the way.  I was right in the middle of that period when I started dating DH, and he seemed receptive to talking about it.  I am not Catholic, and there are some beliefs that are really different between Protestants and Catholics.  For example, I was always taught that Jesus had brothers and sisters, even though Mary had a virgin birth.  Which means that she eventually had s*x with her husband.  Now, that would not be unusual, particularly since, as I understand it, s*x within marriage is considered particularly sacred and celebrated among Jewish people.  I mentioned this belief of mine in passing to DH while we were dating, and I was quite surprised at his reaction.  Proof!  He wanted proof!  So I pointed him to the bible passage where Jesus skips off and goes to the temple without bothering to tell anyone, and when Mary finds him, brothers and sisters are mentioned.  My husband argued that this is a bad translation, that it must be "cousins" that they are talking about.  When I talked about this issue with our best man's wife, she covered her ears and said that she didn't want to hear it, because Mary died a virgin, damnit.  I really didn't know about this belief before I met DH.  (And I'd never heard Mary referred to before as the BVM, but they do it all the time.)

Anyway.  I don't feel particularly close to God right now, particularly since my mom died.  I have had all kinds of doubts.  About everything.  Including God's very existence.  (There, I said it, but it's hard to say.)  And, honestly, if He is there, I'm really kind of p*ssed at Him.  However, because I believe that I will come around again, I haven't been discussing this spiritual crisis in front of DD.  And, I can't really talk about it with DH, because I'm not quite sure that he really believes either, though he won't completely rule it out.  To make things worse, our church (DD's and mine; DH refuses to join) is 45 minutes away, so we don't go, unless our one visit last Christmas Eve counts.  DD doesn't see me regularly pray, though we have prayed together from time to time.  She doesn't see me read the bible.  I don't have a children's bible for her.  And for all of these things, I feel awful.  But, I want to work on it.

All of this distancing gives DH a lot of ammunition to use.  For example, when I talk about the reason for the season, DH says that we don't put Christ in Christmas at our house, that it's all a present orgy, and who do I think I'm kidding.  Yet, DD will tell you what Christmas is all about (though she did tell DH tonight that she wouldn't like Christmas if she didn't get presents -- he considered this a bonus point for his side of the argument).  So I guess I have some work to do.  DH, on the other hand, never talks about God with DD.  He never prays with DD.  It is something that he leaves to me, I guess.  I suppose he would go to church if I insisted, but it would logistically be hard to go regularly, just because the church is so far away.  I could find something local, but I have so much history at this church.  I send money, and I send contributions for whatever charitable drive they are having that I read about in the newsletter, but I am failing in the real participation department.

But, at least for now, DD is focused on the Christmas story.  They are recreating it at school (we had to give permission for her to participate in something religious).  DD will be one of the angels, and to say that she's excited about that is an understatement.  She practices at school, and at home (I have to be Mary -- she approaches, bows, and I am supposed to dip my head and acknowledge her with what seems to be the American Sign Language sign for "thank you").  She is perfecting her wing flapping -- "mommy, it must be slow, like this.  And you must walk slowly too.  And if your arms get tired when you have to stand behind Mary and Joseph, you can just move your hands at your side."  And there's something about throwing glitter around too, which is always a bonus.  We have heard lots of details, including hearing about the finale, which involves everyone swishing streamers around (that certainly is what I think about when I contemplate Jesus' birth, shocking pink streamers, attached to little sticks).  But, in any event, it is really cute, at least to us, and I can't wait to see her with her actual wings on the 20th.

So, I had a flash of inspiration on Saturday.  How about an Advent calendar?  Frankly, I didn't know that "Advent calendar" was the official name for these things.  I finally googled it last year and thought "aha, so that's what they're called."  I think that my mom got us one once or twice, just something in paper where we opened little doors to see a new picture every day.  It wasn't anything that was particularly part of our family tradition.  I looked around for something fitting.

Of course, my inspiration came a bit late, but we did receive this yesterday:

I was a little ticked when it arrived, because I had to glue parts of the stable back on, but otherwise, it's really nice and sturdy.  (DD swears she didn't pull them off, but I turned around for a minute, and when I turned back, they were loose.  I suppose it's possible that she's telling the truth.)  Here is the description:  "Talking Advent Calendar:  Wooden Nativity Advent with voice chip. Behind each door is a piece significant to the story of Advent. Each time you open a door a voice tells a story about that specific piece."  It's made of wood, and the center is metal, so that the child can put each of the magnetic pieces on it to create her own version of the Christmas story (but there's a picture on the box for guidance).

And my goodness, DD just loves it.  She was really happy yesterday when she got to open two (!) doors.  Sadly, she only got to open one today.  So far, we have discovered a moon, a dove, and a donkey.  I also ordered some chocolates that look like little presents for the drawers.  There are 24 of them, so I guess they are meant for Advent calendars.  But, you know, that late inspiration will cause them to arrive late as well, though I'm sure DD won't mind.  And neither will I, because that's more chocolate for me (tee hee).

So, I guess we have the start of a tradition here are the MM household, because this calendar will last for a long time.  And at least it will keep DD focused on why, at least in our household, Christmas is worth celebrating.

I Am Grateful

Sometimes, I dwell on things that I don't have, things that are wrong with me (or the world), or things that I'm not doing right.  First and foremost, I don't have a mom anymore.  And that ache never seems to be very far from me, especially now during this season.  Infertility.  That's a big one too.  There are other things as well.  We all have them, so I won't list them.  Especially since some of them seem so petty when I write them down.

But, in dwelling on these things, I sometimes forget to be thankful for what I do have.  A husband who rocks, someone that I never need to doubt, someone who took his vows to heart, someone who loves me no matter how big of an ass I make of myself.  A miracle child, who fills my heart every day, who loves me even when I'm very far from being the mother I imagined and hoped I would be.  My father, who may not remember my birthdays, but who loves me just the same.  A job, with "normal" hours, that allows me to be with my family (believe me, in my profession, that is a rarity) -- in this economy, though, any job at all is a blessing.  Health insurance, that, despite the co-pays, will pay most of the $19,000 (!!) hospital bill that I just incurred.  A roof over my head.  Food.  Heat.  Lights.  I never go hungry (I eat too much).  A car.  Gasoline.  My health.  My family's health.  The list goes on and on and on.  But it is so much easier to focus on what I don't have, rather than what I do have.  I am so grateful, whenever I take the time to just count my blessings.

I saw these on a television program a few days ago, and I ordered some.  One for me, because I do want to be reminded -- every day -- to count my blessings.  And, without a reminder, I don't think about it.  And I bought some extras, to share.

Happy Thanksgiving.  I hope that your life is filled with blessings, today and always.

Daddy's Day

DD has been soooo excited about today.  She had presents!  Presents for Daddy!  Presents that must be opened!  And secrets!  Secrets about the presents!  Secrets that were just bursting to get out!

Ahem.  With great struggle, DD did manage to keep the content of the presents a secret.  But she just couldn't resist telling him little things, immediately after she'd learned them.  Like, "Daddy, your card!  Your card!  Has a purple envelope!  But I can't tell you what's on the front!  And I can't tell you what's inside!  It's a secret -- shh."  She'd hidden all the presents under our bed so that she could easily get to them today, this very, very special day.

And finally, finally, FINALLY after waiting what seemed like an eternity ("mommy, is it Daddy's Day yet?  Is it?  Is it?"), this morning arrived.  DD was in heaven.  She ran to the side of the bed and pulled out all of the presents. 

"Daddy, your presents!  Your presents!  You could open them!  I could help!"

And so they did.  A card shaped like a tie, that DD's teacher had made, with a poem inside.  DD's card that I'd bought, which had a princess on the front and a sweet verse inside, with the letters of DD's name painstakingly traced at the bottom.  A small frisbee with her picture in the center and artwork on the side, courtesy of DD.  A "#1 Dad" hat that DD's teacher had made.  A coffee cup with her school picture on it.  And, my personal favorite, a picture frame that says, "My prince did come.  His name is Daddy.  Love, His Princess DD."  That was very fitting, because for all the hours that DD has played at being a princess, Daddy has always been her prince.  When they watch a video of a princess movie, whenever the princess receives her first kiss from the prince, DD leaps onto her Daddy's lap and sighs, "oh prince, my prince."  Just at the right moment.  Kind of corny, but very sweet.

But the best part, the very best part, came after the presents were opened.  DD was sitting on DH's knees, looking up at his face.  Not a word was said.  But the look on her face radiated pure love.  I can't help but think that if there are angels, this is the look that they have on their faces.  And in a fleeting moment, it was gone.  But I will remember it forever.

Late this afternoon, we will drive to my Dad's house and take him out to dinner.  He's getting kind of cantankerous in his old age.  I offered to pay to have his lawn cut this year, because it's just getting to much for him.  He thanked me and said that it could be my Father's Day present to him.  When I told him that I already had that taken care of, he started b*tching and complaining about how silly I was to get him anything, he doesn't need anything, blah, blah, blah.  Well, in fact I didn't get him any thing.  I just got him gift cards.  One to a restaurant that he always goes to, from DD.  And I bought him a gift card from a warehouse store that he always shops at, so he can get the things that he needs.  I didn't say anything while he was yelling at me, even though I wanted to.  And, I'm sure he doesn't remember doing it.  He's 78 now, and he does have some memory failure due to hardening of the arteries in his brain (no Alzheimer's, thank the Lord, though Alzheimer's drugs are a lifesaver for him).

I can't remember ever being as close to my Dad as DD is to hers.  I vaguely remember favoring him (as I was rejecting my Mother) as I was growing up and my Mom telling me, "Hey, kid, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have anything."  And, you know, she was right.  Not to shortchange my Dad.  He worked at a job that he hated, counting the years toward retirement, just to provide for us.  (My Mom was a SAHM, having quit her job when she was seven months pregnant with me, never to return.)  We never lacked for anything, and if we needed something extra, my Father would work overtime.  I know now how hard it is go to in, day after day, to a job that you hate, with nothing but long years of the same stretching out before you.  Not a good life.  But a yoke that he put on willingly for us.  And I have made a point to specifically thank him for that.  Because it took becoming an adult, with a child of my own, to really understand that particular sacrifice.

That said, my Mom was the heart and soul of our house.  My Dad provided the capital, but my Mom made sure that everything else that mattered was there for us.  The special dress.  The costume for a school activity, the one that she stayed up all night putting the finishing touches on.  Cupcakes for school.  The cheese burger and sundae to mend a broken heart.  And on and on.  It was my Mom who was there, who kissed my tears away.  My Dad didn't know how (and not for lack of gentle prodding from my Mom -- she and her father were very, very close).  In fact, I don't much recall my Dad telling me that he loved me until I put a stop to that in my early 20's.  I simply insisted on a hug, a kiss, and and "I love you" every time I left their house.  Every time.  Now, he reaches out on his own to do that.  But still, we are not very close.  And we did have some knock down, drag out fights after my Mom died. 

I have spent more time with my Dad in the last several months than I ever have in all the years before.  You see, my Dad thought that fathers should spend time with sons, and mothers with daughters.  So, my brother got all of his attention, especially when they spent time together doing Boy Scout things.  My Mom was always there for me, but a girl just needs her daddy sometimes, you know?

But, we're working on it.  And that's all that we can do.  But, I would not be truthful if I didn't admit that I feel a hint of jealousy when I see the beautiful relationship that DD and DH have forged.  What makes this even more amazing is that DH lost his dad when DH was 17.  And, at that point, DH wasn't even living at home, since he was attending a seminarian high school in another state.  (Now, that's an interesting story, but it belongs to DH, so I won't share.)  So, I'm not sure exactly where DH learned how to be such a great dad.  But it doesn't matter.  He just is.

Anyway.  Enough said.  If you still have a dad, give him a hug for me.  And if you don't, hopefully, there are good things to remember.  And here is a link to something that I found on the web (through Kim Komando, if you must know).  Very, very nice.  And, even though I'm not a country music fan, I must admit that any country song with half-way decent words brings me to tears.  Here it is; enjoy.

(I don't suppose you noticed the time of this post -- it's only 9:00 in the morning, and I can't imagine that the day could possibly get any better.)

A Small Poll

So, how many of you still have your Christmas trees up?

Hands, please.

Oh, I see.

Nope, no special reason for asking.  None at all.

Happy Heart Day

Today was kind of a sucky day at work.  I've been really busy, and I like that part (though it makes it hard to keep up with the 116 blogs I have on Bloglines -- I'm still recovering from Nanopoblowme or whatever that was).  The sucky part is the senior management.  They just have a way of dragging everything out and making things more difficult than they need to be.  But, you know, they pay me pretty well, and I can leave at 4:30.  So, it's not all that bad.

The best part of the day was leaving early to go to DD's party.  DD had asked both DH and me to come.  And, we arranged our schedules so that we could.  Another good thing about where I work.  Very flexible for family things.  My boss' boss is very sensitive about that -- she had two boys of her own, and she regrets missing some of the important things.  So she makes sure that my office mates and I are able to spend time with our little ones.

I really kind of overdid it this time with the bags that we made for the kids, but I have to say, there was one mom who was more over the top than me.  But she's moving to China soon for a two-year assignment.  So I guess I'll be at the top of over the top.

They'd had a sign up sheet for the party supplies, and the parents were invited to partake after the kids had been served.  Most of the kids brought in Valentine's Day cards, and many brought in bags of goodies for everyone.  DD's haul was bigger than at Halloween.  I never realized that this is a bigger occasion.  Maybe it's just because she is officially in the Preschool room now, and there are 16 kids in there.

The school offered the opportunity to buy a flower for the teachers from a local florist, accompanied by a message.  We also bought a balloon for DD, which came with flowers and a heart pillow.  Our message to her was "to our favorite Valentine."  And she is.

DH bought me three more Trollbeads for my bracelet.  I knew those were coming, because brought the brochure down a few days ago and asked me to choose what I wanted.  But, he surprised me with some red roses in a really beautiful red vase.  I sent him flowers, as I always do, and I gave him a card this morning.

DD received a card from her Aunt C and Uncle A.  They live in Arizona, and she doesn't get to see them often.  But Aunt C makes sure that DD always has a card on every occasion, and she always makes sure to send along a birthday gift.  Seeing the card made me kind of sad, because it immediately reminded me of last year.  My parents had driven to Alabama, I think, and they were getting ready to go on a cruise.  My mom made sure to drop a Valentine in the mail for DD.  It was to be the last she would ever get from her, though we obviously didn't know it at the time.  So many little things remind me of my mom, and the tears just sneak up on me sometimes.

DD's school has a new center director.  She has been an assistant for a long time.  She has a lot of new ideas, though they do seem to be a little rule-governed.  I guess we are all like that, the first time we get a taste of management.  It takes awhile to realize that flexibility is key.  But I digress.

The reason that I mention this is that they are trying new things as well.  One of which is a Daddy/Daughter dance, which will be held next Friday at a local hotel.  I ordered a beautiful dress for DD -- it's navy blue, her daddy's favorite color.  I think she will make an excellent date.  I am welcome, but not to attend the dance.  I can come, but only if I hang out in the bar.  I am hoping that they have given the same message to the other moms.

Hmm.  At the bar.  No child to watch.  My only job is to relax after work for an hour and half.  Now, that will be hard to take, won't it?

Glad To Say Good-Bye To 2007

You know, when I was in my teens and twenties, New Year's Eve used to be a very big deal.  I was really into going to big parties where everyone got dressed up.  The night seemed magical.

Then, as I got older, it just seemed like any other night.  And I didn't feel like getting dressed up, going out into the freezing cold weather, hanging around with a lot of people that I didn't know, and staying up too late.  I started spending New Year's Eve with my parents and their friends, my honorary aunt and uncle.

We did that for a long time.  Later, it was just my parents, DH and I.  And then we added DD to the mix.  We would either go over to my parents' house, or they would spend the evening with us.  We'd go out to dinner, play cards, and watch the ball drop.  Nothing exciting, but we were together, and it was nice.

This year, we invited my father over to our house.  He canceled due to the giant snow storm that we were supposed to get.  So, he stayed at home, as did we.  We did go out to dinner, and then we drove a long way to see a light show (just different lighted up scenes along a road that you could drive through).  At the end of the exhibits, there was a place to park.  Families could get out and walk through some extra exhibits, and I was really surprised at how many families were doing the same thing we were on New Year's Eve.  My favorite exhibit was a giant Christmas tree that was covered in microlights and changed colors to music.  DD's favorite thing was running through two long tunnels that were covered in lights.  There was a playground nearby, and DD wanted to go on the tire swing.  Silly me -- I didn't check to see if it was wet before I put her on it.  It was dark, but it did look dry.  Wrong!  That cut the evening short.

We went home and watched the Grinch Who Stole Christmas at DD's request.  DH remarked at how sick he is of this DVD.  I guess they've been watching it quite a bit.  I like it because it's short.  After DD started getting sleepy, DH and I watched Breach.  It was a pretty good movie, but then we got into a fight about watching all of the bonus features.  I only like deleted scenes, alternate endings, and the like.  DH likes to watch every.single.feature.  Every one.  To me, some of that stuff is like watching video of someone else's wedding.  Nice for a short while, and then I'm ready to move onto something else.  When I told DH that I don't like this stuff (OK, I said that it was garbage -- bad choice of words), he got really annoyed with me.  We ended up watching an episode of Lost (we're trying to catch up), but DH wasn't happy with me.  (I told him that he should save the remainder of the DVD for today and watch it by himself, but he said he doesn't have any time to do that.  Apparently, the only way he thinks he can watch this stuff is if I suffer through it as well.  So, back to the store it went this morning.)

I think he was still angry with me when the ball dropped.  DD had awakened at that point (she'd fallen asleep on my lap), but she was a little groggy and didn't understand what was such a big deal.  So, we had a terse kiss, finished up our wine, watched the rest of Lost, and we all went to bed.  Ah, the joy of being married for almost a decade.  Sometimes, I don't think that we like each other very much.  And that is kind of sad.

My, my New Year's celebrations have come a long way. 

A Froggy Christmas Eve

The title is courtesy of my daughter, who thinks that Santa asked Rudolph to guide his sleigh on a "froggy" Christmas Eve.  It makes me smile every time she sings it, and I really don't have the heart to correct her.

We did celebrate Christmas Eve with my dad, just as planned.  We picked him up, had a glass of wine, opened presents, and went to an early dinner.  DD was into Christmas for the very first time, and she was just amazed that just about every present under the tree was for her.  She's got the present opening thing down pat -- last year and the year before, we had to do the opening for her.

We went to the candlelight service at my church, which turned out to be a disaster.  I hadn't gone in a long time, but we always used to go as a family as I was growing up and long after I moved away from home.  I remember my father yelling at my balking brother, telling him "if it's Christmas Eve, we're in church!" 

But it was really a mistake, I guess.  Shortly after I sat down, I started crying, and I cried through most of the service.  For some reason, I missed my mother terribly right at that moment.  I could hear her singing the hymns in my "mind's ear," or perhaps it was in my heart.  Wherever it was, I could hear her loud and clear.  And it just made me miss her more.

DD was completely obnoxious, which didn't help either.  It was a family service, and the minister always calls the children up to sit down while he tells them a story.  DD went up to the front of the church and sat down, and then she started fidgeting so much that a disgusted DH grabbed her and took her back to the pew.  She made noises.  She got up and down.  She tried to kick the pew in front of her.  DH finally just took her away.  I certainly wasn't much help, since I was working my way through the box of Kleenex that someone had graciously left on our pew.

I would have thought that DD would be interested in communion.  It's a Protestant church, and they pass out the host and the wine.  But, she didn't care.  She didn't find the offering interesting either.  She did calm down enough to sit on my lap when they started lighting everyone's candle.  I must have been quite a sight -- bawling my eyes out, holding my squirming little girl steadily on my lap, and trying to keep from lighting her on fire with the darned candle.

Apparently, while DH and DD were away, DD claimed to have pooped.  DH said it was a very small effort, but to hear DD tell the story, she was in immediate need of changing.  So, DH braved the frigid cold in the parking lot, brought the diaper bag in, and changed DD.  And, instead of putting the bag back in the car, he put it by our coats.  Where he didn't remember it.  I didn't even notice it. 

After we dropped my father off, DH drove back to the church to recover the bag, but no luck.  It was locked down tight, oddly, because another service was due to start in a couple of hours.  I was blessing out the "darned" diaper bag while DH encircled the church trying to get someone's attention.  Good thing that I didn't say the f*cking diaper bag, because DD kept asking her dad about the "darned diaper bag" during the several days that we had to wait until the church opened up again.  DH was willing to drive all the way back to the church after the next service started up, but I thought that was just silly -- that would have been another hour and a half ride, round trip.  Even though the bag that was left had everything under the sun inside, we were able to get by with the basics for a couple of days.

All in all, I should have left the candlelight service for another time.

On another note, DD pooped on the potty again today.  This is the second time she did it at home (she's only done it once at school).  She went into the bathroom herself, asked me for help to unsnap her pants, and then she asked for some privacy.  She was very excited after she finished, and she insisted that daddy take a picture.  Of course he obliged.  Cut from the same cloth, those two.

This really isn't as exciting as the first time, but DD was beside herself.  As I secretly watched, she started to dance and sing a song about how she was so happy because she pooped on the potty.  I guess you had to be there, but I hope that is one of the memories that never leaves me.  She was just so proud of herself.  As was I.