Waterlogged

Leave it to me to be the wet blanket on the day before the night before Christmas...

Rain came one night and took most of my white Christmas away. I love rain, but that night I stood at the window and cried.

It's probably not the rain.
It's not hormones either... at least I don't think it is,
but there's a sadness I can't shake.

It could be that I was burned out the last two months by the demands made on me at church.
Can I just say, if you think someone is not doing what you would do in a job or church calling, that you offer to do it for him/her for a month instead of calling to give her your "advice"? I gave up a lot of my Christmas preparation time, children time, and certainly husband time to meet others needs and in return I was chastised for not doing more. By people who have been doing nothing. Doesn't help my struggles with feeling charitable at the moment.

It could be that I desperately miss our Christmas Cantata that we participated in every year. I miss doing my soprano descants. I miss our choir director looking like he would burst with pride when we got something right.

It could be that this year there will be no 3-day New Year's Risk game with the oldest son--oh! that could be it because I just sprung a leak.

It's a good year for him not to be here.
With the snow, ice and wind, our airports, trains and busses have been crippled-- he would have been stranded.



So the game sits in the closet.
With all of the others.
At least they'll stay dry.

Luckily for me, instead of journaling, I photograph. As I was telling my mother that I have let my family down and haven't been able to capture the magic this year, I realized I hadn't emailed pictures in a while. So I compiled a photostory of the last month...



The kids at the Norwich Football Party where they met and chatted with the first team (and one day I will look back and laugh at the moment my child had me wishing the ground would swallow me whole-- a first for me-- but right now I'm still not laughing).


A2's Christmas Nativity.


He giggled through the last song as he and his friend kept elbowing each other.
He told me later it was because the kid had given him a wedgy.
I missed that part.

There's the Thursford Christmas Spectacular we drove forever to get to...

and drove "forever" back home not speaking to each other.
It looked like we were having fun anyway.


Our annual Christmas Sugar Cookie day...

with Miss Ky as the resident artist and crafty girl that somehow managed to get a bottle of my sprinkles NOT intended for the Christmas cookies... "I'll have a (Red White and) Blue Christmas..."

In my mother's eyes,who is not decorating or celebrating after paying a 3 grand vet bill, it looks like we're having the time of our lives.

Maybe it's like that theory, "smile until you feel it"?
Shoot photos of everything until you believe you're doing something right...or at least so your kids will look back and think you did.

More Angels Forecasted

One white Christmas, coming up.

"It doesn't show signs of stopping..."

Our drive to the Norwich Football match today
(yes, we are THAT stupid. it may look warm and cozy, but it was -5c)

We won 3-0 though. Definitely worth the frostbitten toes.

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow..."

Our weather forecast says SNOW for the next five days!!



I am NOT complaining (despite the fact that the bike is still not in our possession, I believe in miracles).
We have wood, we have food and the hubby is on leave. There's four very excited kids --one is a toddler who has never really experienced this before.
Perfect.


The first snowy morning at 6.45 am, Miss Ky and Mr. A2 couldn't wait another moment. On went the wellies and out they went. Those red lips are from all the snow they were eating. Yes, Miss Ky IS in a summer nightgown. with wellington boots. and a cardigan sweater.

We have discovered something very important... the girl doesn't seem to be wired for pain. The other kid came in crying because his feet got so cold, but we had to physically pull her in with her hands glowing red and her legs like Popsicles and she never even noticed there was a problem...

This one managed to find a village snowball fight.

our back garden this morning from Miss Ky's window

Our back garden after the first four inches fell. Two days ago
My camera lens cap is out there somewhere...
it's still snowing.

Sometime around bedtime yesterday, when the snow was still falling and the garden was enveloped in darkness, Her Highness informs us that we "hafta go find (her) money".
It was in the tea kettle she was holding when she made a snow angel. The sad thing is, this girl is a klepto. No telling whose money it was or how much.

One kettle of British coins, could be several pounds

Pint-sized snow angel? Priceless.

You can't buy that with MasterCard.

In case we lose power again or better yet, I get too caught up in the Norman Rockwell-ness of it all,
I want to wish you all a very Merry Christmas, Happy (belated) Hanukkah, joyous Kwanzaa, etc...

Celebrate!

Someone Didn't Get The Memo

After 14 hours computer-less without heat due to heavy snow fall and gale-force winds, we're back-- with semi-healthy kids and a relatively short-lived illness through the house.

Touch wood.

Someone else that lives here isn't quite so happy though...

The Weather Outside

It's snowing. (Yay)

Some of the decorations are up (all that are going up I'm afraid--boo), some of the gifts are safely stuck into various nooks and crannies all over the house and tomorrow is the last day of school before the holiday break.

Sound ideal?

I have a cold, Hubby is sick, one kid stayed home from school after praying to the porcelain gods in the middle of the night and while I made the mad dash to get some groceries, a school phoned to say another kid would be joining him. One key gift for one middle kid has not been purchased. It is the make or break gift-- you know how it is. The gift is for one of the children now firmly attached to my side. Huge emphasis on the "Boo!"

Weather report for this household:

Chances are good that school holidays will begin early with little or no chance of finishing up important preparations (see above). Teacher gifts may be stranded until further notice as are holiday treats meant for parties scheduled to take place. There may be a slight possibility of laundry letting up with kids all living in their pj's, but not if a barf fest is to ensue. If that storm blows in, a blizzard of sheets and comforters could clog up all washers and dryers.
Stay tuned for further holiday developments via the mental institute channel, with J, the unluckiest holiday planner in the world.



Tell me what new movies you're watching, it'll will give me something to strive to get out for in the new year...

please.

Eight Minutes

If you have reasonable internet service,
on average it probably takes you about 4-5 minutes to read
and comment
on one of my posts.

If you don't comment today
and don't need to come by tomorrow
because the same post sits here

then you might just have eight minutes to watch this...



I can't imagine you'll regret the time.

What if...

Let's just say the Mayans were right...

the world does end in 2012.

Is it all that important that I take my tree down after Christmas? It took a lot of time to decorate.


For that matter...

do I really need to reduce clutter?

And food?

I hate to be the "eat, drink and be merry" cliche, but a box of Thorton's Chocolate calls.

In the grand scheme of everything ending in 2 years,

do I need to worry that Son # 1 is back in contact with the cheating girlfriend that devastated him a while ago?

A Bedtime Story for My Hubby

If you buy the wife a new pair of black boots,

she's going to need some skinny jeans to go with them.

If you buy her skinny jeans,

she will realize that her green tatty coat is looking even more tatty now,

so,

you will need to take her out to buy a new black coat.

The new black coat against her snow-white hair will remind her that she needs a trim,

so,

she will pay someone to style her hair.

With newly styled hair, the over-grown brows will need re-shaping.

As she leaves the hairdresser,

the red patches above her eyes will remind her that if she had been able to see clearly,

she may have kept up with her brows on her own...


You make her an appointment with your own eye doctor,

who feels that 9 years is a little long to have gone without glasses,

so,

he'll write her a new prescription.

When she has a new prescription, she will need to find frames that are hip and cheeky...

and if her new hip and cheeky glasses are green,






she's going to need new pair of green boots to go with them.




Now aren't you glad that I decided NOT to buy the black boots--despite how you nagged me because I always back out of purchases like that at the last minute? Sleep well, Hubby. Your money is safe with me...

It's The Thought That Counts

Who hoot! Nearly finished with the shopping-- you know, the in-laws and such.

I've packed and shipped the #1 Son's gifts for him to OPEN ALL ALONE on his first Christmas away from us... sniff....

Everything that was supposed to ship from here, has-- except Christmas cards, which apparently I am not doing this year. Again.
I have to remember to quit buying cards (and addressing them) if I'm never going to actually get them mailed.
Oh and this year, several people were going to be so surprised that I thought of them.
***Happy Christmas, Blogger friends I had addresses for...***

We have a family tradition. As the Thanksgiving skeleton of a picked-clean turkey rests on the middle of a pillaged table, we draw names for gift-giving. Each person gets $20.00 (which has turned to £20.00 since moving to England) and must spend every penny (pence) of it on the name they draw. It's been so fun watching how the kids think.

This year, I was drawing for myself, Miss Ky and #1 Son. That gave me 3 of 7 that I am privvy to. Each year, I know EVERYONE's recipient and usually have my other gifts guessed as well. It's not like I try, my family is just NOT sneaky.

There was the year the Hubby threw his receipts in the bathroom garbage can... it was a time before I had a million children and could actually sit while urinating and my eyes had time to wander around my surroundings. "Oooh, nice, he's bought me and Oil of Olay gift pack, I'll like that-- oh, and hey, I needed one of those pans..."

About an hour after dinner, I found Miss Ky's card on the floor and someone's card with MY NAME on it. I announced, "Someone's card is in here on the floor" to which the Hubby responded, "Not mine, I ripped mine up and threw it away". Well done, 2 to go.

Shortly after that, A1 comes to show me who he's drawn... and following is A2. Ok, I have eliminated 6 of 7 people as the person who drew my name.

The next night at dinner, J2 (comedian child that draws trouble to him) says, "I know, let's play a game. Let's have everyone list what they'd like to get for Christmas-- we can start with you, Mum".
Bless his heart.



This past weekend, we went shopping.
At Carrow Road.
Where they have everything Norwich City Football (Simon Lappin).
J2 was very excited to find a computer desktop cd
with Simon Lappin on it.

He bought it.

When we got home, he quietly slipped away.





20 minutes later he showed up in my room with several rolls of balled up wrapping paper and angrily plopped this big cardboard box down on the floor, "I can't do anything right!"
I proceeded to show him how to wrap...
as he watched me, arms folded across his chest with a huge Grinchy scowl.

The child had me wrap my own present that he worked so hard to disguise with a big box.

I am practicing my surprised expression as we speak...

New Angry

So I'm still spitting nails, but new reason. This seems to be my December theme:
Rage at the world.

Let's say you have a son. Say your son is a smarty-pants-- maybe that term is an understatement. Say your son lives to be in the spotlight and could be considered a clown.

Let's go as far to say that people either love your son or hate him.

You choose to love him, but secretly, deep down have dreams of duct-taping his mouth until he reaches adulthood.

Now, said Son would probably just draw trouble to him I would suppose. What if one day he just pushes one kid on the bus too far and that kid cold cocks him as he's getting off the bus, sending blood flying out of son's nose and all over his school uniform?

Your Hubby might go to speak to the other kids' parents, wouldn't he?
And since your Hubby is so mild mannered, he goes over there perfectly aware that chances are good HIS own kid probably deserved the punch, but even so should be discussed.

Poor aggravated kid from the bus is probably aggravated because he comes from the epitome of a white trash home, so the father spews obscenities and threatens to whomp on your Hubby. Unfortunately he has to do with his neck craned back since the Hubby is so much bigger than him.
Maybe his equally trashy wife starts screaming obscenities as well. Chances are, your mild mannered Hubby is just going to turn around and go home since these people are Neanderthals and can't carry on a rational discussion.

Here's where the anger part comes in.

The next day at school, your son's "Form Teacher" (head of his school year) pulls him out of class, embarrasses him and asks him to explain himself about an incident that happened on a friday evening, OFF SCHOOL GROUNDS and when son explains, she says "I don't believe you, you are lying". She then pulls the witnesses out of class and when they ALL confirm that your son was NOT at fault, she drops it. NEVER apologizing.

Say you choose to let it slide. Because you're like that. You pick your battles.

Oh, but that son can draw trouble...

Imagine that yesterday your clown-boy comes home with reports that "kicking girl" (so named because she has kicked him every day since she moved here a year and a half ago) spit on him.

I imagine you probably are a little bit of a germaphobe and went ballistic.
I'm just guessing, because I myself would never act that way.

Maybe you calmed down enough to send a letter stating that the abuse your child has been receiving could be considered school yard bullying (huge emphasis on Anti-bullying here) which is bad enough but now that the bully has resorted to spitting, you are not going to tolerate it. You may have asked for a meeting with the Kicking Girl and her parents. You may have threatened further action if this was not seriously considered.

You might end up being in serious need of therapy and therefore begin ranting on your blog when your beloved, perfect, little smarty-trousers son comes home with a report that he was once again pulled out of class to face a crying Kicking Girl and Form Teacher asking what his side of the story was and THEN accusing him of lying about it-- not only to the Form Teacher, but to the Mother (you) that wrote the letter. With testimonies of ALL his classmates that Kicking Girl does indeed kick daily and did most certainly spit on him as they watched.

I'm thinking you're probably pretty wound up right now.

Hypothetically speaking of course-- this all only IF you have a son, who thinks he's funnier than he really is with a Form Teacher who could teach "Ways to Warp a Child's Esteem for Life 101".

Harry Potter Fans, Soapboxes Unite!

WARNING:

I am spitting nails.

I've had it with movie makers determined to turn everything sexual and for Harry Potter?! That nice little kid who only wants to save the world? I am willing to fight this one.

Tell me how you feel about THIS.

or THIS.

Is that the most moronic statement you have ever read? (Just in case you're skipping my link session, here it is): "If you had to pick one fault in the Harry Potter films, it would probably be their lack of sexual content".
Are they insane? When will they learn that a good movie will do well at a box office without a gratuitous nude or sex scene?

They've just assured that this family of seven won't be attending their usual two theater viewings followed by the DVD purchase if they proceed as planned.

Look, I don't care if the world calls me a prude or out of touch-- I don't go to sex-filled, nudity laced movies and I don't really care everyone else in the world does, but when it creeps into my children's movies, I figure it's time to speak up.

Anyone with me on this?


(crickets)



If you feel the same way as I do, can you make your voice heard? Blog about it, Face Book it, write David Yates personally. Please.