It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

Ahhh...the holidays are here! Today I officially started the portion of my Christmas shopping that doesn't include a craft store. I began my crafting bonanza last week, and am always amazed at how much I think I can accomplish versus how much is humanly possible.

Because the crafts are gifts, I can't openly discuss them, but suffice to say there will be photo documentation provided at a later date (read; December 26th). If I can pull this season off, I'll have a whole new respect for myself!

Reasons why I think this year will be different:

1. I've already started my crafting projects.
2. I've made a shopping list, and kept the number of people to whom we're giving actual gifts at a reasonable number.
3. I don't have an outside job, so I can let Henry run wild in our house while I "tie up loose ends" on projects through the first two weeks of December.
4. Finally, but maybe most significantly, I have delusions of gradeur.

When explaining my plans for gifts to friends, they think that I'm awfully crafty...however, my personality, as I've said before, is that I do things "good enough". Any real scrapbooker would cringe at my pages; they are not perfectly measured, and they aren't really even that good, but they're there!

I like creating a project and looking at it thinking, "Wow, I'm pretty awesome!" I mean, who wouldn't like to stare at a chart with a bunch of numbers and shaded images for hours and then voila, you've got an embroidered pillow case!? In case you didn't catch the sarcasm, I was ready to cry after stitching the first stem of the first flower...and there are TWO pillowcases to do? Sweet...I'm glad that I'm always so realistic about my abilities and time frames.

It used to drive my best friend crazy when I'd tell her I could be somewhere in 10 minutes when clearly anyone who had driven there in the last 30 years knows that it can't be done in less than 20 (at best). It's something that I've really worked on, but I have learned that it's due mostly to my desire to be all things to all people, all at the same time. "Yes, I can definitely do that for you. Oh, no, it won't matter at all that I'm currently holding a phone conversation with someone (not hands-free), juggling three bowling pins, diapering a child and preparing a meal...I can do it all!"

Back to shopping; my friends and I went to the outlet malls near our house, and it was so much fun! The air was crisp, and the sales were hot. I love shopping for other people, while at the same time satisfying my love for checking off items from a list. We went sans children, which was fabulous, and everytime I saw the gynormous stroller trying to squeeze through the congested stores, I thought, thank God Big J is home with H otherwise, this would not be fun...wait, otherwise, I would not be here!

There's nothing like having a day out, without kids, so you can talk about all the fun/crude topics that you can't in front of kids without the muted/mouthed words that make a conversation seem like it's being told over a bad phone connection.

Anywhoooo...that's life in the fast lane for ya.

Have a Holly Jolly Christmas (or whichever holiday you celebrate this year!) Also, in case you're wondering...that's the "tree" from our first Christmas as a married couple...pretty swanky, eh? They were supposed to flank a sidewalk, oh well!

Our Lady of Assumption

Over the years, I've become what one might call a "lapsed Catholic". While I still hold many of the beliefs, going to mass on a weekly basis has fallen by the wayside. It started in college when I worked most Sundays/didn't have my mother to force me to go.

I had a Catholic wedding, and my child has been baptized...but that's about it. I decided when we moved here that I would start attending church again, because I appreciated the structure that it provided me through childhood. Growing up, I had great priests. The best being the priest who is still serving, and married me/baptized H. He is liberal in his thinking, and made going to church as enjoyable as possible for a 17 year old brat, with the exception of the man we dubbed Father Speedy, because he said mass inside of 25 minutes without fail...it was awesome!

Fast forward 11 years, and here I am. In order to prepare for my return I purchased Catholicism for Dummies, What Catholics Really Believe and Inside the Catholic Mass. I was not going to be standing there, forgetting the words to the Nicean Creed or the Profession of Faith. I had overheard one of the other mothers in my group talking about her priest, referring to him as Father X (we'll call him) and saying how he's very liberal, and enjoyable to listen to, applicable to today, etc.

I finally asked the mom what church she attends and she said St. X (We'll call it). I was so excited to have found what I thought would be the perfect fit. Yesterday, I got myself ready ensuring that I replaced my wedding rings after applying lotion. As my husband is not Catholic and won't be attending with me, I wanted to ensure that everyone understood that I was not an unwed mother.

I packed H's bag with goldfish crackers, raisins, juice/water mix, and a string chesse, along with three Dr. Seuss board books that make no noices. I dressed him smartly in a brown corduroy suit and a striped button-down shirt. He looked very handsome, and I spent the drive explaining that he would have to sit in his seat through the time we were there, and that Mommy packed lots of fun things for him to do/eat.

I had seen the school attached to the church in passing on the way to another activity once, so didn't bother mapquesting. When I arrived at the school, I did not see the church, but a nice couple directed me, stating it was just around the corner on a different street.

I was feeling rather smug, so I called my oh-so-Catholic little sister (her nickname growing up was Sister Mary Mandy) to let her know that I was on my way to church! My dad answered, and said he would pass on the message, as my sister was at their house visiting, but that they were all happy I was returning.

Ahhhh...I've re-secured my position of favorite daughter (there are four of us).

I pulled up in front of the church, to be greeted with the sign "The Episcopal Church Welcomes You." Great! I have the wrong church. I put the car in gear to keep driving, when I saw the sign "St. X Episcopal Church"....WHAT?!? At a prior time, this mother had referred to herself as Catholic...did I hear incorrectly?

All this time, I assumed that the mom was talking about a Catholic church...all the subtle lingo was there! Growing up in a Mormon/Catholic household (yes, my Dad's Mormon and my Mom's Catholic, and they each attend their own church), I've learned that when people refer to Jesus as Heavenly Father, or talk about CTR or Seminary, they're most likely LDS. (A plethora of relatives from Utah doesn't hurt either, or having more than 6 siblings). I thought that I was going to a Catholic Church...I was SO disappointed.

Please let me state firmly, that I have NOTHING against Episcopalians, I'm just not one...like when Charlotte is converting to Judaism, and her friends say, "But youself is Episcopalian" well, my self is Catholic. I may be lapsed, but I haven't lapsed into another faith...

I called Sister Mary Mandy back, and she laughingly said, "What are you calling to get some coaching on what to say?" I said "It's even sadder!" in the most pathetic voice, relayed the story and made her laugh harder.

Well, I guess when you assume...

Next week, I'll be heading to St. Mary's in my town, as I looked in up in the yellow pages under Catholic Churches, let's hope that one's right.

On a side note, as I was typing, I heard H saying "Bad, Bad Bad!" I asked him what he was doing, and looked over the ledge of the loft, to see him holding a ball point pen. I had him hand me the pen, and asked if he had drawn on the wall. He replied "Yes. Bad! Bad!" I said, "If you knew it was bad, why did you do it?!" He looked at me blankly...I now know the reason that we HAVE to go to church...Catholic guilt kept me from being bad while in my parent's home during the teen years.

The 7 days of Last Week

I have been remiss in posting lately. This has been a CRAZY couple of weeks, with all the joys of toddlerhood keeping me on my toes every second. Let me just give the Cliff's Notes version (the to tune of the 12 Days of Christmas) If you sing it out loud it's more fun:

On the first day of last week, my Toddler gave to me; A crayon that he'd tried to eat.

On the second day of last week, my Toddler gave to me; Two new contusions and a crayon that he'd tried to eat.

On the third day of last week, my Toddler gave to me; Three broken pens, Two new contusions and a crayon that he'd tried to eat.

On the fourth day of last week, my Toddler gave to me; Four laundry loads, Three broken pens, Two new contusions and a crayon that he'd tried to eat.

On the fifth day of last week, my Toddler gave to me; Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive ruined CD's, Four laundry loads, Three broken pens, Two new contusions and a crayon that he'd tried to eat.

On the sixth day of last week, my Toddler gave to me; Six carpet stains, Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive ruined CD's, Four laundry loads, Three broken pens, Two new contusions and a crayon that he'd tried to eat.

On the seventh day of last week, my Toddler gave to me; Seven sleepless days, Six carpet stains, Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive ruined CD's, Four laundry loads, Three broken pens, Two new contusions and a crayon that he'd tried to eat. (The end)

Most of this would not be that big a deal, but I'm in my first trimester of pregnancy and EXHAUSTED ALL OF THE TIME! The new carpet stains that I'm referring to are two days in a row of diaper removal that had a #2 in it. In my former occupation, I used to roll my eyes when people talked about the kind of stuff their kids did when "I only turned my back for about 5 minutes!" Well, I'm here to tell you that it's true.

H game me the "opportunity" to shampoo his carpets and deep clean his bedroom two days in a row. The second day's event involved an entire tub of Boudreaux's Butt Paste, his CD collection, and a naked two year old (wait, he was wearing his velcro shoes). This event was about 15 minutes of poor supervision in the safety of his own bedroom. His cabinet has the magnetic lock on it that you use in the doctor office, but he muscled the door open. I had recently moved most diaper changing supplies to the bathroom, so can be thankful that it was only the one tub of butt paste, and not all of this lotion, etc.

I walked in the room to see him standing there in all his glory, with whitish schmere all over his legs, arms, boy parts and, yes, across his eyes. Little white eyelashes batted up at me, and I thought for sure my lack of supervision was going to lead to his blindness, but it's luckily a very mild product that wiped right off his face. He proudly exclaimed "I put the lotion on the bottom!" Oh honey...that's certainly on more than your bottom! I took him straight to the tub, then let him color while I shampooed his carpets and opened the windows to dry it all by the time his "quiet time" rolled around that afternoon.

Quiet time; what a joke! There are the rare days that he just drops from being so tired and falls asleep in his bedroom on a pile of book like the time shown above...please note the socks on his hands...his newest love.

Through it all, though, I couldn't stop laughing. I felt like I couldn't even be irritated because I can imagine how good it probably felt to put the paste on, and I KNOW that there were quite a few similar incidents in my childhood (bottle of foundation on my sister's white desk anyone?) He is such a curious and funny kid, but seriously, there are a lot of times lately when I think that it was almost easier(I'm not saying that one's easier than the other, only that each has its advantages) to be a full-time working mom.

Of course, when I was in the thick of that, I daydreamed constantly about just staying at home, under the delusion that this would be my big break, as I'd been working at a job (not including baby-sitting and lawn mowing) since I was 15. I guess I forgot to take into account that whole parenting a toddler bit.

Hmmm...seems you can't win for losing. I've been talking a lot with my friends and my sisters about "having it all." In trying to decide whether to go back to school right now, or wait a couple of years, I finally had to make peace with the fact that I am where I am, and I don't want to be going to school full-time, while juggling a toddler and, eventually, a new baby. I hope that I will be able to have it all eventually, maybe just not all at once.

Oh, and if anyone has tips for napping after the transition to toddler bed, please pass them on. I can only shampoo my carpets so much, and I'd really like to go back to napping when he does!

Fool Me Once...

Argh...I just hate it when I finally allow my "I don't want to upset anyone" attitude to be swayed by a passionate argument, only to later find out that 'the wronged' may have been exaggerating...I read a Post by Expecting Executive in which she questioned the outrage felt by so many over the removal of photos of nursing women from the networking site FaceBook.

The historian in me is ashamed that I did not research the claims prior to writing an impassioned post, as it now seems that the innocent photo shown by the user who was removed may not have been the one that caused her photos' removal.

I am hereby recanting my outrage at Facebook (but not the basic sentiment that mom's should be supported in their choices) of my Babies are Better than Pasties post so you all will know that I am not, in the words of the famous KHall "koo koo la la".

Finally, although I'm pretty sure that I was only fooled once, this is still a shame on me situation.

This Little Piggy...

"This little piggy moved to Massachusetts, this little piggy stays home (with a 2 year old), this little piggy makes chicken nuggets, this little piggy loads the dishwasher, and this little piggy cried 'WEE WEE WEE, I need some time of my own!'"

I don't have the cutest feet, but I always feel better about them when they are painted and callous-free. Pedicures were a regular indulgence for me in Portland. Accompanied by a good girlfriend and a trusty Starbucks Latte, I would sit for an hour and have my piggies pampered.

Since I moved to Mass, I had only had one pedicure, and that was paid for by my lovely Oregon friend as a birthday gift. That means that I have gone almost 4 months with only one pedicure! The other morning, I was dying my own hair (another concession since being a SAHM), and dripped some of the "Warm Espresso" dye on my foot. Now, not only were my toes haggard and sad, one of the nails had a large brown stain, making it look as if I had some rare fungus.

I woke up this morning, after my DH let me sleep in until 10am (this seems to be a Saturday routine for those who read about my perfect day before), in a bit of a funk. I spent almost an hour wandering around Target getting a new shower curtain liner, as mine is riddled with mildew. As a splurge, I purchased four new hand towels, two for each bathroom, as I have not purchased handtowels since I was a Junior in college...my poor EB Home towels were starting to look sad after 8 years of dutiful service.

I then decided that I would do what makes the soul feel good, and visited my local nail salon. As soon as I walked in, it felt familiar, yet different. The pedicures were all performed in a back room, where each station has a sheer curtain that can divide them from the others and a small lamp, creating a wonderfully soothing ambiance. I opted for the Spa Pedicure, and sank my tired feet into the warm, whirling water. I set the chair to perform a lower back massage throughout, and prepared myself for a treat.

My pedicurist did an amazing job, using salt scrub, exfoliating cream, then an invigorating mint masque followed by massage oil. Each treatment was applied using a wonderful massage up to the knee, while the technician wore rubber gloves and used sterile tools. It lasted a full hour, and cost only $37!

I got to sit and read the classics; "Us Weekly" "In Touch" and "People" poring over the pictures of McDreamy, Lauren Conrad, TomKat and all the other beautiful people.

After choosing OPI's Double Decker Red for my nails, I sat and let the shiny lacquer dry before getting in my car to head back home, ready to tackle the fun task of cleaning toilets and doing laundry. H was sitting in his booster eating his snack, and looked at my feet, exclaiming "CUTE!"...ahhh...sometimes two year olds are all the self-esteem booster you could ask for.

If you'd like to replicate my experience go to Creative Nail & Spa, located at 50 Boston Turnpike, Shrewsbury, MA (White City, in the Shaw's parking lot) or call (508) 799-0258...it was worth every penny!

Well, better go clean those other t's (tubs and toilets for those not in the know :) )