December makes me feel like Christmas record people.  Oh, you don’t know them? 

You know…these people:

The smiley ones with big teeth and shiny lipstick and perfectly tilted heads. That girl up there? She’s saying, “I’m so full of Christmas cheer, I can’t feel my legs!”  There’s a snowy pine behind her, she’s singin’ carols, and sister is happy.  December, of course, has its regular dose of daily frustration and stress and exhaustion. It’s just that there’re so many twinkly lights to sort of daze and distract me, so I smile.  Because smiling’s my favorite.

Speaking of records, my first order of random enjoying business…

An early Christmas present–early because I had 99 cent Goodwill Christmas records that couldn’t go to waste, so a new record player for the kids’ room it is.  It has since found a safer, higher place to spin.

And Hark! (hell yeah, I just said Hark) I found Christmas prenatal vitamins:

It also should be noted that if Honey, I Shrunk the Kids could really happen, I’d be first in line to be shrunk, and I’d spend December in this Village Inn.  Dude, there are fifty shades of good stuff happening up in that Inn, and I only wish I was small enough to fit in the door and see what’s going on.

So, where were we? 

I pushed my cart past a giant crate of real fir wreaths today at Costco.  Not to over-persononify, but I kid you not, the fir scent climbed out of the crate, chased me and my cart and tackled me for a hug–so hard that I had to spin my cart around, return to the crate and bury my head in it.  People stared, but I am not ashamed.  That stuff is to be enjoyed. 

So we do.  Enjoying…

New Goodwill Treasures

Little Shoppers

Growin’ Kid
I saw him yesterday, in 4D, and I love him all the more.  He has chubby cheeks and a Lainey-like forehead.  And he flips so much, it takes my breath away.  My explanation on in-utero baby movement to Brett the other day: “Picture a raccoon.  Inside your body.  And he’s goin’ all crazy.  That is happening right now.  Inside me.”

My Kid Standing out in Ballet
…the undies give her away

The Beginning of Impromptu Holiday Adventures
Like night trips to IHOP for hot cocoa and pancakes.

The come-to-Jesus, slap-your-face-and-get-with-it phone call to Heidi yesterday:

Heidi: “Hello?”
Me:  “This is bullshit.  It’s December 4th, and we haven’t had one crazy holiday outing.  I expect you, in green tights and reindeer antlers, knocking on my door soon.”
Heidi:  “I know, I know.  We’re going to change that.  Promise.”

Needless to say, there are festivities to come.  They will involve a white van and possibly commence in heist fashion.  I may or may not be wearing this when we pull away. (Hey Heidi, can you rig your horn to beep Jingle Bells?)

Nella Begging for Walks
She brings us her boots. “Boots? Walk? Please?” And a flash of a smile that would warm the Grinch’s heart.  Saying no is very hard indeed.

North Pole Prep
…the making of which induces record lady smiles for me.  I can’t feel my legs.

Blurry Lights
…along with in-focus ones, colored ones, clear ones, flashing ones, red ones, green ones and all the in-between ones.

And I feel this should end with some deep-voice radio announcer rattling off disclaimers in super speedy auction manner. Because that’s a lot of cheer, a little bit of swearing and yes, a Hark! But it’s December.  So there you be.

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Happy Camper Studio is back with a newly renovated storefront that offers clothing and homegoods, hand-dyed and designed by a Southern Arizona family living in the Sonoran Desert. As Happy Camper Studio puts it, “we are the “Official Outfitters of Daydreams and Adventures” for children of ALL ages and we don’t do fussy!” My girls’ mermaid dresses are the second round of Happy Camper Studio products we’ve owned, and one of Lainey’s favorite things to wear–super comfortable, authentic mermaid wear (the scales!), and the real selling factor…they twirl!

I love the simple, sweet Christmas dress Happy Camper Studio offers and the affordable price ($25, but use code 1STCAMPER for $5 off your Christmas or mermaid dress order).

Check out the Happy Camper Studio blog as well!

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Cup ‘o Cheer, Friends. Cup ‘o Cheer.

Introducing two new holiday sponsors (cue Christmas cartwheel and the throwing of silver tinsel):

FOR KIDS: 

I had the pleasure of meeting award winning children’s author Maria Dismondy at one of our road trip stops this summer.  Her message is one we share: “In today’s society, it’s important to remind children that, although we are different on the outside, we are very much alike on the inside.”  Maria highlights this message in each of her children’s books, Spaghetti in a Hot Dog Bun, The Juice Box Bully, Pink Tiara Cookies for Three, and the newly released Potato Chip Champ.

In each of her books, Maria talks about important childhood issues–bullying, recognizing differences, understanding kindness, and celebrating individuality. By presenting entertaining scenarios and characters, Maria Dismondy’s books empower kids and help equip them with ways to deal with challenging circumstances.

We love our books–they spur so many great conversations with Lainey.

Books can be ordered through Maria‘s website using links to Paypal, Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

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FOR MAMAS:

Returning sponsor Nella Designs‘ shop right now is a virtual Christmas candy store: personalized illustrations, cards and holiday labels and stickers, custom jewelry, gorgeous art prints and silhouette gifts.  Nella Designs site is a happy place to visit and one that is sure to give you some great ideas for the perfect gift this year.

That wishbone necklace!!  Bottom row: A unique illustrated wall calendar, my cherished silhouette necklace of my girls, personalized art print

Use Code MERRY for 10% off your order.  The international holiday shipping deadline is December 5th (tomorrow), and US shipping deadline is December 14th.

Like Nella Designs on Facebook to learn of upcoming sales.

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  Merry Merry Tuesday!

Back in home school days—maybe ninth grade—my sister and I joined a handful of other homeschooled kids from our church to meet every Tuesday and Thursday for real lessons. By real lessons, I mean we had to report to teachers, listen to actual lectures, and do work as opposed to pretend we were watching biology videos at home when really we were watching Saved by the Bell (for the record, AC Slater still has my heart).

On these communal home school days, we drove half an hour to our church, an old brick building in Flint, Michigan that struggled to hang on to its historic charm when everything around it was falling apart. Wrapped high around the sanctuary of this church was a U-shaped balcony housing a number of modest offices. The floors creaked, the carpet was worn, and the walls were cold and paint-chipped, but there was character, especially after the rooms were transformed to home school classrooms. Chalkboards, desks and a few colored posters greeted us in these rooms on Tuesdays and Thursdays, along with teachers—church members who volunteered their time to instruct subjects in which they were experienced. Several of them were licensed teachers who traded public school jobs to stay at home with their kids and offer their help with homeschooled students in our church. It worked out perfectly.

Sue was our algebra teacher—or Sister Sue as we called her because in our church everyone was a Sister or a Brother, a Deacon or a Pastor, and you respectfully referred to them as such. Home school outings sounded a lot like the hallways in Sister Act—kids running around, shouting “Sister Mary! Sister Theresa! Sister Sue!” Except no habits or cool nuns with pasts as Reno lounge singers. Sister Sue was a math whiz, an algebra genius, and teaching higher math classes came easy for her. On the first day of algebra class, we (the three kids who made up Algebra I) received our text books (A Beka for curious homeschoolers) and immediately began flipping through them, just asking to be intimidated. And we were. The middle of the book revealed quadratic function graphs, square roots, equations with too many parentheses to count—a cryptic map to the future of our class, and we were certain we’d never decipher it.

“We’re never going to be able to do this,” my friend complained, “this is, like, way too hard.”

“What page are you looking at?” Sister Sue asked.

“Page 181,” my friend answered. We each flipped through our books until everyone was on page 181. She was right, it was bad—a hot mess of x’s and y’s and detailed graphs that made no sense. While we moaned and protested, Sister Sue smiled and walked to the chalkboard.

“So you think that looks really hard, huh?” she asked as she picked up a piece of chalk and wrote in a small corner at the top of the board the number 181 and circled it. “We’ll see about that.”

We eventually forgot about page 181, the tiny chalked circle at the top of the board lost among weekly lessons. Gradually and—for the most part—painlessly, we learned to solve square roots, function graphs and equations with too many parentheses to count. And then one day, in the middle of class, Sister Sue announced, “I’d like you to look down and see what page we’re on.”

Behold, page 181.

We were shocked. It looked completely different now that we were there. We laughed in disbelief and chided our former selves for doubting our capabilities. Function graphs? Child’s play. Square roots? Cakewalk. Here we were, on page 181, and we hadn’t even realized how high we had climbed.

Sister Sue erased the number on the top corner of the board that day. And strangely, it was a little disappointing not to have a scary goal anymore.

I’ve remembered this story through many moments of intimidation and doubt and have repeated the words “page 181” to myself a number of times now, its significance intensified with events in my life far more important than algebra lessons. The message remains though—I’m equipped with 181 pages of confidence and experience, enough to know I’ve proved myself wrong. Instead of the “I’ll never…” mindset, I will continue to face goals—far-off ones, challenging ones—by circling an objective on a corner of a chalkboard, showing up for class every day, turning the pages, and knowing with certainty that I will get there eventually.

Sunset on the beach last night

For all the Page 181s we face: I’ll lose the weight, I’ll get out of debt, I’ll stop yelling at my kids so much, I’ll stop caring what people think, I’ll restore order to my home, I’ll save the money, I’ll learn to forgive, I’ll stop being so critical, I’ll repair that relationship…write it down, circle it, and start on page 1. Allow for sick days and extra time on some lessons. You’ll get there.

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I’m heading toward the holiday cave, feeling the need for more family and friends, impromptu trips to the beach for soul recharge, good food, good books and some holiday traditions…time to dock this ship and settle down.  We’re headed to the North Pole later this week.

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The Albums joins us as a sponsor this holiday, bringing a unique experience for your family.  There are a number of ways to share photos and tell stories online, but not everyone is interested in blogging and many of you may not have found what works for you yet.  If you dread writing blog posts, if you’re looking for something more simplified and organized, if you want a personal experience, The Albums is a way to share your story and your family’s moments with those you love most–grandparents, aunts and uncles, best friends far away. 

Check it out:

If you’re interested, take one moment to sign up and reserve your spot in the premiere here.