A wee bit of holiday love, wedged in this crazy week. We completed our round of holiday programs and performances for each kid, I did the final Christmas card family photo shoot for my friends this week, and I finally mailed out the last installment of our own cards, with a nice bulge of a writing bump on my right ring finger to show for all those addresses. We have just a few more “big fun” holiday things to enjoy before we slow down and huddle as a family for some quiet holiday love at home next week. I can’t wait. In the meantime, we are enjoying…

Nella’s Winter Ballet Recital
She danced to “Marshmallow World” in a bun shellacked with three coats of glitter spray, and I totally felt like a dance mom passing bobby pins and cheek shimmer I brought to other moms backstage. But then I realized “Do you want to borrow my glitter spray?” is absolutely something I would say in the real world too, so no, not a dance mom.

The pointed toe tap. Slays me every time.

I loved this part of the recital…when all the little girls were supposed to join hands and walk around in a circle. Ivy and Nella grasped hands and then just got lost for a moment, frozen, hands intertwined in friendship and not a care in the world. Bye, girls! Ima just stand here another minute.

Poppa gave her flowers after her performance, and sister was proud, proud, proud.

A Real Tree
I had to have one this year because it “makes my apartment smell mossy.” But our big tree is artificial, so we hit the–what I call–“tree farm” because I like the way it sounds, but really just a tree tent on the side of the road, for an itty bitty Charlie Brown tree for our bedroom.

But if you squint your eyes, you can totally imagine that these are fresh trees planted in a big field up north, and it’s ’bout to snow.

Speaking of snow, I surprised the kids this morning. We’re skipping school today. And hopping on an airplane. A weekend of Christmas magic awaits…
Gotta go pack some mittens.

This little love story post is sponsored by simplehuman.

Confession: I thought Brett wasn’t that in to me after our first date–which is, I guess, fine, but surprising considering I sensed so much chemistry. Whatever. There were more fish in the sea. It’s just that it took him two weeks to ask me out again even though we were talking on the phone and laughing at each other’s stories and asking questions about each other’s families. What I didn’t know at the time, though, was that Brett heard a bit of a “productive cough” on our phone conversation after our first date, and that two weeks is what he considered an appropriate amount of time for the cold germs he imagined I had to die off–lest he, GOD FORBID, be exposed to them. That’s right: Brett’s a Class 1 Germaphobe. 

“Oh yeah,” my friend who set us up finally informed me, “I forgot to tell you. He’s, like, super freaked out by germs.”

The rest of the story is no secret. We overcame that little hiccup, and he braved another date with Formerly Contaminated, and have been married 10 years now, a union that is astounding given his opposition to germs and my God-made-dirt-and-dirt-don’t-hurt approach to everything.  As I’ve revealed, I’m a wolf. Wolves eat Skittles they found on the floor and lick dropped pacifiers before putting them back in babies’ mouths. Wolves are immune to germs. Wolves are so loud and clumsy, germs run at the mere thought of us in their path.

A union of a germaphobe and pacifier-licker does, of course, come with its challenges. Like, say, he governs my comings and goings with repeated “Did you wash your hands?” requests. I, of course–despite the fact that he has trained me to religiously wash my hands after outings–like to taunt him with: “These hands just caressed the handle of a very dirty grocery cart, and if you ask me again if I washed my hands, I will rub them all over you.”

That’s the fun part, of course. His aversion to germs presents many opportunities for teasing, and our entire family has jumped aboard. When Brett hops in on my phone conversations with my sister to tease us about how long we’ve been talking, my sister always snaps back, “Hey Brett, why don’t you go wash your hands.” He laughs, of course, because humor is what fills the personality gaps between Wolf and—hmmm, what’s his animal representation? Paw-Licking Cat? Bacteria-Fighting Sucker Fish?

Here’s the other fun part.  I KNOW WHAT TO GET HIM FOR CHRISTMAS. Soap. And not any soap, but soap that comes in a beautiful dispenser that apportions cleansing foam without ever needing to be touched by hands that have patted raw chicken or felt up a grocery cart handle or cleaned the toilet after a little boy misjudged his potty aim.

I don’t need lingerie. This picture, my friends, is a tantalizing display of modern cleanliness and my husband’s dreams come true. I give you simplehuman’s new foam cartridge sensor pump–sleek design and touch-free so no germs or smudges are left behind. That’s hawt.

For real though, he is all about this bass.

And so are the kids. “It’s magic,” Brett told them.

Refilling the pump is easy–just eject the old cartridge and click in a new one–no messy pouring. The pump is rechargeable–one charge lasts up to 3 months.  And there’s a wide range of soaps and scents from simplehuman hand and dish soap, to hand soap from other great brands like EO and ARIA by Antica Farmacista.

For the extra clean-conscious, I imagine choosing these scents is a bit like picking out what donuts go in our dozen for the rest of us.

Lookie there. A box of Krispy Kremes.

(By the way, the Peppermint & Tea Tree is amazing.)

This little love story ends well. Because Love Conquers All. Especially if you keep your hands clean.

To make love easier (and cleaner), simplehuman is giving away a foam cartridge sensor pump (and accompanying soaps) to a lucky follower. Check it out.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Don’t think Brett hasn’t warned me numerous times that cold season is upon us. My hands are washed to rawness, folks. Because I try to speak his love language as best as I can. Don’t worry, though. I’m still a wolf.

*Note: This post was typed with clean hands on a sanitized keyboard. 

 

 

This post is sponsored by IKEA.

I walked in on Nella and Dash playing school the other day–the two of them huddled around a table, a piece of paper in front of them. It didn’t take long to figure out that Nella was the teacher as Dash held a pencil and she gently corrected him for his sloppy attempt at a “T”.

“That’s not a T,” she said.

So he tried again, seeking her approval.

And when she didn’t praise him for a better job, he called her out on it: “You didn’t say ‘Good Job.'”

The two of them continued, giggling through Dash’s obvious attempts to ruffle his teacher’s feathers (potty talk, potty talk, potty talk) and challenge her classroom management skills (scribble, scribble, throw pencil, fall to the ground). They eventually ditched the “classroom” to Nella’s room, trading school clothes for dress-up clothes and trailing toys from the bedroom to the hallway to the living room. I secretly watched and listened to them the whole while, delighted to see the highlights of their friendship and their love shine through play.

In photography, the hour of daylight where the sun shines the dreamiest is called the golden hour. In our home, that golden hour is play.

When I find my kids playing together–building cities with blocks and trucks, role playing parenthood with baby dolls and diaper bags, twirling to Taylor Swift in old recital costumes and tutus–everything is good. I marvel at their creativity and applaud their imaginations. I see how much they love each other–how they entertain each other, despite age gaps and communication differences. And I’m assured of how much they’ve learned, especially for Nella. Play is the stage for her budding vocabulary and social skills.

As a parent raising kids in a technology-driven, future-focused, hyper stimulating world, I am challenged to protect the precious art of play. I know not only from watching my kids that they are smarter, more creative, more connected and more content when they have plenty of time to play, but from my own childhood memories. We didn’t have iPads or cell phones growing up. We didn’t have 500 extra curricular activities. We had one thing to entertain us–play. We played Kick the Can with neighbors. We played Cops & Robbers with cousins. We played elaborate made-up games with siblings that are now hilarious to recall at family gatherings. And because we have so many memories of playing together, we have rich relationships today. Play is bonding–an investment in a profitable future.

Playing “House” not only cushioned the blow of my parents’ divorce but prepared me for motherhood. “Honey” and “Sweetheart” rolls off my tongue effortlessly as a mom, thanks to years of practicing on Cabbage Patch Kids and Baby-Feel-So-Reals. And no matter how many parenting books I do or don’t read or mom advice that may or may not be right for me, I know one universal truth about raising kids…Play is Important.

While in the United States, celebrating the beauty of play might be challenged by technology distractions and/or an overbearing extra-curricular activity schedule, in many countries play is up against greater beasts–children having to work, lack of homes, hunger, physical challenges and disabilities, segregation, etc. I’m thrilled to partner with IKEA this year for their “Let’s Play for Change” Campaign which highlights making play possible for children and youth in some of the world’s poorest communities. IKEA believes that play is a key component of childhood development and understands how play positively impacts families in the US. They are committed to improving opportunities for all children by funding holistic, long-term programs that can create substantial, lasting change. For each purchase of a participating IKEA soft toy, children’s book or children’s play furniture, IKEA will donate $1 to be divided across partner organizations in countries where children face play challenges–Special Olympics, War Child, Handicap International, Room to Read, UNICEF and Save the Children. Customers can also donate a monetary amount at IDEA registers. 100 million children have benefited from programs through the IKEA Foundation and $36 billion has been raised or contributed, and they are committed this holiday to continuing their efforts to help more children play.

To more golden hours for more children.

Men do not quit playing because they grow old; they grow old because they quit playing. ~Oliver Wendell Holmes