Speed blogging - Our Christmas Adventure

Rub a dub dub, Look in Dasha's tub...

Look where you'd find a pair of crusty undies to rewear...

This is the spot to head for a swim indoors...

This is the one thing that Annie can't open by herself - yet...

Check out where mom gets lost every night...

For your last stop, go back and check under the big coniferous.

Something to wear...

Something to play (or use to irritate others)...

Something to play...

Checking out the gifts in the fridge... (This was the hardest clue for them to get)!

Something to play (and irritate others with)...

The girls checking out the spot to swim indoors. (Please check out the doll in the tub. See! That's what happens when you take tea time with Annie)!

Annie's "something to learn with"...

 So, that was Christmas morning. The scavenger hunt had it's good points and bad ones. The good: It took the kids over 2.2 seconds to unwrap everything. The bad: It left a trail of destruction throughout the entire house! (In hindsight, I guess I could have followed behind them with a trash bag but that kind of defeats the purpose. Bummer).

This was Annie's "something to learn" gift, part 2. She loves this bike! It's a balance bike and doesn't have pedals. She just kicks herself around the house and has learned to glide down the straightaways. Look out for your ankles and toes, though!

This was simply the icing on the cake tonight. I started to put this on Facebook but I don't need any of my students' parents running across it. When I got ready to dump Annie into her bed, she had concocted a "swing" for her doll and was incredibly proud of herself. Um, yeah. What was I supposed to say? (That wasn't the best part, though). When I tried to tell her that her doll was ready for bed and didn't want to "swing" anymore, she handed me the undergarment back and innocently said, "Here, mom. You can put your boobs back in the drawer now." I admit. That was my undoing and I couldn't help but melt to the floor in laughter.

I have so many thoughts but so little time. I have NyQuiled two coughing children (never mind the warning label - they're tough little suckers)! And, I've salined the littlest nose and given her honey. This house is literally vibrating with coughing. Annie hasn't slept in two days now and she's currently talking to herself in her room about seeing the Christmas lights at Life College this evening. It's 11:23. She got up at 5:30 this morning! She didn't have a nap. I think she's either delirious from coughing or the sugar in the honey has a major adverse reaction on her. Who knows but I think I'm probably going to have another bed buddy tonight. (She's like a stinking octopus that must have at least five out of eight tentacles touching you at all times)! So, I'm going to head to bed in hopes that the two big monsters will sleep without coughing and that the little one will rest at some point (or crawl in the bed with me and watch a movie and let me sleep)!

So, there's the short version of the Randolph Christmas.

Good night, all!

Oh yeah, I forgot. The biggest task that I'd been avoiding for the last eight months was tackled successfully today. There were definitely some sketchy moments but the job is done. MY closet is now clean, organized, and contains only MY things. I felt like a major rock star when I emerged from the closet with one bag for Good Will and another full of other "stuff" that Grant and I decided to trash. I think I'll sleep with the closet door open tonight just so I can stare in amazement at my job well done! :) If you've never cleaned out the closet of someone that's "moved on" (be it dead, moved, or other wise), you probably couldn't understand the weight that's been lifted off of my shoulders! Whew! (I can now successfully use that closet as a holding tank for any unruly children, as well. Did I say that out loud? Oops)!

Detours in the Darkness

So, I have hundreds to things racing through my head tonight.

1) Which child put the Krispy Kreme ornament in the garbage can? It certainly didn't jump all the way from the box of ornaments in the garage to the garbage in the kitchen. Hmmm.... Once again, when dealing with broken hearted kids, it's not their words that you have to look out for. It's their actions!

2) The story that Diane Sawyer aired tonight hit me at a level that simply knocked the air out of me and grounded me like a plane in sleet on the Hartsfield tarmac. It's Dasha's story except with Down Syndrome children and in the Ukraine instead of a child with Cerebal Palsy in St. Petersburg, Russia. Blah. This was not the detour down memory lane that I needed tonight. (See the link below to the story. Don't watch it if you're in a hurry or on the edge of a emotional breakdown already). If you don't know Dasha's story, I'm pretty sure it's buried in the depths of this blog somewhere. Forgive me for not going deep sea fishing to find it and link it right now.Diane Sawyer's Angels Story

3) Where is the darn maid? The house still looks like a bomb went off despite an entire day of cleaning.

4) The list of serious topics that I have to add to my blog keeps getting squashed and pushed to the side. This little detour wasn't on my list, either.

5 - 100). I'll have to save these for another day. I have three sick kids that are alternating between barking like seals and sounding like they're coughing their lungs up and I'm taking on snot at an alarming rate myself. (The doctor lovingly says not to give them cough medicine but to elevate their little heads, saline their little noses, and give them lots to drink. Um, yeah. About that drinking part... Do I get to choose what they're drinking? And, would NyQuil be considered a DRINK? If so, bottoms up little ones)!

Seriously, I know that I'm teetering on the edge right now. Between the gaiety of Christmas (said with obvious sarcasm at this point in the game) and ridding my home of the remainder of the decorations, I'm ready for a couple of hours (or days) of solitary confinement. Maybe I'll be able to post something real before 2012 ends. Maybe.

Good night, all. (cough, cough, cough, cough...)

Keeping It Simple...

Always fun to teach the newbies how to destroy wrapping paper!

Perfect. Now she can wreak major havoc without harming herself.

As usual, completely thrilled with something simple as long as she's with friends and being social.

The patriarch looks on like a life guard watching for children to drown in the wrapping paper remnants.

His first successful capture! The paper might not taste great but he'll eat it just to prove to everyone he can!

"Hmmmm.... I could smack you with this and then sit back and serenade myself to sleep since I haven't napped!"

Randolph girls try to help clean up the path of destruction. It looked like an F5 went through!

Here's where I made my most stupid mistake of the night! I should have made a run for the van and high tailed it out of the state! (Every time I see this photo, I think about that commercial where the grandparents run after the taxi screaming, "Don't leave us with the kids")! This was my golden opportunity and I missed it!

The boys... who knows what they were doing but this is probably the only picture we'll ever have of them all together without them holding signs saying "Cherokee County Sheriff's Office - Inmate number ....." The four of them together could do untold damage.

And then there's Pooh. Pooh is as old as I am. There are photos floating around of me as a toddler crawling all over him. He's been through quite a bit but he's managed to keep his honey pot and stand tall with dignity! I can't have Christmas without Pooh! (See my Facebook post to see how Annie finished him off for this Season).

So, there's the children's picture book edition of tonight. Now, I'm trying to figure out how to assemble the remaining items that Santa didn't assemble. (Next year, I'm hiring the elf from MIT with a Master's degree in engineering. The fruitcake I hired this year can't remember to make sure that the screwdriver is set to "screw" and not "unscrew" and spent an undetermined amount of time trying to figure out what the problem was and even thought the screws were the wrong size. Nope! Here's your sign)! Anyway, I've been so busy that I haven't had time to really get emotional about anything. I know it's coming but I'm hoping to hold it off until I can get things tied up here (literally - maybe with duct tape).

Every year, Grant has asked Santa to hide his gifts. ??? This doesn't make much sense to me. However, in an attempt to do things differently this year, all gifts have been wrapped, numbered, and hidden throughout the house. Each gift has a tag with a clue that leads to the next gift. Annie probably won't understand the "game" in having to hunt for her presents but I'm hopeful that the adventure will keep little minds occupied in the morning. (I'm also hoping that Dasha won't consider the oven a routine hiding place after finding one of her gifts there)!

So, as I tucked Annie into bed tonight, I had to promise her that Santa would NOT be entering the house AT ALL! I told her that he gave me the presents and I'm going to put them under the tree. (See how I'm hanging myself on this one? They won't be under the tree! They'll be in eight different places)! Anyway, I'm hopeful that she'll sleep because I know the big kids will be rolling out of bed especially early in the morning!

As I settled Dasha into bed tonight, she lobbed a question at me that I've waited seven years to hear from her. "Did I have a mom in Russia?" Come on, now! Why on earth does this need to be asked on Christmas Eve night and what in the world made her think of this now? We had a very simplistic conversation that I'm sure didn't even begin to fill the gaps that she's obviously suddenly realized exist. It's not that I mind telling her. I just needed time to prepare what I was going to say. She has NEVER asked about this before and we'd just kind of left it up to her. We didn't feel like we needed to purposely stir things up for her if she was content with the knowledge base she had. Ugh. I promised to have a more detailed conversation with her tomorrow. She's supposed to write down any questions she has. I don't know that this will work but it would sure help me. I'm sliding this issue to the back burner for the night, though. Maybe I'm wrong to do that but... She can just add it to the growing list of other things she can tell the therapist! :)

Good night, all!

Hey, Clark! It's like the gift that keeps on giving! - NOT!

A year ago, I sat in The Melting Pot listening to what I already knew was true. He'd been unfaithful. However, there was hope. "We" decided to work it out. In a very intimate moment, he gave me the beautiful ring back that I'd hurled at him days earlier and ask me to go to a week long counseling intensive in Branson, MO. He said things that every woman would want to hear. He made promises about the future and raising the kids that would melt any sensible mother from the inside out. My heart and mind may never come to an agreement on his true intentions. Did he really want to fix things or was it all a ploy to make it look like he'd tried?

A year later, I gave him what I deem as the absolute worst Christmas gift a wife could ever give a husband, my signature on the final divorce decree. (Although, I'm not naive enough to think that he sees the gift as "bad." He's already looking for his passport so he can start planning his honeymoon). Now, I'm just waiting for a date to appear before Judge Mills on the stand and answer questions about the oddity of the decree. (Part of the draw to the uncontested status was not having to go to court. However, I didn't know that due to the stipulations in the document, I'll still have to stand alone on the stand and justify and clarify. Does someone have some extra Prozac or even some sort of tranquilizer dart you could use on an elephant? He doesn't have to attend. Just me).

Oh how I've changed in the last year. God has provided for me in ways that I would have never imagined. Time and time again, God has used strangers, co-workers, and even weird family members (sorry) to meet needs over the last year. Bills were paid. Children were fed and clothed. Tears were wiped. Bail money was promised. Accomplices were drafted. (Oops. Did I say that out loud)? Seriously, it absolutely never failed. Just when I wondered how the ends would meet or how I'd make it through another lonely night, someone reached out. If you were one of those people who stood in the gap for me and the kids, all I can say is, "Thank you." Words could never begin to cover my gratitude.

So, for tonight, I won't say that I'll go to bed without shedding a tear. There are moments when I still cry out to God and question, "Why?" I wouldn't wish the feeling of standing in a cold attorney's office initialing and signing page after page documenting the rules and regulations of dealing with three beautiful children like they are simply pawns in a sick game on my worst enemy. Yeah, they deal with more than that but my biggest heart ache is knowing that there has to be a legal document detailing what the man who created, delivered, and even baptized these children can and cannot do with them. While I signed and initialed, Annie stood at my feet swinging Elliot (her elf) and asking if she'd see Daddy again today. That was just about my undoing. The paralegal had the sense to keep flipping the papers for me to sign before I got tangled up in the emotions of the beautiful blue eyed doll baby asking me for her Daddy. Crapolicious! Merry stinking Christmas, Eric. I just gave you a gift sort of like the Jelly of the Month club from Christmas Vacation. It's the gift that'll keep on giving. Now, if I only had Snots the dog and Cousin Eddie, I could fry the cat in the Christmas tree and possibly get all of the lights in the bushes to come on.

Good night, all.

Three Stooges and Booger Picking in Church

Taking a sensible picture with the Three Stooges takes lots of Tylenol and tranquilizers!

I seriously kept waiting for one of them to poke the other in the eyes and then the third one slap the offenders' noses while making that distinctive Three Stooges noise! You may be ooing and awing over this but let me promise you that the "sweet factor" was in the negative zone. They were head butting each other!

Then, I became the target. Even though those ornaments are plastic they sure do sting when lobbed at high speed and close proximity! It was all fun and games until they purposely started beaning me in the head!

I can't even begin to caption this picture. The closest I could have come would have been Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest at this point in the photo shoot. (By the way, did you know those monkeys had real names? My kids at school did a worksheet about things found in pairs and triplets and they had to look up their names. Hmmm... Just random food for thought).

I finally finished the Christmas card and ordered them. They won't be here until January 3rd but at least I can put a big Sharpie line through "Design / order Christmas cards" on my list!

Then, there was the live nativity. Annie was not thrilled with the animals and ended up going nuts when the baby Jesus screamed at her. (Who knew it was a real baby? None of my children would have EVER laid still in a manger in the cold quietly)!

And then, there's this. Geez. My dad was in the "line up" when Grant received his new rank at the last ceremony. Grant actually shook his hand and then reached up and bear hugged him. Wow. I'm sure no one sitting around me understood my sudden emotional melt down.

So, this is what I can tell you so far to catch you up. Christmas has been different this year. I've had LOTS of firsts over the last couple of weeks such as eating alone in a restaurant (I sat with my Kindle like a nerd but I really enjoyed it), bought a complete outfit at Old Navy (I can now wear tops and bottoms in sizes they carry - haven't EVER been able to do that), ok'd a final draft of a divorce document (words don't even begin to cover this one and I still find myself in shock and feeling a little dirty - ok, no lectures needed, that's how I'm FEELING whether it's right or wrong - the thought of having to say that I'm divorced and use the word ex to describe him... I don't know...), assembled a bike (you can add to that one that I also learned how to correctly use a ratchet), paid off a credit card (all by myself which means I'm down to student loans only now), and survived a week of finals with middle schoolers. Those are just a few firsts I've had that I'll put on the record.

When I've had some time to let my thoughts settle to the bottom of the fish bowl, I'll fill in the blanks. But, for now, I have one child with the croup and coughing horribly and one who is alternating between vomiting and having blow out diapers. Tired, yes. Exhausted, yes. Fit for the funny farm, definitely. Content, absolutely.

For the first time in months, I'm finding myself content. This is the journey I'm on despite how I got here or whose fault it is that I'm here. I'm going to walk this journey to the best of my ability and avoid as many pot holes, poo piles, and detours as possible.

So, that's the serious side of life right now. Consider the rest of this entry the end credits where they show bloopers...

• Our church doesn't have a nursery yet so Annie has to sit with me. This morning, I tried to corral her in my lap to keep her from dancing to the reverent Christmas hymns that the students were singing. She straddled my lap, stuck her finger up her nose, pulled out a treasure, and proclaimed, "Look, I found a booger!" I shushed her while trying not to laugh and then she forcefully said, "I have more. Get them, Mama!" Oh yeah! Add Booger Police to the list of jobs now. Where's Mike Rowe and Dirty Jobs? Between changing the diapers tonight and the boogers, the episode he could have shot in this house wouldn't have been able to be aired.
• While stuck in traffic yesterday, Annie asked Dasha what the yellow sign was on the side of the road. The sign said, "Blind Drive." Dasha told Annie that the sign meant you had to be careful because they taught blind people how to drive in that area. I didn't even begin to try to undo her instructions. (The side of me that keeps taking me out of the Mother of the Year category wanted to say, "Yes, baby. And, here's YOUR sign!)"
• Since Dasha's finger has been broken and taped / splinted up, she has to be careful how she picks things up. I caught her in the bathroom using her teeth to pull the TP off of the roll. Come on, now! I'm so thankful that I caught her at that point in the process!
• I've been selling some items on Craigslist that haven't gotten used in a while and each time someone comes by to pick something up, Annie says, "Craig is here!" That was amusing the first time but then she handed me one of her famous lists and told me that it was Craig's list. Oh boy.
• And then, there's Grant. He has simply become a comedian and he's going to get me in HUGE trouble! I can't help but laugh at him! As I was driving into my parents' neighborhood, two squirrels refused to get out of the road. So instead of turning them into someone's easy dinner, I stopped and waited. Grant quickly started providing dialogue for the squirrels. "Hey, look Bevis! What's that big white thing rolling toward us."... OK, so the whole thing went on and on but by the end, I was laughing so hard because he'd driven the conversation in a manner that the squirrels ended up as extras in the song Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. Ok. So, it's not as funny when I type it out here but I had a serious Depends moment and he's just full of these off the wall comments that are mildly inappropriate but so darn funny that I have a hard time not laughing!

So, I'm now going to head to bed since this simply entry has taken me nearly three hours to write! I've changed bed linens once, cleaned piles o puke twice, and redistributed cough meds once. (And changed out a load of linens, scrubbed carpet, and prayed fervently that I wouldn't succumb to the desire to hurl, as well. I don't do puke)!

Hopefully, over the next two weeks, I'll have time to get my thoughts together and documented here. I'm not due back at school until January 2nd and I've already turned my edits into the magazine for January so I'm kinda sorta a free bird (minus getting ready for Santa and such). Yee haw!

Good night, all!

White Flag - Take 2

Once again, folks, I'm waving the white flag and absolutely no one seems to notice. I really can't take much more without simply crumbling.

Yesterday, Dasha crawled into the van with an ice pack on her finger. When I asked what happened, I sort of lost the story after she told me that another special education student has been escorting her to car line each afternoon. Um, I think this is one of those "blind leading the blind" kind of situations that you should avoid for liability sake. She fell while on this student's watch. The other student told Dasha she needed ice. Dasha obeyed and followed her to the clinic which was closed. Then, the student escorted Dasha to the office. (No teacher had been notified of the fall, yet, even though this is the same place where they call me multiple times in a day to tell me she's fallen). So, the other student then gave Dasha some other directions which she obeyed, as well. By this point, I'd sort of lost track of the possibility that Dasha's finger was really injured because I was so aggrivated about the whole situation. By the time I got to my parents' house to drop Annie off so I could take Grant to music lessons, her finger was swollen and turning blue. Ok. Deep breath. We've had enough sprained fingers in this house to know that this is pretty much SOP for an injured finger. The oddity was that Dasha was crying. This is the same girl that rips earrings right through her ear lobes without wincing and pulls teeth (not loose ones) without any regard to pain. So, if she cries in pain, it probably really hurts.

After a phone call to a friend who works with sports injuries, I splinted the finger and hoped for the best. However, after having to bathe and dress her last night and this morning, I was beginning to think that this might be more than a sprain.

(I haven't contacted the school about the incident yet because I need to rein in my "Mama Madness" before I do something that I'll regret. It really stinks sometimes to work in the same county that your kids attend school in. It's hard to be a faithful employee while also wanting to bang the heads together of other employees for not treating your child like they would want you to treat theirs)!

After a crapalicious morning involving the van doors being frozen shut, me slamming my own dang finger in the door, and then leaving my school work at home, I just wanted a few moments of quiet time. Oh, wait. I work in a small room surrounded by 23 children. Getting a moment of quiet time isn't really feasible.

By the time I sat down to check my emails at 2:45 this afternoon and turn my cell phone on, I saw that the middle school had called about Dasha's finger and had emailed me. Perfect. (The school had also emailed me wanting to know if I ever had Dasha's hearing rechecked. Ugh. Does it ever end)? Anyway, I rushed out the door to go and pick Dasha up from school and then nabbed Grant and Annie along the way.

To make a long story short (ok, I guess it's already long), we ended up at urgent care because our pediatrician's office doesn't do x-rays. Urgent care did a set of x-rays, told us it was broken, and then told us to see a pediatric orthopedist. (If you want to do the math, that's $35 to pediatrician's office to be told we needed to go to urgent care. A $35 copay to the urgent care. And, now, we'll have a $45 copay to the orthopedist). I'm thinking that I'd like to have the teacher that was supposed to be "in charge" of Dasha cover those costs.

I'm just done. I'm tired of trying to be super mom. Heck, I've royally failed at being super mom. Who am I kidding? I'm honestly tired of being plain old mom right now. Yeah, that sounds horrible. My lows have been offset today, though, with Grant's announcement that he made first chair in band (um, I think we "bought" first chair via private lessons) and that he's student of the month (with a celebration that I need to be at tomorrow at 2:30). Ugh. I left early today to go get Dasha. Now, I have to leave early to go celebrate with Grant. I simply don't have enough energy to keep juggling all of this!

My plans when I rolled out of bed this morning? Ha. My plans were to take the kids to dinner tonight to celebrate Dasha's sixth year as part of our family. Six years ago yesterday, we stood before a judge in St. Petersburg, Russia and took her as our own. By this afternoon, honestly, the feelings surrounding that day were shaded with thoughts like, "She would have been better off with the other couple that wanted to adopt her. They had more money, more time, and..." You can see where that thought trail headed. Anyway, we didn't get to celebrate tonight unless you call string cheese sticks and the urgent care center a celebration.

I'm just exhausted. I can't get everything done at school that I need to and with all of the changes, I'm not even sure what I'm really supposed to even get done. I can't keep up with everything that the kids need and, once again, I don't know that I really fully understand what we're supposed to be getting from this whole middle school experience. And, honestly, Christmas has just done me in, too. Between trying to make Santa happen for three kids (You've heard of a hard candy Christmas? This is a Craigslist Christmas), working an extra job, and making sure that my finances will pull us through the end of the year, I honestly don't know how much more I can take. Every time I turn the TV on, there's some sappy Christmas movie with a happy ending where they fall wonderfully in love which just makes things even worse for me. I just want to run into someone's arms, let the armor fall to the ground, and cry for days. If I start crying, I really am worried that I might not quit. I'm tired. I've tried to fight a good fight but it just doesn't ever seem to be good enough. I have to find a way to make this work but how? (Please note, this is NOT a plea for any sort of financial help. While I have greatly appreciated the generosity that others have offered, I'm beginning to feel like a charity case which I am not. I am an able bodied person who has managed to provide for her family's food, shelter, and needs for eight months without missing a single mortgage payment, bill, or other necessity for the kids. Maybe that sounds prideful but considering that I didn't even know how to pay a bill eight months ago or live within the confines of a strict budget, I guess I do take pride in that).

OK. Enough whining. Maybe now that I've logged my complaints here, I can walk away from the keyboard and focus on grading the mound of papers that I fell asleep in last night or figuring out what I can do to recognize all of Grant's achievements this week (he has a major scout ceremony on Saturday where he'll get to move up another rank - not too many 1st class 11 year olds), do something to celebrate Dasha's adoption day, and then celebrate living through another week with Annie and still having all of my fingers and toes attached.

By doing this they will be storing up their treasure as a good foundation for the future so that they may experience true life. I Timothy 6:19

Good night, all.

Confessions of a Struggling Mama

OK. Let's get this straight now. This is a "no judging" zone. If you're easily given to finger pointing or assumptions, please click on that little X in the top corner of your screen and go back to watching TV.

For the others, here's how it works. I have been completely side-swiped by the last few weeks. Every living thing in this house has at some point plotted to add at least 15 new gray hairs to my head. The drama at school has done absolutely nothing to improve the situation, either. Here are a few of the highlights.

Potty Training 101 - I'm not qualified to teach this. I think I need a remedial course.

When she finally agrees to "go," we first have to find the potty, empty all of the "treasures" out of it that she's stashed there, and then she prefers to do business in the living room with the TV on. Out of the hundreds of parenting books that I've seen, I've yet to run across one that lists any of these issues with potty training. Maybe I'll try the old commando trick during Christmas break. Who knows. I've had lots of people make comments like, "Don't worry about it. I've never seen a kid go off to school still in diapers." Um, well. I can very vividly remember a kindergarten teacher at our school calling administration when they discovered one of their little darlings was wearing a diaper! I really don't want that child to be Annie!

Then, there's the cat.

This once docile animal has turned into a smaller version of Lucifer. She hides in nooks and crannies and then jumps out like some rabid attack kangaroo. The next time she leaps off the top of the refrigerator toward me, she might end up on a one way shuttle to the local Chinese restaurant. Any one want kitty-kitty for dinner?

And, something as simple as plugging my phone in turns dramatic with Annie on the loose!

I ask her a hundred times if she'd seen the cord for my phone. Each time, she said, "I don't know where it is!" Almost two days later, I found it in her room. When I held it up and asked her about it, she said laughingly, "Oh, there's my jump rope!" Nooooooo! I just want to plug my phone in so I can call 9-1-1 when the kids try to tie me up or lock me in the closet with the cat!

And then, there's this monster.

OK. Yeah, she still has the paci. Wanna make something of it? This is the most peacefully she's slept in several nights. She has been traumatized by the thought of Santa coming down the chimney! She keeps waking up screaming, "He's coming in! He's coming in!" Yeah. That goes over real good with me at 3:00 a.m. Last night, I don't know how I managed to stumble across the hall and into her room without running into the wall! The first time she did this, I was terrified of what (or who) I would find when I opened her door. I admit to putting the baseball bat under my bed after that night. Looking back, yeah, that's pretty funny to think about me going after some intruder with a baseball bat when I can't hit the broad side of a barn with anything! But, I figured it was better than stashing a knife under there! Can you imagine the damage Annie could do if she made a discovery like that? Anyway, Annie is simply doing me in these days. Tonight, we pretended to "lock" the chimney shut and I promised that Santa would have to ring the door bell before coming in. Once again, looking back, that was sort of stupid. How is Santa going to deliver the toys undetected if he has to ring the door bell? D-oh!

Beyond the Santa melt downs, twice in the last week, she has gone into hysterics in the middle of a store because she "smelled" daddy. In WalMart, I understood her fit. Someone did walk past us that was wearing cologne or aftershave or something smelly that smelled like Eric. However, I don't have a clue what triggered her, "I smell daddy," melt down in the middle of the post office. Ugh. It's nearly impossible to convince a two year old that they are wrong - especially a Randolph two year old. So, I'm purposely avoiding taking Annie into any stores for the next few days, weeks, years... who knows.

Then, there's Christmas. The issues surrounding this go so much deeper than I'm capable of putting into words right now.

Anyone remember these ornaments? Our wedding party signed these and they've hung on the tree every year since then. I've also added one ornament each year with a sentiment about something special that happened that year. What the heck do I do with these suckers? I told a friend that I'd thought about using them as clay pigeons and trying to skeet shoot with them. I was quickly reminded of my crappy aim and told to put that idea away. I mentioned several other suggestions and a friend with Solomon-like wisdom way beyond my years told me just to pack them away that one day I would be able to look back on them without losing my lunch (and dinner). And these ornaments are just the tip of the iceberg. There are tons of other things that just evoke memories that I'd prefer to lose. If I knew that a lobotomy would cancel out some of the haunting memories, I'll admit that I might consider it since insurance won't pay for a memory zapper like they have in Men in Black.

I really am trying so hard to stay positive and keep the kids busy. Annie doesn't remember too much about Christmases past and Grant doesn't say anything but Dasha... dear Dasha. She seems to say the absolute worst thing possible when I'm at the absolute worst place to receive it. She doesn't mean to do this but she's just confused and asks questions when she finally pieces her thoughts together. More than once, her recollections about the past have been the last straw for me. "Remember when we..., Daddy used to..., I wonder what..." To her, they are innocent questions, to me (and I think to Grant), they are like SCUD missiles aimed directly at our weakest points.

Anyway, in an attempt to keep things cheery, I took the girls to the Christmas parade this weekend. Grant was camping for the weekend with the scouts so it was just us girls. Now, I hadn't been to the parade in years and really underestimated how many people would be there. I did take Annie's stroller this time and two folding chairs but I didn't really think about helping Dashing navigate the uneven path for quite a distance from where we had to park while balancing two folding chairs and pushing a stroller. I don't think I've ever prayed so hard as I did Saturday night about keeping the tears from spilling out. It wasn't Dasha's fault that we had to walk a lot further than I'd anticipated and it wasn't Annie's fault that her cinder block butt weights the stroller down so much that it's hard to push nowadays. We finally managed to get into position and watched the parade, though.

The stroller contained her long enough to get from the van to the street.

Dasha was just as excited as Annie but was exhausted from the walk.

Annie took her jingle bells and rang them for the runners as they went past.

She kept leaning out into the street to tell us what was coming next.

This was the highlight of the night for her. She LOVES marching bands and actually ducked under the rope boundary to "tap it out" (translates into dance) with the band.

We all managed to have a good time and walked away with some new fun memories. When we got home, we finished putting some of the non-emotional ornaments on the tree and had peppermint sticks. Once again, someone needs to add a chapter to a parenting book entitled, "How to Decorate a Christmas Tree with Toddlers in the House." This chapter should detail the mathematical equation used to determine at what height you can safely begin hanging ornaments so that little hands won't snatch them. Last year, we told Annie to use a "one finger gentle touch" and she did fine. This year, um, let's just say that last year's tactic is a joke this year. I started placing the breakable ornaments about three feet up the tree only to turn around and see Annie dragging her stool over to the tree so she could reach them. When I derailed her fun, she started putting markers, pencils, and blocks into the lower branches of the tree. And, those items are still there. I figure if she sticks with moving those around, maybe she'll leave the other ornaments alone. Maybe.

So, I don't even have time to begin addressing the big kids' attempts at turning my hair gray over the last few weeks. Believe me, they've both taken their best shots at me more than once! I'll save that insanity for another post. From Dasha being completely boy crazy to Grant deciding that school isn't really to be taken seriously, they are both on the brink of major consequences. Like I said, I don't have the time or energy to get into that tonight. The bottom line is that I'm exhausted physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I'm trying to pull it all together so Christmas doesn't turn out to be a memory to be forgotten but dang... Between helping Santa make Craigslist purchases and chasing those across the city to acting as one of the elves and trying to assemble "stuff," I'm already weary. (Here's another fact for the parenting book - Do not try to assemble a bike without having the proper tools or at midnight. And, do not assume that a Craigslist purchase will provide you with all of the correct screws and bolts to reassemble the purchase so think twice about the Black Friday price that comes with all of the correct pieces)! These are things that no one warns you about until it's too late.

Anyway, tonight, I'm headed for bed to collapse. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. Teachers should receive combat pay for the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Good night, all.

The LORD says, "I will give you back what you lost to the swarming locusts, the hopping locusts, the stripping locusts, and the cutting locusts. It was I who sent this great destroying army against you. Joel 2:25 ~This has been major food for thought for me this week.