I *Heart* Faces - Week 51 - Hilarious Outakes

For this week and this week only, I get to post 5 entries in the "Hilarious Outakes" category. How could I pass this one up? Oh so many choices...

Entry #1 - The scene: Christmas. The subject: my mother. The context: Someone made her laugh. Really hard. And, well... see for yourself (sorry, Mom).



Entry #2 - Someone forgot to tell Uncle Buzz not to squeeze the children.



Entry #3 - Typical little brother. They don't change, no matter how old they get.



Entry #4 - These two heart-breakers are old friends, but they hadn't seen each other in awhile, and were pretty shy when reunited. I love the smug look on his face, and the hint of a smile on hers.


Entry #5 - Another favorite of mine because of the look Tessa is giving Maggie. Can't you just see the word balloon? "What in the heck are you screaming about?!"

White, White, WHITE Christmas

When the weather people started predicting a White Christmas, I thought "Yeah right." No one cries WOLF! more often than a weather person. And so as everyone was frantically stocking up on groceries and making contingency plans, I was laughing in the faces of the paranoid weather wussies.

We kicked off Christmas Eve as planned, arriving at my brother's house with the Mediterranean Feast from Yummy's that my mom won a couple of weeks ago. We were meeting to go en masse to Christmas Eve service. My family had suggested that I bring all of our presents and pack an overnight bag to spend the night, but noooo. I had a vision for Christmas morning and the setting was MY living room. I could not be persuaded. At least not by the weather wussies. The icy streets and promise of "an epic snowstorm" presented a more compelling argument. The predicted wintery mix arrived exactly on schedule, and proceeded to ice over an entire city's Christmas plans. When it became obvious that we were not going to make it across town for church, I was forced to acknowledge that the blizzard was going to win this one.

I returned home to gather up Christmas and the dog and load it all into my car for transport. The drive was terrifying. The road conditions got really bad really fast. Thankfully, we got back to my brother's house in tact, and thus began the Longest Family Holiday of All Time. It will also be one of the most memorable.

All 14 of us were snowed in for 3 days - it was the stuff Christmas movies are made of. My brother and sister-in-law should be nominated for some kind of an award for so graciously making it work. We were all comfortable, well-fed, and well-boozed. We played games and took naps and watched the Winter Wonderland outside from the warmth of the kitchen. We watched Christmas movies and football and thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. What could have been a disaster turned into one of the best Christmases ever.

A few of my favorite moments:

Mom drinking coffee out of the martini shaker because she thought it was a travel coffee mug.

Tanner's face when he opened his Nintendo DS. "You're the best, Mom!" he said.

Teaching my neice how to knit.

Watching all the cooks in the family prepare the meals while I sat and sipped my wine.

Mom spewing coffee all over my sister and the coffee cake when I made her laugh.

The breakfast casserole my sister-in-law made with chorizo and leeks.

Tanner's extreme happiness to be spending so much time with all of his cousins.

Watching the Old English Sheepdog herd my little papillon all over the house.

Watching the sweetest black lab ever snuggle with his new blankie.

Listening to my mom read from her childhood Christmas book. All the kids bailed, but I was listening! :)

Playing Farkle. I never really got it, but it was still fun.

Reigning as Checkers Champion for most of the holiday, until Sky finally unseated me.

Watching everyone open the gifts we got for them - especially Tanner's hand-painted ornaments that he was so proud of.

IBC Root Beer bottles. Mmmm...

My Name in Lights. Or rather, PRINT!

Just arrived today!

When all else fails, why not visit Santa?

The Ice Skating Extravaganza at Crown Center did not work out. The wait in line exceeded the time left until closing. I guess two-for-one night right before Christmas was NOT a wise choice. Tanner was devastated. He's been asking multiple times per day since Thanksgiving to go to the Ice Terrace, and today asked every 15 minutes if it was time to go.

But, after a bit of a skirmish by the car [ahem] he got himself straightened out and settled for some playtime in the Christmas Village and hot chocolate with the cousins. And then, on our way out, I experienced a temporary loss of sanity, and suggested we see if Santa was at home. It turns out that he was, for another 20 minutes. The line wasn't terrible, and he was willing, so for the first time since he was 2 years old, Tanner sat on Santa's lap.

Well Deck My Halls!

I'll admit, I was a slow-starter on Christmas Spirit this year. Things got off on the wrong foot when the holiday bonus I was expecting did not arrive. Think Clark Griswald when he opened his one year membership to the Jelly-of-the-Month Club, and multiply that by a 1000. Jelly would've been something. I got nuthin'. And so I spent a nice long time nursing a big fat lump of anger and bitterness, and stressin' myself sick over how to provide Christmas and also provide food and utilities and gas for the car.

But it's worked out, thanks to generosity of family and friends. I am humbled beyond words at how God has made sure that Christmas comes to the Jones Family. I should've known, but I didn't. I can't stop looking at the wrapped gifts under my tree - they look so pretty, and I just can't wait to watch everyone open them. I don't always get to give gifts at Christmas, and so when it works out that I can...I am happy. Every night after Tanner goes to bed, I sit in the living room in darkness, except for the glow of tiny white Christmas lights. I just admire the prettiness of my small faux tree and thank God for taking care of us, bonus or no bonus.

The best thing I could've done was take vacation from work this week. Nothing sucks away the Christmas Spirit like that place, which is a wormhole of Scroogeness just waiting to eat you alive. As I left the office yesterday evening, I felt immediately lighter, knowing I wouldn't be back for an entire week. I was tempted to skip to the car, singing "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" at the top of my lungs. There was a spring in my step that I haven't had in weeks. Okay, Christmas, I'm ready for you now!

And this morning...we both slept in. I must say that I enjoy my son so much more when I get to sleep in. I should keep him up until 10 cleaning bathrooms more often, I suppose. It's almost noon and we're still in our PJs. We spent a long lazy morning drinking coffee and hot chocolate, watching Earth, and planning the next couple of days of freedom. Tonight, we are ice skating at Crown Center. We're going to make homemade dog treats, and maybe some people cookies, too. Tanner's going on a Top Secret Mission with Uncle Jeff later today, and I will work on getting our house guest-ready.

I finally put Tanner's gifts under the tree last night, after keeping them hidden at the office to avoid Sir Snoop-a-Lot. He wasn't up for five minutes before he noticed the two new additions, despite the fact that I'd tucked them in the back and did not put tags on them. Smart little bugger.

What a gift it is to get to be at home, enjoying holiday happenings at my leisure. I am so excited for my family to get here in a few days - it's going to be a great Christmas.

How to Skin a Cat

There's more than one way, as the saying goes.

Everyone does Christmas a little bit different - they have their own traditions, beliefs, and philosophies. I love to hear about how other people celebrate this holiday - I've gotten some good ideas to add to my own celebration that way.

What I don't like is the implication that there is only one "right" way to celebrate Christmas as a Christian. I fully embrace the "Keep Christ in Christmas" mantra - it's a great reminder of what we Christians are celebrating. It's so easy to get swept away from the manger by gift wrap and sale racks, and I often need that sort of reminder. In fact, I chant it to myself when I feel my blood-pressure rising as I stand 342nd in line for the checkout counter at a department store.

A few years ago, I remember walking through the atrium of my church on the first Sunday after Christmas. I was catching snippets of conversation as I passed little groups, and I overheard one person say, presumably in response to a question about how her Christmas was: "It was really nice - completely overboard, but that's okay."

I was incredulous. I was upset for a long time that this leader in our church was so flippant about the excess of their Christmas - it seemed anti-Christian to me. But I have since realized that I have NO idea how that person defined "overboard," and I also don't know anything about their Christmas celebration. Chances are, it was way more focused on Jesus than mine was. I wish I hadn't been so judgemental, even if it was in my own private thoughts. I'm not, anymore.

For some, spending more than $50 is "overboard." For others, more than 3 gifts is considered excessive. And still for others, they intentionally buy as many gifts as possible, and they have their reasons for doing so. It's certainly not my place to judge a particular approach to Christmas, just because it's different from mine.

I do think that gifts and Jesus can quite happily co-exist. There are no rules which say that Christians have to choose one or the other, and so I don't. My son receives one or maybe two nice gifts, depending on the price tags, and then a few smaller things as my finances allow. By my definition, that is nowhere near "overboard."
I was raised that way as well, and I have always known what, and who, we were celebrating. I grew up tossing and turning on Christmas Eve night, in anticipation of the gifts I would be opening the next morning. But I also knew very well that those gifts were not only symbolic of my family's love for me, but also God's love for me.

It's not necessary to deprive ourselves from using a gift as way of expressing love for friends and family members, if we feel inclined to do so. God encourages generosity, I don't think Christians should feel shame in being excited about opening presents on Christmas morning. Afterall, we have a most holy example of a serious gift-giver: God Himself. Wouldn't you consider the gift of His only son as "overboard?" What if God had opted for a more modest gift, like a cow or a gently-used robe? I don't know about you, but I'm not about to wrap up my firstborn and put him under the tree, or in manger, or anywhere else. Christmas was extravagant from the very beginning. It's very essence is extravagant.

The Magi brought Jesus three over-the-top gifts - do you think less of them because they chose to offer him the best they had, rather than a more modest selection? I don't. They went all out in the name of Jesus - they knocked Christmas out of the park. But what's important about those gifts is not the excessiveness; it is the why behind the presents. They didn't shower Jesus with excess to gain status or earn bragging rights with their Magi buddies - it was to show adoration and worship for the baby they believed to be the Savior. Nothing wrong with that, is there?

For Christians, the why behind the gifts MUST represent the love of God and the unfathomable generosity of His gift to us. When it is something else, that's when it becomes nothing more than another stressful holiday. That's when we've lost the Christ in Christmas. The numbers of gifts under the tree or the amount of money we spend doesn't really matter at all, as long as our hearts are in that manger.

The REAL Christmas

I am friends with a lot of other single moms, and for a couple of weeks now we've been commiserating over the hardships the holidays bring. Everyone has had their turn at bad days, and everyone has suffered in the name of Christmas Spirit.

The sources of sadness are strikingingly similiar: loneliness, financial stress, family issues, courtroom drama, work stress, bitterness/resentment of everyone else's "perfect" lives...we are all experiencing the same issues, which is what draws us together. There is comfort in knowing that not everyone is merry and bright right now. Not everyone is showering their children with gifts. Not everyone is snuggling up by the fire with their sweetie every night.

And yet, I am inspired and motivated by the strength and determination of the other single moms I interact with. As I said, we've all had our turn at bad days. But no one is giving into those moods, and no one is allowing anyone else to give in, either. We are able to commiserate, which in itself is cathartic, but then we are encouraged to snap out of it and move on. We get a comforting nod and a pat, an empathetic "I understand," and then a gentle reminder that things aren't sooo bad. No one is content with being a downer. We all want to overcome the hardships to enjoy the holidays, for our children's sake if not our own.

Life as a single parent is so incredibly hard, and our burdens seem so much heavier when everyone around us is focused on gifts and parties and making merry with loved ones. We are constantly slapped in the face by the things that hurt us most, whether it's a lack of money, or isolation from friends and family, or a tumultuous custody situation. From this side of things, Christmas can hold so much more pain than joy.

But... it doesn't. At least not for long. Not for the amazing single moms that I know. Instead, they pick themselves up after each slap, dust themselves off, and hug their babies close. They force themselves to find a little happiness and their sense of humor, no matter how hard they have to look.

Because we realize that we can NOT give in. In many cases, we are the only people our children have. We are the carriers of the Christmas Spirit for our little ones. Our lives are not our own, and so we simply can't afford the luxury of wallowing. There are things in our lives we can't change. The money isn't going to magically appear, and neither are the gifts. The baby daddies are not going to stop being jerks and start being fathers. The perfect men are not going to fall into our exhausted laps, and the bills are not going to disappear.

But we have our precious children to snuggle every day. We have roofs over our heads, and beds to sleep in. We have food to eat, even if it's coming out of a can or a box. We have bedtime stories to read, and boo-boos to kiss. We have games to play and ornaments to make with pipe cleaners and macaroni. We have an endless supply of the most important gift we can give to our children - loving them. They may or may not remember not getting that toy they asked Santa for, but they WILL remember the love they felt from their mom. Even if the sting of disappointment hits them on Christmas morning, which for many of our children, it will, that is not nearly as long-lasting as the comfort they will get from our loving arms.

It's up to us to provide our children with a Christmas that is merry in spite of the hardship. Sometimes we have to be a little more creative than others to achieve that, but I believe it is possible. I am so thankful for my single mom friends - who are there to redirect me when I start to fall off course and lose sight of the Light of Christmas.

Jerry-rigged

It occurred to me at 3am this morning, as I was jolted awake by two icy little feet digging for a warm spot under my back, that I can not expect Tanner to stay in his own bed at night if he's freezing.

I recently rearranged his room, and the new setup works great with one exception: his bunk bed is now pushed up against the sliding glass door. I intend to get some heavy curtains to hang up to keep the cold out, but for now there's just these ugly plastic vertical blind thingies. It's been fine so far, but now with nighttime temps hitting single digits, the poor kid is cold. He's taken to sleeping in his bathrobe, and we pile on the blankets, but that's not nearly enough. Every night he stumbles into my bed, and his skin is cold to the touch. No wonder he's waking up.

Tonight I gave up the idea that his room needs to look cute. It doesn't. No one cares about that but me and right now, frankly, I don't care that much. I need to sleep through the night again, and he needs to stay in his own bed. Those two things are vastly more important than window treatments.

So I nailed an old comforter to the wall. It looks ridiculous. But it's thick, and at least keeps a little of the cold from getting to him. I have my doubts that it will keep him in his own bed tonight, but maybe it's a start.

*************
A.M. Update: It worked!! He stayed in his own bed ALL night!! (AND stayed dry - a double victory!!)

Single Parenting Under Extreme Conditions

How soon is too soon, do you think, to explain to your child about the potential threat to their life during PMS? Is 7 too young?
How would you convey to them the precarious nature of mommy's ability to cope with the whining and complaining and stalling at bedtime? What is the most effective way to get them to leave the house, or maybe the country, for a day or two each month and still make them THINK that you are being a good mom?

Two days ago, when I arrived to pick Tanner up from YCare, the director said: "Tanner, your mom's here!" To which Tanner replied: "I don't care." What did I do? Burst into tears. Yep. Right there at YCare. He didn't care?! WAAHHAHAHAHA!!!! Nice. Now, in my defense, I was already at breaking point from the day, so it wasn't JUST that, but really. That's not something a properly functioning mother would do. Hello, SRS? We have an emotionally unstable parent here...Oh wait, never mind. She's just PMSing.

And today, when I picked him up from YCare, he was happy to see me but the little bugger did not have his hat and gloves. AGAIN. I just bought the damn things last weekend, to replace the first set which he lost a couple of weeks ago. I am seriously pissed. If you ask me, though, I exercised serious restraint when I told him that I was not replacing the gloves again and that his fingers would turn purple and fall off and provide a very nice supper for the squirrels. I'm kidding. I didn't say that. I traumatize the poor kid enough as it is. But I really wanted to.

I'm pretty sure he's figured out that there are certain times when you just don't mess with Mama. But he hasn't learned to identify the warning signs. And I don't see that it could hurt to teach him. I'd really just be doing him a favor.

A Few Chilly Observations

I don't like when the temperature outside matches my son's age.

I DO like that I had an excuse to wear my full all-performance coat system. I looked like Nanook. But I was warm.

I also like that the slushy grime on the highways matches the color of my car. It doesn't look as dirty as the other cars, even though it is. Keep that in mind when you're car shopping. When the dealer asks what color you're looking for, say "Slushy Winter Grime." He'll know what you mean.

The worst part about driving in inclement weather is that the wiper fluid spouts freeze. So halfway to work, my windshield is covered in gook and I can't see a bloody thing and I have no way to get it clean. If anyone knows what to do about this, besides driving with my head out the window, I'd love to know.

About Pajamas

I'm single. Obviously. One of the [few] good things about this painfully long season of solitude is that what I sleep in is my business. I don't have to worry about whether it's cute or sexy or flattering, what material it's made out of or if it's machine washable. I find this freedom of choice in sleepwear liberating.

I love pajamas. What's not to love? Comfy fabrics, elastic waist bands, fun patterns... I'd wear pj's all the time if I could. The sleepwear section at a department store is more tempting for me than any other section. And I like the pretty stuff, of course. But now's not the time for that so I don't even look.

Right now, what I'm interested in is WARMTH. Which is why I paid good money for the most matronly, embarrassingly shapeless set of pajamas I've ever had the privilege of owning. AND I LOVE THEM!!

I found them at Sam's. Yes, Sam's. And I know I shouldn't be buying things for myself at this critical time, but I just couldn't help it. The PJs called to me: "Erin! Erin! Buy me and you won't have to wear a stocking hat and boot socks to bed!"

They were right. They were soooo right. I bought them - despite the black and white polka dots and frilly satin collar that make me look something like an elderly overweight mime. For the past two nights, I've slept snug as a bug. I am finally warm, and for now, that's all that matters.

There's nothing like a good pair of pajamas.

I've set a personal record

The unthinkable has happened. For the first time in my entire life, my Christmas shopping is nearly ALL completed before the end of the first week of December.

[Cue: Halleluiah Chorus]

I have two gifts left to buy, and Tanner has one. The Santa gifts and stocking stuffers are hidden safely away. The rest of it...wrapped, tagged, and beautifully accenting my Christmas tree.

I have a few acknowledgements to make before I post the photos which commemorate this momentous occasion. First, I'd like to thank Tanner's lifelong baby-sitter for including him in their family Christmas party, which kept him out of my business for a full 24 hours.

I would like to thank the Internet, for making it possible to shop from the comfort of my own, crowd-free home.

I would like to thank the lady in the silver SUV for not ramming into me when I accidentally cut her off in the Price Chopper parking lot.

I would like to thank the Aldi cashier for not breaking the delicate chocolate Santas even though she chucked them into my cart like they were her boyfriend's smelly gym shoes. Then she wished me a "blessed evening."

I would like to thank the Kohl's cashier who did her job so well when trying to convince me that signing up for a store credit card would save me thousands of dollars in the long run. NO, I DO NOT WANT YOUR CREDIT. I DON'T CARE IF IT COMES WITH A FREE PONY.

I would like to thank the little boy who exclaimed loudly, "Oooh, Mommy, those are pretty..." as he walked by the lingerie section. So funny when it's not your kid.

I would like to thank the geeky Gamestop employee for flirting with me. It's been awhile. I just hope he doesn't think I've been in that store 4 times this week because of him.

I would like to thank capitalism and a free market economy. If it weren't for sales, my family would be getting Dollar General's Best this year.

And now, the photos..













That's it. That modest little pile is the sum of our Christmas, minus two gifts which were ordered, and one which is hidden away for Christmas morning. Our family isn't huge, and we only buy gifts for the children, so it makes Christmas shopping less of burden on everyone.

I know. It's not so impressive now that you've seen the pictures, since I had to buy less than 10 gifts. But I'm still proud anyway.

When Bad Things Turn Good

I like surprises - especially when a potentially wretched evening turns out surprisingly pleasant.

I attended a Christmas party tonight under great duress. Not too sound grinchy, but I would have rather chugged rancid eggnog or taken a sharp candy cane in the eye than go to this party. In fact, I've been agonizing over it all week - the stupid party caused several sleepless nights and unsettling nightmares - not to mention a truckload of bitterness and the un-merriest attitude you can imagine. By today, I was nearly sick over it. Unfortunately not sick enough - I didn't catch the fever I'd been actively seeking from my ill friends. Perhaps you think it's silly to be so worked up over a holiday party, and you're probably right. But I was, and there are reasons. We'll leave it at that.

So, with a heart 10 sizes too small, I went to the party. (That's actually me, at the party). And it kinda sucked. It wasn't quite as bad as having your fingernails ripped out one by one, but it was close. Fortunately, though, that's not the end of the story.

As I was driving to the party, thanking God for first time EVER for bumper-to-bumper traffic, I decided that this temporary dip into fires of hell did not necessarily have to ruin my night. We were going to be right next to Union Station, one of the most festive places in the city at this time of year. I decided that Tanner and I would bail on the party as soon as proper manners allowed, and head over to the Station to recapture the Christmas Spirit. Our timing was perfect.

It was the final night of the Marillac Trees auction. Apparently this is an annual event, but I'd never heard of it. Basically, local businesses sponsor a Christmas tree (artificial) and decorate it. The trees are on display all around Union Station, and the general public can bid on them through a silent auction. The proceeds go to the Marillac Center. The trees were...breathtaking. They were all shapes and sizes and themes...so neat. I didn't have my camera but I took a few phone pictures I'll try to post.

After the trees we checked out the model train display they put up for the holidays every year. I never get tired of seeing it - it's just so cool. Then we left Union Station and drove by Crown Center to see the Mayor's Christmas tree - gorgeous as always. Then we went to the Plaza for our First Annual drive by the lights. I really love Kansas City at Christmastime - it's just so beautiful. The Plaza lights are especially pretty this year - I wonder if they did something different? (btw, these are not MY photos - I borrowed them from flickr)

We left the Plaza and headed for a lights tour through Mission Hills. The car was warm, both in temperature and mood. I had Christmas music playing softly...Tanner was asleep in no time. I felt nothing of the angst I'd been nursing all week. Instead, I felt peaceful and happy - filled with pride for my city, love for my little boy, and relief that the event I'd so been dreading was over and I'd made it through with grace and [forced, but still there] frivolity.

It was a good night.

********************
Quote of the Night:
"Hey!" Tanner exclaimed as we passed one of the art galleries near Union Station. "I know that place! We've been there before, remember?"
I didn't. Shocker.
"You know," he pressed, "It was a party, and people were dancing..."
Still nothing.
"Well, you and me weren't dancing. We were only drinking."
Ummmm...

The Santa Debate

Question of the Week:
Why doesn't Santa bring all children the same amount of presents?

Where's a Parenting Guidebook when I need it? Is there a script written somewhere for this conversation? It's a precarious path to navigate - this story of a magical man who showers some children with many extravagant gifts, others with a more modest lot, and some none at all.

I think T is on the cusp of discovering the Truth About Santa. He might even already know, and is simply allowing me to perpetuate the tradition. One thing is for sure, though - he is seeing some discrepancies in the story, and he is wanting answers.

The problem is, I'm not ready to show him to the strings yet. I want him to believe in Santa. To me, the realization that there is nothing magical about Christmas morning is one of the first steps out of childhood and into an adult world where a Jolly Old Elf could never fit down the chimney, and if he tried, you'd call the cops. Reindeer cannot fly, no matter how much acid you drop. It is simply impossible to travel the world in one night, but if it was possible, we'd want to buy stock in the sleigh-making company. Elves don't make toys - they went on strike when their healthcare benefits became too expensive for Santa to maintain. The North Pole is completely inhospitable - it's no place for an elderly couple to spend their twilight years. The nearest pharmacy is over 3,000 miles away - as if they could afford their medications on Santa's salary of cookies and milk.

It's just not the same world without Santa, and so I continue to dance around my little one's probing questions. I assured him that he doesn't get less because he's been bad. I suggested that perhaps Santa consults with the parents about the quantity and value of the presents he brings to their children. But then the next question was obviously: "Then why do you tell Santa to give me less than my cousins?"

And here is where I launch into my "true meaning of Christmas" spiel. It's not about the gifts, it's about the birth of baby Jesus. It's not about STUFF - it's about family and tradition and the celebration of our faith.

He listens, and he nods, but I can see that he is not satisfied. Don't misunderstand - he is not ungrateful for the gifts he receives. Quite the opposite, actually. It's not about that. It's that he has noticed that he does not get as many gifts as others. He is just pragmatic. I think he is trying to connect the dots and realizes he's missing something. My obscure references to magic and mysticism are not going to hold up for very much longer.