Help! I'm being eaten by post-Christmas Clutter!

I just woke up after tossing and turning, thinking it was probably the wee hours of the morning and I could go ahead and get started on the day's To Do List. It's 11:30pm, and I just went to bed 2 hours ago. Oh.

Now that Christmas is over, I can focus on the fact that everything in my life is changing (yay!) and all the changes require an incredible amount of work (ugh!) that I  just can't seem to muster the energy to tackle. Cue: tossing and turning.

All of this week I was in a post-holiday coma, which means that Christmas deco is still up, but looking a bit droopy and sad. New toys are piled in the hallway because there's no room for them in the inn (that is, Tanner's bedroom). And I went to bed as early as possible every night, without doing anything at all to regain order after Santa's tornado blew threw my home(s).

Not only am I so behind on laundry that Tanner has been dressing himself out of the hamper for two days, but I also need to grocery shop and pay bills and map out a plan for the move over to Jason's (our!) house, which is theoretically taking place at the end of this month. Oh, and I have get this place ready to rent, find a renter, and get that place ready for my stuff, and...and....

The walls are closing in. Literally. I feel like my tiny condo is swallowing me whole - there is stuff EVERYWHERE. It looks like an episode of Hoarders in my living room. I need four more legs and twice as many arms and the energy to fuel them all so that I can get done what needs to be done. I can't decide where to start, so I just haven't. But I have a three day weekend ahead of me and I am determined to put on my Big Girl Panties and power through it while I have the time. If I don't start the next week in some state of order, I can feel a Come-Apart coming on.

The problem, though, is that teensy little issue of being 5 and a half months pregnant and hauling around extra weight and real estate. It sucks the energy right out of me, and I find myself wishing for a team of elves to take away Christmas decor, find homes for the toys and stuff, do my laundry, and pack me up while I lay on the couch and grow a person. Seems like a fair trade to me. Jason is gone for work again this week and next, and his weekend has been sucked up by his own obligations, so my choices are to light a fire under my toosh or deal with the chaos. Not much of a choice.

If you don't hear from me in a few days, send in a search party. It probably means that I've fallen and can't get up.

It's a...

We announced the gender of the baby to our families on Christmas Eve, which was received by lots of squealing and tears and an offer of a stud fee for Jason. Since they know, it's now bloggable news:

Is that...??? Could it be????

A beautiful, if a little crooked, Christmas tree?!

(I'd post a picture but I sold my camera.) You'll have to take my word for it.

It's amazing what some lights and ornaments and pruning can do. Last night, Jason and I transformed the Ugliest Tree in Kansas City into a beautiful, personality-filled symbol of our first crazy Christmas together. Now we just need the perfect tree topper. Hmmm...

When we finished the trimming, we sat on his couch together for the first time, talking and admiring (believe it or not!) the decorated tree. The ornaments are hand-me-downs and hand-mades mostly, and there aren't very many of them. But there are enough, and it's perfect.

I think that's what I needed. I think I needed to bring Christmas into his house before I could really feel the spirit of the holiday. Yesterday, I bought a really beautiful tablecloth at 70% off. A practical purchase for a basically non-existent Christmas budget? Not even a little, but I don't care. I needed pretty, and I got it. Today I'm going to transfer some of my decorations to his house for our Christmas Eve Open House. It's going to look great and festive for our families, and now I'm ready for the frivolity to begin.

This feels much better. Merry Christmas, everyone!

Where is that Christmas Fairy?

For much of this holiday season, the Christmas Spirit has eluded me. I had fun shopping, as I always do, but it was tainted by the insufficient balance in my account to be able to give what I wish I could give. When you have to ask yourself: "If I buy this, will I be able to put gas in the car next week?" it takes of a lot of the joy out of the giving. Pay now and figure it out later doesn't really work for me.

I am stressed. I am tired. I am overwhelmed by the To Do list that Jason and I have. I am heavy-hearted about hardships going on with people I love. I don't feel Christmasy at all. Usually, I can pull myself out of the funk by a drive through the Plaza, or by decorating a batch of sugar cookies with Tanner. But we've done none of the traditions that I've tried to establish. I didn't make homemade gift tags like I always do. I didn't even put bows on the packages! I didn't do a Christmas Card or letter or email. I didn't find any volunteer opportunities for Tanner and I. I didn't donate anything to anybody. I didn't get Tanner a new set of Christmas jammies.

I've let Christmas slip through my fingers.

But I have 4 days left. 4 days to wrap my mind around the fact that life isn't as hard as I'm making it. I should be floating. I have found the love of my life and he came with the bonus of a precious little boy. I have my own little boy, and we have a new baby on the way. The gift of this new family should sustain me, and remind me of God's love and provision. The rest, as they say, is just details. And so I will try. For the next 4 days, I will find the Christmas Spirit and I will bring it to my home and to my children. And when the day comes, I will be overflowing. :)

A little full, lotta sap...

I've never cut down my own Christmas tree before. Growing up, we traveled 2 hours into the country to Clell's Christmas Tree Farm, but our tree was always waiting for us when we got there since Clell was a friend of my dad's.

As an adult, I found that Home Depot offered a lovely selection of perfectly shaped Christmas trees, and in recent years I've opted to stick with my little faux tree to save money. So when Jason suggested that we go along with his family for their traditional Christmas Tree Outing, I thought it sounded like fun.

Then he told me that we were leaving at 8:30am on Saturday morning. Oh. (Smart guy to save that little detail until after I said I would go). But despite the ungodly hour, we got up and at 'em last Saturday, bundled up, and prepared to find the Perfect Christmas Tree.

Of course we brought the dogs, because that's what you do when you're driving into the country for a Christmas tree. They're part of the family, too. Jason loaded them up while I threw my camera and purse on the passenger seat, and set two travel mugs of coffee and hot chocolate on the console, and then turned around to run in and grab something I'd forgotten.

I came back out to find the dogs exploring the car, and one of the travel mugs spilled onto my camera. The same camera that is currently listed on craigslist as for sale. The second camera to have a liquid incident while in the passenger seat of my car.

I dropped the F-Bomb, grabbed the camera and ran inside to get a towel. Thankfully, the spill was easily wiped off and no harm came to the camera. I immediately laid blame on Jason's dogs (overlooking the fact that I was the one who hadn't used the cup holders - as Jason pointed out in defense of his dogs). Blood pressure slightly elevated, I got into the car, sat on a towel to avoid the spill, and we drove off to meet up with the rest of his family. Wyatt hopped into my lap, and I noticed that his head was covered in hot chocolate. Hmmm...

We got to his parents house at the same time as his sister and her boyfriend, and it only took 30 minutes before we were back on the road, part of a 3 car caravan to the Christmas Tree Farm. Jason had offered to take his sister's dog, Tug the Pug, in our car. I mean, when you have 3 dogs and 2 kids already, what's one more? Except that we weren't even out of the neighborhood before Wyatt and Tug started to fight. I called Wyatt - the instigator - to the front and made him sit on the floor at my feet, which was fine with him since it was a blow to his ego to be treated like a dog in the first place.

Finally, we settled in and enjoyed a peaceful drive to the tree farm. That is, until Tug the Pug pooped, sending unpleasant fumes wafting toward the front of the vehicle.  At the tree farm, Jason cleaned up the poo and we set off in search of our tree. Unfortunately, the selection was bad and the trees were yellow-ish, and after an hour of walking around in the cold, we all agreed to go look elsewhere. The boys got some hot chocolate (since Tanner's had been spilled on my camera) and we prepared to once again load up the cars and head to the next place. That was when Tanner stepped into a hole, sending his full cup of hot chocolate cascading down the front of his coat. Two for two.

I got him cleaned up, and the dogs loaded, and we drove to tree farm #2. There, we found a tree that was nice and full, the right height, and not as yellow as many of the others. Time was ticking because we had somewhere else we had to be, so we agreed on the tree and had the workers cut 'r down.

It was prepped and loaded without incident - a blessed miracle. At home, we got it into the stand and carried into the living room.

It's a little big. And a lot misshapen. In fact, I think we succeeded in choosing the homeliest tree on the farm. It looks like we walked into a forest and hacked down the first evergreen we came to. There's no room for presents under it, and it's so thick that we have no way of knowing what kind of wildlife might be living in there. I have no doubt that at some point during the holiday, a squirrel will come flying out.

But it's our first tree together, and the experience of going to get it was definitely memorable. So what if it's so big that there's not enough room for the living room furniture? So what if the needles make you bleed, and it's got a few dead spots? It makes me laugh, it's a great conversation peice, and it would make Clark Griswald proud.

Sleepover Evolution

The tranquility and beauty of Friday night was followed by the mayhem that ensues when 3 boys are together in an 836 square foot apartment.

Tanner had a sleepover with his two oldest and bestest friends: Johnny and Brendan. I absolutely love having these two over - they are such great boys and they all have so much fun together.

But times, they are a'changing.

It's been awhile since we've had a sleepover, and some subtle changes have taken place in the interim. For one thing, appetites have increased. Those boys plowed through 2 large pizzas and a double batch of pancakes, plus half a package of bacon. My vision of leftovers for lunch went straight into their growing bellies.

I took them roller skating, which was like time travelling back to my pre-teens. Everything about the roller rink was exactly the same as when I was 12. Well, everything but the music. Red, Red Wine  and Ice Ice Baby has been replaced with Bad Romance and Teenage Dream. But the same creepy, velvet-voiced DJ was at the mic, spinning the records and announcing games and birthdays and warning people not to skate too fast. He announced Tanner's birthday, which made his whole year, I think.

We were barely 30 minutes into the session before the flirting began. Johnny, the oldest at 11, has become a bit girl crazy. There was lots of drama about who gave who a high five, and who pushed who down on purpose, and should brendan and tanner tell that girl johnny wants to couple skate with her? They would careen by me, slamming into the wall to stop, and give me the latest on who was afraid to talk to which girl. There was lots of arguing and punching and blushing denials of hand-holding, and it was weird.

They are growing up.

Back at home, they were more like the boys I know and love. They were gross and smelly and fought over video game controllers just like they always have. And they slept in a pile, like they always have. Only this time, everyone kept their clothes on the entire time - even to sleep. Usually, they are stripped down to their boxers 15 minutes after walking through the door. I guess they're too old for that now.

I can't decide how I feel about these changes. Part of me misses those little boys who wanted me to play with them and talked about Pokemon instead of girls. The boys who drank from cups with lids and went to bed at 9:30 thinking they were getting to stay up super late. But I also like watching them grow up and evolve into who they're going to become. It's interesting, and fun, and definitely keeps me on my toes.

A Perfect 10

By the time Friday night rolls around, I'm spent. The days of heading out at 9pm, and not coming home until the wee hours are but a distant memory now. So is the desire to spend my Friday nights all dressed up and out on the town. On my Perfect 30-Something Friday Night, I'm in my pajamas by 7, under a blanket on the couch, where I stay until I shuffle off to bed at, ooohhhh....9:30.

Last night, Jason and I were both worn out. We opted for a movie night with the boys. Meaning: a movie IN, from the comfort of my living room. While Jason and I detoxed from the week, (how I love having him to talk to!) the boys ran around screaming, giggling, and tackling each other. It was the sound of my future, and I LOVED it.

Then we started the movie, The Velveteen Rabbit, which is a very sweet adaption from the book. We turned out all the lights except for the Christmas tree, and snuggled under pillows and blankets. I found myself sandwiched between Jason and Jayden, with Tanner nearby.

I watched the movie some, but mostly I just soaked up the scene, and thought about how absolutely perfect life was in that moment. The stresses we'd been talking about just a few minutes earlier melted away into a state of complete happiness. I listened to Jayden make explosion noises when he got bored with the movie and started playing. I watched Tanner's face, so sweet and peaceful and happy. I felt Jason's heart beating as I laid on his chest, and watched his hands so lovingly hold his son's hand and pat his head. And I felt the baby moving like crazy - the first time I've felt more than just subtle little flutters.

The night was a perfect 10. It just doesn't get any better than that.