Just Doing Some Emotional Processing Over Here

Charlie is starting school on Monday. Like, real school. It's the full-day, five-days-a-week pre-K program at Cubby's school. He asked to go. He wants to go (for the moment, at least). He's ready to go.

I . . . well, I'm kind of sad about the idea of my buddy Charlie getting on that bus and being gone all day long. To say nothing of a little worried about how I'm going to entertain Jack all day long when his exciting big brothers have both deserted him.

Seriously. What the hell am I going to do with that big-brother-worshipping little dude there?

New stages, new challenges, new tiny bits of melancholy for Mom.

These kids, man. They just keep growing up.

Health, Wealth, and Happiness Coming at You

Not that my children need any more wealth. Those kids are absolutely loaded down with Star Wars toys (thanks, Nana and Baca!), animal toys (thanks again, Nana and Baca!), building toys (thanks, sis and fam!), monster trucks and rad trucker wallets with chains* (thanks, Grandpa!).

Everyone is now peacefully playing with various gifts and there's a pork roast in the oven, black-eyed peas on the stove (I went with dried this year instead of canned, which I'm sure will please my mother), and beet greens thawing on the counter.

I knew I would be glad I harvested those beet greens when I had the chance.

And this year, no one is hunched over a vomit bowl or curled up in bed.

2017 is looking good so far.

* I was not aware of the existence of trucker wallets (kind of like this), but as soon as the kids opened theirs, A. grabbed them and was all, "Trucker wallets! Awesome! I wish I had one." So I guess this is a boy thing.

A New Year's Day Christmas

What's that? Christmas is supposed to be on December 25? Sure, maybe the first Christmas. But the second Christmas? That's tomorrow. At least, it is here in the frozen north.

Lemme 'splain.

See, lots of gifts from far-flung family members (which is pretty much ALL of our family members) were shipped to the children here at our cabin in the woods. But we went to Blackrock for the actual day of Christmas. I could have packed all the gifts up to bring to Blackrock, let the kids open everything on Christmas Day, and then packed everything back into the minivan and brought it back here.

This seemed impractical in many ways. Besides, they get so many gifts every year, it seemed like a good idea to spread the opening of them out over time so they'd have time to appreciate some of their gifts before they got new ones.

Okay, so mostly I didn't want to have to load them in and out of the van multiple times, but whatever. That other reason sounded convincing, right? Right.

So tonight I spent some time carefully wrapping the gifts that came straight from Amazon unwrapped. And by "carefully," I mean I swaddled the gifts in the brown packing paper from the boxes and secured it with a bunch of tape.

Luckily for the aesthetics of the Pile of Presents, some of the gifts came to us already wrapped in actual wrapping paper.

You think those boys are going to notice what the gifts are wrapped in as they're hysterically tearing the paper off their Star Wars action figures? No, they will not. So I get to re-use useless paper one last time before it gets recycled AND I don't have to buy wrapping paper. Works for me.

We're celebrating New Year's Eve by . . . well, A. is making the kids some wool mittens from old sweaters.

It's terrible the way we spoil them.

The whole family went snowshoeing earlier today so Cubby and I could try out the new snowshoes we both got for Christmas. Then we had some tamales for dinner that my sister sent us as a Christmas gift.

So now that we've started using gifts from Christmas #1, it's time for Christmas #2.

Merry New Year's Christmas Eve! Or something.

'Tis the Season for Improvised Weaponry

Actually, it's always the season for creative weaponry around here, it's just that--thanks to generous gift-giving relatives--now there are more things to get inventive with. Which means more things to fight with (and, of course, fight over.)

First, we have kazoos. My mother very kindly bought one for each boy. Although they are excellent for interminable kazoo renditions of "The Twelve Days of Christmas," they can also be attached to form either a battleship or a sword, depending on how menacing you want to be.

Jack's taking careful notes for his future weapons manufacturing.

And then there's the set of pieces resembling giant Tinker Toys that's supposed to be for building forts, but has so far only been used to make enormous starships and various lances and swords.

They look kind of cool, until they start flying around, at which point they're a danger to eyes everywhere.

It's so nice to see them exercising their creativity.

Ahem.

Birthday Celebrating

So how do I celebrate reaching the wise old age of 37?

By sitting by the woodstove early in the morning with coffee.

No kids. No noise. Just chicory coffee and quiet.

Of such things are a happy 37th birthday made.

A Little Nostalgia for Christmas

We're leaving for Blackrock in about three hours, if I'm efficient in getting this insane clown posse out the door this morning. It's a six-hour drive if we're lucky and there isn't any bad weather on the way.

Well, if there isn't a LOT of bad weather. There is ALWAYS bad weather somewhere between here and Blackrock in the winter. Too many lakes that attract too much snow.

Anyway.

A long drive today with children means that I've already got my bag of carrot sticks* ready to go.

Most of you are probably all, "Carrot sticks? What the hell? Why don't you just stop at a gas station like a normal person and buy some chips to throw at the kids in the back of the minivan?"

Whereas my brother and sister are probably nodding their heads and thinking, "Bellows Beach road food."

See, when I was a kid and we were living in Hawaii, we would somewhat frequently make the long drive to the beach at Bellows, and my mom (or possibly my dad; I can't actually remember) would always cut up a large bag of carrot sticks for the drive.

Also, we always made our own sandwiches and wrapped them in aluminum foil so we could scratch our initial into the top and identify them before unwrapping.

Also also, there were always Fritos or potato chips.

I'm even less fun than my parents, however. I make popcorn to bring as a Big Treat instead of chips, and the sandwiches are all the same (because every one of the small ones likes peanut butter and jelly and it's just easier that way**) and all packed in one big plastic container so as to avoid the aluminum foil.

But there are still those carrot sticks.

It's road trippin' time. Merry Christmas Eve, my lovelies.

* That's right, I said carrot sticks, not baby carrots. Baby carrots are an abomination that taste like bleach and I absolutely cannot stand them. Not that I have strong feelings on this subject.

** A. and I don't eat the sandwiches, anyway. We subsist on the carrot sticks and almonds until we arrive at our destination. It is just now occurring to me that possibly I wouldn't hate long drives so much if I entertained myself with junk food instead of carrot sticks and almonds. But it's hard to defy that early childhood training.

Showing Up

Today was the Christmas program at Cubby's school, featuring Santa reading "The Night Before Christmas," interspersed with the children in each grade singing appropriate songs.

The auditorium at the school was literally standing-room only, despite the fact that the roads looked like this:

In the spirit of the season, we'll call this Christmas-y.

As I've said before, you can't live in a place like this and be afraid of driving in the snow. Who cares if it's a twenty-mile drive on nominally plowed roads? I have to watch a bunch of kids sing "The Reindeer Pokey" ("Put your antlers in, take your antlers out . . .") and "Up on the Rooftop"!

I felt obligated to show up if only to acknowledge the incredible dedication of the music teacher, who coached all six grades through two entire songs each with hand motions and props.

All blessings upon you, Mr. Music Teacher. You're a rare spirit among men.

Plus, I would have been sad to miss the little girl in the front row of the second-grade group who clearly has a future in the entertainment industry, if her enthusiastic finger-shaking and twirling during "Jingle Bells" is any indication.

And of course, Cubby's face when he saw me, Charlie, and Jack waving at him from the audience was the whole reason we made the snowy effort to be there.

Worth the drive, without a doubt.