Monday Morning Musings - Prepare To Be Bombarded

A while back I said I was going to overload you with all the posts I have been meaning to do for the last 6 months. I know, you've just been sitting on the edge of your seat waiting. Well, I don't want to disappoint. So get ready. I have a lot of catchin' up to do. This blog acts as my journal. And the older I get, the worse my memory gets. I am afraid if I don't blog them soon, all those memories will be gone for good. So sit back and prepare to be bombarded this week with "All Those Posts I Meant To Do"!


We are enjoying the Christmas spirit around here. We brought back our new family tradition we started last year. I went to the library and checked out a ton 'o Christmas books and wrapped them and put them under the tree. Every night in December, the kids take turns choosing a book to open and read before bed. They love it, and it helps to ease their desire to open all the other presents. A few weeks ago we went to a tree lighting ceremony. That would be the above picture. There was also a lights parade. The below picture is of Em watching the parade. That was the night I decided I have lived in Utah for 18 years, and it was about time I started dressing like a Utahan. Within reason.

I grew up in Dallas Texas. I've never owned a lot of winter clothes. When I was growing up, and it "snowed" like once every couple of years and the whole city of Dallas would shut down and we would spend the day playing in the "snow", you know what we wore on our hands? Socks. I've never had a pair of snow boots in my whole entire life. I don't wear hats, gloves, scarfs. Most of the time I don't even wear a coat. The only socks I own are little tiny thin no show socks. I go to the grocery store in January in flip flops. That's just the way it is. UNTIL I ALMOST LOST MY PINKY TOE TO FROST BITE THE OTHER NIGHT! Seriously. It was so cold that night of the tree lighting/parade. And I was wearing converse and no show socks, like an idiot. So I decided that very night, that before this winter was over, I would be the owner of snow boots. Maybe even a hat and some gloves. Maybe.

This is my problem though. I think I look ridiculous in boots. I don't have any of the right jeans to wear with boots. So of course to be able to get boots, I have to get new jeans. But that's OK, because it was my Birthday yesterday. And I have this special form of torture I reserve just for my Birthday. Jean shopping. *SCREAM* First of all, I hate shopping. And of all shopping that I hate, shopping for jeans and dresses are my most hated. H. A. T. E. D. I don't know why I hate myself so much that I go shopping for jeans every year on my birthday. But I do. Anyway. The last time I bought new jeans? My b-day 2009. The time before that? My b-day 2008. You get the picture, right? So it gets around to my birthday again and I think I am going to have a nervous breakdown if I have to wear my past b-day jeans one more time. Hence the nightmarish torture session. But this year to make it more especial, I decided that I also need a new dress to wear to my brothers wedding. So to make my birthday double fun I would not only be shopping for jeans this year, but also a new dress. *SCREAM* Because I'm also going to have a nervous breakdown if I have to wear any of my dresses EVER AGAIN!

My poor husband. I made him accompany me on my torture session Saturday night. He's such a good man. If anyone hates shopping more than me, it's him. We're a good pair. He's the kind of person who looks at a pair of jeans, decides he likes them, finds the right size, and then goes and pays for them. He never tries anything on before he buys it. I could tell he was nervous at first when I started loading up on like 20 pairs of jeans to try on. I'm sure he was thinking, "Is she seriously gonna buy 20 pairs of jeans?" The trying on session was so foreign to him. I was so glad he was with me though. From now on, he has to go with me EVERY TIME I go shopping. Sorry honey, it's the truth. You do. I would try on a pair of jeans, leave them on for 1/2 a second, and then rip them off. And he'd be like what was wrong with those? I'd just look at him and growl *grrrrr*. Then we'd repeat the whole process. Finally I was like, "LET'S JUST LEAVE THIS STUPID STORE!" And he was very calm and rational and said, "What's wrong with the jeans you tried on?" *grrrrr* Well, he talked me into buying a couple of pairs. It was so weird for me. I only tried on 20 pairs. At one store. Multiply that by 4 or 5 and you get my normal jean shopping numbers. So there you go babe! You've made it so that from now on, you go shopping with me every time! (Right now I can picture the look of terror on his face when he reads this. And I can hear him thinking..."What in the world did I get myself into? I was just hungry and wanted to go eat!"

So anyhoo. I'm still bootless and dressless, but that's just gonna have to wait for another day. I wouldn't want to get too carried away.

Last night, my dear mother made me a delicious dinner and a super yummy banana cake with homemade cream cheese frosting. Thanks mom! And last night, after most of the kids were in bed (except for the one who opened a brand new gallon of milk, poured one cup and then left the entire gallon sitting on the counter all night. Again.) and Steve was in the kitchen watching the Cowboys game he recorded, I went in and said, "It's my Birthday. If you love me, you will turn off this dang football game and come watch a movie with me." He looked at me like I was some kind of crazy woman. Then he said, "Your birthday lasts for 24 hours." So I said, "Yeah, well, it's still December 12th, so what's the problem?" And he said, "You know what time we went out last night. It's been more than 24 hours." So I threw a pillow at his head. But I knew he would turn the game off. And he did. Now that is true love.

So the other night, Addy wouldn't go to bed because she was afraid she would have a bad dream. She was overtired that day, so she was crying and being totally irrational. Because she would never cry or be irrational if she wasn't overtired...Anyway, I was trying to calm her down and I told her if she would think of something good that she liked before she went to sleep, she would dream about that. This is how our conversation went:

Me: OK, lets think of a place you really like. Where is your favorite
place?

Addy: Disneyland.

Me: OK, let close our eyes and pretend we are at Disneyland.

Addy: *crying* I WANNA GO BACK TO DISNEYLAND!!!

Me: Wait a minute, don't cry. We can't go back to Disneyland right
now, but you can pretend you are there and you can dream about it tonight.
What was your favorite ride at Disneyland?

Addy: The teacups.

Me: OK, let's pretend we are on the teacups. Which color teacup
do you want to be in?

Addy: Pink, because it's my favorite color.

Me: OK, we are in a pink teacup at Disneyland-

Addy: *hysterical crying* BUT I DIDN'T GET TO RIDE IN THE PINK ONE BECAUSE YOU MADE ME RIDE IN THE BLUE ONE AND THAT OTHER
GIRL GOT TO RIDE IN THE PINK ONE AND PINK IS MY FAVORITE COLOR!

It pretty much got worse after that. So much for helping her find her happy place.

Oh Addy. Sweet, sweet Addy. The other day she wanted to weigh herself. So she got on the scale and looked at her sweet little double digit number. Then she said, OK mom. It's your turn. I was like, no that's OK. I know exactly how much I weigh. But she was insistent and I thought, well, she doesn't know her numbers so she won't be sitting in her class at church announcing to everyone my weight. So I got on. And up popped my three digit number and she said, "WHOA MOM! YOU WEIGH A LOT!" Thanks Addy, I had no idea. Really.