Today we are making homemade snuggies. Because an as-seen-on-TV snuggie is not ghetto enough. We're even making them from old, pilly, used fleece that we already have. Merry Christmas
I've been trying something new with my blog. My new approach: If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all. That and keeping the mindless drivel to a minimum. And guess what? I have, like nothing.
So screw the *new* and back in with the old. If *less than nice* is all I've got, so be it. Mean, coupled with mindless drivel, is where it's at.
But honestly, I've got nothing new and exciting to talk about. Carlie and I have been crafting up a storm, making Christmas gifts. Eventually, I'll pull the photos off of the camera. But there's been pretzel dipping, hooded ponchos with pompom trim and the most adorable toddler aprons of all time. Not to mention glass magnets, magnet boards and more clay charms. All that, and today is actually the first day of Christmas break. Up next: homemade Snuggies. Not even joking.
Taylor, the prodigal son, is home for the holidays. We are in day two of the visit and all is still merry and bright. Let's hope that lasts.
Last night we had dinner with old friends at the Olive Garden. Because that is their favorite restaurant. So once a year, we take them to dinner at the Olive Garden. Which means once a year, I eat at the Olive Garden. But my disdain for chain restaurants is not the point here.
During dinner, our old friend asks Carlie, "Wow, you're like an only child now. I'll bet that's really different. How are you liking that?"
To which Carlie responded by shattering into a million tiny pieces of broken.
She is sad that her siblings aren't around so much anymore. She is sad that her dance partner/teacher has moved on to other things and is no longer working at her dance studio. When Carlie starts going down her litany of things that she is sad about, it lasts for about 30 minutes and ends with the hermit crab that ran away when she was in second grade. (And yes, we had a hermit crab run away. I know! Right?)
So between my holiday funk and Carlie's preteen angst, we're having a hell of a time these days, wherein a hell of a time = OMG CAN WE PLEASE JUST SKIP TO FEBRUARY FOR CHRISTSAKE?
I've been employing my favorite parenting strategy with some success. I've found the key to successful parenting is to isolate the problem, then throw money at it. So I've been stressing the fact that Carlie gets to do a lot of fun (and costly) things that she would not be able to do if she had siblings living at home. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.
We're also gearing up for our big Christmas Eve Open House. You know, the big ass party that I thought I would not be having this year, because I thought we'd have moved by now, and so I have done zero prep. Yeah, that party. The one where I make turkey gumbo from my leftover Thanksgiving turkey, except, SHIT, I didn't cook Thanksgiving dinner this year and have noturkey and guess what I am doing today? Yep. Making Snuggies and roasting an f*ing turkey. Are we feeling jolly yet?
And the highlight of this, the first day of school Christmas vacation, will be a violin recital at a retirement home. Carlie has played violin since she was three, and has participated in this recital at the same retirement home every year. It's a very nice retirement home, and the residents are always thrilled and appreciative of the awesome talent that the Vancouver Strings shares with them.
But still. It's a nursing home. An "old folks home." And I know many of you would visit and spread cheer and blah blah blah. But every time I visit the nursing home, which is exactly one time per year for this violin recital, it takes me, like two days, to shake off the sad. Getting old sucks. I don't want to get old. I don't want to be in a retirement home. Plus, my kids would probably not even choose a *nice* home for me. They'd go for the bargain home.
At least I'll have my homemade Snuggy knock off to bring me comfort.