Chasing Emmah

Poor Caleb. Only a couple of days into Christmas break and he’s bored already.

I have had plenty of activities to keep him busy. We’ve had two full days of candy-making. We’ve made peanut butter balls, little flower candies using multi-flavored white chocolate bark and candy molds, and Christmas mice out of maraschino cherries, Hershey’s Kisses and Oreos.

He’s cleaned his room and half of the kids’ bathroom (Anna made a deal with him to do half). He’s fought with both Josh and Anna. He’s wreaked havoc loudly for two days. Yet I heard a little sigh from him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m bored,” he said, and then quickly inserted, “But I don’t want to clean anything! Or read!” He knows those are my go-to solutions whenever he says he’s bored. The older kids learned years ago to omit that phrase from their vocabulary. He’s still young and green.

“I’d rather be at school, I think,” he said. Ouch.

But he elaborated. “I miss chasing Emmah,” he sighed wistfully. Whoa! Hold up!

“Why do you chase Emmah?” I asked, knowing I shouldn’t even go there, but I do anyway.

“Well, Preston and Gibson said I should go after her, so I do. I chase her,” he patiently explained. Another sigh as he rested his head in his hands. “And I miss that.”

This conversation reminds me of another exchange Caleb and I had just a couple of weeks ago. He had asked, “Mom, how do I get a girl to kiss me?”

And I had responded, “You don’t need to be kissing any girls.”

He had muttered, “I guess I’ll just have to figure it out on my own.”

Hmm, I wonder if this Emmah is the same one he wants to kiss. Probably. Poor girl. He’s pretty persistent. And Preston and Gibson are probably egging him on. Good times. No wonder he misses school.

But, alas, he’s home for another 10 days. I’m finished with the candy. Maybe my house will get cleaned. Or he’ll get through all the books on his bookshelf.

But I’m not holding my breath.

Cowboy Roy

Cowboy Roy is lost.

We haven’t seen him since August. The kids have searched the house. Under couches. Under beds. Under coffee tables. Or so they say. I’ve grilled Caleb especially, since it was his book. Wide-eyed and innocent he declared that it wasn’t anywhere. Uh-huh.

I even asked the library to do a search for it in the off-chance it was unknowingly stuck in a stack of books I had returned. No such luck. I knew better.

I finally had to admit defeat. So, I handed over $6.99 to the librarian at the Daviess County Public Library last week and paid up. Three ninety-nine for the book itself, and $3 for “handling.” I’m sure Roy will show up tomorrow now that I’ve purchased him.

Once I got home, I gave Caleb the news. “You owe me $6.99 for losing Cowboy Roy,” I told him. “I had to pay the library today. It‘s coming out of your piggy bank.”

He abruptly stopped what he was doing, his eyes widening in disbelief. He threw up his hands in outrage. “I don’t have that kind of money!” he declared. Um, I’m pretty sure he does. But he really has no concept of money. Please refer to The Tooth Fairy post for further evidence.

So, if your child has been on the waiting list at the DCPL for Cowboy Roy, I’m sorry. Caleb said it was a pretty good book. If you are desperate, Amazon has it for $3.99 with an updated cover. Or you can come search my house. It’s here somewhere. Call first.

My Favorite Things

Now that the Christmas season is in full swing (like it hasn’t been in full swing since Nov. 1), I thought I would share some thoughts on my favorite holiday of all!

First, I love, love, love the anticipation. I’m not so excited for the actual day to arrive (because then it will be over), but it makes me absolutely giddy to think I have a whole month leading up to the observed anniversary of the birth of my Savior! That means 25 days of Christmas music on every station.  Twenty five days of listening to the Christmas Canon (the Trans-Siberian Orchestra version with the kids). Twenty five days of my favorite songs on my iPod. (I’ve temporarily deleted all songs not Christmas from my iPod for the season.) But I’ll switch my Holly station on Sirius XM to Holiday Traditions (or vice-versa) if a version (any version!) of Twelve Days of Christmas comes on. Or the Christmas Shoes song (it makes me cry).  Anyway, a list of things I DON’T like about the season is material for another post someday.

Moving on…twenty five days of admiring my Christmas trees. We used to only have one and we would try to decorate it with all the pretty gold ribbons and balls, and then mix in the Hallmark ornaments and homemade ornaments. It never turned out quite like the holiday magazine covers. So, a couple of years ago, I came across this crazy good deal on a 7’ slim, pre-lit (with colored lights!) tree to go in my kitchen area. Let me tell you, finding such a fantastic deal on that tree made my season. Now, I get to decorate the “fancy” tree with the clear lights in the living room with all kinds of gold balls, ribbons and glittery creations, while also getting to wax nostalgic every time I look at my “family” tree.  

I love that family tree. Nestled among the branches is Josh’s first ornament: a Styrofoam flat-bottomed bowl with a picture of him pasted on and surrounded by glitter. There is the blue satin ornament of Caleb’s decorated with snowmen, cleverly created when his teacher pressed his tiny little fingers into white paint and then onto the ball. And there are Anna’s handmade ornaments, unique creations assembled with butterfly paper clips, silk rose buds, Popsicle sticks, hot glue and her own unique style. And we really enjoy putting up all the Hallmark ornaments, too. Each one brings back a special memory.

I’m looking forward to 25 days of giving myself a free pass (or, at least a more liberal pass) when it comes to Christmas cookies , especially the Sour Cream Cookies my Aunt Evelyn so lovingly prepares each year – I know she shares them with others, but I like to think she puts forth the effort just for me.  She always sends me home with a tin full of Heaven on Earth after our family Christmas celebration each year. Several years ago I came up with the bright idea to bring chocolate chip cookies – decoy cookies – to our Christmas gathering, slyly arranging them in front of the Sour Cream confections so as to trick the little ones (who can’t possibly appreciate MY cookies) into filling up on those instead of those rare little gems I get only once a year. But their palates are getting more sophisticated and they are catching on. I may have to add decoy brownies, too, this year.

And how about all those wonderful Christmas shows on TV? I remember the joy I had when I was a little girl and Mom, my brother and I would look through the TV Guide this time of year to mark all the shows we wanted to watch: Rudolph, Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town, The Little Drummer Boy – pretty much all the claymation cartoons. Plus, Frosty and The Grinch. Even today, if I come across The Year Without a Santa Claus, that’s where my surfing ends and my viewing begins.

Those classic kids’ shows don’t appeal to my own children much, though. Caleb is all about the Home Alone trilogy (or are there four?).  And the kids like the Christmas specials of their favorite Disney Channel characters (Good Luck, Charlie and Wizards of Waverly Place, for example). But nothing, and I mean nothing, is funnier to Mark and me than National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. (Drumroll, please. Drumroll!) Every line, every gesture, every sarcastic comment makes us laugh out loud. Our everyday conversation throughout the year is peppered with one-liners from that movie. We’re kind of weird that way. And no Christmas season would be complete without It’s a Wonderful Life (love me some Jimmy Stewart) and A Christmas Carol (I like the version with George C. Scott).

There is so much more that I love about this season, culminating with the birthday of Jesus, and I’ll share more some other time, but those are just some of the things that bring me joy this time of year. What makes your season merry and bright?

The Tooth Fairy

Caleb lost a tooth earlier this month. Despite twisting it and tugging, it was one of those that had been hanging on for dear life for several days. I offered to pull it several times, but he would protest vehemently whenever I made that suggestion. Apparently, he coaxed it out during math class. Much blood and spit ensued, but by the end of the trip down the hall and back from the nurse’s office, the tooth was encased in a tiny tooth treasure chest to be safely kept until the tooth fairy’s visit that night.

Josh, Anna, Caleb and I snuggled up in bed Monday night to watch one of the Scooby Doo movies. Despite a half-hearted effort on my part to stay conscious during this quality mother-children bonding time, I succumbed to sweet sleep before Velma even found her first clue. A couple of hours later I roused enough to realize the room was dark, the television was off, and my sweet offspring had tucked themselves into their own beds. After squinting at the clock, I rolled over, blissful in the fact that I had four more hours of sleep to enjoy.

Mark and I woke up about half an hour later than usual the next morning, since it was Election Day and the schools were closed, so there were no busses to catch. After the obligatory, “How’d you sleep?” and “What’s going on today at work?” we rolled out of bed. Suddenly, a wave of dread overcame me.

“Did you put money under Caleb’s pillow?” I asked, knowing the answer but posing the question anyway.

A blank stare answered the apparently rhetorical question. Then, defensively, “I thought you did!”

“Wonderful,” I muttered, as I headed to the dresser top where Mark empties the change from his pockets every day. I started scavenging through the lint and gas receipts and came up with two quarters, a dime, and 17 pennies. I help out my coin-filled hand to Mark, but he shook his head. “That’s chintzy. He needs paper money. Have you got any dollar bills?”

Rolling my eyes, I headed downstairs to where I had left my purse. After rummaging through my wallet, I came back upstairs, slightly more panicked now. “Only a twenty!” I whispered loudly. “He’s seven. He’ll like 77 cents. He doesn’t know the value of money,” I argued. But Mark shook his head.

We were pathetic, standing there in the bedroom like two deer caught in headlights. Suddenly, a light bulb came on. “Anna!” I declared. “She has money!”

I tiptoed to her bedroom and peered in. She was awake, just not up yet. “Hey, can I borrow some money?” I asked casually. She nodded assent (she’s such a generous child), and gestured to where she kept her money. (Like I didn’t know.) I pulled out a couple of bucks and hustled back to the bedroom, victoriously waving them in the air. “Come on,” I whispered, and gestured for Mark to follow me.

We attempted to silently head down the hall to Caleb’s room. He was still in bed with his eyes shut. What a stroke of luck. I covertly reached my hand underneath his pillow, left the two dollars, and started to pull the treasure chest out. His head popped up. I stealthily folded my fingers around the tiny chest while Mark tried to divert his attention. Success. I casually clasped my hands together behind my back, hiding my treasure.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked, probably startled and a bit freaked out to find both his parents standing silently by his bed. Ignoring his question, I asked cheerfully, “Did the tooth fairy visit last night? Dad and I were curious to see what she left.” Still eyeing us suspiciously, he shook his head. “No, I just checked,” he answered.  “It’s still there.”

Always quick on my feet (yeah, right), I suggested in a voice way too bright and chipper for 7 a.m., “Why don’t you check again? She’s sneaky, you know.”

He gave me a funny look but, like a good son, lifted his pillow up. There were the two dollars. He furrowed his little eyebrows in confusion. He’s not dumb. There wasn’t any money there a minute ago, and now there was. He squinted his eyes and peered, first at me, then at Mark. “Did you put money there?” he asked. Clever child, that one.

“Why would I do that when that’s the tooth fairy’s job?” I asked, dodging the question so as not to outright lie to my child. He looked at us for a moment longer, then at the cold, hard cash in his hand. He shrugged his shoulders, climbed out of bed, and padded over to his piggy bank.

I shot Mark a smug look, and he muttered sarcastically, “You’re so smooth.”

Yeah, I know. I’m not perfect, and I probably won’t win the Mother of the Year Award, but it’s the effort that counts. Right?