Easter Leftovers

It was just last week that I stood at the kitchen counter after all of our Easter eggs hunts and family gatherings. I popped open the plastic eggs and poured the kids’ candy into a community candy bowl; jelly beans, Reeses’ cups, scrunched up packs of Skittles and Miniature m&m’s. My eyes glazed over in a sugar coma as I looked over the sea of candy.

Holy Crap! These kids have a shitload of candy!

Let’s do the math. 4 kids + 3 Easter egg hunts (home and both grandparents’ houses) = 8 chocolate bunnies and waaaayy too much candy, probably enough to hold us over until Halloween (I will throw it out way before then). There is so much candy my eyes are turning into jelly beans. I just can’t believe how much candy there is. They got other stuff too; bubbles, bouncy balls, sidewalk chalk, books…but I’m still amazed at the amount of sugar.

Why do we do this each and every year?

We fill and hide eggs from the “Easter Bunny,” they gobble up as much as they possibly can and bounce around on a sugar high until I take it away, declaring “Easter egg hunt is over. Hand over all your eggs. You are not eating Peeps for breakfast!” Such a mean mom… but I do let them eat a little bit.

The twins, they suck at hunting for Easter eggs. They each found three or four eggs and promptly sat their diapered booties on the steps and ate up their goodies. They refused to find anymore. They were content with popping jelly beans in their mouths and watching the boys collect the rest of the eggs. When they wanted more, they held out their hands and grunted and Collin would deliver an egg to each sticky hand.

That’s why I decided next year I’m filling eggs with cereal; Captain Crunch, Lucky Charms, Fruit Loops, Cocoa Puffs – all the kinds of cereal I rarely ever buy. Then, instead of taking the time in the morning to feed them breakfast, I can just send them outside to hunt for their meal. Win win situation. It kind of reminds me of a Family Guy episode where the babysitter threw a bunch of crackers in the yard along with Stewie. “There’s your lunch. Go get it.”  I’ve always wanted to do that. Here’s my chance with a good excuse, Easter!

Until they get older…I can picture it now…them throwing the plastic eggs at me, a blue egg bouncing off my head and spraying cereal everywhere. Orange and purple and hot pink eggs hitting my arms and sides and legs, leaving little welt marks and breaking open, crunch berries and fruit loops littering the yard. “What the hell?! What kind of Easter bunny leaves cereal?! Where are the real eggs?! Where is the damn candy?!” The rebellion.

But I actually did fill a few eggs this year with cereal. After I took the eggs away, the girls just went into a fit. They didn’t understand. They screamed and whined. They turned into the evil twins. It was horrible. So I took a couple empty eggs and filled them with Cheerios and they were happy. Problem solved. Crying stopped. Phew!

But I was really happy this year. The kids were so good helping each other find eggs. They didn’t push or shove or get stingy. They were so helpful and nice to each other. Bradley, still on crutches with his broken leg, couldn’t even bend down to pick up the eggs off the ground. Collin was so nice and helpful. Bradley would say, “Collin, see that green sparkly one? I want that one.” And Collin would get it for him and pick one up for himself. They were so good, which rarely happens for that amount of time, especially when candy is involved.

So glad it’s over. Time to go eat the ears off one of those bunnies.

xxx

A Letter to Santa

The other night Bradley sat down with a pencil and paper and wrote his letter to Santa. I love his first grade handwriting and creativity. I love the fact that he put directions on how to open the letter – that is the “rip” at the top of the page and an illustration!  But I think my favorite part is that he asks if he has been good or bad. Shouldn’t he just know? I thought most kids just said they were on the good list no matter what. He just cracks me up. I can’t help but laugh. I think he thinks there is some kind of chart, like the clip system at school.

 In his letter he did list all of the nice things he did, like helping his sisters put on their shoes in the morning and working hard in school. On the other side was his list. Surprisingly it was a really short list! And at the end, he wrote “I am 7,” and circled it, just so Santa would know.

I “mailed” it to the North Pole this morning, which is basically dating it and putting it way in my cedar chest where I store all of my favorite keepsakes. I can’t wait to give him that pile when he is older.

I wonder what my Santa letters were like when I was little.

How do you save your Santa letters? Which ones are your favorites? I would love to hear your stories!

xxx

 

 

 

Still My Thanksgiving Miracles

I always get reminiscent this time of year. I enjoy spending time with family and the holiday meals together. And I always think back to two years ago and how blessed and thankful I am.

It was the day before Thanksgiving that I got to bring the girls home from the hospital. No more NICU. I still can’t believe they were so little, weighing two and three pounds. Thanksgiving turkeys weigh more than they did when they were first born. I remember being able to hold each tiny little bundle, one in each arm.

And here we are now. They are running around like crazy little two-year olds. They are healthy. They are happy. I am thankful.

There are some days when I don’t know which way is up. There are some days when I fall over from exhaustion. There are some days when everything just works out great and I feel like we should be a sappy family sitcom. But everyday I am thankful and I am kissing my blessings, each and every one of them – Bradley, Collin, Elsie, and Mallie. 

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

xxx

Who is Your Valentine?

I was putting Bradley to bed and crashed on his top bunk next to him. “I love you so much,” I told him.

“Mom,” he says, “My favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day,” he said out of the blue.

“It is?” I asked. “Who is going to be your Valentine this year?”

“Ummmm…” he said, looking into the air for the answer with a sly grin.

“Who do you love lots and lots?” I asked, smiling and waiting for the obvious answer.

“Ummmm…” he grinned, knowing what he is supposed to say.

“Who do you love to the moon and back? Who loves you all the way to the stars?” I went on, “Who makes your breakfast? Who washes your clothes? Who gives you lots of kisses?” I asked, kissing his forehead.

He didn’t answer. He just sat there with a Cheshire grin.

“Ok. I will give you a hint,” I said. “Her name starts with an ‘M’ and ends with an ‘M’.” 

“MOM!” he shouts.

That’s my boy, even though I had to work for that one. Little stinker.

I gave him hugs and kisses. “Good night. I love you.”

xxx

Checkers Maniac

New Year’s Eve.

Strobe lights and sweaty bodies dancing.

Empty beer bottles and smashed cigarettes.

A blaring band and crowded bar.

Nope…this wasn’t my New Year’s Eve, not this year any way. Actually, I haven’t had one like that in a long time…and probably wont for quite a while. It’s okay. I don’t really miss it. I have so much fun hanging out with the kids and watching the ball drop on tv and banging on pots and pans at midnight and waking up the neighbors.

One of my favorite parts of waiting for the new year is playing games. This year I taught Bradley how to play Checkers. He is addicted. He is a Checker’s maniac now. That’s all he wants to do. And if he can’t find anyone to play with him, he plays against himself.

He got a Lightening McQueen Checkers game this year. We lined up all the black and white pieces and put Lightening McQueen stickers on them to get started.

I briefly explained the rules.

“Okay. The first game I will help you so you get the hang of it,” I told him.

He got the hang of the game quickly. The second game he kicked my ass… and I was kind of trying.  

I have found my Checkers match.

“Okay, kid,” I said, taunting and teasing him. “I think you have the hang of this game. You kicked my butt! No breaks for you this time,” I told him.

I bragged to everyone how quick he caught on and how I have such a smart kid. It was amazing to see his six-year-old little brain planning strategies and ways to trap my guys.

“Mom, I don’t think. I just KNOW where to move them,” he said.

And yes, my six-year-old son kicked my butt AGAIN in Checkers. And I was really trying. I had no kings, wasn’t even close, and the little stinker double jumped me!

“It’s on!” I said. “Let’s play again.”

Of course he was up to it. He was in his glory.

This game I caught him. I surrounded him with kings. He knew any which way he moved I had him.

He laid his tired head on the table. It was only ten o’clock, but that is late for him. I kind of started feeling sorry for him, glossy blue eyes and big lashes pushing back tired and defeated tears.

But I couldn’t let him win every game. Isn’t that the point of playing games with your kids? It should be a learning experience.  You can’t always win them all and you have to be a good sport and play your best.

The board was set up in my favor, my kings awaiting his next move. He reluctantly moved his piece. I quietly jumped it. “Good game, hunny,” I told him.

He was obviously not happy.

He won the next and last game, I made sure of it without being too obvious. Building up confidence is good also.

xxx

Oh, Christmas Tree…Oh, Christmas Tree!

The first weekend in December:  I hauled up the Christmas tree box from the basement. I didn’t even get it set down on the floor and the boys were trying to tear into it like it was a present on Christmas day. “You have to wait. This is just the Christmas tree. Mommy is going to set it up. THEN you can help put the ornaments on,” I said. This seemed to appease the little Christmas beasts.

I pulled out the pieces. The top, middle and bottom. Gotta love these new trees that practically come put together, lights and all. No more sorting branches by faded color stickers at the end of each branch. No more waiting for Dad to put the lights on the tree.

 Oh, the childhood memories I have of pacing while waiting for the tree to be ready. Trying to wait patiently as my Dad made piles of similar sized branches. Getting anxious and digging through the boxes of ornaments to decide which ones to hang first.

“Dad, are you almost done?” and “Dad, can we hang the ornaments yet?” and “Dad…Dad…Dad…” We probably pestered him the whole time, but he kept working away, meticulously straightening branches and hanging lights. Now, I am the same way about straightening each branch, making sure the lights are strung around evenly. Thanks, Dad, for passing on this obsessive behavior about how the tree should look.

When I was pulling the tree out a sparkly green ball bounced across the hardwood floor. I recognized it immediately. It was one of Grandma Jean’s ornaments from last year.

I miss her. She would be so happy we are putting up her tree. I can hear her now, “Isn’t that a nice tree? Look how each branch is so perfect and how all the lights sparkle. It is a beautiful tree. Uncle Steve picked that tree out special for me (every year he would come and help her set up the tree and even come back and take it down. What a good son. I hope one of my kids will do that for me when I am old),” I can hear her now, as I sit here thinking about her. I can see her in her beige leather recliner int he big living room, crocheting away on a multicolored afghan, watching tv, and admiring her tree.

 

If she were here now, I know she would want to see all of our trees. She would ask, “What do the babies think of the tree?” and she would remind me (even though I know) to “make sure you keep the ornaments away from the babies. They could swallow one of those hooks. You have to keep them safe. Get down on the floor and make sure a hook didn’t fall off that you didn’t see. You have to be real careful. Run your hands along the floor.”  And even though I know this, I would reply, “Okay, Grandma,” and I would probably tell her about how I have the tree set up on a card table in the living room so none of the little ones can reach it. And she would say, “I know, hunny. You take such good care of those babies,” and she would tell me how proud she is of me. Man, I love her and miss her. 

It was a trial and error with the trees this year. I put up two. A small one and a regular sized one. I put up the little tree first just to see what the kids think of it…and I was also making sure they weren’t going to try to climb it. I set it up on a small table in the corner. I put the ottoman in front of the table and a small chest ont the other side. The twins couldn’t reach it, but it was still a bad idea. Collin just used the items as step stools to get right up to the tree.

See what happens when my back is turned?!

Needless to say, it was moved. I also used a taller table for the large tree so there were no stepping stools. One of these days when the kids are older and I am able to put the tree on the floor, like normal people do, they are going to be confused. I can hear them already, “Why is the tree ont the floor, Mom?”

I located the plugs on each different part of the tree and had that thing standing upright and lit in five minutes. Hallelujah!

I put Grandma’s sparkly green ornament right by a white light so it sparkles and glitters all the time.

I love Christmas. I love all of the memories, even ones as simple as a small ornament.

xxx

Pumpkin Carving

The newspaper covered the linoleum floor. We sat the fat pumpkin with the chewed up stalk (thanks to our dog Mickey) on the kitchen floor, ready to be carved. I examined the knifes in my kitchen. I picked the one I thought was sharpest and started cutting the lid. It was hard and I was barely making any progress. I scanned my knife selection again and chose an old one. It was skinny and extra pointy at the end with a good angle to it, it looked like a Jack the Ripper knife, perfect for Halloween. It cut right through the pumpkin flesh.

My job for pumpkin carving is simple. I cut the lid and help the kids clean out the pumpkin. Brad carves the face. Before I had kids I would spend hours designing and carving elaborate designs on numerous pumpkins. Now with so many little ones and limited time, we carve one or two and clean it the best we can. A little innards left gives it a spooky feel. I forget about the day of a perfectly smooth and even flesh of the inside of the pumpkin. I have forgotten about the elaborate designs. We go by Bradley’s ideas on how he wants his Jack-o-lantern face. It always ends up really cute. Oh, and my other job is snapping a lot of pictures until Brad grumbles so much that I just put the camera away…for a few minutes.

My favorite part about carving pumpkins is that last cut and pulling up the lid. I love the smell of the fresh pumpkin that rolls out when you pull off the lid, the strings and seeds trying to hang on to the inside, even though they have no chance of clinging on. I love digging my hands in the slime and pulling out all the junk and seeds. I love the smell. I love feeling the cold fall nights that are stored in there.

We did pretty good and it went pretty well. I rolled up Collin’s sleeves and the boys dug in, grabbing handfuls of pumpkin brains, as Bradley calls it. For the first few minutes they did good working together. It didn’t last, though. Before I knew it they were thunking each other on the head with theirs spoons and throwing pumpkin guts at each other.

“Mom! Collin just hit me,” Bradley whines.

Collin stands up and points at Bradley and yells something back. I’m assuming he is trying to whine and yell back to defend himself. It’s the same tone as Bradley’s. They stick their tongues out at each other and bicker.

I eventually get them on track, after I sit back and enjoy a little bit of the show. Because I know one day they will look back at these time and miss them. I miss fighting with my sister over silly things.

“Mom, it’s a pumpkin until you cut it. When you make a face on it, it’s a jack-o-lantern.” Bradley is very particular about which is which.

I’m very particular about my pumpkins, too. I like a clean-cut so you can see the light of the flickering candle shining through. I also like a properly cut lid. This means some sort of crazy shape that kinda resembles an octagon with way too many irregular sides. I don’t like a pumpkin lid cut around in a circle. It’s too hard to figure out which way the lid goes on. I like an obvious shape to match up. It’s really quite obvious if you think about it. You always know which way to pop on the lid.

We turned on our fake plastic candles and the boys dropped them in. We turned off the light and admired our jack-o-lantern.

I love Halloween!

xxx

Paper Mache Pumpkin

I have always wanted to make something paper mache. So Bradley and I made a paper mache pumpkin for Halloween. It was a lot of fun…AND really messy, but that’s half the fun.

Bradley insisted it had lots of blood. That’s a boy for you.

One thing I learned when it was all done, which I didn’t think about at the beginning, was to make a flat bottom on it. Our pumpkin has a rounded botton from the balloon and it doesn’t sit up right. You have to lean it up against something. That’s alright though, it’s still cute and we had so much fun.

I love the conversations we have while doing projects. I learn alot about what he is thinking. Check out the video below. You have to watch towards the end because he totally cracks me up when I asked him what kind of face he wanted to make for his pumpkin.

Did you make anything crafty this Halloween?

Thanks for reading and watching.

xxx

Hot Dogs and Kentucky Fried Chicken

“What do you want to be for Halloween?” I asked Bradley at dinner time.

“I want to be a hot dog,” Bradley said between bites.

He said it so matter of factly. He didn’t have to think about it. He just wants to be a hot dog for Halloween.

I tried not to laugh too hard. “A hot dog?”

“Yep. A hot dog, Mom.”

“I guess Collin could be the ketchup.”

It just so happened that Connie, my boss, was out shopping today and actually found a hot dog costume. Bradley loves his costume. It makes me laugh. He looks so goofy, but cute.

Thanks, Connie!

When I was taking Bradley’s picture in his costume I told him to smile.

“Mom, hot dogs don’t smile,” he said to me.

“Oh, just smile for the picture, please,” I urged him.

And he smiled his little smile and said, “Eat me.”

I was cracking up. We have also been having fun with, “You have mustard on you,” and “Where’s the ketchup?” 

This is way different from his costume from last year (which I didn’t get to help pick out because I was in the hospital on bed rest).

xxx

AND…Bradley learned a new song at school today. Listen closelyto the way he says Kentucky Fried Chicken. 😉

 

Hand Made Mother’s Day

One of my favorite Mother’s Day presents Bradley brought home from school the other day. A surprise hiding in his book bag, crushed and bent. A large piece of red construction paper, laminated and rolled up with the teacher’s writing on the outside – Happy Mother’s Day. How nice. When I opened it and saw the wonderful artwork drawn by my son, a picture of me…AND a nice little paragraph about his dear ol’ mom, ME…well, it brought tears to my eyes. It was the cutest thing I have ever seen. It is one of my favorite keepsakes so far (I need to frame this one). I love that darn kid so much!

He was so proud of his present. Too cute!

o.k. , so I’m not 18. I’m 23.  😉  hee hee. When I first read that it brought tears of joy and laughter.

The best gifts have no price tags…they are made by little hands and come from the heart. Priceless.

xxx