on the 3rd day of christmas...

if i had had a moment to breathe, I probably would have blogged this weekend. I got a couple hours of sleep. I was up til 2 am last night finishing xmas presents and cleaning up the mess that said gifts created. Hopefully dad won't notice the teeny tiny hole I accidentally drilled in the table before I knew the drill actually worked. Hopefully mom will think the telltale brown stains on the carpet in various locations around the house are fudge. Hopefully emily is as keen on cleaning tomorrow as she talked glibly about tonight. hopefully I won't have any calls tonight on the aid unit. it's always the 2 am puker who has been sick since noon and is just too tired to drive themselves to the hospital so the doctor can tell them they're fine and send them home to continue vomiting. on a tuesday night, that's pretty standard. it's getting colder outside, which makes me excited about the new Alaskan winter ale that is NOT in mom and dad's house, but chilling respectfully in my car, which incidentally has a dead battery. maybe I should take the $4900 that one dude offered me for the 'hoe.

I pretty much have no skin left on my hands and my fingernails are broken and peeled down to the nubs from the various cleaning agents I have been using, both at home and at Peter's job site, cleaning up after the crew. Pete paid me yesterday, and it was $445. for less than 5 hours of work, I'll take it. It also happened to be almost the exact amount that I needed to send to Jenn for my rent deposit. On my house. My new house. I am so excited. space, room, my own... it is worth almost everything to me. I can't wait to get there, to build a fire, make a bed and sleep.

Wieners

I turned the Daschunds into like candy dogs. I was tired of cleaning
up pee. (actually this is halle's artwork)

On the 5th day of...

So. I made the mistake of leaving my purse on the floor last night. Bijour and Cinnamon found the treat bag of dreamy dark chocolate truffles and candies from the costco christmas party. Now it will be even harder to distinguish the spots of fudge on the rug from small helpers and the telltale remnants of a wiener dog holiday candy orgy. I vote we put in hardwood floors next week. seriously. I'm not kidding.

Speaking of next week, when I am moving, I hope you are all ready to come and load up another uhaul. I found a house, and I am actually excited. You are all invited to come visit (or live) with me in my rambling log cabin on the river. It's like heaven, only a little colder. I am super excited to see if Truck loses weight chasing deer, or running from the neighbor's pellet gun. I'm gonna have to have a talk with trent. maybe I can trade him a case of beer for dog trespassing rights.

The girls left me last night, with their arms full of their most prized posessions. I missed them before they even left, after all the time I have spent fantasizing about my "time off". The nice thing about being in Northport is that when they have the holidays at the other house, I will just be right down the road. It feels good. I know it's not the forever answer, but it feels good.

Another discovery I made yesterday was that the back yard is no longer daschund proof. They found a breach in the air/space continuum and have been making chronic treks to the Boyds porch, just to see if anyone is home. Well, that's why cinnamon goes. Bijour is looking for more chocolate. I am still bitter about that, if you didn't know. So that means I can't leave the chocolate consumers outside to do their evil deeds while I am at work. Hardwood floors?

oops... gotta get dressed for work. it's the holidays.

What?

Jogging in carhartts? In the rain? Who does that? I got chafed on my
inner thighs just watching the poor man.

Sent from my iPhone

Dear Santa:

Please send me a professional carpet cleaner before mom gets home.

Yours truly,
Me

Sent from my iPhone

goodwill to men

peace on earth

So, a few things I learned today: setting the perfect fudge on top of the perfect caramel would almost be a viable option in an attempt to save counter space, except that the weight of the fudge might displace the semi-soft caramel and sink into it, leaving a permanent tinfoiled impression into the once flawless surface of the caramel. Now it's like a caramel bathtub, with flecks of torn tinfoil scattered on the surface like festive holiday confetti. lesson 2: substituting mayonnaise for eggs in gingerbread dough is not recommended. especially when one is not rolling pin inclined anyway. the recipe for disaster was almost compensated for by begging ridiculously thick gingerbread house pieces from counter to tray to oven, overbaking them intensely, praying for solidarity that the chemical makeup couldn't offer, and then covering the whole thing with caramelized sugar glue as reinforcing steel casing. It almost looks good. for a third world hovel constructed out of cow dung, peed upon by several dehyrated dogs and having all of the contents of a six year old's halloween bag vomited onto it.

Another good lesson, which is one that I of all people should understand, is that age does not necessitate maturity, as the very stupid 34 year old boy that I stranded downtown on a would be date last week, is haunting me with vain threats of identity theft, and hurling insult attempts in the form of "you weren't even worth the gas to drive down there, fatty" (spelling and punctuation have been revised for easier interpretation), which was apparently the worst thing he could think to say to the mother of four children. Needless to say I didn't respond. But I did learn a lesson: all boys are stupid.

I also learned that the more well hydrated one keeps wiener dogs, the more frequent the pee spot occurrences on the rug. The good news in this lesson is that said urine spots are very clear and watery as the dogs are well hydrated, and easy to clean up, or hide under little rugs, whichever is the most appropriate application.

I got a call today from Dan - my old boss. He offered me work back at the hardware store. As reluctant as I am to return to northport for many many reasons, I feel a sense of relief as I see a door opening. Maybe it is the wrong door, but is the first open door I have seen for a very long time, and I am excited to think that maybe somehow it will lead to something better. If I can just sort through the myriad of choices that this move involves.

Dear boyds: Cinnamon is being an angel

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Triumph

visions of sugarplums

I was up 'til 11 pm, stirring caramel. Well, stirring caramel and fudge. I decided to make them both. Simultaneously. And I will admit a little more than much gratification at the fact that both turned out well(ish), with my fudge setting up better than emily's. It's all about one upping the little sister, after all.

The girls decided sleeping with the wiener dog sisters was overrated and all four of them snuck quietly into bed with the four giant squeaky toys, not making a peep, in fear that I would send the dogs in to sleep with them if I remembered they were there. My master plan was even more stealthy, however, and after the girls (bijour and cinnamon) finished helping me with the candy, I sent them outside on a thorough potty run and then steathily squeezed them in the barely open door to the girls room where they found cozy nests of sleeping bags and blissfully ignorant children. Of course candy making was an adventure in vintage candy thermometers that don't work, runs to mega for sweetened condensed milk, and a little bit of creative substitution and jerry-rigging since I didn't want to run to the store when I realized I didn't have enough marshmallow creme and wasn't sure if there was an armed alarm at the boyds house.

Yesterday I ran between the house, the west side and the middle school, no less than 78 times. it was a half day, which meant the girls got home at randomly useless times for the christmas shopping excursion we had planned, so after we worked over capitol mall at a dead run in 27 minutes, we streaked our way to the school to drop the girls off for basketball, then got groceries, then to watch the basketball game, then home to make dinner, back to pick up the other basketball player and get the cheese I forgot at the grocery store, then home to eat, back to the concert, etc etc etc.

I thought I would get a mother of the year award for being the first parent to the school to pick up mackenzie from her away game, and after sitting there for 45 minutes, I realized that the other parents were actually AT the game, so once again, the elusive award escaped my grasp. Oh well. It's the holidays.

Halle's concert was amazing. Well, the tuba part was. It was fun. We all wore our holiday headbands, but since the candy canes kept falling off of aspen's head, I traded her for the collapsed reindeer antlers, much to the chagrin of the six rows behind me who got to watch the band perform, framed by a pair of bobbing candy canes. Nattie's mittens were much more well behaved. Somehow aspen got the gum I gave her as a pacifier tangled up in the wrapper and then subsequently in her hair, which was easy to undo since we could watch the whole disaster in playback on the camcorder of the parent behind us. Needless to say, this morning is a great morning for a bath, and maybe a run or two to the grocery store for one item at a time.

So I figured out how to work the thermostat in the house finally. I was freezing all morning, but I just went over and pushed the up arrow on the little control box and now we're up to almost 78. I am thinking of filling up a swimming pool in the kitchen. It's absolutely balmy.

Last night there was a bit of a war of the wiener dogs, or more appropriately, of where the wiener dogs would sleep. The last mandate issued was that neither of them could be held hostage in anyone's bed, and all four of the giant squeaky toys (best 7.99 I EVER spent) were to absolutely remain downstairs. whether by force or choice, it may never be determined, but the dogs spent the night in Halle's bed, which, in an ironic twist of justice, resulted in her getting up three times in the night to take them potty. The first time I thought there was an intruder downstairs, and was headed down to show him where all of the marketable children were, but it was just Halle lurking sullenly by the sliding door waiting for cinnamon to finish her business, which apparently was quite pressing at three AM. Kudos to her, though, the little red dog. The renegade sister opted to stay in where it was warm and try to hide her business in the nearest pile of clean laundry to her hind end. I hope macKenzie noticed as she was getting dressed this morning...

You would all be so proud. I made my own coffee this morning. Of course I spilled both the old grounds and the new ones all over the counter and floor, and I ground the beans too fine, and wasn't sure about the bean to water ratio, but once I added the rest of the half and half it was lovely. I am not sure why I fell asleep on the living room floor after than, all I can think was it was a caffeine crash. But I woke up to Aspen watching Brittany Murphy and Ashton Kutcher going at it in "Just Married". Apparently "Robots" had ended during my nap. She wasn't too crushed when I switched her to jungle junction, but seemed thoroughly entranced by mr kutcher's bedroom skills.

Truck is trying to boycott the small dogs, but it's really hard to keep track of all four giant squeaky toys and the two nylon bones with two of the little urchins sneaking them off. I think he finally relinquished control on the cow because it has been as impossible to get bijour's mouth off of it as it is to get her mind off of mice under the floor. Cinnamon wisely waits for truck to fall asleep on his couch and then quietly drags the other three squeakers to a place that truck could not even imagine fitting, and gloats heroically until one of the kids finds the toys and ruins her cosmic take over. I think the girls are getting more mileage out of the toys than the dogs are.

Last night we wrapped presents, after macKenzie got the homework that was most assuredly going to kill her done. Wrapping presents with kids is interesting. They really think it is a physical impossibility to tie a ribbon knot without a sacrificial finger. So most of the event was aspen running hither and yon placing fingers on people's ribbons. Then natalee felt compelled to attach jingle bells to all of the presents. and dogs. and doorknobs. it's the holidays.

barely having survived the trauma of her homework it was almost more than kizzie could stand having to help wrap presents for other people that were clearly the things that she had wanted most and now knew she wouldn't be getting. what a wretched life she lives. Today we are going to finish up our christmas shopping. I already feel like I need another nap and we haven't even started. These days off are killing me. Tonight is the last basketball game, the holiday band concert, and... lord knows what for dinner. Tomorrow is work and COOKIES. I asked the girls to prioritize their most special and important christmas cookies and/or treats. They are as follows: Gingerbread houses (duh), gingerbread men (?), sugar cookies, caramel,gingerbread houses, fudge, russian teacakes, oreos (???), gingerbread houses and gingerbread houses. I think we'll just make oreos.

on overpopulation (12.8.09)

You know your house is overpopulated when the odds of keeping a christmas present a secret from any family member are about 1:1000.

Yesterday, I sneakily bought dad the turntable from costco. I sneakily brought it home, and snuck it up to my room, where I intended for the girls to wrap it as soon as they got home from school. My sneaking had a breakdown about the same time my memory lapsed and I forgot the girls had basketball and wouldn't be home til well after dad. This might not have been a big problem, except that traditionally, dad comes to my room to check in when he gets home from work, and this was expedited by the fact that we had been missing a few key Christmas presents that had been previously purchased and Dad was eager to come and solve the mystery with me. Especially since mom wasn't home. Luckily, I had just changed my pants to go to work, and not only avoided dad catching me un-pantsed, but I had a pair of theoretically useful jeans in my hand when he came into my room. I realized the record player was in plain sight, so I tried to step in front of it and hold the jeans as awkwardly as possible in a psuedo folding attempt, hoping to cover the box. Dad, being the good Stecker he is, leaned around the jeans to see what the big new electronic looking box was on the floor behind me. As soon as it registered for him what is was, a look of shame crossed his face, and he tried to casually back out of the room, as if he was on his way already, even though we were only a few words into the conversation. Attempting to distract him and me from the blown surprise, I proceeded to communicate loudly and animatedly about the missing mario brothers video game that we had bought, and I was at a bit of a loss when dad was waving his hands and giving me looks. I wondered why he was so worried about me ruining his Christmas surprise, when really he did it himself, and then I realized one of the recipients of said video game was sitting right next to my door. Nattie gave me a sheepish grin, and I hoped that she somehow had no idea what Mario Brothers for the WII was. Right.

Dad scuttled off remorsefully to hunt down the now unsurprising video game, and came back several times to my room to go over plausible loss scenarios, always carefully standing a full five feet back from my door. As if he HAD seen me in my underwear and was permanently terrified of ever entering enemy territory again.

This of course, is almost as good as my slip a few weeks ago, when I loudly protested the difference in quality between the ****** (omitted for security purposes) that mom and dad had gotten at location A and the one they were considering for less money at location B. The recipient of said gift was sitting next to me.

Yes, too many people in this house. But I am sure it would help if my brain were functioning a little better.

So the question is, do I take the turntable back? I was considering sticking it under the tree unwrapped, with a big bow, since he's already seen it.

day 1

mom hasn't even been gone 6 hours, and already the dogs have gotten into the garbage, drank all of the water out of the christmas tree, and nearly ate an entire bag of pirate's booty. Aspen went to school with her hair unbrushed and blue mouthwash on her face, I am sure from last night's toothbrushing cause there's no way she had time to brush this morning with all of the christmas cartoon specials on TV. I went back to bed after delivering the kids to school (which, to be perfectly honest, I may have slept through because I don't remember it at all), and woke up in all kinds of pain with horrible nightmares about not being able to make the christmas music I left playing on my laptop stop. After all of those horrors were resolved, or at least I turned the music off , I came downstairs and ate three raspberry cream cheese meltaways that were too hot and burned my tongue in an attempt to make my back stop hurting. It made sense at the time. Obviously it didn't help, so I took a hot shower, cut myself shaving, and then came back down and ate an the entire leftover chicken terriyaki meal in the fridge, minus the part that bijour climbed onto the table and ate when I ran upstairs to get my computer so I could turn the christmas music back on.

I have been looking everywhere for my colorgraphed spreadsheet itinerary for while mom is gone, to keep me on track, but I think she may have forgotten to leave it, which means that I can sleep in as long as I want. I went and got my free turkey from costco. jake asked if I paid for it. I said yes, with my blood, sweat and carpal tunnel. Mom's musical christmas clock just went off and I nearly fell off my chair. I never knew jingle bells could be so startling. You'd think I would be scare-conditioned with the pair of wiener dogs that run, on cue, every fifteen minutes, to the front door barking insanely at an imaginary bad guy in the driveway. It's entertainment at least.

I don't work for two whole days since I pawned a carts shift tomorrow off and get to go to the girls last basketball game and halle's holiday band concert. It's an amazing feeling, except I keep telling the dogs to "have a great afternoon and happy holidays". And they look at me like I am crazy. Which I might be. So it's laundry and present wrapping and making messes that I am sure will be resolved before mom gets home...

Don't tell anyone, but I am listening to the Avett Brothers this afternoon, to help me recover from the holiday music nightmare this morning. TAB really needs to cut a christmas album.

It's the holidays.