Crafty Friday: Wilton’s Gingerbread Tree

In addition to being Black Friday, today was my first installation of Crafty Friday over at Savvy Source Las Vegas. Check out my review here.

Here’s what it was supposed to look like:

Here’s what ours looked like.

Not bad, eh?

Black Friday Recap: Things Boo and Doodle will NOT be getting for Christmas

Yes, I cow-towed to my baser instincts. I will try and buy my kids’ love to appease my guilt for ruining their childhood by sharing all of their embarassing stories with a fleet of perfect strangers. I dragged my turkey-filled ass out of bed a little after four this morning and made a total of three stops today.

I am pleased to report that, thanks to some online shopping after I got home, Santa’s sleigh is now full for about 80 percent of my list. I am also pleased to report that the vast majority of it is also wrapped and hidden away.

Rather than sharing what they are getting (you’ll have to wait for Christmas, just like them!), I’ll tell you a few things they’re not getting, like…….

Presidential Barbie

I came across this one while braving the crowds at Crap R Us. First of all, I have great aspirations of a woman one day occupying the oval office. I think giving girls toys to help them envision their futures in a positive way is an important thing. I just find this representation a little too scary. I mean, look at the nylons? and what self-respecting future leader of the free world carries a pink cell phone? and WTF with the dog?

Singing Pizza Elmo

Okay. when  I left this morning, this thing was on my list. Doodle loves him some “Mo-Mo” and this was listed in the Crap R Us circular, so I figured I’d indulge his love for the little red furry perpetual two-and-a-half-year-old monster. At first, I couldn’t find it, so I figured that they’d run out. While waiting in the serpentine line wending it’s way to digging me a little deeper into debt, I discovered another customer had secured herself one. Upon my comment, she pointed me to the correct aisle and my neighbors graciously held my space and watched my stuff while I retrieved it. About three switchbacks later, I decided to try the thing out to make sure it worked. Okay. My ears were bleeding after Elmo’s second run through of a freaky pizza song. All he does is sing and flash his pizza at you. It was cheap, but I think Homer would have killed me Christmas morning if I brought this thing home. Sorry Sesame Street. You’ll have to do better than this one.

This was not at Crap R Us. This one comes from Homer. I didn’t ask how he found it.

Frankly, I don’t want to know. This one falls into the “trampy slut doll” category. If I wanted to expose her to these fashions (and worse), I’d just drive around town and let her look at billboards and storefronts. But hey, it is apparently socially acceptable to buy our kids little girl sluts with big eyes.

Don’t get me wrong, there are things I will recommend. You can check them out over at Savvy Source Las Vegas. There are some board books and Vegas-related books up for now, and if things will settle down in India (where my tech support is)  so I can get my login fixed, I’ll post more.

Also, be sure to check out my post over at Imperfect Parent and let me know what, if anything, is Santa bringing for you.

Thankgiving Trivia: Are you smarter than my (nearly) five year old?

Boo had her big Turkey day to-do at school today, which was combined with Grandparents Day. So, Homer’s folks spent the day with her at school from the breakfast through the concert performance and then through mass. (At 82 years each, I am constantly amazed at their energy and lust for life!) Boo was so excited to share her big day with Buscha (Polish for “grandma”) and Grandpa. It was a real treat.

When I picked her up from their place this afternoon, she was a veritable fountain of Thanksgiving trivia and song. So, let’s see how much YOU know. Are you smarter than my (nearly) five-year old?

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Me: Why do we celebrate Thankgiving?

Boo: A long time a go, there were these people and came to America.

Me: Why did they come to America?

Boo: They wanted to get away from a bad king. His name was James. Mommy? Remember James from my old school? They have the SAME name! Isn’t that CRRRAZY?

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Homer: Do you remember the names of the Native Americans that helped the pilgrims?

Boo: Skawaaaanto (it’s really Squanto) and Samoset.

That one impressed the hell of out of me!

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Boo holds up a picture of one of these:

Boo: Look Mommy, it’s a CORN-RU-CROP-REE-AH! And when we’ve had a boun-tee-ful harvesth, it’s called a “HORM OF PLEMPTY!”

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Boo: Mommy, when the Pilgrims came to America, they were hungry. They almost STARVED to death! The Indians helped them plant corn, which is also known as maize!

Okay that one sent me over the edge into a Simpsons flashback. In case you’re not a fan, in the “Das Bus” epsiode Bart gives his country report on Libya and says:

“The exports of Libya are numerous in amount. One thing they export is corn, or as the Indians call it, “maize”. Another famous Indian was “Crazy Horse”. In conclusion, Libya is a land of contrast. Thank you.”

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Oh hell. I’m in for it. But, as long as she’s my pilgrim girl, I can deal.

Happy Thanksgiving, ya’ll!

The Doodlenator

What do you get when you cross a monkey with a caveman and add in a dash of drunken zombie?

Apparently you get my son – the Doodlenator.

My sweet, huggie, kissy boy has jumped both feet into his terrible twos – head first and six months early.

I really do feel for him. I can tell by looking in his eyes that he has so much to say, but the words he needs just aren’t here yet. He has about 20 words that only his parents and caregivers can understand. He has about a dozen signs that he’ll use if prompted.

His sleep patterns are disrupted. I know it’s all just bubbling in between his ears. Sooner than later it’ll pop and he’ll never shut up.

In the meantime, we’ll continue to field the thrown bowls of mac and cheese, peel him off the top of the couch before he stage dives over the bar, and thrust our hands between his head and the wall/crib railing/changing table/oh hell, any semi solid surface.

Because when you get looks like this, you just melt.

And yes, that is a dragon tatoo on his right arm. My son IS a badass.

I’m sure I’ll laugh about this later, but it pretty much sucked this morning.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I hear Boo’s alarm as I’m getting ready in my bathroom.

Five minutes later, I notice no sounds coming from her room, so I head in to do my usual cajoling and singing to get the girl in motion.

Open door.

Let the yelling commence. Apparently everything was wrong with the world this morning.

“Boo, it’s time to get up honey. You’re running behind. I need you to get up and get moving. I have to leave soon.”

“NO!!!! I don’t want to go to school!”

“Why?”

There was no real answer. I leave her to get herself dressed, figuring that if she doesn’t have an audience to perform her “fit” for, than she’ll wise up and seek attention in the form of praise instead of punishment.

Five minutes later, I check in on her. She’s sitting on her floor, clothes strewn everywhere. She’s now in full hissy fit mode.

“MOMMY! I CAN’T WEAR THESE PANTS!!!”

“Why Boo?”

“These pants are light blue and I need them to be DARK BLUE!!”

I look down and see that although the sweats in question are a bit faded from washing, they are indeed dark blue. Hmmm. Which way to go here?

“Boo, they ARE dark blue.”

“NO THEY’RE NOT!!!”

She pulls her sweatshirt next to to the pants and illustrates the few microshades of difference between the two.

“SEE?!?! (sob) THEY’RE NOT THE SAME!!!”

(sigh) I realize that I’m not going to win this argument. Let’s move on to Plan B. I pull out a newer pair of sweatpants.

“Okay, let’s try these. See? They’re the same color as your sweatshirt. Now, let’s get dressed. Mommy’s going to be late.”

She hold them up to her waist and whines, “THESE ARE TOO BIG!”

Oh sweet Jesus, take me now.

“Let’s see. Can you try them on and we’ll see?”

After about three more exchanges back and forth and Homer’s help with coaching her into her clothes, she gets the pants on, but is clearly NOT happy about it.

“SEE! THESE ARE TOO BIG! They need to go down here!” (She motions to her hips) Not up here! (She motions to her waist.”

“What are you talking about Boo? They go around your waist, we can roll them up if they’re too long.”

“NO WE CAN’T!! SEE?!?! NOW THEY’RE WRINKLED!!!”

That’s it. I’m done. I give up. I just can’t fight the city hall that is Boo’s logic on a grumpy Monday morning. She did eventually make it to school, thanks to Homer. Albeit she was late, ate breakfast in the car, and probably looked like a rumpled homeless catholic school mess because of the tears and unbrushed hair and teeth.

Someday I will tell myself that I am blessed by her strong will and focused determination, but for now, I just want her to get dressed.