Endless Christmas Wish List

I made the mistake of telling Bobby that Christmas was coming soon. As if he wouldn't figure this one out, considering Costco had their Christmas decorations on display in September. Bobby was feeling left out after his little bro's birthday and wanting it to be his birthday. I told him Christmas would come way before April, so if he saw a toy he wanted, to add it to his Christmas list.



Big mistake.



Picture one of those neverending scrolls winding its way through the halls of my house. Picture the sad coincidence of the boys switching their favorite television channel from Nick Jr. (almost no commercials) to Cartoon Network (almost all commercials!) and you may see where I am going with this. Every friggin commercial features the latest and greatest monster truck-tool workshop-Baby Alive-Road Rippers-Princess tea set-video game-hot wheels race track-Transformers-and on and on and on.... Bobby wants it all added to the list.



I humor him most of the time. Of course he doesn't know how to write, so I'm expected to add these things to a list. But does he really want the Dora beauty shop? My husband would have a heart attack if that made its way under our tree Christmas morning. I think not. If he busts me for not adding another toy, I tell him I have my own list in my brain.



Besides the commercials, the Sunday ads are another source for the growing list, but something Bobby can take a more active role with. When we received the Toys-r-us Big Toy Book, both boys went crazy over the pages of toys that they think will all magically appear under the tree. I gave Bobby a fat marker and told him to circle everything he liked, emphasizing that Santa can only fit one big present in his sleigh and that he can ask for smaller presents from Mommy and Grammy and Grandma and Aunties.... But that some presents would be a surprise, something so cool that he didn't even know existed. He got busy for nearly a half hour (a long time for this boy to sit still) and was surprisingly selective.



Now, my husband and I must decide exactly what Santa will bring Christmas morning, something hand picked from the scroll.



And Grammy called last night to say she just got the JCPenny's Christmas catalog in the mail. The boys are going over there today to add to the list...



Maybe I'll circle some things for myself too.

Alright, so it isn't a Picasso or anything, but Shane sure got a kick out of his own Mystery Machine!

The party was a blast for all, if I do say so myself, except for the fly invasion into our home that ended with a bizarre twist. We started the party in the afternoon, and as the evening progressed, and the kid party ended and the adults carried on, we noticed that the flies had finally disappeared.

Then me looked up at the ceiling...

Ack! Dozens of full-bellied, heated, weary flies slept lethargically on our popcorn ceiling. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever witnessed. Perhaps I exaggerate a little, but it really was something else. My husband had the thankless task of eliminating the pests since smashing bugs turns my stomache. My sister-in-law, Dana, had a better idea. He busted out the shop-vac and spent the next half hour sucking up flies and the house was finally clear. A great, non-gory method of death.

Shane only had one temper tantrum, when his first present was NOT a front loader, but a brand-new, sweet, big-boy bike from his grandparents. And he only suffered one injury, a welt below his eye that must have been the monster truck jump house's doing. In all, the birthday was a success and I didn't suffer any meltdowns, though I came close when my vacumn broke a mere hour before the guests were to arrive. But that, is another story that I am saving for my next Suburban Queen column for Valley Lifestyles Magazine...

Halloween and Birthdays and Sugar, Oh My!

I think we have survived the chaos that is Halloween. This used to be my favorite holiday. Who doesn't love scheming to dress up as someone else for a day? I admit my admiration for the holiday of ghouls has dwindled as I have grown into my role as a mom. Quite simply, Halloween equals an overload of candy. We're talking bucketfulls of the stuff of every type. Chocolates and taffy and lollipops and candy corn...

I allow the boys to indulge in a few pieces, then the fallout is a hyper, screeching, tantrum-fueled monstrous duo for the next hour or two. Not to mention the temptations around my house are too much and end up straight on my thighs. Nevermind that candy can be used as bribery against my little sugar demons. Even if I can convince them to clean up the hurricane of trucks and train tracks for a handful of Reeses, I still end up suffering through havoc as a result of their sugar buzzes.

Of course their costumes were adorable; Shane the cuddly Scooby Doo of his latest obsession (costume borrowed) and Bobby a creepy alien from the cheap Walmart rack. Score! I spent more money on my husband and myself this Halloween for costumes (policeman and convict). After visits to two pumpkin farms, one corn maze, a downtown trick or treat, two adult costume parties and a stint of trick or treating in our neighborhood last night, my sigh of relief echoes throughout the valley.

Too bad Shane's birthday party is less than two days away. I was so wrapped up in Halloween that I neglected the weeks-ahead party planning frenzy, but maybe that's a good thing. As of today, the monster truck jump house is reserved, the deli tray ordered, and the pressure is on for me to whip up another masterful cake creation. Hopefully this one won't end up drowned in my tears like Shane's first birthday party....

To go along with the Scooby Doo theme, I'll be attempting a Mystery Machine cake. I found several versions on the internet. I think I might be able to pull it off. As long as I don't have to clean the house, take care of the kids, set out party foods, weave streamers throughout the house and blow up three dozen balloons. It's a tall order, so stay tuned...

I'm Baaaack! (I think...)

This being my first post since April, right before Bobby's fourth birthday, I'll keep it brief and to the point. I had to step away from my commitment to blogging. Not that I was exactly religious about posting in any kind of regular manner. My last few months of blogging were sporadic at best. But I keep getting gentle nudges from writing friends and distant family members who want to check out what is going on in my life. I've talked about picking up the blog wand for over a month now, but have yet to post. At this moment, I'm supposed to be working on my book, or tracking down quotes for my travel article about Point Reyes...yet, here I am.

So here is a brief summary of life in my world right now:

Shane is a week away from turning three (yikes!) and almost potty trained. Farewell to diapers for-eva! He is still obsessed with tractors, trucks, cars, and anything else with wheels. Add Scooby Doo to his obsession list as well.

Bobby is 4 1/2. He refuses to cut his coarse hair because he says he wants 'Guitar Hero' hair. Of course he is referring to the addictive video game that my family and friends play almost nonstop when the newest version comes out. I can play 'Ziggy Stardust' on medium level, thank you very much. But back to Bobby. He is learning and growing and scaring me to death with how devilish and clever he is becoming.

Both boys started preschool two days a week this September and love it. Bobby is the class clown, which is charming and challenging since he can't stop his one man comedy routine while the teacher is running circle time.

I've been writing a lot more for local newspapers and magazines. I am at the point now where I am learning to pitch stories that really interest me. I am trying to exercise my 'No' button, since that seems to be a terminal problem of mine. My YA manuscript is still lurking in my computer and filing cabinet and I am hoping to have the latest revision back in the mail to a dozen agents next month. I'm losing count on how many revisions I've done on this piece but I have decided that this will be the last one. I have done all can for my character Ashlee and her suburban world. If it is meant to be published, it will happen. If not, I think I am okay with that and ready to move on.

So, I'm back to the blog. Check every week or so for updates on life with the boys, life in front of the computer screen, and life as a suburban queen. Feel free to send lots of comments and forward blogs to moms or writers or friends who might be interested. There are a ton of blogs out there. I hope mine will be a regular stop for you!

Camilla

Who can decipher the mind of a toddler? More importantly, where the heck do they get those off the wall sayings?

Bobby, who is creeping up on age four, now so definitely not a toddler anymore, is the classic example. I can't remember when his obsession with Camilla started. I guess it would help if I blogged more about their happenings instead of writing about other things.

Who's this chick Camilla, anyway?

You know that sinful, gooey stuff called Easy Cheese, that sprays liked whipped cream out of a can on your cracker of choice? The one my friends call Sleazy Cheez? Well, for whatever reason, Bobby started calling it Camilla when he was around two years old. The name has still stuck. We see it in the store and even now, at four years old, it's the same plea:

"Mom! We need to buy some Camilla BECAUSE!"

It's more of a demand than a question, which doesn't work so well in my book.

My parents started his love affair with Camilla and they are sure to have it every time the boys stay overnight, whenever they come out to babysit. Camilla is a requirement. Camilla is his first love obsession....with cheese.

OFF WITH HIS HAIR!

My scrappy, hippy boy became a little man this morning. I dreaded it. Avoided. Pushed back the first real haircut for more months than I should have. People began to mistake him for my little daughter. And I still waited. I read an essay I wrote at an author's reading called "Boys Boys Boys" all about my denial that he is my second son and that I can't bring myself to cut his hair. The awareness was there, but still I waited.

His blonde wisps crawled past the collar of his striped shirts. I constantly wrestled his bangs away from his eyes, but his hair was so fine no gel could hold it in place. Last night, as I cuddled him in his new big boy bed, sweeping my fingers through his goldilocks that are now dimming to the same brown as his big brothers.

This morning, with no fan fare, no witnesses save one snoring dog, I took the clippers to the back of his head, used the #4 length, and brushed the hippy-girlishness right off of him. I expected a fight from him. But I guess I had fought so much internally, there was no reason for him to. He sat still, chomping on an orange. Probably, he was relieved to be what he should be. A little boy. Mommy's little boy.