Tapping the brakes

We had to tap the brakes last night.  This Christmas train of Chaos and Over Scheduling had a slight derailment after I realized that Mac was indeed running a fever after her dance recital.  Yes, now I'm the asshole who took her kid to dance while she was sick.  I realize that Mac had been a little out of sorts for two days, but I thought it was because we were so crazy busy that she was just tired and worn out like the rest of us.  I was wrong.  Fever.  One hundred and two.  Horrible mother, party of one.

Just hours after Christmas #1.
I'm leaving it all there until further notice.

I knew she was really sick when she didn't want to play.  When all she wanted to do was lay in my bed.  When she wanted me to lay with her.  And with cookies to bake and presents to wrap and a Christmas celebration to put together for Sunday morning, I surrendered to a sick and feverish little one.  I'll admit the idea of laying in my bed with no specific agenda was quite delicious.  Just a little tap of the brakes and I was relaxed, watching Christmas episodes of Peppa Pig and Curious George. Soon I fell asleep.  And it was blissful and re energizing.

My Christmas list this year.

Originally I had planned a pretty packed Saturday night.  It's necessary with this being the last Saturday before Christmas.  It was going to be at the speed of light that we were going to be able to do all things Christmas before Santa was on his way. Instead we had to tap the brakes.  Not everything got done.  Not everything when according to plan. The cookies I planned to make didn't come out as expected.  I broke my cookie press.  I thought that after the kids went to sleep that I'd get a few minutes to write.  Instead I let my laptop sit.  I wanted to get a handle on my gift wrapping for Santa, but that too sat untouched.  Instead I stared at my tree.  I sat with a book all about Christmas that I borrowed from my Mama.  I sat on the couch and watched SNL with my Hubbs and my brother in law. Laughing and joking and slowing the eff down.  I needed that.  I needed to tap the brakes.
Now, I'm typing on a Sunday afternoon.  An unexpected tap because of a little one who's fever hasn't totally broken.  Who is enjoying more Christmas movies and cartoons, while mama types away.  This is a little slice of time we were not expecting.  We are supposed to be at my mother in laws for Christmas #2.  Christmas #1 was this morning at my house, while Mac slept her fever away.  I'm typing surrounded by shredded wrapping paper, new toys still in their boxes, new toys out of their boxes, and over all chaos.  There are so many things I should be doing, but instead I'm doing this.  Tapping the brakes.  Enjoying the slow calm of the afternoon.  Praying that the fever is behind us.  
This year, Christmas has overwhelmed me.  There have been few moments for me to just sit and think. To sit and ponder the wonder around me.  Children that are still young enough to believe in Santa. Who are still in awe over Christmas lights and new shiny ornaments on the tree.  Christmas stories that they have never heard before, movies they haven't seen.  Little moments have saved this season of joy.  Spontaneous cookie baking and ornament making. Staying up past our bedtimes to watch Rudolph. Paying the extra $2.99 because Christmas just isn't the same without watching Charlie Brown buy a scrawny tree, or Linus talk about the true meaning of Christmas.  Even when you are thirty five there are just some things that are sacred this time of year.

My view after I tapped the brakes Saturday night.
Gifts courtesy of the In-Laws.

Christmas is in three days.  Oh how my heart aches.  I want another month of Christmas.  I want another few weeks of cookies and Rudolph.  I want more candy cane reindeer and red and green M&Ms in my candy dish.  I just want more.  I always want more.  Instead I'll tap the brakes a little more these last three days.  Leave wrapping gifts for the last hour.  Sit and watch the Grinch instead of doing all of the things.  
Three more days... Tap.  Tap.  Tap.

How do you measure a Mother?

How do you measure a mother?
Is she the number of hours her newborn sleeps?  Is she the number of ounces she pumps from her breast?  Is she the number of giggles that come from her children when they play at the park?
How do you measure a mother?
Is she the number of jars her toddler breaks at the grocery store?  Is she the number of "no"s she says in the toy aisle at Target?  Is she the number of time-outs given before nine o'clock in the morning?
How do you measure a mother?
By the tears of her child?  By the number of lunches packed but not eaten?  By the number of times her children tell her they "hate her" or that "she is mean"?
How do you measure a mother?
She is the number of tears she cries at the end of the day.  The number of times she vows to do better tomorrow.  She is the vegetable sides that sit untouched at dinner.  She is the number of pancakes burned when her kids poured syrup in the floor.  She is the guilt she wears on her shoulders. She is the number of prayers uttered before nine o'clock in the morning, and the number of prayers whispered at eleven o'clock at night.  
A mother is measured by the times that she smiles and presses on.  The number of times she counts to ten.  A mother is measured by the tears and giggles of her children, alternating days and situations.  A mother is measured by her grace, by her tenacity, by her steadfastness.  She is measured by her sacrifice, be it sleep, career, time, or health.  A mother is measured by her commitment.
How do you measure a mother?  By the look in her eye when she sees her children.  By the change in her voice when she talks about them.  By the number of moments she provides them in otherwise ordinary days.  You can measure a mother by all the things she does that are asked of her.  And the things that she doesn't that aren't.   
There are a million ways to measure a mother, but the best way is to look at her children, because their smiles speak volumes.

Snapfish read my blog {and wants to be friends}

Last week I went on a little bit of a rant.  I was just a wee bit upset about my Christmas Card Disaster of 2013.  I admitted that getting someone else's Christmas cards did qualify as a "first world" problem, but last Tuesday it was the most pressing and stressful problem in my holiday life.  

 
Turns out, someone (possibly one of you), sent Snapfish my blog post.  Maybe they sent it as a tweet, maybe in an email to their customer service, but some how, it made its way into the hands of it's Chief Customer Advocate.  I'm not even making this up!  

 
Imagine my surprise on Thursday when I opened my email to see a message from Snapfish with the title, "Sorry from Snapfish".  First off, this email was sent less than 12 hours after my post published at 2:30 am pacific time.  Second, this is a major corporation, do they really have time to troll around on Twitter?  Do they even read feedback sent to them?  Turns out that they do.  Let me just say that I did go around for a few minutes talking to the Hubbs about the power of the Internet.  Bloggers Unite! I was on a tangent like no other, until he stopped me and said that I still spend way too much time on Instagram.  I guess he had a point since I was Instagramming the email, while I was on my Bloggers Unite soapbox.  But seriously, Bloggers UNITE!
Their Customer Advocate was really apologetic, she apologized for the mix up with my order and she also apologized for my bad experience with their online chat.  Then she brought in the big guns... Not only did they refund my money, but as the email was sent, they were reprinting my cards and sending them overnight.  Even if I had reservations about reordering with them, they gave me no choice but to accept.  In addition to that they offered me some codes for complimentary canvas prints to give them a second chance.  Well since they asked, I'm happy to give them another chance.
Now for the redemption, and the reason I wanted to write another post about Snapfish:  The Customer Advocate asked for any information from the invoice to offer the same to Ms. Becker, who must have also gotten the wrong order.  I was so happy to oblige, because I knew somewhere in the country Ms. Becker was upset much in the same way I was.  So I'm hoping that the information I provided, helped get Ms. Becker a similar apology package from Snapfish.

They were on my door step Friday afternoon!

I realize that writing a nasty blog post about shitty customer service and a messed up order may not be the best way to go about things.  I was Instagram checked by one of my small biz friends, because her customers do this to her too.  They send nasty emails, trash her business on Twitter and Facebook, and are unpleasant all the way around.  She's right.  Everyone, even corporations, make mistakes.  So it's possible that my rant was a little off the rails, and perhaps if I would have waited until morning to actually call Snapfish's customer service, I may have gotten this sweet deal from the get go.
But if you have been reading this blog for awhile you know that I'm not patient, and I rarely wait for anything.  You know that I have a temper, I'm emotional, and an over reactor.  You know that nothing in my life is sacred, especially first world problems.  
So I'm going to give Snapfish a second chance after the holidays.  Bring in 2014 with some nice swag, and hopefully not end up with canvas prints of someone else's kid.
      PS:  My friend Veronica over at Good Luck Charm Designs hammered out this card in no time flat.

  That was before I knew Snapfish was bringing their A game. Here is the completed card per my request. She does amazing work for invites and cards for any occasion. Check out her Facebook Page for more info!    

December {no requirements}

The tree is trimmed the house is a disaster.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

With nine days left until Christmas, I started to freak out a little.  Let's talk about the glorification of busy, mkay?  Let's see, last night I wrapped presents for two and a half hours. That was just what we bought for people.  That didn't include a single gift for my kids.  Today I finished wrapping family gifts, then finally got my Christmas cards in the mail, and then packaged Christmas themed SMORES for Caitlin's class.  That didn't include the two loads of laundry that got washed (because really who folds anymore), the shirt I'm pretty sure I ruined because I forgot that it was dry clean only (it's from Old Navy, go figure), and the sorta meals I scrapped together.  Tomorrow is our Girl Scout meeting and party, Wednesday is the school party (holla Room Mamas) plus a job interview, Thursday is Snack Shack duty (that's a blog post in itself), and Friday is Mac's school party.  Not to mention Saturday's dance recital for both girls in both shows, and Sunday which will be spent with both sides of John's family for an early Christmas celebration.  Are you tired, because I'm exhausted.  
Again, let's talk about the glorification of busy.
Let's have a chat about my semi panic attack when I realized that the next seven days are packed, and it's just nine days until Santa.  Let's talk about the untouched crafting supplies that will sit for another year because I just ran out of time.  Let's talk about the salt dough ornaments that may or may not get made in the mess of life.  Let's talk about the recipes and ornaments and holiday DIYs I've pinned for over a year now that will stay in my pin board as I horde more and more pins about Christmas.
Are you hyperventilating just reading that?
December is a month that can make or break a person, let alone a mother.  Mothers everywhere are playing Santa, and elves and Rudolph all in an effort to pull off a Christmas that is better and bigger than last year.  We are in a rush to do all the things.  The garlands and the hoops and the cookies and the ornaments and the hand print reindeer antlers and the footprint trees.  Days are spent writing to-do lists and checking them twice.  Hours are spent trying to cram every last bit of holiday cheer into them.
Is it any wonder that most of us will drink our cares away on New Years Eve as a collective sigh of relief?  
Advent calenders that didn't happen, an Elf that is living on the shelf this year, crafting supplies that mock me in their Michael's bag, have brought me to tears more than once. That overwhelming feeling of failure at not doing enough, trying enough, or finishing that last Pinterest project has sat on my chest.  And there it would sit, if I hadn't took a moment to think.
When I was a kid, my mom worked.  God Bless Saint Linda, the patron saint of mothers.  She worked a full time job, drove me all over Monterey County for dance, and still managed to bake cookies, trim a tree like an employee at Bloomingdale's, and make Christmas seem magical.  If you ask her how she did all this, she will tell you she was stressed to the max on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  I had no idea.  She made it seem flawless.  My favorite Christmas memories are those of us shopping well after my bedtime, and McDonald's dinners in the car.  At the time, she probably thought she was the worst mom in the world. But those are the bread and butter of my holiday memories.  The ingredients of my Christmas Cheer.
My girls will have no idea that we didn't do all the things.  That mommy really wanted to finish a scrapbook page a day for December.  That she wanted to make more ornaments she saw on Pinterest. That she wanted to make five dozen different kinds of cookies just because they were red or green or gingerbread.  They will never know that I bought two dollar advent calendars because it was easier than making one, or that the Elf on the Shelf has real rules that mommy can't follow.  All they will know is that I served McDonald's enough times to have a tree covered in Build a Bear minis we turned into ornaments.  They will only remember that I let them make things out of the wrapping paper scraps, and let them stay up late watching Home Alone because I was looking for that one present I hid in October and now cannot find.
December can be a list of requirements.  Things you have to do.  Places you have to go.  December can overwhelm you or swallow you whole.  December can blind you to what is really important this time of year.  December can break your heart.
Or December can be a list of moments and experiences.  Hot Chocolate on a school night.  Popcorn eaten in bed.  Movies well after bedtime.  December can be lopsided gingerbread men and sugar cookies burned on the edges.  December can be simple and extra ordinary at the same time.
Nine days left to enjoy the magic with little ones.  To enjoy the company of family.  To see friends that we don't see often enough.  To wrap the last of the gifts.  To make more cookies we will probably burn.  To stay up way past our bedtimes watching Christmas movies or wrapping gifts.  Nine days left to stop talking about how busy we are, and start enjoying everything this time of year has to offer. Nine days left and no requirements...  
Well maybe just a few.

Heading over to link up with some friends

December Confessions {2013}

Happy Friday.  Let's say we were friends in real life.  Maybe you are my neighbor, maybe my blogging bestie, or maybe even my real bestie.  If we were both in the same place at the same time, I'd invite you over.  Ask you to ignore the toys in the living room floor, the ring around my toilet, the paint hand prints around the sink.  I'd offer you a beer, a cup of tea, some wine, or maybe a cup of coffee if my filters that I've had since 2008 are still where I put them last... We don't make much coffee around these parts.  Then I'd sit in my recliner, and you'd sit on my sofa and by the light of my tree I'd tell you all the embarrassing, real life, messy, hilarious things I've done so far this month.  Perhaps you're going to need something stronger than beer...  
I served chicken nuggets and Pringles for breakfast because that's what was requested and I couldn't negotiate any longer.  It's better than Cheetos and chocolate by far, but I still felt a little strange.
I went and got a pedicure with hairy legs.  I'm talking Big Foot long.  I even warned the gal and gave her a chance to decline.  Nope she did them anyway. The lady sitting next to me stared at me the whole time in disgust.  Not my finest moment.

That's the same night I took both my girls to get pedis.  On a school night.  It was after 7pm.  Oh well, homework was done, and the Hubbs approved the outing, so... I'll be a stricter mother with a better kept schedule next week, or the week after or in 2014.
I made time for a shower, knowing my daughter would be late to school because I couldn't go in and talk to the Vice Principle with hair three days past a shower.  I promise I skipped make up and obviously any leg shaving as noted in my sentence about Big Foot pedicures.

I'm making McDonald's part of the food pyramid.  It's the holidays.  Sue me.
I bought a Ken Doll Tuxedo for my Elf on the Shelf.  You don't have to say it.  I already know.  Pretty nifty video featuring said tuxedo here.
I bought a $2 advent candy calendar because I could not craft one.  I had zero motivation, and I didn't want to set myself up for failure.  Also it was December 2nd.  So you know.  The amazing thing is that my kids LOVE it.  Like can't wait to rip into it.  I shouldn't be surprised as chocolate is one of our major food groups.
I bought my kids another boxed set of the claymation Holiday movies because I couldn't bring myself to look through a million and one DVDs to find the originals.  I'm also convinced even if I did look and possibly find them, they are probably scratched and wouldn't play anyway.  As you can see I can justify my way out of anything. 
I watched the Glee Christmas episode last week and was totally disgusted.  I'm not easily offended people, but if you are getting paid a gazillion dollars to write a Christmas episode, for the love of Baby Jesus write a good one.  A believable one. One that doesn't make me want to wash my eyes with bleach.  Also I don't think Becky Jackson needs to continually say the words, "bitches", "sluts", and "horny" in every episode.  We get it, she's shocking and foul mouthed.  Ugh!  Also there was no Blaine and Kurt Christmas Duet.  Done.
So I downloaded the last two Christmas episodes of Glee and watched them while I did some crafty business.  And you know what I heard?  A Blaine and Kurt Duet. And you know what my kids have been singing ever since?  "Last Christmas".  My work is obviously done here. 
I have been fighting with my six year old on a daily basis, as if I was a six year old too.  Not my proudest moments, let me tell you.  Then this week I read this by Hands Free Mama and cried buckets. It was as if she had looked in my heart and head and wrote my life.  I'm not proud, but now I am aware, and now I'm on a movement to change directions.  Bullies come in all shapes and sizes, and sometimes you can see one when you look in the mirror.  How my heart has changed, and it only took a few lines of her post!

I made my kid take this picture after her Christmas program that she basically cried through.  She got through the first part, and by the end didn't look on the verge anymore.  I was asked a few times if I should get her, but I didn't.  Even though I wanted to.  She made it and when I went to get her after her performance she was really ticked that she couldn't see me in the audience. Oops.

I let this kid stay home today.  Because today was her school's Christmas program.  The one that has been causing an endless stream of tears for three weeks.  The music program and song that she has been losing sleep over and making her self have stomach aches with anxiety.  So last week I spoke to her teacher and her school's vice principal and said we wouldn't be in school that day. So we cut school today.  We went shopping, we made cookies, we did our homework, and now we are watching Tangled.  I know, as a mother I'm supposed to teach my girls to do "the hard stuff".  The stuff that scares them, the stuff that challenges them.  But this "hard" thing is still a mystery to us, and until we get some answers, this seemed the best and easiest solution for now.  
I also wore the same shirt as my daughter to our Girl Scout meeting.  That's just for general info.  I kind of did that ensemble I put together.  In my former life I was all about fashion.  Today I'm all about what fits in my closet!

Also this.  Yeah I sort of bad mouthed a company on Twitter.  I tend to fly of the handle when I'm mad.  This wasn't my only tweet and as the tweets flowed so did the eff bombs.  My apologies.  They did respond back to me and my blog post.  More on that next week.  Promise.

I'm wearing the crap out of this cardigan I got at Kiki LaRue.  Sorry and not sorry about it's overgramming.  It's so warm.  And no, they are not paying me to say that!  I bought that with some pocket change... rough translation the Hubbs' Discover card.  Oh, hey Honey, I bought this.  Thanks and Merry Christmas to me... Right?
I wish y'all lived close.  I'd love to have you over for some beverages.  Or some food.  Or meet you at Target to talk and shop.  I'd love to sit with you and talk.  Because that's what I do, I talk.  And hopefully you would listen, and somewhere in the middle of all my talking, tell me to shut the hell up so you could talk.  

Linking up with Rags to Stitches and Life Rearranged