I Happily Handed Over $34.99 For This Memory

When we received an invite for a birthday party at the Columbus Zoo, I was excited at the possibility of killing four birds with one stone. (Yeah, I’m skilled like that. Two? That’s nothing.) (And those would be proverbial birds. No real birds were harmed in the writing of this post.)

Not only would we celebrate the birthday of two friends, but we’d also be there after sunset, so we could see the Wildlights display. And we’d visit the model trains – an obsession shared by both of my girls. AND we’d see Santa, if Cordy could work up the nerve this year.

We tried to see Santa last year at the zoo, and if you don’t feel like reading the recap, I can sum up: it went poorly. Even though Cordy wanted nothing more than to meet the great giver of all things present-y and peppermint-y, she couldn’t handle the reality of meeting him live.

This year she said she was ready, and promised to sit on his lap so she could get a candy cane.

Too bad we weren’t ready for the Arctic Circle to relocate to Ohio yesterday.

Walking from the parking lot to the front of the zoo was painful. Even though we had probably the closest parking spot ever, the wind was sharp and bitterly cold. In that short walk, both girls sported bright red cheeks, and I could no longer feel my fingers.

Thankfully, the party was just inside the gate. While Cordy made a jingle bell necklace and ate cake, Aaron and I considered the idea of telling her Santa was too busy to visit the zoo this year and bailing out quickly after the party.

When we walked outside again, though, the skies had darkened and the glowing light displays surrounded us. Cordy immediately wanted to visit all of the animals in the zoo and find Santa, despite a wind chill of -10F.

We took her to the train exhibit to distract the girls while we discussed our options. We could 1. Leave and risk the disappointment of one little girl prone to tantrums or 2. Risk freezing our limbs off to go to the back of the zoo where Santa waited. With a sigh we decided to risk frostbite.

I won’t give the full details of the walk to Santa, although I can affirm that statements like, “If you want to see Santa, you need to RUN, Cordy! Santa likes little girls who can keep up!” may have been uttered. A few expletives surrounding statements like “My nose hairs are frozen” and “I think the blood is freezing in my fingers” may have been overheard as well.

After what felt like a glacial eternity, we made it to Santa, and – surprise, surprise! – there was no line! Hear that, parents? If you want to avoid the wait and have Santa all to yourself, you only need visit when it’s not safe for skin to be exposed to the frigid air!

Cordy was a bundle of excitement when she saw Santa. We wound through the path to get to him and when we reached the platform, she hesitated for a moment. Here we go again, I thought. Prepare for her to run.

But she didn’t. Instead, she nervously let him lift her onto his lap. Without waiting for an introduction or the question to be asked, she blurted out, “Santa, I want a candy cane for Christmas!” He then asked her what else she wanted for Christmas, but again she only asked for a candy cane.

I then placed Mira on Santa’s other knee, and as I predicted last year, she started to cry right away. The photographer was trying to get them to look at the camera, and so Aaron and I crouched down beside each child, Aaron trying to focus Cordy’s attention, while I attempted to calm the toddler who thought she was going to be eaten by a giant white beard.

After the snapshot, Santa tried to talk with Cordy some more, but Cordy paid no attention to him and reached for a candy cane in the basket next to him. She did her duty, and now wanted her reward. As she wandered around the platform, Santa looked at me and said with a smile, “I think I’m enjoying myself talk more than she is.” I patted Cordy on the head and replied “Focus is hard for her. But trust me – she’s happy.”

We stopped by the kiosk on the way out to view our photo. I had no plans to buy a photo, but then I saw it on the screen. It’s a memory of the first time Cordy has willingly met with Santa, and only the second time ever that all four of us have been in a photo together. (Seriously, I’m usually the one behind the camera. You’d have a hard time proving we’re a family from photographic evidence alone.)

So we bought the big photo package, with multiple pictures for family members, two photo snowflake ornaments and the silly photo snowglobe. They totally made me fall for the moment of my two girls with Santa, even though Mira was upset, even though we were all in winter parkas, even thought Santa had a fake beard, even though we weren’t all looking at the camera, even though it was painfully cold.

Cordy’s willingness to accept the situation and not freak out was impressive and showed me just how fast she’s growing up. And seeing my entire family together and (relatively) happy on that computer screen brought up a warm, happy feeling in me that dulled the sharp cold for that long walk back to the car. It was worth it.



All I Want For Christmas Is…?

It wasn’t until adulthood that I fully understood the stress of the holidays. As a kid it was easy – make Christmas lists asking for My Little Ponies and Castle Grayskull (I knew no gender boundaries), write Santa, craft some sentimental salt dough gift for my mom at school, try to be good, leave out cookies on Christmas Eve and open presents on Christmas Day.

I miss the old days sometimes. Especially my Castle Grayskull.

Now I have to clean the house to prepare for the onslaught of family on Christmas Day, shop for gifts, try to meet the wishes of a child who asks for such crazy things as “a yellow present and a bird present!”, wrap them, put up decorations, send out holiday cards, prepare outfits for the girls, and on and on.

But the most stressful part of Christmas for me has to be when I’m asked, “So, what do you want for Christmas?” Ummm…I don’t know.

It’s not that hard for family. I can always rattle off some gift card options like Target to buy practical household stuff. Aaron, however, is the harder one. Because while I can’t think of a single thing I really want as a gift, I still want him to get me something better than Legend on DVD. True story – that was my birthday gift several years ago. I should have read that as a sign that things weren’t going well between us at that time, because while I like Legend, I wasn’t mourning the fact that it was missing from my DVD collection.

The fault is almost entirely mine. I’m tough to shop for. Sure, I can look through catalog after catalog and point to several things that I like, but if asked if I want one of those items as a gift, I shrug and say, “Eh, I don’t like it that much.” Stuff is great, but there are few things that I really really want.

And although I try not to, I have high expectations. I want something sentimental – something to make me melt into a puddle of goo and think to myself It’s perfect! He really knows me! (Especially considering how tough things have been between us this year.) Jewelry doesn’t work unless there’s a specific meaning behind it. Electronics, while always fun gifts, don’t feel very special. And I want something special.

Clearly I watch too many romantic comedies.

I don’t mind the holidays until I’m asked what I want. Then I become depressed and wish we could jump to January 1 and bypass the whole holiday gift thing. Giving gifts is fun. Receiving gifts is a little more stressful. Don’t ask me what I want. I couldn’t begin to give the right answer.

Besides, the real answer is I don’t want to tell someone what to get me. I want to be surprised with the perfect gift. Screwed up, isn’t it? It’s no wonder we’re in therapy.

I would also point out that normally Aaron is tough to shop for, too. Wait – that’s not quite right. He’s AMAZINGLY EASY to shop for, in the sense that he has several things he wants. But a video game or horror movie aren’t very special, are they? Well, maybe a good classic Universal horror film might be special for him.

This year, however, his laptop decided that a monitor really isn’t necessary now that the warranty has expired, and so most of his Christmas budget (and any monetary gifts he gets from others) will be going into a new laptop. He can then continue working without stealing my poor laptop, which can barely keep up with the demands I put on it.

So now Aaron is counting the days until Christmas, looking at me each day in frustration and asking “What do you WANT? You’re impossible to shop for!”

Sorry, dear. Wish I had an answer for you. Is it January 1 yet?

Help me out, ladies – what do YOU want for Christmas, Hanukkah, Solstice, etc.?



The People Who Make Post-It Notes Will Soon Love Me

I’d guess that I’m looking forward to 2009 more than the average person. With all of the bad we’ve had this year, I’m planning to consider that big ball in Times Square on Dec. 31 my executioner’s axe, cutting off all of the frustration, the anger, the worry and the heartbreak of 2008 and leaving it behind as we embrace the new year.

Which means I’d better start working on a plan for 2009.

I’m a lousy planner, I’ll admit. Something inside of me wants desperately to be organized – always aware of everything coming up and never found scraping things together at the last minute. But no matter how much I want to be that way, I eventually go back to being the girl who flies by the seat of her (worn thrice because she forgot to do laundry) pants.

One benefit of nursing school is that it forces me to organize. We are taught to prioritize and organize our day so the insurmountable mountain of tasks is whittled down to an acceptable level without the need to stay late. Prioritizing is probably the one skill out of all of the organization skills that I’ve taken a liking to.

It’s far too easy for me to hop from one project to whatever crosses my mind next, never stopping to think about if that new task is really important enough to override other items on my to-do list. That task is soon followed by another mental burst to go do something else, often leaving task #2 unfinished. (ADD much? My doctor even agrees with me now.)

2009 will be my year of the priority list. I’ve made every attempt to not turn into my mom and aunts with their neurotic ability to make list after list for everything from groceries to gift lists to who to call. But I have to admit – lists are helpful. Less helpful, though, is a jumbled to-do list that ranks throw away the Christmas lights that don’t work higher than buy cat food so your poor pets don’t walk out on you and charge you with neglect only because I thought of it first while writing.

Hopefully keeping prioritized (maybe color coded? Hmmm…might need to consider that idea) lists will help me stay on track. And we all know I need it. Like most moms, I have a lot of different hats to wear, and each has its own set of responsibilities. I’m responsible for paying the bills, some housework, Cordy’s school notices and permission slips, my schoolwork and clinical time, doctor appts. for both kids, setting up therapy appts. for Cordy, any type of appointments for me, grocery shopping, three blogs, three cats, two kids and a partridge in a pear tree. OK, the last one isn’t true. But I do have to keep the birdfeeder filled with birdseed.

(Let’s not even begin to count things I’d like to do, such as paint some of the rooms in our house and hang shit on the walls so I won’t feel like I’m still living in my old college apartment.)

Who knows? Maybe tackling tasks in an organized manner will give me a little more time in my life? I could think of a lot of uses for a little more spare time.

I could probably make a list of all of those free time ideas, too.

This post is part of the last PBN blog blast of the year, sponsored by Big Tent. Here’s hoping we all have a more organized 2009.



Haiku Friday: Smile!

Haiku Friday
We need a Christmas
card picture, but getting both
kids to smile is hard.

This one is cute but
too bad the cat knocked the lamp
onto Mira’s head


Another try: one
isn’t smiling and one is
looking away…sigh


Let’s try again. One
still looking away, one with
mouth full of cookie


C’mon girls, smile!
Wait! Stop choking your sister
Cordy! No headlocks!

(Ya gotta click on this one to see Mira’s expression up close.)

The only time they
sit together is when they
are eating cookies

So every attempt
shows two mouths covered in fine
layers of brown crumbs

I give up. I’ll have
to rely on Picnik to
create a good pic.

I always thought it was difficult to get a good picture of Cordy for our holiday cards each year. Turns out, having two kids isn’t twice as hard – it’s about 649 times as hard. Like trying to wrangle dinosaurs through your great-grandmother’s miniature glass animal collection.

And for some reason, the only time I can get these two to sit next to each other is if there are cookies involved. If I should wipe their mouths off, the moment is gone and they won’t even stay in the same part of the room. Thank goodness for photo editing.

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What’s a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your main blog URL). DON’T sign unless you have a haiku this week. If you need help with this, please let me know.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button at the top.

REMEMBER: Do not post your link unless you have a haiku this week! I will delete any links without haiku!



How A Bendy Straw Nearly Made Me Cry

Sometimes in parenting, it’s the small victories that mean the most. Today we had one of those moments:


That’s Cordy, drinking with a straw. For the first time ever.

It was three years ago (she was 15 months) that we were struggling with weaning her off of a bottle while she stubbornly refused to try a sippy cup. I eventually convinced her that she could obtain liquid from a sippy cup, but her condition was that I had to hold it for her.

She held it on her own at 19 months.

For over a year now Operation: Remove Sippy Cup has been in effect, and until today it was an utter failure. She refused to drink anything unless it was in a sippy cup, and it had to be in only one brand of sippy cup, too. A brand which, incidentally, they changed the design for last year, making it impossible to buy any new cups. And she considers the redesign a different type of cup.

I don’t know if you are aware of the life span of a sippy cup, but it doesn’t last forever. Eventually it becomes worn and small bits of black mold try to form in the moist crevices after it’s 2-3 years old. Cordy’s small collection of sippy cups have been washed thousands of times, and bleached more than a few to remove any beginnings of mold. We’ve had to declare three of them complete losses when they were left behind a sofa or in the car for more than a few days and no amount of bleach would remove the mold that started growing. Which leaves us with only 5 sippy cups, and no hope of reinforcements.

So you can see why we’ve been urging her to leave the sippy behind and try something else. At school they’ve convinced her to drink from an open cup, but it has to be the size of a Dixie cup and it can only be at school. Straws have never been an option.

(I should mention at this point that Mira has been drinking from a straw since 9 months old. The resentment of having a younger sib show her up must take a few more years to develop.)

Cordy’s autism plays a small part in this. I know many kids are stubborn – this is a problem that any parent could have. But Cordy has a preternatural fear of change. The slightest shift to her schedule or the objects in her life can ruin any tranquility in our house. We have to gently push her towards change, ever so slightly, trying to maintain the balance between drawing her out beyond her fears and losing her for a time as she retreats inside her own mind.

So how did we manage this feat? The promise of ice cream. Bribes work on any kid. OK, well, bribes never worked for this before now. Hey, I don’t care how it worked.

Of course, tomorrow she may refuse to look at a straw. We’ll see. But for now I’m thrilled.

Maybe potty training will come next?

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