Holidays — Finding The Humor

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Haute Couture by Mom

May 8, 2011 By Melinda 22 Comments

Looking deceivingly innocent.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful Moms that do special things for their kids even if they don’t appreciate them at the time.

Putting up with my antics for so many years, my mother has the patience of a saint. This is a special post just for her.

My mother has many amazing qualities and skills. She’s the real life Super Woman! Talented seamstress is just one of them, and I’m going to call her a couturier because she doesn’t just go by a pattern…she’s creative. Not inheriting that skill, I can barely sew a semi-straight line much less thread the sewing machine.

When I was little she was always sewing new outfits for me, and I was always destroying them.

Why I’m afraid to paint…

I look like trouble. 'I'm ready to mess up some more clothes!'

Living in upstate New York, I was around 2 years old and full of curiosity. Having just put the final touches on my newest outfit, my mother dressed me in it, and I was off to explore.

I’m unclear as to whether I actually remember this day or the story has been told so many times I vividly see it in my mind like a movie.

My father was painting the basement floor mint green and was hesitant to let me stay to watch. I insisted and received a stern warning that I “sit on the stairs and DO NOT move“.

Of course the second he turned his head to continue painting, I darted across the wet floor and slipped. Covered from head to toe in green oil-based paint, I was carted off to the bathtub. The strong smell of turpentine permeated the room as they desperately scrubbed to get the paint out of my long blonde hair. This might explain why green isn’t my favorite color.

Total time to destroy the outfit: maybe half an hour

Anticipating the payback that surely awaits me, I find myself a bit paranoid while painting.

Reputation for Disasters

A reputation for ruining clothes quickly developed. Flash forward to Kindergarten. Things just sort of always happened to me. Innocently sitting on a log waiting in the pick up line, I was sporting another new outfit she made. Picture 1970s long flaired red pants in a groovy paint splattered polyester material, matching vest, and white turtleneck. Total Partridge Family look going on.

Sort of like this one...only a white interior.

My mother drove up in the Chrysler 300, which I’m told was quite the stylish car at the time. My sister and I were NEVER allowed to eat or drink anything in it, and I imagine crayons were banned. The interior was kept in immaculate condition.

I jumped up…or tried to, but my pants were stuck to the log. Some effort was required to release the grip. I had been sitting in tar, and now it was all over my backside. Once she realized my predicament, I imagine there was a horrified look on her face. I didn’t notice because I was too busy staring at that white interior and wondering how I was going to get home.

Seat belts were rare to find in cars in those days, so I stood (hugging the passenger seat from behind with a grip of steel) the whole way home. Every bump left me terrified of losing my balance and falling onto the seat. The car survived the tar incident. The outfit…not so much.

Total time to destroy the outfit: one or two wearings. Oh…I did improve there.

Patches

Then from Elementary through Middle School I went through the “please don’t make me anything” phase where I trying to ruin them on purpose, but that backfired. Stacks of iron-on patches were there to save every worn knee or hole. Vividly I remember the plaid pants days of the 1970s which I never felt comfortable in. Only a 50% patch coverage would qualify for the “ruined” designation. Did you grow up with iron-on patches?

Remember the baseball shirt fad? Middle schoolers thought wearing a baseball shirt was cool! I found one at TJMaxx and was thrilled! $5!

Me: “Mom, can I have it?” I was already picturing wearing it to school the next day.

Mom: “Hmmm…the material is so thin you can see right through it. I’ll make you one.”

Me (in my head): “AAAAAAAAAAAAA!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Me out loud: “Nevermind”

She surprised me three days later with a homemade baseball shirt. The white material was so thick it was stiff and just not the same. *sigh* I wore it anyway to make her happy.

Similar scenarios played out as I settled for the homemade version of fads and just didn’t appreciate the money saving savvyness of my mother.

Prom

I felt like Cinderella.

Then came my senior prom dress and my attitude changed. I loved it.

By then I had realized that having custom made clothes should be looked upon as Haute Couture because how many people have custom dresses made? I sure didn’t have to worry about anyone showing up with my dress. Famous for last minute hemming, Mom was working on the dress as I paced the floor 5 minutes before time to leave.

Luckily there was no tar around.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!
Thanks for all the special things you did…and still do for me.
I love you!

UPDATE

Just had to share what my very excited 5 year old gave me for Mother’s Day. She individually wrapped a bunch of stuff and could hardly contain her excitement. Guess where she went shopping…

Seven more are waiting for me to open them. I feel the love – measured by the bareness of the pantry shelf she can reach.

Filed Under: Holidays Tagged With: Disasters, holidays

Heartwarming Moments

February 15, 2011 By Melinda 28 Comments

The unexpected gift

As a Mom you don’t expect your kids to give you anything for Valentine’s Day.

For me, Valentine’s Day is a tradition of leaving a small gift along with a card by each child’s bed so they see it when they wake up. The card is always a personal note telling them how proud I am of them.

So was I ever surprised that my five year old had painted a special valentine for me. Not yesterday…not last week…but weeks ago. I know because that was the last time she painted. In the excitement and anticipation of the approaching holiday, the news accidentally leaked out a few times, and I pretended not to notice.

You can measure how much a gift means to a child by the number of times they mention it by mistake. A great secret is a painful burden for those under 8 years old.

I think back to the year my son visited the school “Gingerbread Shop” during first grade. Each child is allowed to shop for Christmas presents under the guidance of other parents. The obnoxiously-large, fake emerald ring for $2.00 caught his eye.

That afternoon I asked how his shopping went. While in the midst of excitingly describing his adventure and the items he had carefully selected for his sister and grandparents, he blurted out “I’m not even going to tell you about the ring I got you.” As he realized his mistake, his head hung low, and I watched as the thrill drained quickly out of his face. Sad eyes turned to the ground ready to burst into tears of disappointment. “What did you say?” I asked. He quickly lifted his head up, and a huge grin returned as he answered, “Nevermind.”

Heartwarming Gifts From The Heart

She secretly painted the picture and hid the Valentine in her room to surprise me, so I had not seen it until she jumped out of bed this morning to give it to me. Giggling with excitement, she practically thew it at me as she skipped toward me and announced, “I made this for you!” Handing me the valentine she had painted with love, my five year was beaming with pride.

And that is when you know all those hours being Sock Monkey’s voice is worth it.

Filed Under: Holidays, Kids Tagged With: holidays, kids, sweet moments

December 31, 2010 By Melinda 28 Comments

Some people get all the fun!

While stacks of boxes await the dreaded task of putting away Christmas decorations, I was instead on Facebook admiring a beautiful beach scene and wishing I was there. Despite coloring a pair of shoes with a red marker, sprinkling on some glitter, tapping the shoes together three times, and foolishly repeating “I want to be at a warm beach right now”, I found myself still standing in the kitchen staring at the pile of dishes in the sink. Now I know that travel by ruby slipper is just a dream.

I don’t really want to run away to the islands because I would have to leave the family Christmas present – the new Kinect. Dance Central is WAY TOO MUCH FUN and has given me a week’s worth of sore muscles. Little squirt and I have been averaging 1-2 hours a day which amazingly did not wear her out and cause her to go to bed early like it did to me.

Remember Salt-N-Pepa? I was so excited to see them on the list with “Push It”. I have to work off the delicious Milky Way Cake somehow because baking it burned no calories that I’m aware of. Dancing is way more fun than push ups and sit ups, and I figure I’m breaking even on the dance vs. cake calories until it is all eaten.

Ignoring muscles that cry out for rest, I continue with my futile attempts to five star songs such as Soulja Boy’s “Crank That” with self-proclaimed, ultra-awesome dance moves in front of an audience of amused gawkers. I was in my groove when old school moves were required…or so I thought…until I saw the disturbing video evidence that proved otherwise.

Rubbing her hands together in delight, the giggling twelve-year-old girl and her camera had to be stopped before it appeared nationwide. Some chasing and wrestling ensued, but it was a failed attempt to confiscate and erase the performance. I got bids for the tape on my Facebook from none other than my own aunt and sister!! As my dear daughter calculated an offer, I sternly reminded her that I control whether her phone works or not.

My New Year’s Resolution: Finding the time to get back in shape other than chasing down dance tapes.

Did you make a resolution this year?

There is nothing more motivating than to see your silhouette on the screen in all its teletubbie-ishness.

Little One: “Where’s Mom?”

Child #2: “She’s off to find tighter clothes to make her shadow look skinnier.”

*Cue the music* I’m dancing outta here!

To all my readers: Thanks for being so much fun and making me laugh!

Wishing everyone a
healthy and prosperous
Happy New Year!

P.S. I’m pretty sure I look just like this when I dance. Denial is half the fun.

Filed Under: Holidays, Kids, Yep That's Me Tagged With: addictions, games, Just me, shopping, workouts

What I Got For Christmas

December 23, 2010 By Melinda 29 Comments

Welcome to the guess Melinda’s Christmas present to herself game. Have I been bad or good this year? Hmmm….

What did I buy this week?

A much needed couch?

A splurge on a purse proving there really is a Santa Claus?

Four new tires for The Tank?

Ultra cool surround sound system so I think I'm on a real battlefield while playing Black Ops?

If you guessed C you are CORRECT! Yes my car decided it needed four new tires just in time for Christmas. Since they don’t fit under the tree and I’m not interested in playing mechanic and installing them myself, I got my present early.

I called my daughter from the waiting room while my car was in surgery to share my exciting news. I also asked if she was interested in my bringing home the 4 used tires which could be used for:

1) A pretend tire swing. I would never actually get a rope over a tree branch, so imagination would be required.
2) A bed frame so it looks like she’s sleeping in a car.
3) A fun hiding place if they are all stacked on each other.
4) They could be like a new pet to walk. Think of the hours of fun spent rolling a tire around the block.
5) Setting up an Army training course in the backyard.

She turned down my tempting offer of fun, so I paid the disposal fee and left them there.

I am the excited owner of four new tires. It’s just what I wanted.

Filed Under: Holidays, Yep That's Me Tagged With: I have all the luck, Just me

Twas Just Before Bedtime

December 1, 2010 By Melinda 21 Comments

I don’t send normal Christmas letters. I wrote this one when child #2, the adventurous one, was nine months old and constantly got into everything despite baby proofing. This earned her the nickname Danger Girl. Enjoy.

Twas just before bedtime,
When all through the house,
The sound of toilet plunging,
Caused me to rouse.

The doors were all closed,
Or so I thought, with care,
When I was alerted,
Oh no, would she dare?

The children were playing alone in the room,
And that’s when it happened, something went “Boom”,
I’d just settled down to watch the news on TV,
A cup of hot cocoa along beside me.

When out of the bathroom there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the bathroom I flew in a flash,
Tore open the door and heard the word “Bash”.

The shine of the toilet or something looked neat,
For there she stood, holding onto the seat.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a wet-handed girl grinning from ear to ear.

Swinging open the door – a great wind gusted,
She looked up and knew that she had been busted.
More rapid than eagles, I took to the task,
Of grabbing her up and desanitizing her fast.

On Softsoap (antibacterial), on Lysol (the spray),
On sudsing, on scrubbing, oh oh I did pray,
That during her swishing and swashing episode,
No fingers ventured in the mouth, for the commode,
Had been used by big brother earlier that day,
And aiming and flushing just weren’t his way.

Drying her off, I repeated “No No!”
The bathroom is somewhere you should never go.
I rushed to her room, for to change her wet clothes,
Something this girl undeniably loathes.

Then in a twinkle, with a sweet little look,
Like a cute baby in her picture book.
She reached over to give a tiny kiss,
Something I certainly wouldn’t have cared to miss.

She was dressed all in pink from her head to her toes,
She looked so mischievous with that wrinkled up nose.
She snorted a snort, which can mean nothing good,
She’s up to something and stubborn as wood.

Her eyes, how they twinkled! Her dimples what a winner,
On her face was a hint of carrots from dinner.
Her eyes lit up, when she saw all her toys,
In ten plus years, they’ll attract all the boys.

The end of her blankie was gripped tight in her teeth,
The rest encircled her head like a wreath.
She had a hard time standing up by herself,
so she held on tightly – one hand on a shelf.

She was bouncing and dancing…a jolly child,
How can this cute thing have a side that’s so wild.
She tries to eat curtains, carpet, and plants,
Things from the trash and, oh yea, even ants.

She looks like she’s innocently playing ball,
Waiting for your head to turn, then dash down the hall.
My attention waivers, and quiet as a mouse
She disappears ever so quickly inside the house.

She finds small toys that look oh so yummy,
I’ve no idea what’s in her tummy.
Perhaps it’s a leaf, one Lego man’s head,
A small bite of chalk, a string found under the bed,
An old Cherrio, some thread I was using,
She finds all of these perfectly amusing.

Now when she gives me that look, almost a pout,
I exclaim, “There goes Danger Girl! Better watch out!”

Filed Under: Holidays, Kids

Let the Holiday Madness Begin

November 29, 2010 By Melinda 21 Comments

Sweating while drinking some hot cocoa, I’m attempting to get in the Christmas spirit despite the 80 degree weather. We in sunny, still-warm Florida tend to over-decorate to compensate for the lack of cold weather and snow.

I guess the thought is: if you put enough lights on your house to officially be considered a beacon for landing the space shuttle, it might look like snow and fool someone. I’m still hunting for a flock of flamingos in pink lights wearing bikinis which I think is more fitting than a reindeer, more fun, and just stereotypical, tacky Florida. Everyone has the blowup snowman…yawn.

It snowed today!

The leaves aren’t done falling and plants are still blooming. An unidentified plant behind my house is spreading it’s seeds via white puffs blowing in the breeze. If you don’t look too hard, you could mistake it for snowflakes falling. I excitedly called the girls outside to view “the snow”, and they came running.

“It’s as close as we are going to get, so enjoy it. See if you can build a snowman.”

They both rolled their eyes and went back inside. I unsuccessfully attempted to make a snow angel. In my mind!

For your Get-In-the-Christmas mood pleasure, here is a little ditty I was singing while hanging up decorations this weekend to the tune of “Chestnuts Roasting on An Open Fire…” It is only one verse because I was too busy untangling the ~~evil wad of tangled wire~~ ornament hangers.

Rotting greenery over an open door

Needle crumbles everywhere on the floor (not pictured). I didn't think plastic greenery was suppose to shed!

Ornaments adorn the bottom of the tree

The ornament-hanging-on-another-ornament is courtesy of Little One's Decorating Service whose motto is 'We use up all the ornaments on the bottom three feet of the nine foot tree, and don't even think about fixing it.'

Yule times carols with the words all bleeped out

I love Snoop Dog...but was this necessary? And no I don't own it.

It’s all the signs that Christmas time is here.

Buddy, our Elf on the Shelf, has returned. If you aren’t familiar with Elf on a Shelf, during the day he keeps an eye on small children to see if they are being good. Then he visits Santa each night to report his findings. Each morning he is hiding in a new observation spot in the house, and the game is to find him. Thank goodness for child #2 who loves hiding Buddy and is 10 times more creative than me. I was out of hiding place ideas before we started.

He really comes in handy when little one doesn’t pick up her toys, and I remind her that Buddy may report that to Santa.

I might just invite Buddy to stay all year.

Filed Under: Holidays Tagged With: holidays, kids

Why Cooking A Turkey is Like Being in a Horror Film…or at an OB-GYN office

November 23, 2010 By Melinda 30 Comments

I’m proud to say that today I completed the pre-Thanksgiving grocery store trip well in advance of the crowd. SCORE! Fifteen minutes after putting the groceries away, I discovered I forgot aluminum foil. UGG!

My mother had the right idea. When I was little, we often went to the cafeteria on Thanksgiving. I’m starting to think that is a tradition I should adapt.

I went years cooking a small turkey breast before attempting the BIG BIRD. After cooking a thawed turkey for 6-8 hours (the frozen directions) there was nothing edible left, so we enjoyed Thanksgiving with sliced deli turkey and the fixin’s.

There are 2 things I can’t touch while cooking without going completely psycho:

Fish with the skin still on it
A whole bird

Cooking a turkey – the non-Martha Stewart way

The holiday event I dread most is fast approaching. I will never be asked to be a guest on a cooking show, and I’m relieved because it would be embarrassing. Thanksgiving morning begins with my kids anxiously awaiting the turkey preparation because they don’t want to miss the show. “Hurry…she’s doing the turkey.” Apparently it is entertaining.

Step 1: Put on thick latex gloves

Sorry I just can’t touch it.

They must be the thick kind for handling toxic substances. I'm not taking any chances.

Step 2: Open package

By some miracle I successfully release the turkey from his plastic wrapping with the giant industrial staple holding it closed. Are they afraid it is going to escape? This is the initial point I freak out that I am holding a whole dead bird in my hand. With NBA precision, I toss it into the sink, regain my composure, and question whether we really need turkey this year. If I want the 5 year old to take a nap, yes we do. L-tryptophan is my best friend, so I trudge onward.

Step 3: Remove the yucky stuff from the inside

I didn’t know they package the yucky insides of the turkey in a bag in case for some sick reason you want to use them for something, and I left it in one year. Needless to say that was the 2nd unedible turkey experience. What came out of the oven looked like it was from a horror movie as it was a turkey in a blood bath of juices. Deli meat, again.

I should be happy that I’m just removing a bag and not the actual organs which I couldn’t stomach.

After learning that lesson the hard way, I’m thinking scrubs would be more appropriate than an apron as I perform my turkey OBGYN duties and remove the bag. The bag is still frozen and doesn’t want to come out. I’m turning it and pulling it trying to make it fit. It’s like delivering a baby…sort of…only not as rewarding, and the only one crying is me.

Step 4: Rinse the turkey

This is the part that gets me every time and why the kids line up to watch. At some point in the rinsing and having to move this turkey around in my hands, I freak out and scream wildly. I’M HOLDING AN ENTIRE HEADLESS DEAD BIRD! goes through my head and I drop it in the sink and back away in horror. This happens several times. This doesn’t happen on cooking shows, right?

I remember watching my mother clean a turkey and pulling out some missed feathers (which I couldn’t see) after thoroughly inspecting it. If I have to pull out a feather I’m going to be passed out on the floor. I wouldn’t have survived 1 week in the pioneer days. Pulling feathers out is too Little House on the Prairie for a city girl like me. I’m going to see if there is a line of bald ones, because a bald turkey would be beautiful about now.

My mind wanders, “I wonder if there is pizza delivery on Thanksgiving”, and I announce that next year we are going to the cafeteria. Isn’t there an Italian version of Thanksgiving dinner? Weren’t some of the Mayflower pilgrims Italian? I only need one to justify lasagna.

Step 5: Get the turkey into the cooking bag

At this point, I ask for a volunteer from the audience to hold the bag while I brave carrying the bird a few feet and place it inside without freaking out and dropping it on the floor. A lot of screaming and crazy looks occur in this process. Usually my assistant has forgotten to pre-open the bag, leaving me holding the turkey longer than I am comfortable with.

The 3rd messed up turkey was an unfortunate miscalculation of which side was what once I mangled and wrestled it into the bag. Oops…I cooked it upside down. That was painfully clear when it came out of the oven looking like roadkill rather than the picture on the recipe. FYI: turkey doesn’t brown nicely upside down.

Once it is safely in the bag, I’m all good and feel very Martha Stewart-ish. I stand back and announce “Aaa…That was easy” as if nothing happened.

The kids leave the room disappointed the show is over.

What I am thankful for

Of course I am thankful for my three fabulous kids and wonderful family. I’m also thankful that I live in a time where boneless chicken breasts exist, and I don’t have to slaughter something myself. However, this year I am super thankful that my friend and I are doing a combined Thanksgiving dinner, and she is doing the turkey. She volunteered! I didn’t even have to beg. It’s like Christmas came early!

Happy Thanksgiving to all my U.S. friends!

Filed Under: Holidays Tagged With: