Christmas is the best at MY house because...

I have a fake tree. And that’s good because you won’t get a pine needle rammed between your toes when you walk in our living room. And because I could put it up in August if I wanted. I don’t. But I could.

I make the best fudge in town. You know why? Because I put Velveeta cheese in it. If you come over, I’ll share it with you. Unless you’re a creepy person that I don’t know.

There’s singing. Oh how there’s singing. I sing non-stop. The kids sing. And yes, even Barry sings. In the car, doin’ dishes, probably in his office. We are a grand bunch of singers. I make up my own words if I don’t know them. It doesn’t matter that Santa brought me 8 baconators on the eight day of Christmas.

We bought our kids the BEST presents this year. I’m so excited, I’ve been on Rolaids for a week. And the reason we bought them the best gifts, is because this year, they’ve been the BEST kids ever. And they’re also the cutest. Even though they’re at that age where they’re embarking on awkward, I still think they’re the cutest. Knobby knees, giant teeth, skinny butts and all.

I over decorate. I love flashing lights, fake snow, mistletoes, wreaths, you name them, I have them. I’ve been told it looks like Christmas barfed on my house.

I have a brand new game of Cranium Pop edition just itching to be played. Y’all know how I love me a good board game. It’s almost as good as a puzzle in my books. So I’m just waiting for someone to show up to play with me. And Barry. And Mary. Don’t worry. I’ll make dip.

Christmas makes me sick with anticipation. I’m so overwrought with joy.

OBAMANIA

Today was Remembrance Day. And I didn’t actually have a moment of silence at 11 am, not because I’m disrespectful, but mostly because I was in bed with my flu stricken son. HOW’S THAT FOR AN EXCUSE, Y’ALL???

I did however DO a lot of remembering and reflecting throughout the day. And that led me to thinking about the current situation overseas. The world is aflutter with hope right now with Barack Obama as the upcoming president next door. I am no exception to this, but I do however worry when I see so much anticipation and hope flooding through the entire planet. Call me pessimistic…lord knows I’ve been called worse, but are we building ourselves up for disappointment?

All’s I’m saying is he better not “tear up” our NAFTA agreement!

He better bring some friggin peace already!!

He better reverse that anti-gay marriage thingy!!

AND…I sure hope those assassination threats are a big ole hoax.

Ahh dangfrick. I have hope too. Can’t help it.

It’s like Obama is the new Santa Claus and I am sending him a wish list!!

They Sure Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

A wonderful act of human kindness is all it takes to give someone a fresh perspective on life.

Let me tell you about my little revelation of joy today.

A few weeks back, I lent my crib and high chair to an older lady in our community because she was to have her baby grandchild out for a week long visit.

It was returned in excellent and clean condition and I put it away and never thought another thing about it. (Except for the longing for another itsy bitsy widdle babe to cuddle…but let’s save that for another note) hehe

Well, normally when I lend something out, or even borrow something myself, a verbal thank you is all that happens.

But this lady showed up on my doorstep an hour ago, with a freshly made chocolate cake drizzled with caramel sauce and still piping hot! Not only did she insist that I keep the plate it was on, she begged me to let her pay cash for the stuff!!! I couldn’t believe how appreciative and genuine this lady was.

Naturally, there was no way I allowed her to give me cash. 15 minutes after she left, she came back, and dropped a 4 L of ice cream on my lap. If I wasn’t going to take cash, the least she could do was buy us some ice cream to go along with our cake!

Now I don’t know why it is so scarce to find good old fashioned appreciation these days, or if we’ve just become so accustomed to our lives of convenience, we expect too much from others! But today, I learned to value some things a lot more than I did.

Each thank you card that I force my children to send for birthday or Christmas gifts, each card or picture I receive in the mail "JUST BECAUSE", and even the tiniest housewarming or hostess token…is SOOOOOO worth it!!

Not only does it build a strong character, it makes a person really nice to know!

Thank you, Mrs. Boese. For brightening my little corner.

The Psycho in Me

You watch your heart and reason for living run down the hallway and into their perspective classrooms. One wears the latest Jonas Bros. fashions while the other boasts some NFL Vikings attire. Both are confident. Both smile and high-five their friends.


Tears well up as you shakily fumble with a combination for a locker, then attempt kisses or at the very least…a darn’d hug.

When did they stop being babies that clung to me like little monkeys? Who authorized the use of a sports bra? Or gave them the self esteem to go and meet the new kids? Or choose carrots over pudding for their own lunches?? Why am I the only one in a panic over the fact my cherubic babies are now cool little individuals with MP3 players and day planners? Shouldn’t mothers have the ability to stop time? HECK…we can do practically everything else!!

My emotions twist and turn as I walk out of the school. The house is empty. Quiet. 6 hours stretches before me like a menacing bogeyman. What will I do?

I do what any normal psychotic mother would do. I lay curled up in the fetal position for 2 hours then force myself out of bed to make my miniature grown-ups some chocolate chip muffins.


“Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” ~Elizabeth Stone

Fairytales!

Something very exciting happened on Friday.

Most of you probably think that me and my friends are boring and non-exciting parents who don’t let their children drink pop after 4 p.m. (oh wait, that’s just me)

But on Friday, with stone-cold, blind, excitement and a whole 24 hours of planning….2 of our communal children (we share them all when we’re together)…

GOT MARRIED!!!!

Albeit a fake wedding, however, the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever been to.

We had a very small guest list, a pizza and trifle supper, and the most fun EVER!! I just know all y’all are gonna want in on OUR playdates from now on…let me tell you…it’s always like this with us!

And note, clearly I have missed my calling as an ordained justice of the peace. SKILLZ. I got me some.

Watch and enjoy!

All Foam, No Beer.

How to make the WORST salsa ever…

1. Pick 700 delicious roma tomatoes and spend 5 hours chopping them with a dull knife

2. Add all yer classic stuff like green peppers, onions, garlic, jalapenos, cayenne, sugar, salt, arsenic, blah, blah, blah….spend additional 5 hours chopping.

3. Boil and stir. Simmer and stir. FOREVER. (Or one hour.)

4. Get 5 canning jars ready with excitement and childish anticipation.

5. Dish out 1 and a half jars of salsa that ISN’T red and DOESN’T seal and cry over how little you got.

6. Don’t enjoy for spite.

Converting to Classy

I think it’s probably been well-established that I am no swanky-posh-elegant type of girl.

So when Barry and I went down to Minneapolis with friends this weekend, and stayed at the swankest hotel I’ve ever seen in my life…WELL.

I think I could change.

I can entirely get used to having to use a small ladder to climb upon a four poster bed with 500 pillows and fancy chocolates laid out for me each night upon my 50 pound robe.

I can also get used to laying in a granite tub that has a glass TV encased right in front of me. Hehe…and the blow dryer wasn’t even attached to the wall!

I fell in instant love with the top-hatted doorman who reminded me of Mr. Peanut. I especially liked putting my vehicle in valet parking. (Not a fan of tipping every time they open a door, say good morning, or freakin' cover your mouth if you sneeze…k. I kid. A little.)

Just so all y’all know…it was a crazy cheap deal on the room, but they get you with stuff like that NINE DOLLAR bottle of water that you’re so tempted to crack open in the room. And let me tell ya, I WAS tempted. I figgered it had to be laced with anti-wrinkle serum or some other magical youth concoctions, but don’t panic, internets…I let my good sense prevail. (And my hubby’s.)

Anyhoo. FABULOUS TRIP. FABULOUS COMPANY. FABULOUS SHOPPING. I’ll post photos of the UFC event we attended as soon as I can.

Louise, the lovely snake

You know it's summertime at the silly old Graham's house when the pets start arriving. And departing....

Goodbye Louise. You will be missed. Have fun back at the river and if you happen to see Susan or Luigi, please tell them we miss them too.

StrangeTales of a Hammock and a Girl

It probably happens every 200 years or so...
Or maybe when the stars align and the werewolves come out...
Or MAYBE it's because its Friday the 13th.

But let me tell you about the strange and unusual events that took place THIS particular Friday, June 13, 2008.
You see, the Grahams have a young daughter, aged 10.
Shelby has never been the independent type. In fact, you might call her a rather helpless minion. This is a child who still can't run her own shower, who looks in the living room when she needs a pot, and can't master toast.
But tonight.... that all changed.
It all started with a simple bet.
Mommy got a new hammock from Daddy. The hammock arrived clad in tiny, wrapped pieces, a thick, stapled, taped-up box and a multi-language 4-page instruction manual.
Shelby asked to spend the night sleeping on the hammock.
HAHAHA...right.
Jokingly, Mommy replied, "Sure my dear, providing YOU put it together."

"Okay".

And then it began.

And she trudged on throughout the night.

We sat in the living room and watched in awe. Oscar said it was better than a TV show.

And finally, it was over. She did it. She really did it. And we all had to eat our words. But Shelby, oh Shelby, you have sure raised the bar on your poor self!!

And everything I thought I knew, I now question. The world as we know it, has changed forever.

And I have me a fine new hammock.

15 Things I'll Never Do

1. Wear rubber boots with a skirt. Not ever.

2. Say no to an Easter Cream Egg.

3. Shop at Abercrombie and Fitch. I swear, those saleskids are zombie clones! (That’s why they keep it so dark and creepy in there!)

4. Attend a Tony Robbins convention. (He may also be some sort of alien creature, not sure…)

5. Watch a Rocky or Rambo movie marathon. Sorry husband.

6. Work at a hamburger restaurant because I freakin LURVE hamburgers. With bacon. So I will not work at a bacon restaurant either.

7. Stop wearing my disgusting gardening pants.

8. Wash my disgusting gardening pants.

9. Go pants or bra shopping with my BFF, Mary. And, I might add…I wish that upon no one.

10. Wish that I were ten again so I could convince everyone that I were marrying one of the stupid Doofus Brothers as I plastered his poster all over my walls.

11. Turn down a hug from the son who calls me beautiful sweetheart when he gets out of the van to go to school in the morning.

12. Admit to owning a Clay Aiken CD….oh, snap.

13. Dry clean my clothes. WELL…geez, I’m not a rich person. Does it look like I eat dinner at 9 or play the stock exchange? Gosh.

14. Eliminate meat from my diet. Y’all know how I love me a juicy meat cow.

15. Choose a Kashi granola bar over chocolate.

Spring Break in Minneapolis

HIGHS

-Six dollar shirts and eight dollar shoes in all their cuteness

-Bubba Gump Shrimp Factory STILL makes the best shrimp in the land

-Meeting the quarterback of the Minnesota Vikings. Ok, that’s Barry and Oscar’s high but can we all say HAWT???!!!! I think we had a moment.

-One word - I K E A

LOWS

-7 hours of driving with a bladder the size of a pea

-Oscar asking me where I got that fat part when I put on my bikini

-“Are we there yet?”…” What’s next?”… “Can I buy this, puhleeeeeze?...” over and over and over again

-Stopping for an extra night in Fargo without bunk beds in the room and having to sleep with farty, fidgety, kids.



AHHHH....it's good to be home. I will now attempt to lose about 17 pounds of bacon, shrimp, and cheesecake.

Pod Children

You know all those stupid emails you get warning you about the hazards or effects of a faulty product or a bad cold medicine or something heinously dangerous like that? Yeah, well here’s mine.

BEWARE!! Kids everywhere are turning into Village of the Damned children due to the ill effects of the Nintendo D.S.

They may cause your child to:

Search for a pot in your LIVING ROOM in which to cook mac n cheese.

Argue that China is a city ,not a country. (Of course, in her world, anything BFF says is gospel.)

Children will not only forget to practice their piano on a daily basis, they may forget they are even taking it.

Children will walk slower, pick their noses longer, and will certainly forget basic hygiene skills such as brushing teeth and washing hands.

They will stay in their pajamas ALL day with faces glued to small electronic device stopping only to smile when the said object gives birth to a REAL LIVE animal. (don’t even get me started on the REAL argument. And NO, taking care of a video game does NOT prove you are ready for a real puppy.)

Children will gravitate towards other children with like devices and huddle quietly for hours. Oh. Wait. I like that part.

So parents, if you love and care for your children, do NOT allow them anywhere near these satanic video game devices. And if your kids get twerked off at you for it, buy em a Popple or teach em how to make a mix tape. Kept me happy in the 80s.

Puppy Love

Oscar walked casually into the kitchen today as I was making supper and with furrowed brow, stated “Mommy, I love you more than all the places in the world. But I love Daddy more than all the universe.” He then walked out, as casually as he came in.

Moral of the story: I’m going to have to get rid of Daddy.

Flu-Zilla

Bragging about how healthy I am and how I rarely get sick has obviously come back to bite me in my easter-creamy-egg-dimpled ass.

Now, if you know me, you’re expecting me to blame someone. And trust me I’m tempted. I want to blame the snotty, disgusting, little school children who hork loogies into mid air when they sneeze or the yucky skating rink full of creepy, raging, viral, plague germs. But I’m above that, oh yes I am.

I recognize that it’s my fault that I haven’t washed my floors in a decade, or spent more than one night a week at home relaxing in two whole months. The fact that I have been existing on a diet of quarter pounders and easter cream eggs may also have something to do with it. Who knows.

I have lost my sense of smell so it’s okay that I no longer shower and the greasy hairdo I’ve acquired works wonders when you want it to stand straight up off your sweaty back.

I’ve learned to communicate with Barry using grunts and groans when I need soup, back rubs, or consolation ice cream.

I’ve now missed three days of school and am only today starting to feel a mere bit better.

My skin hurts. My hair hurts. I LOVE to whine.

Yes, I am the idiot-tard who brought this superflu on herself. But please, I still want yer pity.

Green is the New Black

So, I’m looking to save the planet these days. ALL BY MYSELF, since silly Graham Dad is busy with catching bad guys and watching UFC’s and stuff.

I already don’t use a dishwasher, bought some crazy efficient light bulbs and promise not to throw Styrofoam in the fire again. (sorry about that)

Now I just need someone to go to Bootlegger and buy me some of these super awesome bags I saw there the other day. They’re about ten bucks each and look sort of like this. PLEASE BUY ME ONE.

So yeah, I know, I have a long ways to go. But don’t we all? At least I don’t drive a Hummer.

Are You Smarter Than A Mommy?

I know you’re all sick of me talking about my little NHL’er so I promise not to mention my inability to contain my excitement OVER HIS FIRST BIG GAME IN STEINBACH ON SUNDAY…oops, are my caps on? I had no idea.

ANYWAYS, remember the other child? The one who I love to frequently embarrass and who thinks she needs a bra and a Gwen Stefani bustier?

Well, she LOVES board games and has become very competitive with Silly Old Dad and myself. We bought her “Are you Smarter than a Fifth Grader” for Christmas and have played it over and over. It’s actually quite challenging for the smarty pants that I like to think I am. I mean seriously, who honestly remembers the frontiersman who blazed a trail to Kentucky? That’s a first grade question!!! Or how many rays a starfish has? GRADE TWO, PEOPLE!

So, the first few times, I humbly had to admit that I, Silly Mother Graham, am NOT smarter than a fifth grader. And yes, it was painful. Even more painful was little Miss Thang’s decision to use it as her creative writing topic at school last week. Of course she couldn’t write about our lovely times with our holiday guests and their new babies or our new mini-van or our crazy tobogganing days! NOOOOO.

It’s a little disturbing. My own flesh and blood choosing to thoroughly embarrass her mother and even threatening to send her little write-up to the paper.

However, the reason I am admitting all of this is because, after days of sharpening my brain with puzzles, quizzes, and Grade 8 math…..

GUESS WHO DOMINATED FIFTH GRADE AND BEYOND LAST NIGHT?????

Yeah, I won the million dollars. No big deal.

Little scoundrel. Don't let her adorable face fool you.