White, Fluffy, Bearded Lies

This blog might be all over the place because I am not doing it while the kids are napping.  That means Eden is on the couch talking about whatever crosses her mind, because she MUST be talking CONSTANTLY.  This girl does not stop.  She's complaining of a tummy ache, but she's not resting or anything like that.  NOooooo.  Play through it and talk through it.  That's her motto.

I am trying to keep Arielle from being bitten because she is pretending to feed Dolce something imaginary from her little chubby fingers and Dolce doesn't like my children.  And, of course, by the time I've written a few more sentences, that all will have changed and they'll be doing something else completely.

Onward.  A friend of mine asked me a couple weeks back what my views on Santa were.  I told her the short version because there were babies fussing and toddlers waiting for a moment of Mommy distraction to take advantage of.  Since then the deliberate decisions we as a family make about this holiday have continued to be brought to my attention.

First, let me give you some background on how I was raised.  My parents treated Santa almost like the plague, along with Mary Poppins and the Smurfs.  I'm sure I was aware of him, but we never did pictures with Santa (that's right, there's not a single picture of me crying in Mall Santa's lap in my baby albums).  We didn't read books about him.  My dad might have done some readings of The Night Before Christmas when I got older for the sake of good literature and classic poetry (loves of his), but that was the exception. We had no likenesses of Santa in our home except a small figurine of him kneeling at the manger.  I don't remember what I thought about other kids and their views of Santa.  I don't remember feeling the need to correct them, although that would have been JUST like me to do so.  I don't remember ever wanting to join the long line of fussy children to sit on Santa's lap.  I don't remember feeling left out because I wasn't writing letters to the North Pole.

Fast forward to today.  I have two little girls and this is the first Christmas where I'm really having to live out the path I assumed I would take regarding Santa and his hold on this holiday.

In short, I have made a promise to my children never to deceive them.  And yes, I have thought about all that that entails.  I do my very best to stay truthful about everything.  That means if Eden wants another cookie and I don't want her to have one, I don't look in the box and say "uh oh, they're all gone."  I say, "no ma'am, you don't need another cookie."  I can't think of any other good examples of the white lies that we parents tend to use on a daily basis, but you get the idea.  I try to eliminate them.  I want my child to have a commitment to the truth so that I can trust her when I ask her a question.  I tell her the Upshaws are truth-tellers so that she can have a family identity that includes integrity.

Ok, this is getting long.  I knew it would.  I'm pretty sure you can extrapolate from here how we treat Santa.  We've come to a happy medium between my upbringing and my husband's (a more typical, Santa inclusive one).  I don't treat Santa like the plague, but I try to make sure he is not the reason for the season or even the slightest majority of its focus and, as you've guessed, I will never tell my children he is real or brings us presents or is omniscient and knows what every child is doing all the time. 

Ok, bunny trail... can I just rant for a moment about how Santa is very God-like.  He is loving, he knows what you're doing all the time, he can be everywhere at once (pretty much, since there's no scientific way to deliver toys to every kid in the world in one night), children essentially pray to him about bringing them what they want and I'm sure there's more.  That all bugs me.

Back to our family... 

We do have a picture of the kids on Santa's lap from this year, but we didn't wait in a long line or pay for it.  I'm not going to dedicate to much effort to that.  And there will not be a page in the album (wait, what album?) every year dedicated to that picture.

We have been watching Wonder Pets save the Baby Reindeer every day by request and we have been reading a book called "I'm Not Santa!" (in which the "real" Santa shows up at the end) every night by request, but yesterday, I did start to see the need for some major balancing with some baby Jesus stories.  Especially after Eden said "Santa loves me.  He wants to come into my heart!"  Woops.

Alright, we need to go to the grocery store.  My friend Misty was brave enough to state her views on her blog without apology, so I got the courage to do the same.  Love me or hate me for it, that's where I stand.

Don't hate me though, because Santa will know and you will get coal in your stocking.  :D

I know it's backwards.  I know I'm lame for taking a picture with my computer because I didn't want to upload a picture from a real camera.  But there he is, the same figurine my parents had, now displayed in our home.

And, of course, Eden just saw it and said, "Is it Santa Claus?"  Don't ask about baby Jesus, nooooo.  That seals the deal.  More Jesus needed in this house.

Ok, really leaving now...

Wassail

At Fat Free Vegan's blog there is a yummy sounding wassail recipe that I thought I'd share with all of you. I have not tried it, but all the ingredients leave me with no doubt that it would be the perfect toungue-pleasing, inside-warming drink for the cold days ahead.
I copied from there and pasted here just to make it that much easier for you.  :)

New World Wassail

1.5 quarts apple cider or apple juice
1 quart natural cranberry blend drink (no sugar added)
4 sticks cinnamon stick
8 cloves
10 allspice berries
1 quarter-sized slice ginger
1 orange, sliced
1/4 cup cranberries (optional)
1/2 – 1 cup brandy (optional)

Place all ingredients except the brandy in a large, non-reactive pot or crockpot and bring to a low boil. Reduce the heat to the lowest setting and cover. Simmer for at least 2 hours (may be kept in a crock pot for 4 hours). About 15 minutes before serving, add the brandy and continue to simmer on low.

Strain out the spices and fruit and serve with cinnamon sticks and fresh slices of orange.

Servings: 10
Yield: 2.5 quarts

Lit. Revisited

I've been going through a box of memories and pulling out some things that make me smile.  One piece of paper I just read, I decided to share.

This is from Literature class where I was learning different poetry forms by writing.  I was 15.

A Question of Speed

Everyone marvels at a snail's sluggish pace.
It's quite easy to see why this is the case.
But really, the reason is not hard to trace.
Why run fast when you're not in a race?

:)

Hydrangeas

I don't even really like their name... hydrangeas.  It's so complex and scientific sounding to me.  It doesn't sound like a flower.  It sounds like a disease.  You drink too much water and become over-hydrated and develop welts all over your body.  They're called hydrangeas.
This is not a post about hating hydrangeas, because, well, I'm actually starting to like them for the first time.  I never saw what all the hubbub was about.  The bushes are big awkward things with poufy clusters of tiny flowers that, on their own would be nothing to speak of.  I was recommended hydrangeas by the florist who did my wedding bouquet and I was horrified by the idea.  I'm still glad I didn't take her advice, but I AM warming up to this southern favorite.
I came across a lovely blog and particularly this lovely post and beauty like this is just begging to be shared.  I won't spoil it by trying to describe it, but let's just say that my warming up to the hydrangea may have just bloomed into love.

Tale of a Tailor

You know those jeans I had tailored?  Well, here's how it went.
I put them on and stood on the little pedestal while the Asian woman pinched and pinned until I was satisfied with the fit in the rear and waist.
She said they'd be ready in a week and cost $25.
They were and they did.
And they are a PERFECT fit!!!  These jeans fit the best of any pair I've ever owned and the little yellow stitches all look exactly the same as if they had never been ripped out and redone.  She even put the tag back in as if it had never been touched.  The only evidence of her work is a seam line on the waistband in the back, but it's barely noticeable.  I'd say a custom-fit pair of jeans for $30 ain't half bad.  Totally worth shopping for more consignment gems.

Real Simple

This mag is one of my all time faves and I simply cannot get enough of their "New Uses for Old Things" lists. I really wish I could remember all the clever ideas I've read here over the years.
They've done is again with this post on their web site.

A First

I'm going with Chuck to the tailor later this afternoon.  He's getting some suit pants hemmed for his high school reunion and I'm getting some jeans tailored.  I'm hoping to anyway.  I've heard Stacy and Clinton (from the TLC show What Not To Wear) say over and over again, "Get pants that fit your hips and then get them tailored to fit your waist."
I get so frustrated with the lack of "curvy" options out there for women whose waists are smaller than their hips.  You'd think that was every woman, but apparently not.  The majority of pants I try on, especially if they have no stretch to them, gap in the back at the waist.  I suppose these pants must fit somebody, but not my body.  I happen to know a few other girls with this same issue and then there's all the African American women out there who must also have this problem.  They must!  I see them with their belts on, walking around the mall, and in the back, I can see that there's a pucker in the waistband under the belt.  All that to say that I am not the only one with this problem.
Even Gap's Curvy fit doesn't really work for me.  Old Navy's Sweetheart fit is the best I've found, but I don't want to be confined to shopping for pants at Old Navy the rest of my life!
So, last week, I bought a pair of Ann Taylor jeans at a consignment shop for $5.  They are too big in the waist and I thought it was the perfect opportunity to see if Stacy and Clinton are right.  I'll let you know in about a week.