As anyone with 3 kids will tell you, you just don’t get out as much, or maybe ever. Last weekend we were actually lucky enough to get invited to go along with some friends to a redneck Christmas party. Not redneck as in “Bubba is having his kin over to the trailer, why don’t y’all come with?” It was actually a nice party thrown by several “inside the beltline” couples. By day they make their appearance as lawyers and CPA’s but by night, they know how to party. Everyone was supposed to come dressed in their best scrunchies and airbrushed t-shirts. They served keg beer, Little Debbie snack cakes and Vienna sausages in a can. At the entrance they decorated with a toilet bowl full of poinsettias. It’s was very well planned out.

When we got there the room was full of mullet wigs and fake tattoos. D and I had a blast putting together our outfits. My friend Sara and I even wore matching scrunchies and light up necklaces. The entire party looked like a scene from My Name is Earl. Here is my Christmas card shot for next years cards…

Please note that At-man is in the background watching a Veggie Tales video in his underwear.

Here is a group shot where the flash didn’t go off but you can really see the beauty of our light up necklaces in this one.

And beyond the excitement it’s back to the usual. Since I am in a picture posting mood, I will leave you with one of Em helping give his baby sister a bath. Awww.

My mom was always good about dragging me out to see Santa. Since I grew up in New York, there was a pretty consistent stream of wild looking characters, and me, usually in tears, in their lap. I will never forget the time Santa was actually a woman, but that is another story entirely.

When At-man was born I considered it mandatory to get the Santa photo. A group of friends met one day in December, all complaining about how their child burst into tears, making it impossible to get “the money shot”. I was full of fear, but somehow At-man was up to the task and worked it like a tiny super model. My first Christmas card of my parenting career was a success.

The following year we were back out at the mall, but could lightning possibly strike twice? Yes, the little guy not only smiled, but he added a royalty style wave as well. I figured I was just lucky to have a kid who liked Santa, and told myself that 2 kids would be different. But It wasn’t at all. Em, following in his brothers footsteps, LOVES Santa. He climbs right onto his lap, all squishy and snuggly. They laugh it up and discuss cookie flavors, like the best of friends.

This year I planned very carefully. At-man is tracked out of school and I kept Em home. They had their flu shot first thing this morning and I chose to use the Santa visit as the proverbial carrot so that they would make nice with the needle. While At-man was a champ, Em’s little feelings were very hurt. He is still too small to understand that mommy only puts them through such tortures so they will not have to endure days of vomiting and chills, so that I will hopefully not have to endure days of their fever and chills. He was pitiful, and I wondered what the hell I was thinking planning the Santa picture on this day.

Most people would simply can the idea, but I, the eternal optimist, held fast. With 3 kids in tow, I had gone through too much planning to back out now. I had D and his mother accompany us to the mall, there was no turning back. We got there with no line and the boys ran ahead before I could grab my hair brush and climbed all over Santa. Mae magically awoke and was too tired to protest when I handed her over to sit between the boys. I got behind the photographer and said “Say Heeley’s” And it was all over.

Now since the inception of digital photography, D is used to me directing every shoot the boys have been in. Many a photographer has cursed my existence, but I care not. It’s my 40.00 and I want what I want. Three shots and that was it. He looked up and said “We’re done? Are you SURE?” And we were. All three kids, awake and pleasant. No one was kicking the fat man, no grabbing or punching. My kids, who spend the better part of every day trying to think up new ways in which to torture one another, all looked good.

So it turns out my mom unknowingly began family tradition. Luckily the boys have yet to encounter a woman in a beard. Thanks Mom!

From the moment I heard the words “It’s a boy!” 6 1/2 years ago I have lived in fear of this day. I have tried to shelter my little one, protect him from a world fraughted with commercialism, but it was all in vain. Only 5 mere minutes ago, on this very spot, At-man said it. No, not the “F” word, not the “S” word either…It was the “P” word. Pokemon.

Can someone please tell me what the hell a Poke Mon is? I am already struggling with Transformers, but at least I get the idea behind them. Robots from space who can transform. No problem. My only problem is keeping the names and personalities straight. If I had a dime for every time I got a name wrong I’d be rich. There is no rhyme or reason to them. OPTIMUS PRIME…and his pal, Bumblebee. Bumblebee? Really? It sounds like a pretty silly name for such an intimidating robot from space, but every time we pass a yellow car on the road I can hear Em yell out from the backseat “IT”S BUMBLEBEE MOM!”.

Another thing I’ve been thinking about is how easy it is to forget what a bizarre world elementary school is. I don’t think any of these people can possibly participate in the real world. They live in a box in the back of their classrooms only to surface each morning striking both fear and laughter into the lives of children everywhere. One teacher has a hairstyle like this
only her face looks like this

Then there is another teacher, a lovely woman who looks like this., only in a skirt. I kid you not. They make me think back to my 1st grade teacher who’s left boob hung about 5 inches farther down than her right. So much so that 6 year olds actually took notice. Or my 4th grade teacher who’s face looked like leather and always had her wig on crooked.

I wonder if they actually recruit teachers this way, wondering through the supermarket looking for anyone with a horrific facial mole, or an incredibly outdated hairstyle. Now don’t get mad at me for saying this, I love me some teachers. Anyone with enough patience to stay in a room full of children under 10 for crappy pay has my utmost respect. But you have to admit it’s quite a coincidence to see so many characters under one roof. At-man’s teacher is actually a hottie. He is always wanting to color in pictures for her, bring her gifts. It’s really sweet. I wonder what she makes of her co-workers.

In other news, we took the boys to church for the first time ever today. No the building did not burst into flames upon our arrival, thank you very much. There has been a bit too much of the “gimmies” going on this holiday season and even though D and I aren’t overtly religious people I do think it will be a good thing for the kids to experience. This way they can have all the facts and when they get older they can decide for themselves, having the benefit of experience. Em liked it because they gave him a donut. At-man liked it because he got to go to Sunday school with his best friend, even without the donut.

We went to a contemporary service which was different. I have always been partial to formality when having the “fear of god” driven into me, but here you can wear jeans and drink coffee right there in the service. There was a “rock band” which was cute. I was scared they would be like Stryper or Jars of Clay or something. They basically just sang regular hymns but with a guitar and drums instead of a pipe organ. I am hoping to have a religious epiphany, but if that doesn’t happen at least it keeps me from going overboard at Target on Sunday mornings. I think it will happen though. Why not right? I gotta have faith…queue George Micheal here.

Finally, a picture. Apparently we don’t have enough children, they have decided to recruit others into the fold. Here is At-man, Em, Mae and their cousin Chloe on Thanksgiving