Down with Celebrity Tonsil Hockey

Something you may not know about me is that I'm a sucker for celebrity gossip. I read the headlines on all the trashy magazines in the supermarket line. Of course I pretend that I'm fascinated by the recipe for the perfect holiday turkey or I'm admiring Cheryl Johnson from Milwaukee who walked off 20 pounds in 4 weeks. But really I'm intrigued by where Jennifer Aniston is spending the holiday and what Nicole Kidman is wearing. I really really wish I was above all the celebrity smut. But show me a headline about the trainwreck that is Britney Spears (and apparently her little sister) and I'm hooked. This is how I discovered that celebrities have apparently bought themselves a pass that exempts them from the time honored guidelines against PDA. Apparently, anytime someone with so much as a brush of fame goes out to dinner or a club, they must engage in a public make out session. Do they feel that because they happen to be better looking than the average Joe schmo that others might actually enjoy their display. Honestly, I don't care if it's Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie (let alone one of the Olsen twins and Lance Armstrong. . .YUCK!), I don't want to see you making out while I'm trying to eat my dinner. And honestly now, you're thinking, "Mary, what are the chances that you will ever be trying to eat your dinner anywhere near Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie?" Well, I'll just say, you never know. And I AM going to be in New York over New Year's, and I may just encounter some PDA prone celebrities. And if I do, don't worry. . .I'll be sure to snap a picture before I turn my head in disgust.

To Know or Not to Know

Here is an annual debate that I need you to weigh in on. Would you rather tell someone what you want as a gift, and then know that you are getting something you want/need/crave? Or would you rather have someone pick out a gift on his or her own and then run the risk of getting something you would never want or need. Is the surprise factor really worth it?

An Ordinary Christmas

I've been thinking a lot about how grumpy I sounded in my tag post and I'm going to try to make up for it. This last week my sister found her 8 year old son in his bed, not breathing and without a pulse. A week later he is at home, recovering, yet alive. Without going into all the harrowing details, she and her husband lived through every parent's nightmare and survived. As I talked to her yesterday, she told me that the other night she and her husband went to Walmart to pick up a few things for Christmas, while my mom was at home with her kids. She described the store as packed, the kind of crazy busy that makes most people on a good day want to run straight for a Diet Coke and then bed. She said they were standing in a aisle staring at shaving cream or something for 15 minutes, just dazed from a lack of sleep and emotional weariness. But as she and her husband talked, they realized what a blessing it was for them to even be at Walmart. They were at Walmart doing something entirely mundane, a simple errand that some of us might gripe about. But they were grateful to be doing something ordinary when the alternative might have been suffering for the loss of a child. It meant life was ordinary, not tragic. Sometimes I feel like I'm stuck living a mormon mommy's version of the movie Groundhog Day. But it's a day filled with insignificant, ordinary, and yet magical moments. I love waking up in the same bed, looking at the same man I've seen for the past 6 1/2 years. I love pouring cereal or making pancakes for breakfast every morning. I love that every time I leave my house or return, I get smothered in sloppy kisses and bear hugs from my daughters. After catching a glimpse this week of the alternative, I'm going to commit myself to loving every ordinary moment this Christmas brings rather than wasting time wishing my life was something more than it is. Merry Christmas!

Real Tears

A few nights ago all of us were playing on Grace's bed with little plastic Polly Pocket like dolls. Some of these are Disney characters, I think Cinderella and Belle. After we had dressed our dolls we started to act out little scenes. Grace was Belle and she "got in a fight" with Cinderella. She started to act out that Belle was sad and started to fake cry because of the fight. We all carried out this scene for a little while until Mary looks over at Grace and asks "Grace are you really crying?" We all look over at Grace and she has tears in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. I mean what kind of acting skills at the age of 4 does it take to really cry during a fight scene between Cinderella and Belle?

Power of Example

So a week or so ago I was standing in the kitchen talking with Mary and holding the newspaper in my hand. Grace walks up to me, grabs my hand, and says "come on Daddy." I'm not quite sure what she has in mind. Leading me by the hand she leads me into my room stops and looks up at me. Mary followed because she was interested in what Grace was doing. So we're in our room and Grace sits down. Now I'm really confused as to what she is doing so I ask her "what do you want Grace?" She looks up at me, (remember I'm standing there, still holding the newspaper in my hand) and says "daddy go to the bathroom." It took me and Mary about .3 seconds to realized that Grace has learned to associate newspaper and me with the bathroom.

I'm with the girls this morning and I'm taking care of things while Mary is out exercising. I was in the kitchen and I hear Emme in the bathroom taking care of business. I walk around the corner and this is what I see.

So I guess not only has Grace learned how to associate reading with going to the bathroom, but Emme has as well. It's a wonder that there were any literate societies before indoor plumbing.

The Tag Post

I've been tagged. I don't know what that means exactly. The best I can figure out is that I'm supposed to write about myself. So that's your warning. This post is all about me:

I Don't Like
Businesses that try to be cute by playing on words that start with K and C. Usually I refuse to do business there because I don't want to fund their obnoxiousness. This past week I made an exception for Kiddie Kandids but it was hard. I'm not kidding here. I really really really really hate it. It's so stupid! Like we're supposed to be impressed with the clever person who realized that K and C sometimes make the same sound so won't it be cute and clever if we use them incorrectly!! ARGH!!!

People who don't return their shopping carts properly. They remind me of children who don't clean up their toys or clear their plates. It's an act of complete self-centeredness. . .I just can't be bothered to walk the extra 5-15 feet all the way to the cart return, so I'm just going to leave my cart in the middle of the parking lot for other customers to deal with. ARGH!!!

Improper use of apostrophes. I know I'm a grammar nerd, but come on folks. Apostrophes are not rocket science. Any functioning human being can learn what apostrophes do and what they don't do. For example: Apostrophes do not make words plural. So when you see a sign that says "Condo's for sale!" or you receive a gift that says "To the Scoresby's from the Jones'" just stop and think for a second. Apostrophes have their hands full making words possessive (Jon's book)and taking the place of letters in contractions (I can not-I can't) and they just can't make words plural!!!!!! Just a hint: If you're sending out Christmas letters and you're not sure how to make last name plural, just write "To the ----- family." But just for future reference "To the Scoresbys from the Joneses" is correct.

Overall this has been a very grumpy post. I'm going to blame that on Emmeline who doesn't sleep and turns us all into grumps. I'll try to finish when we're all feeling a bit more chipper.