My Grown-Up Christmas List

I love Christmas! My house is oozing Christmas. The stockings are literally hung by the fire. The tree is up. Christmas music is blaring from the radio and our front yard is filled with twinkling lights. Isn’t it grand!


As I was cleaning my house this morning, the song Grown-Up Christmas List by Amy Grant came on. I have to be honest here, while I appreciate what the song is trying to convey, it’s a bit cheesy. I do realize that I don’t represent the general public in that sentiment. Also, I have been accused of being dead inside on more than one occasion. Just sayin’….

But it did get me to thinking (a dangerous pastime I know!) about what I would put on my Christmas list now that I’m impersonating a grown-up. I don’t think Amy Grant would agree, but here it is:

1 – Aerosol Spray-On Diaper Rash Cream. I’m totally sick of using my finger to rub cream on my babies butts. Can someone please invent this!

2 – Drive-Up chocolate suppliers. Hersheys or Mars could set up shop here with a drive-up window where you just pull in, order and snag your bag of goodness as you zip along.

3 – Magic like Mary Poppins. I’ve always wished I could just make crap clean itself up with a snap of my finger! I’m even willing to sing if needed!

4 – A dog potty. This was my daughter’s idea and I like it. No more having to let the dog out, OR clean up his “stuff” if you forget. Flush and done.

5 – My own private jet. I’m not selfish… I’d share with family and friends!

6 – Winning the lottery. Hey, I’d pay tithing on it.

7 – A “Snooze” button for my kids.

8 – A private chef. Make it yummy AND low fat/low carb/latest trend. It would be so awesome!

9 – That my kids would be interested in quality programming rather than Dora the Explorer and other such mind numbing stuff. Or, at least have their TV show characters not have gratingly high voices! I’m not picky!

And finally…

10 – Magic cubes full of weapons like on Mario Kart. So when you’re driving and people are being dorks you can hit a cube, get a weapon and launch that sucker outta here.

I am realistic enough to know that none of these things will happen. But, that didn’t stop Amy Grant from writing her sappy song about things that will ALSO never really happen. After all, she knew what we all know deep down… if a girl can’t have hope, she’s got nothing.

Poppin' Pills

I, not unlike the rest of Davis County, have been ill this week. It started as a regular run-of-the-mill cold. However, as the days have passed the cold hasn’t been improving… and panic has set in.

If you’ll call upon your memory banks, you’ll remember that I’m supposed to be singing my first ever solo next week. That’s right. NEXT WEEK! This knowledge has added immensely to my desperation to be over this cold.

I don’t like going to the doctor for a variety of reasons. For one thing, it’s such a gamble. There’s no middle ground here. You have two optional outcomes:

A – You are in fact ill and it was a good thing you came in. Or…
B - You’ve got a bad case of the sniffles and shouldn’t have wasted the time of the entire office staff by taking up space reserved for actual sick people.

Every time I get sick I go through the delicate “Do I Go” dance in my mind. I practically write a pro vs. con list. This morning I went so far as to Google “Sinus Infection vs. Cold” in an effort to more thoroughly prepare myself.

In the end, the desperation won. I needed healing and since my pharmacist sister-in-law refuses to break the law and just slip me some penicillin, I was forced to take that gamble and go.

Immediately upon arriving I used my superior skills of observation to take in the 6 people already waiting. It didn’t look good. We all know that one person waiting is equal to about 30 minutes of wait time. The first thing the receptionist said to me was, “Just so you know, you’re looking at a wait time of about 90 minutes.”

I almost said, “Well, just so you know this sinus infection will probably be here for another 90 minutes, so I guess I’ll wait.” Instead I gave her this zippy reply, “Well, 90 minutes with a Reader’s Digest and no kids sounds like heaven to me. I’ll wait.”

Tip: Being nice to the office staff keeps them from giving unnecessary shots!

Lucky for me there were some serious pansies out there who couldn’t hack the 90 minute wait. The nurses came out about 3 times and called names of ship-jumpers who had left. Suckers. Who pays a co-pay only to leave? I guess we all know that they weren’t REALLY ill or they’d have hung in there. Also, I feel like I should mention that I wish I was rich enough to just throw co-pays around willy-nilly like that!

My time came after only about 20 minutes. It’s a Thanksgiving miracle!

I exchanged some witty banter with the nurse and casually mentioned that my husband works for IHC and runs the payroll. (he he he). This scored me a sprite and a stack of the good magazines that she hunted up from other rooms rather than making me read something about hockey and crotch scratching. Heaven.

Then, she made me undress from the waist up and wear a robe. This is another area in which I’m confused. Last I checked a sinus infection is in your nasal passages… which are located above the neck. Not sure how nudity from the waist up is going to assist in diagnoses. But, again, we’re back to the sharp objects threat and so I did as she bade.

Now comes the truly confusing part. A doctor came in, looked in my ears, up my nose, in my throat, listened to my breathing and … asked what I use for birth control. Why is this important?

Is there a risk of my sinuses becoming pregnant?

Is this any of his business? Maybe I use abstinence… I am married after all ;) (that was for my hubby)

So, he suggested I use a nasal spray decongestant and then said he was sorry to say that it sounded like I just had a lot of nasal congestion.

I prepared to hang my head in shame for my waste of space…

But wait…

Then he said, “I’ll be writing your prescription at the nurses’ station. Get dressed and come on out.”

Did anyone else get lost there? So, do I, or do I not have an infection?

At the nurses’ station I picked up my prescription for amoxicillin and went on my merry way. I still have no idea if I’m really sick or not… but I have drugs and I’m going to take them.

P.S. I feel that I should end here with a fun-killing disclaimer. I'm not medically trained. I'm sure there are reasons for all questions asked by doctor's. Also,I wasn't trying to bribe special treatment by mentioning my husband's work. Okay, I thought it was funny... so maybe I was. Just sayin'...

When I Grow Up...

There comes a time in everyone’s life when you begin to dream of your future. What will you do? Will you go to college? Will you marry and raise a family? Will you have a career?

As a parent you don’t want to put too much pressure on your kids. The “PC” thing to do is to gently push them, but accept whatever decisions they make. This has been one thing I have not struggled with as a mother. I’m very good at not being pushy and forcing success. After all, I’m pretty mediocre and I’m doing just fine!! Besides, who needs the added stress of overachieving when it’s stressful enough to keep them from fighting in the backseat!

Moving on…

The other day while visiting my parents, Eliana announced that she wants to be a librarian when she grows up. She loves books and reading and wants to work around them. Fantastic. (Score one for me… she loves to read!)

My dad replied, “Sorry Els, but I don't think you can be a librarian! You’re much too pretty.” It was a nice Grandpa moment… completely lost on Eliana who doesn’t yet understand the stereotype of matronly spinsters brandishing the checkout stamp.

Cadence, not one to be left out of the fun, said, “Hey guys, guess what I want to be when I grow up?” We bit. “A shepherd!”

HUH?

It was one of those situations that I dread. You know ‘em. The times when your kids (or anyone for that matter) crack you up beyond belief, but they are being serious and you can’t laugh or they start crying. If it’s possible to expire from silent laughter, my parents and I about did.

“Uh, Cadie, do you know what a shepherd does?” I giggled.

“Sure. They take care of sheep. I can’t wait to take care of those sheep” she replied, completely seriously, not even taking her eyes of the page she was coloring.

“Sheep poop a lot Cadence.” Eliana mentioned helpfully. (She’s practicing being a helpful resource!)

“I know.” Cadence shrugged.

I have no idea where this shepherd thing came from. We haven’t decorated for Christmas yet. We haven’t really even begun discussing Christmas yet – aside from the occasional Santa threat that I’ve been happy to dust off and throw out again. She doesn’t know any shepherds, and I’m pretty sure PBS hasn’t been putting shepherd shows in it’s TV line-up.

I told my brother about it, and his laughter-ridden reply was, “Where the crap does she come up with this stuff?”

Well, she certainly didn’t get it from me… I wanted to work at McDonald’s!!

Tis the Season

Most people refer to the months of November and December as “The Holiday Season”. Not so for us. For us, those two months comprise “The Birthday Season”. Between the Hadley and Ridges families, there are 10 birthdays in those two months.

Perhaps you would find that number more dramatic if I tell you that there are only 25 people that make up those two families. This means that almost HALF of our birthdays are in those two short months.

So this year, as the birthday season is in full swing, I am sending a petition out to my family members. Please… make it stop! I am begging you to use two, three… heck FOUR… forms of birth control to prevent this from continuing to snowball.

In an attempt to clear things up for those of you still in the “birthing years”, here are the months in which you absolutely MUST not conceive. February and March. Those months are completely out. Yes, I know that this may ruin some of your romantic plans for Valentine’s Day. Sorry. I don’t know what else to say. You’re just going to have to face the reality that sometimes we sacrifice for the common good! I might add that post-children you won’t be having any fun on Valentine’s Day anyway….

Other months that you may want to avoid in order to keep a firm buffer zone would be January and April. No “cold winter nights”! Buy a nice electric blanket and a body pillow!! As far as celebrating Easter goes… well… the Easter Bunny will just have to leave you some nice ice-chips or something for Easter, because it isn’t worth the risk.

That said, to those of you who have birthdays during these months: Please don’t think I wish you’d never been born. That would just be mean – and I try to reserve those types of sentiments for cashiers at Walmart who think I want to know their whole life story.

I will admit that having all of these birthdays does add to the giddy feeling of the holidays. There are some more concrete bonuses as well:

1 - I am a huge fan of being able to engage in extra shopping during this celebratory time without my hubby throwing a fit.
2 - We don't have to plan a family Christmas party because we are already seeing each other weekly.

3 - I can skimp on your Christmas gifts because I just gave you a birthday present... oops... did that slip?

4 - There is an endless supply of helium to be sucked and Chipmunk Christmas songs to be sung.

In keeping with my weak reslove to not be the biggest hypocrite in America, I will take responsibility for the two birthdays that I contribute to the season. Although, technically Steve’s birthday is not my bad. So, I guess one birthday.

As we embark on yet another year of back-to-back celebrations, I am looking forward to one more season of failed attempts at dieting.

Let the cake and ice-cream binge-fest begin.

P.S. Happy 6th Birthday to my sweet Eliana on November 14th. Love you Button!

Bushel-less

Directly prior to my career as a stay-at-home mom (SAHM for you techies), I had an illustrious job as an executive secretary. I don’t think I was exactly the BEST secretary ever, but I like to think that I contributed to the atmosphere of the place.

A couple of years into that job it became a joke amongst those I “assisted” that I should post a list of services I DID provide rather than a list of services I DIDN’T provide: the joke being, obviously, that my list of provided services was much shorter .

It was from these humble beginnings that my life-long mantra was formed.

Keep Expectations Low

I’ve become quite skilled at keeping my talents tucked snugly under that comfy little bushel!! If you don’t broadcast your list of skills, then chances are you won’t have to use them!! Unfortunately, they do have a way of eventually sneaking out. But, hopefully you’ll have been sitting comfortably on the sidelines for a while before this happens.

A few months ago my team-teacher in primary asked how I felt about singing as part of our sharing time presentation. I said that’d be fine. I’ve spent my entire life singing, so it wasn’t a biggie to me. HOWEVER, in keeping expectations low, I’ve always been a member of the choir, contributed in a SMALL way and gone merrily along. This time I was bamboozled. I ended up doing a solo.

No biggie right?! It was just in front of a few primary kids and their teachers. Afterwards a couple of people asked if I’d like to join the ward choir, but I chalked it up to mandatory recruitment efforts - kind of like musical missionary work. I successfully dodged them and crawled back under that bushel.

Fast forward to last week. I’m also on the committee formally known as Enrichment and they were having a planning meeting for the annual Christmas Dinner. I didn’t make it to the meeting. I told them to just assign me something – after all, I have no skills of my own and can just help out whoever needs me (wink, wink) !! What’s the worst that can happen? Clean-up? Baking some potatoes?

How about making your singing debut in front of the entire Relief Society by performing a solo?

My bushel has been ripped off, and I’ve been asked to let my light shine. Uh… scary!! This goes directly against my mantra!

After I hung up the phone I walked, in a state of shock, past my fridge and happened to notice a magnet I have hanging on it. It says “Put on your big girl panties and deal with it!”

That got me thinking. Maybe, just maybe, after 31 years of hiding under a bushel, it’s time for me to put on my big girl panties and do something.

I may soil those big girl panties of mine. But I’m going to do it. (Right after I finish egging the house of whoever told the committee that I sing!)

That said, I can’t help hoping that Steve will keep the bushel nice and warm for me to crawl back under when it’s all over.

Dashed Hopes

I’ve tried to let it go. I’ve tried to move on. But, it’s been a week since Halloween and I’m still perturbed by it.

And what is it?

Well, as has been proven time and time again, I’m not exactly a gem of a parent. I do my best – when I’m in the mood – and just hope that things will eventually work out and I’m not raising a bunch of serial killers or people that will never move out on their own.

However, there is one shining star amid the gray cloud that is my children’s life. I feel like they’ve been well-versed from infancy in the value of ice-cream, chocolate, soda pop, donuts etc.

Enter Halloween: Everyone says that “kids these days” have a sense of entitlement, don’t like to work hard and just want things handed to them on a silver platter. One would think that Halloween was the holiday meant for this generation. With little to no effort you are gifted bag after bag of candy and everyone ooh’s and aah’s over your costume choice. Heck, you could cut a hole in a garbage bag, put it over your head and STILL get complimented and thrown a candy bar.





And herein lays my disappointment. My girls were pansies. About two doors into the trick-or-treating Cadence announced that it’s boring.

Come again? What, pray tell, is BORING about knocking on a door and being handed candy? Seriously!? I do not get it.

Would I let her give up? NO WAY!! Her costume cost me about $20 and so I figured she’d better fill her bag with about $20 worth of “free” candy in order to break even. I marched those girls for about a block and half before finally giving up. They out-whined me.

I skulked home totally disappointed. Where did I go so wrong? Where is their stamina, their work ethic? What happened to those little girls that’ll do anything for a smartie?

They left me with no choice. Their insurection couldn't go unpunished! After they went to bed I sorted through their bags and took out all the good stuff - Reese’s, Snickers, Kit Kats, 3 Musketeers, Twix - and left them all the other stuff. They clearly don’t understand the value of hard work and its rewards.

Amid the many lessons I’ve learned in my years of parenting, one stood out vividly that night.

Do not cast pearls before swine!!

Refuse Refuge

There comes a time in everyone’s life when you just need a place to go to be alone.

Perhaps you’ve had a rough day.

Perhaps you need some time to reflect on life and its deeper meaning.

Perhaps you have a plastic cone around your head and can no longer defend yourself against the children due to your lack of peripheral vision.

Luckily for Jasper (our chihuahua) he has found such a place. A place where he can rest and attempt to recover from his “little surgery”. A place where no one willingly follows. A place where he can relax in the warm rays of the sun and reflect on his lost manhood.




I present to you – the compost pile. Hey, don’t judge. One human's refuse is another chihuahua’s refuge.

And in times like these, you take what you can get.