Like sand through the hourglass, so are the Days of our Lives

Courtney and I recently took a special "Girls Only" trip to TJ Maxx in search of desk accessories to outfit her "new" Big Girl Desk passed on to her from a dear friend. I envisioned the two of us picking out Vera Bradley-like printed pencil cups, dainty wooden boxes embellished with eyelet cut outs for important papers, cutesy paper clips in the shapes of butterflies...WRONG. Here is what happens when I "envision".

Within a minute of stepping through the store's automatic doors, she set her eyes on a giant "hour glass" filled with neon pink sand. She stood in front of the shelf that displayed 15-20 tacky hour glasses, each a different shape and each filled with different neon colored sand, mesmerized by the falling granules and the designs they made as they landed on the pile.

"This is EXACTLY what I need for my desk."

I tried to sway her. "Look at these super cute notepads in floral tins..."

"The sand is SO pink."

She didn't flinch. I browsed the surrounding aisles and came back with ammunition. "You can have TWO packages of these file folders with Batik designs..."

"The glass is SO smooth."

She still had not moved, fixated on the bottom half where the sand collected. I dug deep...it was time for the big guns. "That looks like it would break easily and then you would be very, very sad."

(read in a trance-like voice of a 6 year old) "I will take SUCH good care of it."

I pulled out all the stops. "That is a very expensive hour glass. With the money you would spend to buy that, you could get this ENTIRE set of fabric covered trays with individual compartments to hold pretty pink paper clips and other shiny desk 'must haves' that I can not name right now BECAUSE I AM SO FLUSTERED BY YOUR UNINTERRUPTED STARE AT THAT DAMN DUST COLLECTOR."

"Every morning I could flip it over and watch to see if the sand makes a different design. I bet the sand is just like people...there are a lot of them and they can sorta look the same, but they are all really different if you look REALLY close."

SOLD.

The past few mornings I have peeked in her room bright and early and this is what I've watched her doing.

I am almost positive, unless a bus-load of 6 year olds girls arrived at the store since we left, that there are still 14 of these gems remaining on that same shelf. If you look closely, they are all just a little bit different.

I am DEFINITELY the misled one

I know that as a parent you are not supposed to attach labels to your kids like "the good one" or "the smart one", but as long as you don't say them out loud (too many times in a 24 hour period) AND you change them up frequently (remember, February 29th comes around "frequently"), I choose not to beat myself up when I take the parental liberty to smack a hypothetical sticky note label right in the hypothetical dead center of one of my children's foreheads. It is always JUST AFTER I make a comment to my husband like, "Christopher is DEFINITELY the athletic one" that the child comes through the back door with a bloody nose, gum stuck to his elbow, and screaming, "THEY SHOULD MAKE IT EASIER TO CHEW GUM WHILE A PERSON IS WALKING!"

Tonight at dinner Courtney made a few ever-so-endearing compliments to her brother and even made a point to say how yummy a truly not so yummy dinner was. After she left the table, I casually (CRITICAL ERROR) made the comment to Mark, "She is DEFINITELY the sweet one." Not more than ten minutes later, her father sat down at the piano with her to help her practice through a new and tricky piece of music when I hear:

Mark: Courtney, start the piece over from the beginning and try to keep a steady

beat this time.

Courtney: I am not in the mood, Dude.

She is DEFINITELY the fresh one.

A tutu the ballerina does not make

Heard being yelled from the top of the stairs:

"HEY GUYS! HERE COMES THE ONE WEARING THE TUTU DOWN THE STAIRS!"

(pause for 2 seconds)

THUMP. BUMP. SLAM.

(pause for 5 seconds, some deep breaths and some knee brushing off)

"HEY GUYS! HERE COMES THE ONE WEARING THE TUTU DOWN HALF THE STAIRS!"

Apparently even the power of the tutu is no match for your mother's ungraceful DNA. Sorry Courts.

Same Page, Two Different Books

Every once in a great while, my husband still amazes me. Just when I think I have heard it all, along comes something that tops the previous "I Can't Make This Stuff Up" conversation winner.

We have recently been kicking around the idea of taking our kids to Dante's 10th (and final) Circle of Hell. You know, the place where everyone whistles while they work (at not clawing their eyes out while in line for 2 hours) and seeing a "hidden Mickey" in the puddle of barf outside Space Mountain is all part of The Magic. Not wanting to get their hopes up, we have not mentioned the possibility of an upcoming trip to either child, unless you count the time I slipped up in desperation by screaming, "YA KNOW, WALT DISNEY WATCHES KIDS JUST LIKE SANTA, SO I GUESS WE ALL KNOW WHY WE HAVE NEVER BEEN TO THE MOST MAGICAL PLACE ON EARTH!"

While on school vacation last week, the four of us packed up the van and started off on an overnight road trip. Here is the conversation that ensued (about 10 miles into the 200 mile trip) between Mark and I while both kids were just approximately 2 feet behind us in the middle row.

Me (while driving): Hey co-pilot, keep your eyes open for a Barnes & Nobles.

Co-pilot: What? Why? I thought we were on a road trip, not a shopping expedition.

Me: If we pass a Barnes & Nobles, I just want to quickly stop in so I can get a book about the...eh...um...(whispered softly)...The BIG D.

Him: On vacation?!?! REALLY???

Me: I will be quick, I'll just run in. I know exactly where they are in the store.

Him: YOU'VE LOOKED AT THEM BEFORE???

Me (whispered): Shhhh....big ears in the back seat. And yes, I've spent a lot of time in that section of the bookstore looking through them.

Him: And you REALLY think that this is good timing, while on vacation together?

Me: Sure. What's wrong with planning for the next step?

Him: WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT???? WHERE DO I START?!?!?!

Me (whispered): JESUS, lower your voice, BIG EARS IN THE BACK SEAT. Anyway, it's going to come before we know it and I would just like to be prepared.

Him (through gritted teeth): Oh, you'll NEVER be prepared.

Me: Which is why I want to stop at Barnes & Nobles and get the book.

Him: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! WHILE WE'RE ON VACATION AS A FAMILY?!?!

Me: Calm down. You know I am a planner. I like to make a plan just to make a plan. How long are we going to be married before you figure that out.

Him: Apparently not long enough.

Me: Huh?

Him (in hushed tones): If you REALLY HAVE TO HAVE a book about 'The Big D' this very day, then fine. We'll stop and you can get your book and you can plan away.

Me: Thanks. That's all I am asking for.

Him (in lower hushed tones): Pffft. Yeah, right. I am sure you'll be asking for much more than just a book.

Me: Maybe a coffee too.

Him: And three-fourths of everything.

Me: Huh?

Him (from up on his high horse looking down): Buying a book and planning your divorce while on a road trip with your family is not what I would exactly call a "good idea", Tracy.

Me: Hmmm. Now that makes TWO books I need at Barnes & Nobles.

I tell ya, he still amazes me. I can't make this stuff up.

Tradition, Tradition! (must sing title)

In our household if you do something once, it is officially a "tradition". My kids love their traditions and these traditions somehow never seem to slip through their steel trap memories. There are good ones, as in, "We HAVE to decorate a bush with edible ornaments for the woodlawn creatures TODAY. It's our Christmas tradition. We ALWAYS do it 6 days after we hang the wreath and one day before the first snow" (this being said the year after we did this for the first time.) There are not so good ones, as in, "Augh Mom, you always seem to get really sick the day you say you will bring us to the Traveling Tetanus Fair that comes to town and sets up in the big parking lot. It's a bad tradition."

There is a tradition for every holiday, birthday, and third Thursday in our house. And then there is the Grand Supreme of all traditions. The Open Heart Surgery Performed With A Dull Scalpel and No Anesthesia of traditions.

School Vacation Craft Day.

It has become a tradition that we reserve one day of every school break for Vacation Craft Day.

In theory the day goes like this:

"Kids, go get all those fun, educational, creative Make Your Own kits you were given for Christmas/your birthday/sweet revenge for your mother being a not so nice sister growing up and we'll spend the entire day crafting. We'll weave. We'll paint. We'll make memories of togetherness and joy while creating a birdhouse from pipe cleaners and googley eyes."

"Okay Mommy. I love how you are so patient and kind on Vacation Craft Day and to think, we get a new set of pot holders out of the day too. This is the best tradition ever."

In my nightmares it goes like this:

"Step #652 of How To Make Your Own Paper Dolls Out Of Recycled Paper Plates says to TEAR the tabs, not to CUT the tabs. STOP CUTTING! PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN! TEAR, DON'T CUT! SCISSORS. DOWN. 1, 2...JESUS CHRIST ARE YOU KIDDING ME? GO FIND THE TAPE."

In reality, it is somewhere in between.

Vacation Craft Day usually starts out quite well. Then I wake up and it takes an immediate turn for the worse. This vacation's traditional day did not disappoint.

I will admit that I did not think that we could top last Vacation's Craft Day, the day we made paper...FROM FRIGGIN' SCRATCH. Yes, you read that correctly. We took perfectly good paper (lots of it), spent 4+ hours ripping it to tiny shreds, burnt out the motor in our blender turning it into pulp, and then built, FROM FRIGGIN' SCRATCH, a mold of wood and fiberglass screening. Prisoners of war would have opted for any other inhumane torture technique rather than endure a second Paper Making Vacation Craft Day with us. And by hour #7, I was fantasizing about Guantanamo Bay. The only upside to that day was that, with making paper being such a monumental task, it was the only task on the docket.

(In case the validity of this post was starting to be questioned,

here is evidence from last Vacation Craft Day.)

This time I couldn't be so lucky. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good craft. Maybe even two. I find it relaxing to create a sweet card or to dream up a DIY party favor and then make it from scratch. It is not the crafting that does us all in on these days. And it is definitely not the company either. There is just something in the design of the day, something that I can't put my finger on, that makes it the perfect storm of Crafting Hell. Ask any of the participants, "How was Vacation Craft Day?" and I'm sure you'll get the same answer. "It was okay, but it's a tradition."

Here is a photo recap of 2012 February Vacation Craft Day.

A little painting.

A little building.

A little attempt at time lapse photography of the science behind baking.

A little butcher knife in the background.

A little homemade pretzel making.

A little attempt at passing off "matching socks" as a craft. They didn't buy it.

A little bit proud of herself. Love those lips, Sleeping Beauty.

A little Lego satisfaction.

A little bit of digital shoplifting. (Is it really THAT wrong to take a picture of the one and only recipe you want from the book instead of buying the entire cookbook?) Doesn't the (stolen) picture make those super cute Band-Aid Cookies look easy?!?!

A little karma for not buying the cookbook.

A little tradition of my own to wrap up another successful Vacation Craft Day.

Change of plans

Cleaning closets was on today's agenda. We got this far...

...before we took a much needed break...

...and by "break" I mean, "a complete abandoning of the day's agenda."

S'mores, sledding jumps, and JiffyPop...it was the right decision, hands up.