Little Miss and Taking Down the Tree

I was recently called "a rock star" as a mother when it came to teaching my kids to do things on their own.  They were in the "zipper club" at school because they could get their snowsuits on by themselves, they've made their own lunches since kindergarten, they can make their own breakfast and now they are learning to use the stove (with supervision).

I admit I am a bit scary to some children, when I ask them how they help their mommies.  One little one hid behind her mommy's legs as if to say, "you can't change me!"

One reason my kids are like this is because I had too much to do with running a business and the home.  I taught them to do the things like getting their snowsuits on, getting dressed, even peeling potatoes, slicing the cheese, husking corn and getting down the crackers for snack.  Things they could do so I could get the bigger things done, while also giving them self confidence at the same time.

But most of it has to do with Mr. Man.  It is ingrained in him to do stuff.  My son always comments about it. "What's dad doing now?" or "When is he going to stop?"  Plus they see him with his cape on, saving the neighbourhood from a snowstorm, or cleaning up some mess I've made.  What.a.keener.

There is a certain craziness to the intensity they feel to impress and please him in any way.  "Let's do something so daddy is really happy when he comes home!" I hear. "What else can we do to make him happy?" or "Daddy likes that, let's do it!" Good grief. A whole bunch of keeners.

So when the first day of school after Christmas became a snow day and I had to cancel my plans, I thought it would be the perfect job for them to take down the Christmas decorations for me.  I know I'd left them up a bit longer than usual, much to Mr.'s dislike, so it was a good idea.

I just milked the whole "Daddy will love it" scheme, and knew it would get done.

Boy, did it ever.

Little Miss immediately took over.  The tree, the lights, the boxes, everything.  She knew how it was to be done, and everyone had to listen.  

Very quickly her brother and I found something else to do.

After a few hours, she had it all packed up, I'd had to help her get the Christmas tree lights down which is not a story I will repeat, and we put it all away in the basement.

My son thought it would be helpful to take the tree right out of the house for his dad.  This is usually Mr.'s job but we thought we could do it with the right plan.

The Plan:

• knock the tree over
• grab it by the stand
• drag it down the hall and out the door
• take the stand off outside
• leave the tree outside.

And so we did it.  Unfortunately, there was water in the stand so it poured out all over the living room and hallway.  The tree was quite dry and most of the needles fell off onto the hallway floor, and down the vents.  The wind was so strong it almost sent the tree flying over the retaining wall along with the kids.  And the kids were still in their pyjamas.

BUT I have to say I was extremely impressed with their determination to get it all done.  It was fun, after all, to make a huge mess and to accomplish a "dad" task.  Not only did they get the tree outside and the stand off, but they dragged it to the backyard (Little Miss shrieking instructions all the way) and heaved it over the fence where our numerous trees have gone (no, not the neighbour's yard). It took three tries for the four-foot-tall children to heave the tree over a three-foot fence, and then they climbed over it to push it away.  All in their jammies and heavy mitts.

I didn't dare tell them I would've quit once I got the stand off, and we didn't dare tell their dad about the mess we made.  We'd cleaned it all up anyway.  But Mr. was so impressed that he praised them AND opened his wallet.

Of course, now each morning I find Little Miss cleaning the kitchen, hoping for praise and a little funding.

So, when the kids are old enough, I'll send them over to your house to do some drywall or other crazy task.  Just tell them their dad will be so proud and it will get done.

But expect to provide a little funding...

Excerpts from Christmas 2013

Santa has been and gone, we have a huge stack of wrapping paper, one child is down and out sleeping through lunch and the other is already bored.

Ah, Christmas.  The season of ups and downs, expectations and disappointments, and yet, the warm glow of an electric fireplace and hot cider brings everyone to a calm medium.  The hope of a ridiculously expensive doll and a remote control truck lingers in the air as we watch A Muppet Family Christmas on the macbook pro.

On the night of our church service, when presented with a new dress, Little Miss exclaimed, "Oh, I love you, Mom! I love Christmas! I love church! This is my favourite day!"  Hugging and hugging and more hugging.  She loved this day.

Of course, later, when told no to something unreasonable, she officially "hate[d] this day!"

*****

Christmas Eve night we gathered up the stockings and a plate of cookies for Santa. "Are you sure he will like these cookies?" my son asked.  They were gluten-free after all (and really did taste awful).

"Of course he will!" boasted Mr. Man. I suggested Santa may be gluten-free himself. After dunking them in chocolate and sprinkles, the kids were satisfied with their presentation.

Poor Santa. They still tasted awful.

*****

Early the next morning at 6:30am there was a loud thump on the roof.  I thought it was the dog making noise, Mr. thought it was ice cracking, but the kids were certain it was Santa.

They ran downstairs to discover he had indeed been there, despite the wailing and begging for forgiveness that came from my son a few days before.  He had been certain he would just get coal in his stocking.

"It is God you need forgiveness from," I told the weeping boy,"and your sister. God is bigger than Santa," I said to him.

He cried out, "but I am SO BAD, and I can't help it.  I am always hurting her." And he promptly covered his head with his bed blankets and prayed like I've never heard him pray before.

Two things happened after that.

1. His sister stood her ground upon his next threat.  Her roundhouse caught him in the neck before he had a chance to pummel her, sending him crying to his mommy.  
2. His prayers were answered.  There was indeed no coal.  He received the remote control truck he'd asked for.

I won't mention the tears that came after he drove it down the stairs.  Sigh.

*****

Christmas 2012 had come with a cold so bad, my mother-in-law sent me to bed and I slept through most of the day and the next.  Looking back I realize that was the most stress-free Christmas I have ever had.  So this year I worked hard to stay calm, and on my feet.  Luckily, as I told Mr. Man, "in my family I am the only anal-retentive one.  The rest of them couldn't care less."  So I did not run around spending my hours cleaning the house or cooking turkey.  The kids helped cook and bake, and when two whole eggs dropped on the floor, I managed to keep cool.  Everyone pitched in and brought food - to my surprise - and everything was gluten-free except my Christmas Quiche and mom's Mince Meat Tarts.  Some things are just too good to change. It would be so wrong.

Later, during the flurry of shredded wrapping paper, squeals of delight at the gifts of LEGO, Christmas socks and a case of beer, we all stopped in shock as someone or something thumped down our stairs (not the remote control truck this time).

"I'm okay," said a tiny, three-year-old voice that promptly burst into tears.  You can't have a family gathering without some drama. With magical hugs and soothing words, she was fine, and the flurry of shredded wrapping paper continued with squeals of delight at the gifts of Old Navy sweaters, car seat covers and a bottle of wine.

More tarts, nibblies and coffee, and we were exhausted.

All in all a perfect day.  Everyone got along, we handled the bumps, bruises and tears with patience and love, and no one missed out on anything.  Despite the short time we've known of Little Miss's food intolerances, my family, who love food, had embraced the challenge and came well equipped to keep our seven-year-old happy, fully fed, and pumped up with as much sugar as the rest of them.  It touched my heart.  And my sweet tooth :)

Now that the tree is down and the house seems so empty, I still hold on to that day.  Arguments will come and certainly discontent and self-absorption is just around the corner, but for a few hours, with the gifts of food, thoughtful presents and a huggy family, we know we are capable of pulling it together.  I hope to have many more days like this.

*****

At the end of the day my son went back to driving his remote control truck, and Little Miss sat and stared at her ridiculously expensive, well commercialized doll she'd been asking for all month, and said,

"What am I to DO with it?"

Sigh.

Oh, yes.  The joys of Christmas.

Erin

The Day After Boxing Day

It is boxing day of boxing day.  December 27th.  It is the day life begins again after the excitement and buzz of Christmas.  The presents are opened and all over the room are bits and pieces of transformers, miniature dolls and strips of wrapping paper.  There is leftover turkey and blueberry pie in the fridge, and Mr. Man is back to work dealing with car accidents and Christmas tree fire claims.

Where did it all go?

I grasp at the signs of yesterday: our old dog, exhausted from travel, hunkered over his new dog bed; kids lingering in new pyjamas; the Christmas cactus hanging onto its last blossoms; the piles of Christmas cards and church bulletins with carol hymns carefully typed inside.

Christmas 2012 was delightful.  It was calm, content, and satisfying.  How do I know?  Perhaps because I do not have one single photo to capture the festivities.  I was too busy enjoying the conversation, the joyful faces, and, of course, the food.  The holiday is not complete without mom's mincemeat tarts.  And watching A Muppet Family Christmas.

Perhaps it was because all of Christmas day I was down and out with a terrible cold keeping me from fussing and worrying about everything.  It left me with just enough energy to sit up on the couch to watch and listen.  An unforeseen chance at soaking in Christmas instead of trying to control it.

Perhaps it was because of the horrendous shooting in Newtown, and the deaths of two volunteer firemen in Webster, NY, that I cherished each moment with my children and our extended families.  As much as I wanted the kids to experience the excitement of Santa and needed everyone to get along, the blessings of good health, safety in our travels, and the warmth of a wood stove (don't forget the invention of cough syrup), was certainly enough to say it was a calm and contented Christmas.

In the midst of the evil of this world, and the threat of what could be, on this boxing day of boxing day, I grasp and hold onto the the last few scents and signs of Christmas, and whether or not I have pictures to prove it, know that the Lord has blessed us in all of the ways that matter.

I hope yours was even as half as good as ours.  Many blessings to you.

Erin