25 Days of Christmas (Day 2)

For this installment, I wish to share my favorite Christmas themed movies and television shows. A couple are traditional that all of us as a family (as in myself, my husband and our kids) watch every year.

First up is... "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation".

I don't care how many times I have seen this one, I laugh until I cry EVERY single time that I watch it. You can't get a more dysfunctional and diverse family as the Griswold's. Plus it is nice to see my cousin Mae Questel, who was the ORIGINAL model and voice for Betty Boop as the crazy, "not-all-there" aunt.

Clark really knows how to put on a show of lights for Christmas to!! Especially when it blinds the neighbors and causes a neighborhood-wide power surge.


Next up is... "Home Alone".

This is no ordinary kid. After being left behind when the rest of his family leaves for Christmas vacation, a couple of burglars invade the home in the hopes of getting some goods. Only their enemy, a ten year old boy is proven to be way too smart for the bumbling pair.

Again, no matter how many times that I have watched "Home Alone" (or it's sequel) you just can't NOT laugh at the stupidity of two grown men being outwitted by a little kid with some of the BEST booby traps I have EVER seen made, and not getting killed in the process.


Now, let's move on to... "The Muppet's; A Christmas Carol".

With a kid-friendly twist on the Charles Dickens classic, this would be a family crowd pleaser. If you love the Muppets (I have since they were on the "Muppet Show"), then I can say you will certainly enjoy the antics and comedy that goes in to setting Scrooge straight.


Now for a family tradition.... "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas".

This has been a timeless classic for me to view since I was a small child. Now, I carry along the tradition in my home, with my children. It's one of those times where I share a bit about my mom with my kids and give them a small taste of what my holidays were like with her.

And I swear to you, my youngest, when put in a Santa hat and pink jammies, is a dead ringer for Cindy Lou Who!


Another classic for my time, and more along my enjoyment is... "Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol" (featuring the late George C. Scott).

I'll be the first to admit, I am not the black and white, golden age movies kind of girl. Only a few b&w movies will I watch. And those, I can count on one hand. And as for classics such as Mr. Scott's portrayal of Ebeneezer Scrooge, he ALMOST got ranked with the classics that I really don't care to see.

That is, until my dad forced me to watch it one year as a teen. I loved it from that point on. Sure it started a bit slow. But the acting, the effects (for it's time) and the cast selection, as well as how they screen played the story grabbed me in, and I was hooked for life.

I'm thinking that I am starting to see a trend here...


Last, but most certainly not least, and yet another family show that my kids watch with me every year is... "A Charlie Brown Christmas".

How can you NOT love Charlie Brown's heart, caring and warmth in finding the "perfect" Christmas tree? All of his friends (Linus, Marcy, Peppermint Patty, etc.) all claim that Charlie Brown will do as he always does... screw up.

In the end, yeah, they are kind of correct. He does screw up. He gets the scrawniest, littlest, weakest tree because there were no other "good" trees available on Christmas. But in the end the gang learned a valuable lesson.

Less is more. It's the meaning, not the actual thing that counts. And something ugly can in turn be one of the most beautiful things of all.

So, there ends my Christmas time favorite movies and shows. Feel free to add your list as well to the comments. Or better yet, try jumping in and doing a "25 Days Of Christmas" with me! It's not too late to join in the fun.

See you all tomorrow!

25 Days of Christmas (Day 1)

And so it begins. Time to break out the holly and the lights. Time to place Santa and nativity in the yards.

And also, my first series in the Blogosphere begins. I can only hope that it will make jolly for my readers (with a tear or two trickling down your cheek from time to time).

Today, I'm touching on "Memories of Christmases Past".

When I was little Christmas was a big deal in my home, and within the extended family.

We decorated throughout the house. Hung Mistletoe, garland, lights and such. The tree was decked out in all kinds of ornaments, with any of my school-made-by-hand crafts at the forefront of the tree.

All the neighborhood kids would come over each year to our home for a Christmas Party, and Santa (who changed looks every year) would take gift requests from us children.

Then, we would also visit my Aunt (Mom's sister) and Uncle. Some of my Grandma's sisters would travel to California to spend time with one another and with their nieces and nephews. And there was my cousin Don, who stood at almost seven feet tall. He would hoist me on his shoulders and I could touch my head to the ceiling without even trying or "reaching" for it.

Sadly, pretty much most of them are now dead. Don fell victim to Lou Gehrig's Disease. All of my Great Aunts have passed due to old age or health problems. My Uncle is now gone, thanks to cancer.

But those family gatherings fell apart after my Grandmother's death. And even more so, after Mom's passing. Gone were the days of smiles, love and laughter.

Even in my home. Christmas was never really the same. Much more quiet and reserved. My family is gone now for the most part. All I have left is my Dad. And he is almost 3,000 miles from here.

Sure, I have my husband. I have his side of the family. And yes, we do Christmas big on that end these days. But it's not the same thing. They aren't MY family. Yes, I am "married in" and a part of the family.But still, it doesn't have the same... "meaning" as sharing the love, laughter and holidays, as it does with YOUR family. YOUR loved ones.

So, I am ensuring that the few traditions that my Mom had for me (as an only child) are passed along through me to my kids. Such as the yearly viewing of "How The Grinch Stole Christmas" and "Merry Christmas Charlie Brown". As well as hanging the hand-made ornaments from my kids on the tree.

Plus, I have an ornament (and wish to add to them, seeing as the kids have grown greatly and their tastes have changed) for each of my children of cartoon characters that they enjoyed when little. And of course, I hang their "Baby's First Christmas" ornaments.

When I have grandkids, I hope to pass along the tradition to my kids to do the same.

I may no longer have the family I once did due to several heartbreaking circumstances that plagued us when I was young, but I still have my memories of beautiful Christmas times with my family when we were all happy and loved one another (seemingly) unconditionally.

And no one, family, friend or foe can take those times away from me.

A "Chew It Over With Twix" moment & A Special Memory.

You know kids. They are some of the most free-spirited, care-free people that you will ever meet in this old world.

And believe me when I say that I have three kids that certainly fit the bill. Primarily my youngest, Skyler, who will be turning six years old tomorrow *cries*.

Skyler had decided that last night, Dad's surprise trip to the McDonald's that has a play area was her "Birthday Dinner" (we each get to choose to eat where we wish to for our birthday). So be it. No biggie there.

As Skyler and I sat together in the two-person booth (by her request), while Bryce (her big brother) and Scott (my husband) sat at the table adjacent to us near the middle of the aisle, Skyler and I began a conversation that she started.

The very first thing out of my (soon to be) six year old's mouth is, "Mama, can I drive when I'm ten?". Quickly I replied that driving will not be a skill she will learn until she is sixteen, so she has another ten years to go. To which she stated that this time frame would take "forever".

But then without missing a beat, and with such a straight face, that she would be an awesome Poker player one day, Skyler suddenly blurts out, "Can I have a baby when I'm SIXTEEN?".

I swear that the crickets started chirping. And the look on my face I'm certain was beyond priceless. And in that brief moment, I honestly had the "chew it over with Twix" dude pop in my head with that freaking slogan.

After the shock of hearing that question, I (in what seemed like an eternity) suddenly shot back with, "No! Not until you are AT LEAST eighteen. That's the safety rule".

The gloomiest look came upon her face. And in the aftermath, I honestly had to bite my tongue as to be able to keep a straight face and not laugh manically at what just happened.

Well folks, it doesn't stop there, though. Later on after getting home, I decided to lay on the couch with my (old school) Walkman listening to all kinds of different tunes.

I'd turned to one station where the DJ was talking live to a little boy of maybe ten to twelve years old that had called in with embarrassing stories. And boy dandy was it a good one!

He said that one evening, his mom and he were out doing some Christmas shopping, and in the midst of it all, stopped and bought a couple of Chocolate Ice Cream cones. Afterward, they got back on road along the Interstate.

Suddenly, she felt the urge to go to the bathroom. And I'm not talking tinkling here, people. This woman had to G-O! So, she pulls off the Interstate and goes to (of all places) Kroger (my husband works for the grocery chain).

The little boy says that after getting to the parking lot, his mother jumps out and makes a beeline for Kroger's front doors, only to turn right back around and get back in.

All she says to her son is...

"Too late".

Yes. Your assumption is correct. The woman crapped her pants. So they get back on the freeway and head the rest of the way home.

After listening to this hilarious story unfold, it suddenly sprang to mind of the time when I was about fourteen or fifteen, riding in the car with my dad. We were in fact on the way home from doing some errands. Suddenly, he had the urge to pass gas.

But he knew that if he were to do so, then there would be one hell of a mess to clean up. So, needless to say, being a man in true form, he held it in with all of his might.

But all the holding in the world, even at no more than five minutes away from our house, was going to do. Nope.

Instead, he unwillingly let one rip. And that was all that she wrote. And of course it HAD to be on a cold day where you don't want to roll the windows down.

Next thing I know, my dad is sitting in the driver's seat, squirming like a baby in a car carrier. Then the odor hits me like a slap in the face. I literally must have turned in to Kermit the Frog, because man did I feel ill. And hence, I had to freeze my ass off thanks to needing FRESH air.

I asked my father if he felt better. When I heard the word "no" I about wanted to smack him. That's when he let me know that sadly he didn't make it (at the two minute mark of almost being home). Next thing I know, I'm sitting there almost having an Asthma attack from laughing so hard, that I start crying streams of tears and trying my best to breath.

Every time that my dad asked me to stop, I would only laugh harder. When we got home, he rushed in and showered. I was the lucky sucker (and as my "punishment" according to him for laughing)that got to take his crap-filled, streaked undies (they just HAD TO BE tighty-whities that day) and pants out to the garage and prep them for washing.

To this day, once in a blue moon that memory will hit me and I will just burst out in laughter. Or it comes to me from hearing some other poor soul's tale of incontinence, like it did for me last night.

When my father is long gone, that will be one of the happiest, funniest and most embarrassing moments that I will cherish for the rest of my days. Right next to Skyler's outrageous baby question.

Memoir Monday w/Travis...The Parent Edition.

Got a memorable moment in your life that you wish to share? Then, click on the linky above, grab a button and share it with us with a Memoir Monday post!


Kids. They bring joy to your life. They let you live on, even after you are gone, being that you are a part of them. They give you unconditional love.

But they can be your worst nightmare as well. Attitudes, lying to your face, getting in to the junk food at all hours, waking you up at an ungodly hour of the morning to watch Saturday Morning Cartoons..Oh wait! That was me. My bad. Sorry, Dad.

My life BEFORE kids was much calmer. Sure I dealt with some real assholes in my time, being I have worked retail for most of my adult life (until the last kiddie came along). But having kids and dealing with them 24/7 makes you realize that dealing with the assholes of retail-society pales NOTHING in comparison, then having to deal with your own kids.

Back before my brood, I was able to stay up until four-AM, sleep in until noon, eat and cook whenever I wanted to. I would get drunk with my friends.

I even remember back in the day, out-drinking a MALE buddy with Jose Cuervo shots. Seven of them to be precise. He puked over the banister railing of the apartment complex I lived in. My poor neighbors. Talk about a surprise present.

Myself? Let's just say I got off easy. No! Not THAT kind of "got off". Get your minds out the ditch, would ya?? I meant that I had basically NO hangover, what-so-EVER! Just a slight belly ache. Otherwise, no pounding, blinding headache. No barfing on the bathroom floor, because I missed the toilet in a blinding haze of post-party rapture. Just a need for a couple Alkaseltzers, and I was good to go.

These days, I rarely get to go anywhere without AT LEAST one to two of three kids in tow. I don't get "mommy time" even while I sit my ass on the toilet! Plus, if I drink, it's ONE beer. And that is AFTER the kids are asleep. My hair now has more gray in it than a bird has feathers. My sanity is only now somewhat in tact...It doesn't help that the creatures I call my children are still on Summer Vacation.

But that changes in THREE WEEKS! Yes, I am actually counting down the weeks. And that last week, I'm gonna be counting down the days, as to remind the kiddies that I will regain my sanity the moment that I shove them under...er, I mean shove them ON TO the school bus.

Ah! What a life!! Both pre-kid, and today. I wouldn't trade them for anything. But I do miss my old, pre-kid life of pure independence.

Like A Rock... (Memoir Monday with Travis)

This is my first time doing Memoir Monday. So be gentle as I get this cherry popped, please??

If you care to jump in to the fire and have some fun spilling your guts to the world about a memory of times past, then click on the button above, then go grab the linky and do a Memoir Monday of your own.

So, here is my story...


For all of my childhood, and a small portion of my early teen-hood, I never was able to swim. Being I had a trache in my throat, if I went under the water, then the water would seep directly in to my lungs, via the hole in my throat.

Sure, I did go in to pools, but stayed in the shallow end. I never dunked under the water. But I did tilt my head back, or immerse my face. That was the limits to my "swimming".

After the trache was removed, and the hole was sewn closed (six months after the initial taking out), I was able to TRULY get wet in a pool (or even a bathtub). But I still stayed in the shallow area of the pools I would get in to.

But during those years of not being able to swim, my parents and I would camp at this one pristine lake area. Every year, like clock work, I had the same stupid accident.

I'd be walking in the lake water, that went to my thighs at the depth I would go to. But somehow, some way, every single year, the same catastrophe would occur.

The sand bed would catch my foot and pull me under, as if I slipped on a wax floor. And every year that happened, I would have water rushing in to my lungs, per the trache. And yes, I was drowning as I panicked, being I couldn't pull myself up.

After the first two times of this happening, the camp security would know instinctively the next year that if they saw us, to keep an eye out and be prepared to call 911. Why? Because it became tradition for me to drown for five straight years in a row.

Yes, I apparently loved the lake so very much, I had to go down under and kiss the sand grains.

Yesterday, we went to my in-law's house to get in the pool. Normally, I wear these yellow water wings, seeing as I prefer not to be a rock and sink to the bottom. Bryce normally wears them and/or a life vest while in the deep end as well.

But my sister-in-law kind of looked at me funny as my other sister-in-law (BIL's ex-wife) told the first one that it doesn't surprise her and both her and Scott told his sister that I never got to learn EVERYTHING about swimming on the deep end due to the trache.

Sure, I can breast stroke, back stroke, doggy paddle, and even float on my back. But never could I get the hang of bobbing-type floating. Like a buoy.

But this all changed as of yesterday as my two SIL's coaxed me to try floating without the wings in the deep end. Of course, I stayed by the wall. But within thirty minutes, I was out in the middle of a nine-foot deep pool, bobbing like a floating apple.

Then, I got gutsy and jumped off the side of the pool (with goggles on to protect my bad eye). Then, my courage and confidence came in to full swing. My husband for the first time ever in our ten years together, saw me jumping off of the diving board (feet first, mind you) and coming back up with ease, only to float like I'd been doing it most of my life.

It took me twenty years past the removal of my trache to overcome fear and hesitation. But, finally, I did so. As did Bryce. He and I both "graduated" to the big time and we are both now with the "big kids" when it comes to swim time.

I'd called my father, almost in tears, to let him know that I did it..finally, I did it. He even said it was better late than never. And I know that we both thought...if only mom could have been here to see this.