Bah...Humbug...

Even my stars are crooked

I love the holiday season. I know, that seems counter intuitive considering my crusty exterior and all.  For Christ's sake (Yes, you too may marvel at my unintended pun), Thanksgiving has just been put in the refrigerator.   I tried to psych myself up by playing Christmas carols, living vicariously through my joyous daughter, but alas I am just too tired.  I can't count on the Hubby to help me get into any sort of spirit.  He begrudgingly assembled the tree, brought in the Christmas boxes and ran Flo Jo style (sorry Honey, but you do run like a girl) back into our bedroom to P90X it or whatever it is boys do behind closed doors.
Gone are the days of Norman Rockwell and June Cleaver.  From an outsider's point of view I am sure that I more closely resemble Peg Bundy.  My cleavage hanging out, derriere firmly planted to the couch.  Little do they know all of the crazy stuff that one can do from my little corner of the couch.

For instance:

Reindeer Noses

• I removed the noses from juvenile reindeer and bagged them to the delight of Maia's classmates.

• Note that each bag includes 8 brown noses and a single red schnoz. With 13 classmates, that means I had to snare, clean, & slaughter 117 reindeer. All from my couch. That takes quite a bit of planning. (Note the polar bear I managed to stuff in there as well).

Color Pencil Vase

 

 

 

 

•  As if that wasn't enough brown noses, I whittled this gorgeous vase for my daughter's teacher.

See, so I do just fine in my little corner.....

How We Got to this Point

Look Mom! I spelled that word I am not allowed to say... As Geoff giggles and waits for me to correct her spelling.

Above is a note left for me by my darling four year old as she proudly exclaimed, "Look Mom, I spelled that word I'm not allowed to say!"  Recoil with shame you say?!? Not me. No, no, no. I proudly posted it to Facebook for all to see.  But, as with everything, there is a back-story and it is said story that warms the cockles of my heart.  Maia did not set out to write "Fuk."  She was pulling letter stickers out three at a time and trying to make words from said letters.  It just so happened that with this draw she got a u, f, and k.  

So where does pride factor into the equation you ask? For one thing, my kid knew that vowels "are the glue that stick the words together." Secondly, she knows her vowels at 4. Crap, when I alphabetize things, I sing the ABC Song in my head.  Well, okay... sometimes out loud.  Lastly, she was able to sound out the letters to create a word.

If you are like me, you are rolling your eyes and saying, "Some genius, she didn't even spell the work correctly."  True, true.  Alas, we will not be sending her off to med school at 10.   As a diligent mother I felt it was duty to correct her spell.  Gasp! Relax we did not focus on the word at hand, but rather some clever rhyming words. So, from this moment of parenting horror, my child has a handle on the -ck blend.  Fuck yea!