MIA?

I took the week off work because The Boy's preschool closed so the teachers could enjoy the holidays out of town with their families. I was so looking forward to it! We've never had the luxury of spending the days together doing holiday stuff, even if it would have probably been better to do it before Christmas when there's all the wrapping and baking to do.

I've been called in to work every stinking day.

More than once I've mentioned that I did take this week off and it was approved by the powers that be. But you know, it is the end of the year and there's all this stuff that needs to be done......and apparently I'm the only one who can take care of most of it even though my paycheck would not reflect that fact.

I am getting to sleep in, though, and that's nice.

I could get used to that.

Merry Christmas

from our home to yours. I hope you had a wonderful holiday!

Who woulda thunk?

There are three warning labels on my bottle of antibiotics:

Don't take within 4 hours of taking magnesium.
Take with plenty of water.
May cause dizziness.

Nowhere does it say "Don't take a pill and then consume three small glasses of wine."

I was in the car sleeping while MFH and the rest of his company enjoyed a fabulous prime rib dinner last night.

In relaying this story to my co-worker this morning, who shall be known as Copper since he is an ex-cop, he responds with, "Yeah. Generally drugs and alcohol don't mix."

Unwelcome visitor

The last two mornings have greeted me with a familiar discomfort. I'll spare the dreadful details, but I could feel a UTI coming on. Not wanting to spend Christmas with a full blown infection I decided to stop at Urgent Care last night on the way home.

There was definitely bacteria, a borderline infection but we are treating it. I sent MFH to the pharmacy and he opted for generic meds - thank God - as it saved $62.00. Can you believe that? $87 for antibiotics? Crazy.

Anyway, the purpose of this post is really to apologize publicly to my son, who I am sure one day will be on a psychiatrist's couch and I will be the root of all his troubles. Poor child. He's accompanied me to my annual pap exam (although my doc was very discreet, but still) and now he had to watch me pee in a cup. I think next I'll take him to my annual mammogram just to let him know how really lucky he is to be a male.

In the comments of my last post I was asked if I harbor prejudice toward women who are able to give birth to their own children.

Not at all.

I am sure pregnancy is hard on the body. I am sure being sick all the time sucks. I am sure that carrying around that baby and caring for it 24/7 makes one tired.

I have been accused of building my family "the easy way" by a pregnant friend of mine. She meant it in jest, but there is nothing easy about adoption. I am just so very thankful that it was an option for me. My son is my miracle in spite of the fact that some other wonderful woman gave birth to him. It would seem odd that I would bear prejudice toward her, wouldn't it?

Potluck

If you've seen 'S@nta Cl@use 2' and can remember the high school staff Christmas party, then you can visualize my company potluck party Saturday night. We have three stores and one store did not represent. The other two segregated themselves completely from one another, and then segregated again by department. It was pretty quiet with the occasional yawn and sly peek at the watch to see how slowly time was ticking away.

We have a fairly new sales staff member at this location. He and his wife are 25 years old and she is 4 months pregnant. They live in an apartment and got pregnant when they didn't even have health insurance. In fact, he didn't even have a job.

Gasp!

See, I wanted my ducks in a row before I started a family. College education. Good job. House. Enough money. Health insurance. Baby.

I did visit with her and I wasn't a total bitch. Only when she complained about being sick.all.the.time. and having to constantly eat and even having to quit her job as a nanny because she's so.tired.all.the.time. did my neck start to twinge. And I did make this comment - "Well, imagine wanting to experience a pregnancy and not being able to do so." I made her just a tad uncomfortable I could tell, and she acknowledged my point with a nod.

My life happened just the way I planned it. Only it didn't happen just the way I planned it. There were a few detours down the road, but it all worked out in the end. And, that's what really matters.

The weekend in review

As would be typical for my family, we awoke to a blizzard Friday morning. The day we HAD to travel to meet MFH's family for The Polar Run. As it turned out, it kind of centered around our little mountain community, so we did drive out of it. We got to the hotel, the cousins got to swim a bit, and it was time to meet the train. The kids got dressed in their jammies, and off they went with grammy and grandpa. And off we went to the lounge.

We sat down with our first drinks and heard rumblings that the train had electrical problems. Thirty minutes later, my FIL came to get us so grammy could read the hotel staff the riot act for ruining her Polar Run experience with her only grandkids.

More swimming. A pizza party for the kids by the pool courtesy of the hotel. Santa and Mrs. Clause arrive to read to the kids and have photos taken. Most of the kids are taking this in stride because how would they know the difference? My own was disappointed but was having fun anyway. The grandparents, on the other hand? Furious. All of them, and there were many.

Head Polar person comes around to tell us that the train is up and running, and we can get on the 8:00 trip. We scramble and grammy and grandpa and grandkids are off again.

Only, granddaughter likes her rest and managed to sleep through the whole thing. The Boy enjoyed himself. The North Pole was pretty, he said. I imagine it was kind of anticlimactic, though, since the story had already been read and Santa had already made his appearance. The Boy did say he was disappointed that there were tables and chairs to sit on in the train instead of the pew-like seating in the movie.

I gave grandma my camera. Grandma, who is famous for cutting off heads in pictures even though it is digital and what you see is what you get. She took four very boring pictures of the kids sitting at the table.

The next morning we awoke to a blizzard. Again we drove out of it, but in retrospect I think the whole thing was jinxed from the beginning.

All Aboard!

Well, are you coming?" he asked.

"Where are we going?"

"Why, to the North Pole, of course!"

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Tomorrow we will be taking a trip to the Polar Run. The Polar Run is inspired by the award winning book 'The Pol@r Express'. This 1.5 hour long train ride to Christmas Town includes cookies and hot chocolate, a reading of the above mentioned book, lots of elves, carols, and a gift to each child from Santa.

My MIL is the ultimate grandmother. She heard about this and had to share the experience with her grandkids. So, while grandma and grandpa take The Boy and his cousin on this Christmas fantasy, we will be enjoying adult refreshments at the hotel bar, something we are rarely able to do.

The Boy is so excited. I'm excited for him.

We leave in the morning to travel 160 miles down the road, stay overnight, and return Saturday in time for the big potluck dinner at work.

Have a great weekend!

Buddies

I ended up taking a picture of the picture, so the clarity is compromised a little. It's hard to tell from this photo, but The Boy had his arm around Santa's neck like they have been best friends for life.

The Santa Gift

I believe that every child should get the one thing they really, really want for Christmas. That one special thing. Without getting told "You'll shoot your eye out!"

With that said, I highly anticipated this year's trip to see Santa at the mall because I didn't know what The Boy was going to ask for. Oh sure, I've been shopping for a long time, picking up things I knew he wanted but he was never specific about the Santa gift.

His visit with Santa was great. The Boy was wearing his N.D. Fighting Si0ux hockey jersey. Santa and his elves knew about hockey and knew about this team, The Boy's favorite. They talked about that for a minute, and The Boy told Santa about playing hockey. Then came the minute I was waiting for, and believe me, my ears were straining to hear the conversation.

"What can Santa bring you for Christmas?"

"I want the Mystic Li0n Staff!"

Whew. It's one of the items I picked up months ago, not knowing he wanted it but knowing it would be sold out by now. I didn't know he also wanted dinosaurs, so I picked some of those up as well. When I tucked The Boy in for bed Sunday night he said, "Shoot! I should have asked Santa for some dragons!" Of course I got some today because it's important to me that he believes in the magic of Santa.

I'll try to scan the Santa picture and post it tonight. It's priceless.

Bitter, much?

I just happened to casually mention that B@rbie is on the list of girl's favorite toys this Christmas to my co-workers downstairs. Not that B@rbie is the ideal role model, with her large boobs and tiny waist, but at least she's not awash in makeup and is usually clothed pretty respectfully. I loved Barbie. I only had one and I played with her for years.

I think Holly, my favorite workmate, had a bad weekend. She went off about how we send the message to young girls that they should grow up, get married and have 2.5 children or they are a failure. Their grandmothers will forever pray that they meet the right man so they can live the American dream. There's more to life than that. Her grandparents insisted on giving her dolls for Christmas every year and she hated dolls. She liked Eeyore. He was cool. He lived in her B@rbie townhouse even though he didn't fit in the elevator, and drove her B@rbie car.

B@rbie accessories that I would've given my eye teeth for, by the way.

She was still going on about it as I walked up the stairs to my office.

Holly is 34-ish and living with a man. Her biological clock is tick-tick-ticking (she's mentioned this to me - I would never make that assumption) and there is no engagement ring on her finger.

I think from now on I'd better stick to safer topics.

Any suggestions?

Justified Ingrate

In reference to the scrooged post below, and just so you don't think I'm one of those ungrateful employees that expects too much, let's recap 2006 with my boss, the alleged Mr. Scrooge.

Remember when he bought the new Landcruiser and then immediately put it on our lot for sale because he decided he didn't like the color?

Remember when he replaced the year old carpet that he chose when he built his huge new house up on the hill because his new live in girliefriend said it was too rough?

Remember when he paid $925,000 for the unfinished penthouse apartment in the gated community? Just for an investment? His view is of the cement plant a few miles away, which is why he got such a good price.

He hired an overpriced manager (by overpriced I mean he was paid more than me and I've been here 15.5 years. On the other hand, he probably didn't spend his day blogging.Or, maybe he did, because none of us could ever find him or figure out what he did all day.) Then, when pricey manager couldn't do the job, boss hired an overpriced assistant to help out - instead of just firing Mr. Manager.

And, in fairness to us ungrateful employees, in all the years I've been here money has been no object when it comes to the Christmas party. It's always been a nice dinner out where we have the chance to get a babysitter and get dressed up for a meal that doesn't include chicken nuggets.

*edited to add* OH! I just found out there's going to be a drawing for an iP0d at the party. A little incentive for those of us that might be hesitant to attend. Since I am not the type that ever wins anything, this doesn't hold much water with me.

Scrooged

Nothing says "Thanks for the great year and have a Merry Christmas!" quite like throwing a potluck dinner for the company Christmas party. At the store. Where we all go everyday to do work.

I can sit in the comfort of my own home and eat food that I cooked and drink wine that I bought.

Thanks for the invite, Mr. Scrooge, but we are busy that night and will be unable to attend.

Thoughtful gift giving

We try to involve The Boy in deciding what gifts to give at Christmas. It's always interesting to see what he comes up with.

I can't say what he got his dad, because MFH sometimes reads this blog. I will say it is something they can use together, and his dad will love it. He made each of his grandmas a bird's nest out of a gourd and an ornament for the Christmas tree, something he does each year. He bought his grandpa a game for his G@meboy, as they both love video games.

He told me he wanted to buy me a ring, to replace the one I lost at T@rget. I said, "Honey, I didn't lose a ring at T@rget." "Yes you did, mommy," he said. I asked him when. He said, "Remember when we were shopping and you blew your nose and your ring fell out and we couldn't find it on the floor?"

Ah yes.

A few months ago I had a bad head cold. Well, most of the fall for that matter, but that's beside the point. I have my nose pierced. At the time, I was wearing a simple stud that just bent down along the inside of my nostril. When I blew my nose and wiped it, the nose stud fell out and I couldn't find it.

It just warmed my heart that he remembered that, and wanted to replace it for me. I don't recall caring that much that I had lost it, but apparently it made an impact on him. Everyone should put that much thought into their gift giving.

MFH came to me a bit later and said, "The Boy wants to buy you a ring to replace the one you lost at T@rget. Do you know what he's talking about?"

Yes. Yes I do.

Talk to the hand

The Boy loves them. So does MFH. That surprised me. (Sorry the picture looks kind of blurry. I had to play with camera to get a picture that was not too bright.)

The owner of the nail salon told me to put a coat of red on top if I absolutely could not stand it. Everytime I look at my hand I think, "What the hell?"

Carla, I'm Not Really A Waitress is still my favorite OPI shade. I get so many compliments when I wear it.

So, what do you think. Could you live with this color for two weeks?

The things you do for love

I have my acrylic nails done every two weeks, usually on Friday.

I always have them painted red.

Like Julia's pink in Steel M@gnolias, it's my "signature color".

This morning before we left the house, I said to the boy, "I feel like doing something different with my nails today. Maybe I should paint them a different color. What do you think?"

"Yes," he said. "I think you should paint them gold. I like gold."

The kid has good taste. I like gold, too.

The closer it got to my appointment, the more I wavered on this.

My nail tech was surprised when I plopped the gold bottle down on his table. "No red?"

"It's the holiday season. Let's do something festive," I say.

I've worn acrylic nails for a looong time. My own are brittle and thin and not worth painting. Literally every time I've gone with a color other than red, I've regretted it. Usually sooner than later. I'm not liking the gold so much. It looks weird, probably mainly because it's not red. It might be better if I had my summer tan. It kind of looks like I'm jaundiced, if that's a word. Like in yellow jaundice?

(See OPI? You should hire me to name your nail polish colors. I'd be good at it. A color with the name Yellow Jaundiced would be very popular.)

I know The Boy will grin from ear to ear when he sees my nails. But, next time? Red.