Tears are falling, hearts are breaking
How we need to hear from God
You've been promised, we've been waiting

Welcome Holy Child
Welcome Holy Child

Hope that you don't mind our manger
How I wish we would have known
But long-awaited Holy Stranger
Make Yourself at home
Please make Yourself at home
Bring Your peace into our violence
Bid our hungry souls be filled
Word now breaking Heaven's silence

Welcome to our world
Welcome to our world

Fragile finger sent to heal us
Tender brow prepared for thorn
Tiny heart whose blood will save us
Unto us is born
Unto us is born
So wrap our injured flesh around You
Breathe our air and walk our sod
Rob our sin and make us holy

Perfect Son of God
Perfect Son of God
Welcome to our world

Over here in Crazyland, we are tracking Santa's progress around the globe. As I type this, the children at Mount Everest (really? Kids live there?) are getting their Christmas gifts! Thing3 is glued to the computer screen, asking me to update it every few seconds to see "where he is NOW, Mama? ..."

OK. This is my lame attempt at blogging (and WHY for the love of all that's holy will the italics not turn off? seriously. Its buggin'! Big time) ... Since I am busy baking, and watching movies with the kidlets, and hanging with my friends and family... I decided to pull from my archives. I know. I know. I promised I would never do that... but seeing how most of you weren't aware I was alive or even reading me back in the dark ages... I decided it would be OK.
Just this once.
Or twice.

This was originally posted HERE... like 3 years ago. It was originally sent to me in an email... and frankly, it describes my life to a tee.



Dear Santa,

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my four children on demand, visited their doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my son's boy scout uniform with staples and a glue gun. (really. I did!)

I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:
I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.

I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month two pregnancies ago.

If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with three kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.

I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.

If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.

If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season.

Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely.

It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Yours Always,
Motherboard

P.S. One more thing...you can cancel ALL my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.

Every year, about this time, I get panicked. I start buying junk that no one really needs or wants... just to make sure the offering is a bountiful one. Am I the only one that does this?


We are done with all the shopping over here in Crazyland. The presents are purchased, wrapped and stowed under the tree (or at our "off site" location) and the stockings are hung by the chimney with care. We will be making our cookies tonight and having our last holiday party. I am meeting my old friends for a final lunchtime shin-dig and then we are done.

Finished.
Afinado.
Fini.
Fertig.
Finito.
Gotowy.
Terminat.

(who knew I was so bilingual?)

Then all we have to do is wait. Which, for me, is the hardest part!

Sigh.

I told you a while back that there is a book I read every year around this time, and the final line always starts ringing in my brain about now... "Will what I have done be enough and will the offerings be accepted?"

I know that this makes my children seem like ungrateful, hard to please little critters-- and that is SO not the case. The person I'm trying to please just happens to be my most difficult critic...
Me.
I find myself thinking... I wish I would have, I should have or I could have... and then the doubt creeps in.

This year, our offerings are video game-less and more family time oriented. I know the kids will love it! But my doubting self always wonders if they had that secret wish that they didn't express because they just knew that Santa would know the real desires of their heart... Yeah. I know. Dumb.

But, one year my niece told my sister that. She would not tell my sister what she wanted for Christmas. Period. Because Santa already knows. He knows everything. So she figured she didn't need to tell... Talk about pressure!

So, our waiting game has begun. I wait to see if the offerings will meet the expectations.
Will they be ecstatic?
Or let down?

All we can do now is wait and see.

Moxie is 9 months old. Nine months! Where has that time gone? I think of all my children, this one has been in light speed mode, and honestly? I hate it. I want it to slow down. She is getting so big, so fast, and I just want her to stay little. For like ever.

She was a blessed, wanted miracle from the moment I found out we were expecting her. We waited 5 years for her and her presence in our lives has been one of peace and calmness. She is, of all my children thus far, the most content and happy. She is happy to just BE. What a blessing in her life that quality will be!

Remember my stupid dumb doctor? Yeah. That one. The one that stressed me out to the MAX every time I went in to see him? Yeah. Freaking Moron. Well, I finally found a new one that I really like. A lot. He is just perfect for my worry wart personality, and gives me only the necessary facts. (unlike the last doctor. Remind me to tell you sometime about the whole Pituitary gland tumor incident... yeah. good times)

Well, at her most recent visit, she weighed in at 15lbs 15 ounces and is growing just grand. (take that dumb stupid doctor!) She got her 2 shots (with no lectures to me on why I was dumb for doing the alternate shot schedule) and did fantastic with them. Well, as fantastic as can be expected when you get poked with sharp, blunt objects.

She is crawling like a pro-- and actually likes to play the chase game. That's fun for us, and yes. You would be correct in thinking that NOTHING ever gets done around here because we are all playing with Moxie. All the live long day. But seriously, who cares? The laundry will always be there, the dishes too. But my sweet baby will not. So to heck with chores! I'm playing with my baby doll.

Speaking of baby doll, she and I had gone shopping together the other day, and the checker at the check stand asked me why I was carrying around a doll. I looked in my shopping cart, wondering what the freak she was talking about, and she pointed to Moxie. She asked again, all snotty, "Why do you have a doll?" Then Moxie turned to look at her, and she about came unglued. I laughed myself silly over that, which in turn made Moxie laugh like a crazy girl. Which in turn made the whole incident worth it, just to hear that amazing laugh.

She is a pro at pulling herself up to the piano and pounding on the keys all the while standing on her tippy toes. I love to hear that banging, and see the ginormous grin on her face as she carefully plays those keys. I just follow her around, from room to room, watching her discover the world. When you get to see the world again through the eyes of a baby?? Yeah. That is a gift from God.

Moxie loves her siblings to pieces. Her grin gets even bigger when they are in her line of sight. It's wonderful to hear them making her laugh, or reading her stories, or telling her "how to play". I find myself longing for the days when ALL my children where little... and loud... and needy. I told my friend recently that having all young children at home is phyiscally demanding, but older children are emotionally demanding. I would take phyically demanding again any day... just to have them all little again. And needing me, and wanting me. I never in a million, zillion years thought I would feel that way again-- my older friends told me I would-- and its true. Oh how I long for those days.

Being Moxie's mother at almost 40 has been such a different experience than my other babies. I'm more mellow. More carefree. I have completely enjoyed every single minute with her. Every. Single. One. I have never felt irritated when I have to get up with her at night (which I can count on 1 hand) or when she just wants to cuddle. Being a Mom to a baby at almost 40 has been 100% different than when I was a Mom to a baby at 25. I wish I could go back and do those first 3 babies all over again. I would enjoy the journey more, and savor every single moment. All of them.

I'm excited for her first Christmas. I know she will be more excited about the wrapping paper, then she will the gifts. I know she will be excited because the big kids are excited. But, it will be a glorious, grand morning. Seeing her excitement with her big kids at the wonder that is Christmas. Children bring Christmas alive. Why have Christmas if we can't have children around?

These children of mine? Well, they bring my life meaning. I can not imagine doing anything else with my life, except loving them. That, my friends, is the greatest Christmas gift. Being the mother to these gifts from God.

"Instead of being a time of unusual behavior, Christmas is perhaps the only time in the year when people can obey their natural impulses and express their true sentiments without feeling self-conscious and, perhaps, foolish. Christmas, in short, is about the only chance a man has to be himself."
~Francis C. Farley

Isn't that the truth?? At Christmastime, we are more willing to put ourselves 'out there' and tell people how we really feel, and it's not considered weird or stalker-ish. Sometimes, I find myself wishing people would be this honest all year long. It would make things much easier!

I got all my decorations out recently to put up. I had been fighting it, because I really hate to have to put them away. I tell people all the time that I wish there was an invention that would allow me to use my computer to drag and drop things into place in my home and then again to put it all away. I hate the whole putting away part. One year, we had nativities out in February. Really. It also doesn't help that I have 40 nativities that I like to put out (my mom has over 300).

I had these beautiful garlands that I wrapped around the banisters, the doorways, the tops of my kitchen cupboards and the fireplace mantles. Oh, did you catch that past tense? Yes. It was deliberate. Apparently, last year I forgot to put the lid on the boxes that had all my beautiful garlands were in. When we got them out, Thing 1 started screaming. I came running to see her doing the freak out dance pointing at the box. Apparently spiders had decided that it would make a lovely home for them and their 9 million children. We had a small spider problem in the garlands. OK. Actually we had a huge spider problem, and so they were promptly run, while we were screaming like school girls, to the outside garbage can.

It was quite sad really, but then a curious feeling settled in. Was that relief? Why yes it was. I was relieved. Christmas is NOT decorations, its the feelings and memories you create with your children. Pfft. Don't tell me that the decorations are what make the memories, cause you can pedal that crazy somewhere else. Memories are made by the interactions you have with each other. Trust me. We have been making great ones this year-- sans crazy decorations. I still did my 2 trees. I have some nativities out, and we have our count down garlands up... and the kids? They don't need therapy, at least not because of no crazy Christmas decorations. They are happy with the time we are spending with each other.

We have been a bunch of sickies over here in Crazyland. We have the gombu that is going around, and let me just tell you this: it ain't fun! It is like a bulldozer that runs you flat into the ground and you feel like 2 pounds of crap in a 1 pound bag. Honest.

My neighbor is from Canada, and they came over wanting to "play" and I looked like, well, crap. He promptly left, only to return with what he touted to be the miracle drug. Canadian cold medicine. Unapproved by the FDA and let me just tell you this: Boy howdy, does that stuff WORK! I took it Friday night, and woke up Sunday afternoon. For reals. (Well, I woke up long enough on Saturday to run the kids to the Church Christmas party (like 90 minutes) then I came back home and passed right back out. )

I rode that Canada wave all weekend long and by Monday, I felt 100% better. When Thing 1 woke up Sunday sick, I put her on the Canada wave too. She slept through Monday.
Sweet.
I can see why it's not approved by the FDA, but really? It totally should be... it works!


1. Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer - Gene Autry
2. The Christmas Song (Merry Christmas To You) - Nat King Cole
3. Last Christmas - Wham!
4. Do You Hear What I Hear - Whitney Houston
5. Where Are You Christmas - Faith Hill
6. I'll Be Home For Christmas - Kristin Chenoweth *thanks Sher! I love it!*
7. Silent Night - Jewel
8. I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In - The Salvation Army Band & Choir
9. Stille Nacht - The King's Singers * I love The King's Singers... their harmonies are incredible!*
10. Sleep Well Little Children/What A Wonderful World - Kristin Chenoweth

Bonus: Born On A New Day - The King's Singers

Typically, I do not interject myself into complete strangers conversations. My mother taught me that is rude. However, yesterday when I was shopping at Old Navy the temptation to interject myself into a complete strangers conversation became almost unbearable.
I even walked away.
But I could still hear her talking... and the angry lady came out.

There was this 20 something employee that had been helping me find various sizes of clothing for my kidlets. She was cute, hip and quite happening. After her much appreciated help, she returned to her "post" where her friend was waiting for her to finish out their conversation. I was still looking at some more things, and totally MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS, when she must have picked her conversation up right where they left off...

Hip Old Navy Girl: I have no problem getting into the car and driving, if its only me in the car.

Friend: I still think that is not a good idea.

HONG: (ha ha) - I mean, I really wouldn't want anyone to get mad at me. So, I would probably just drive everyone anyway. I mean, a couple of 'em can't really hurt ya that much. I would rather just drive myself. I can only hurt myself if I just drive myself. I would be responsible for just me and that's better. Ya know?

This is where the angry lady took over. I could not believe what I was hearing. This cute, hip, happening girl changed right before my eyes into something not so hip and happening.

I walked away seething. I mean, was this conversation I was witnessing for real?

I told her that she wasn't hurting "just herself" when she got behind the wheel, after having been drinking. She was endangering every single person on the road... including me and my 4 babies. How dare she drink and then drive. Who did she think she was?? How incredibly self centered was she anyway to think that SHE was the only one affected by her decision to drink and drive?? That one, stupid decision would change not only her life, but the lives of people she had never even met...

OK.

Maybe I didn't say all that to the dumb girl. But I sure as heck wanted to. I mean, how totally stupid and irresponsible to think that her drinking only affects herself. I really wanted to go completely postal on her... but I refrained. Now I regret that didn't say something to her. Instead, I just stomped around the store fuming.

Do you know what is probably worse than being just sick? Being sick 12 days before Christmas. When you are only half way done with the shopping. And you have 2 other kids that are sick. And one of them is a baby.

Yeah.

I think that's probably worse that being just plain old sick.

This guy is 10 now. TEN! Where did the time go? It seems like just yesterday he was a little guy-- begging me to watch "Stamly" (stanley) with him. It seems like just yesterday he was telling me about his primary lesson where "da man standed on da wall and was waiting for da ahh-lay-lee-uns to come and save him..." (Samuel the Lamanite)

It seems as if it were just yesterday that I was "his best girl. Forever. "

But today?

He's 10.

He graciously shared his birthday with our big choir concert last week. No complaints, not a word from him. All he wanted was dinner out with the family... and we complied!

He always has a smile, because he is always happy. Which is as it should be. He is my peacemaker, our calming influence. He rarely gets upset, or mad. He just goes with the flow. If kids are being mean or exclusive? He has already perfected the "whatever, Mom. Who cares" attitude. (One that I wish were easier to duplicate in my girls. or me.) He is willing to stand up for the underdog and I really admire that about him. He likes everyone and considers everyone to be his friends. Whether they are "cool" or not. He flat out refuses to talk mean about others, or to even listen to it. That right there is Integrity. And he has a lot of it. (he is SO like his Pappy!)

He is one of the most thoughtful boys you will ever meet. He is considerate of others, especially his sisters. He is so tender with Moxie. I watch him interact with her and I see the man and father that someday he will be. He is a good boy, and he has me wrapped around his little finger.

He has had his share of health issues... from his asthma scares, to his allergies and constant battle with hives to his little stint in the hospital when he was two. Then there was his broken leg-- in 2 places-- and that episode really tried his patience. He has been to the hospital more times than any of my other children... and I guess that is par for the course with boys.

He is gaining a testimony of the gospel at a much younger age than I did. He is conscientious of what is the right way to act, and the right thing to do. He has a very strong desire to do what is right. He memorizes the Articles of Faith-- on his own. Because "that's what's gotta get done to graduate".

He loves scouts. His first year in scouts, he earned every single badge and achievement that was possible in the Wolf den AND he also completed all the requirements for all the badges and achievements for Bear scouts (his dad is the Bear leader). On his own. No prodding from me or Jefe... he did it because he loves it. He has since completed his 3rd year of Bears... and I can not believe that he still loves scouts.

He is willing to give anything a try... once. Except for foods. He is my picky eater. For the longest time, he was a vegetarian... which I found to be quite disturbing seeing how we are such carnivores over here in Crazyland. He was convinced, when he was little, that he hated candy. I wish he still felt the same way.

Our home... our lives... MY life is richer because he is apart of it.
He is a rare gem, and I feel so blessed to call him my son.

Thing 2,
I love you more, every single day!
Happy Birthday (be-lated on the blog)!
Now, let's rock!

Love,
Mom (your best girl forever)

"When other little girls wanted to be ballet dancers, I kind of wanted to be a vampire." - Angelina Jolie

Me too. I never wanted to be a ballerina. I wanted to play football and when I grew up, I wanted to be a truck driver. (I find that fact rather disturbing now...) However, I have a little girl that does want to be a ballerina. She is my dancer and twirler. She has been so ever since she was just a little thing... and it's kind of fun for me to watch.

She and I went to the Nutcracker a few weekends ago-- on what she calls a "Mommy & Me date" and it was delightful. We went out to dinner before hand and then went to the ballet. We happened to be good friends with several of the dancers, so they came and got her and gave her the royal treatment and a backstage tour. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she went from room to room seeing all the hustle and bustle of the ballet.
All the dancers, and costumes. She was on cloud nine!


When the ballet actually started, she watched with rapt attention... taking the time to explain to me what each dancer meant when they were dancing. At one point she looked at me, sighed rather loudly and said "Oh Mom! I want to keep dancing until they wont let me dance any more." It made me a little teary to hear that, because it meant she has passion. I understand how she feels... I feel the same way about singing and performing.

Thing 3, I promise I will make sure you dance until you can not dance any more.


I survived my week from hell! It has been a hard, long week. But I only have 1 last thing to accomplish on my list (babysitting over night for someone) and then I can finally sleep. Hopefully. Maybe. We'll see.

Our concert last night was a smashing success!! There was even a fellow in the audience that had an uncanny look of Santa. I have no idea who he was... but he looked exactly like Santa-- in his casual clothes. I wish I would have been able to get a photo with him. When the kids noticed him, their eyes lit up like I have never seen before, and they sang more beautifully than I had ever heard them. I didn't realize what was happening... just that their eyes were as big as saucers as each of them-- ALL 110 of them-- noticed him in the audience! I really think they were singing to him-- Mr. Pretend Claus. So, thank you-- random Santa look-a-like-- You made a bunch of elementary kids night, and they were shinning especially bright. Just for you.


Try as I may, I am having one devil of a time finding my jolly self this year. I feel rather Grinch-ish over here... and I just can not seem to find that Holiday cheer. Jefe brought home a real Christmas tree-- and when I got the whiff of it-- I thought maybe, just maybe that would do it for me. But, nope. It left just as quickly as it came. Maybe if we could get some snow? I'm not wanting snow... but I wonder if that would help? This hasn't happened to me in like a really long time... I have no idea why I am not all gushing with Christmas cheer. But I'm not. I'm trying. Really I am.

Maybe next week I'll find the ho ho ho in me. (ha ha ha)


Yeah.

That's what I thought.

I had the right-of-way.
Me.
The turning car.
I had the right-of-way.

I was turning and some retard, sitting at the stop sign, decided that he had the right of way. And turned right into me. Moron. Luckily for me, I am a wicked awesome driver, and was able to avoid a collision... but the moron had the audacity to flip me the bird. Me. The right-of-way-driver... I got the bird. I couldn't believe it. Why do people do that? When grown men don't get their way-- their first reaction is to flip you off. That's real adult. Sheesh.

Me: Student, you really need to sing.

Student: (staring off into space, with that glazed over look)

Me: (getting a little irritated) Seriously. You can't just stand there. You have to sing. We are performing for our parents tonight! You need to open your mouth and sing. Are you in pain? You look like you're in pain... Are you OK?

Student: I hate to sing.

Me: Uhhhh, Ok. But, this is a choir. You sing in choirs. If you hate it, why did sign up?

Student: Cause everyone else was doing it, but I really hate to sing.

Me: {{staring with my mouth gaping open. This comment threw me into complete stunned silence...}}


Huh. I don't get it.

I just. don't. get. it.

My Grandpa used to LOVE to watch the Lawrence Welk Show. Every single Saturday night, we could be found rockin' to the Welkster. (And then afterwards we would watch Boxing. Weird. Those 2 things don't really go together...)

When I watched this video, I think I may have actually pee'd. Just a little. I've had 4 kids so cut me some slack... And the Down There Doc tells me that-that is quite normal now.

So, sit back and prepare to laugh yourself silly.

SILLY I tell ya!!

**Thanks Shellie for the video!

I was able to buy a size 10 pant at Kohls yesterday. I was pretty stoked! They make my bum look way cute, if I do say so myself! I was pretty excited to wear them on my shopping trip today. I wore my new hip jeans, my rockin' new hoodie and my uber high heeled boots. I only had 1 store to go to... and I'm a get-in-get-out kind of girl-- so I figured my boots would be fun. Who knows, maybe I would even like being all girlie.

I set out on my adventure... and do you know what I forgot to do when I bought my awesome size 10 pants? I forgot to sit down in them. Don't laugh! You know you do it too... you try on the pants, but you have to sit down in them just to make sure they don't make your eyes pop out.

Umm. Yeah.

I forgot to do that. Do you know how long of a drive 7 miles is when you are wearing pants that make your eyes want to pop right out of your head? Pretty dang long. I had to undo not only the 2 buttons, but the zipper too... or else I may have puked up my spleen. I should have just turned around right then, but I reasoned with myself that I only had 1 store, so I should just endure and get the jaunt over with.

After the 3rd store, my feet were starting to hurt. Bad. Picture me, hobbling through Wal-mart--looking for that coveted gift-- with sore feet, my buttons AND zipper undone on my pants because now I just couldn't even breathe with the dang pants on. I had my tank and shirt pulled WAY down so as to not expose myself and Moxie decided that now, right now! In the middle of Wal-mart, NOW DAMMIT! would be a good time to have her first melt down.

Yeah. Good times.

Then I smell her. Boy Howdy did she ever stink. I think there was a small explosion. For reals. I riffle through my bag, with screaming baby, throbbing feet and too tight, undone pants only to realize-- I HAVE NO DIAPERS OR WIPES!

Yeah.

The good times just keep on a rollin'!

I hobble over to the baby isle, pick up a pack of diapers, wipes, and some formula, cause lets face it... the kid was starving too. Mother of year? Yeah. I think not.

I hobble down to the restroom area, open up the diapers and then proceed to the family restroom. I knock on the door, only to hear a man, yes a MAN! yell out occupied. A man? In the family bathroom? Are you kidding me? So I turned around and went into the regular bathroom. I set us up to change her pants and my mind starts wandering...

"Man. My feet hurt. These pants did NOT feel this tight in the store. How did they trick me like that? I wonder if my kids would freak out if I made them eat Lasagna for dinner? I need a diet coke. I'm totally getting a diet coke after this. And chocolate. Oh. I need to pee too. Yeah. After I finish this, I'm totally going to pee. Where will I put Moxie? I hope she won't crawl under the stall. Maybe if I hurry? . . . "

That's when out of the corner of my eye I see a dude walk in the bathroom, take one look at me and promptly turn around. I snickered to myself, because what a dork-wad that he went in the wrong bathroom! Can't he read? I keep on spacing off when I notice another, different dude walk into the bathroom and promptly turn around and walk out.


HA HA HA HA!

What complete DORK WADS!
I mean really?!
How hard is it to just look at the picture?? For Pete's sake, Can't they read??
Good-freaking-grief! My feet hurt and I can't breathe!
Go in the right bathroom, will ya? You dumb dorky dudes!

I'm still spacing, when a THIRD dude walks in, walks out but then he does something totally different... HE WALKS BACK IN!
I look at him, a little horrified, as we walks behind me (unbuttoning his pants, I might add) and says: "Ummm. Lady? I think you are in the wrong bathroom."

Suddenly the lights come on in my brain, and I realize that the sinks I had been staring at in the mirrors? Ummm. Yeah. They were in fact NOT sinks, but urinals.

URINALS!

For the love of all that's holy, they were URINALS! In the boys bathroom.

I quickly gathered up my stuff, and slithered across the hall to the GIRLS bathroom (and had to go past all the dudes that were outside waiting-- talking like a bunch of-- dare I say it? GIRLS!)

Then, as I am standing in the check-out line? Yeah. I look back, and who is in line behind me? The dude. The dude who pointed out just exactly WHERE I HAD BEEN....

Ummm. Yeah.

Who's the dork wad now?

Ummm. Me.
With my too tight pants, uber high-heeled boots, sore feet, wrong bathroom entering, sorry self. I AM the dork-wad.

Hear me roar.

I have been absent from the blogosphere lately. What? You didn't notice? Well, I have. I have been crazy busy-- and this week is the craziest busiest week of all. You would have thought that last week would have been a doozy-- what with all the cleaning (3 days of cleaning) the baking (2 days of baking) and hosting Thanksgiving at my home... but no. This week makes last week look like a sissy cake walk.

For the last 3 months I have been meeting with 107 elementary aged students in the wee hours of the morning--twice a week-- to practice for our Christmas Concert. It is a voluntary thing that I do, its a lot of work, and I love it. The kids recently told me that I should get a raise. I laughed and said "double of nothing is still nothing!"

I really do love it though. I love every stinking minute of it! These kids that come to choir are the cream of the school. They have to be-- they get up and are at the school by 7:20am twice a week.

This year we picked some challenging music for them to sing. By challenging I mean 3 part harmonies. Yes. 3 part harmonies! I was a little skeptical... but oh ye of little faith-- these kids stepped up to the plate and have nailed that 3 part harmony song! We have several 2 part harmony songs-- that are quite difficult-- and they nail them! Every single time!

I got a little emotional this morning-- our last practice before our first concert tomorrow-- because they have really out done themselves this year. We have had 2 less practices this year because of the way Thanksgiving fell, but you would never know it! (BTW, I really hate it when Thanksgiving is the last week of November... I need that last week to get ready for December!)

I video taped one of my favorite songs this morning... I was going to try and get 2 more-- but apparently my little point and shoot camera doesn't have as much memory as I needed to tape more than 1 song.

Disclaimer: I do NOT claim to make professional quality videos. The video is quite wobbly-- because I am still trying to lead the music as I hold the video camera... and I may have shouted once to get the kids to sing louder... So, just close your eyes and listen. They are pretty good for 3rd-6th grades...