it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Some days, it would be nice to just stay in, wrapped in a soft sweater, sitting cozy by the fireplace.

But we live in Florida. In Florida, a sweater is a person who has constant pit stains. And the only fireplace I've seen around these parts is at Cracker Barrel. And they don't even have a fire in it, just some decorative logs.

So, yes, two days ago we were all sweating to death. It was 90 degrees. We were in shorts and flip flops, the state shoe. Most of our kids can't tie shoes at age ten. I kid you not. What's a shoelace?

And then today, today, this morning, it was an ugly fifty degrees with a stiff breeze. Socks had to be procured. Shoes were dug out of closets. Pants were tried on and found to be too short, leftovers from last February. They would have to do. Jackets were hunted down and rounded up. The kids really wanted snow hats and mittens, and down parkas, but we didn't seem to have any of those. Onward we struggled, into the nippy morning chill. I'm pretty sure some tears were shed in honor of the bitter, arctic cold.

Being Thursday, we had to pick up my niece and head up to Orlando and the kids' homeschool PE class. Me, five kids, long drive, lots of red lights. We finally make it over to the park, my attention straying between the gas gauge doing its best impersonation of empty, and a sheriff's helicopter circling overhead. The park where we attend PE is hidden behind a high school, and we ran into the school's security patrol blocking the access road.

"The school's on lockdown. You can get back to the park but just drive slow - my people are everywhere."

My people. Yeah. I've seen Mall Cop.

"Is there anything we should be worried about?" I asked, mesmerized by the police chopper pounding above our heads.

"No, it's fine."

Okay then. We made our way back to the park, exceedingly, painfully early. As usual. We were, of course,  the only ones there. No one else was dumb enough to drag five kids out into the freezing cold with a police helicopter watching our every move. I thought to call my husband, and he checked out the news online. Yes, the school was in lockdown, along with other schools in the area. Something about armed robbers on the loose, fleeing the scene. Police were out in force. Great.

Some friendly parks and recreation fellows pulled up alongside us, and echoed the news. Armed robber, suspected to be in the woods, maybe we shouldn't be there, yada yada. Those would be the woods directly flanking the park. Nice.

I herded the kids together and, per the parks guys' suggestion, we walked over to the recreation complex building, intent on getting inside. The doors were locked and no one answered our knocks. They probably thought we were armed robbers.

Just then, my brother-in-law called to let us know PE had been cancelled; they'd just called him. It was dawning on me that everyone else seemed to have fled the area, and no one was coming in. We hightailed it back to the car, the police chopper now seeming just feet above our heads. I maintained the calm, steady force holding the wee ones in check and preventing panic.

Actually, I think I stepped on one of them in my haste to get back in the car. I know it wasn't the little ones because I had one dangling from me and the other held in a death grip by the arm. My voice may have been a teensy bit higher than usual.

Doors slam, seatbelts click. The engine revs.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

I was gracious and didn't flatten the police officer now guarding the exit. Where were you ten minutes ago, buddy?

Fast forward to Seven Eleven. I managed to squeeze about 3 and a half gallons of gas out of the lone ten dollar bill in my wallet, bladders were emptied, and only once did I hear the plea for Slurpees. I piled a mountain of Cheerios on the car seat between the baby's legs, hoping if he couldn't reach them he might at least stop screaming long enough to try to get them. No such luck.

The drive to park number two went something like this :

"Feliz navidad! (ba da ba da ba da da) Feliz navidad! (ba da ba da baaaa)"

"Waaaaaaaahhhhhhhh! Waaaaaahhhhh! Waaaahhhhh!"

"I wanna wish you a merry Christmas!"

"Waaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

"I wanna wish you a merry Christmas!"

"Waaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

"I wanna wish you a merry Christmas, from the bottom of my heaaaaaart!"

"Waaaaaaaahhhhhhhh! Waaaaaahhhhh! Waaaahhhhh!"

The boy is a natural singer.

And I am a natural attractor of red lights. I'm pretty sure we hit every single red light between Orlando and the new park. And slow tourists. And several patches of closed road. Apparently December 2nd is Annual Road Sodding Project Day. Who knew. 

An hour at the park, a dropoff to four children, and a scream-filled drive home later, I needed a nap. 

"What's for lunch?" 

"Can you help me with my English lesson?"

"I want to watch Strawberry Shortcake!"

"Waaaaaaaahhhhhhhh! Waaaaaahhhhh! Waaaahhhhh!"

Check please.

I've become one of those people

I never imagined it, but it somehow has happened : I've become one of "those" people. The people who cause massive eye-rolling in the checkout line as they sift through a coupon holder. The people who scour online deals and combine manufacturers' coupons and store coupons. The people who actually buy a newspaper. Did you know they still print newspapers?

So yes, I'm resigned to being one of those people. But it's strangely addicting - I was previously enjoying saving about $40 a month with grocery coupons (plus hitting up all the BOGO deals at the local grocery stores) and I figured it wouldn't go past there. We're not really the kind of family that tailors our purchases to what's on sale; we find coupons for the things we're already buying. It's fun - sort of like a treasure hunt. A really, really boring, routine, danger-free treasure hunt.

And then Christmas started creeping ever closer, and nothing we wanted was showing up in the Black Friday ads. That's when we discovered the power of the toy coupon. Santa would have been pleased to discover the $49.99 GoGo My Walking Pup could be had at Target in the week before Thanksgiving for $29.99 ($5 off sale price + $10 off Target coupon + $5 off Hasbro coupon). Certain games went from $14 to $2, no mail-in rebates required. Right now we're sitting on $20 in coupons for a particular toy that starts with an L and ends with an eapster and is followed by a word that rhymes with dexplorer, and with any luck it will be had for $39.99.

If we can find the stupid thing locally because everyone else and his brother is now one of those people, too.

It's strangely addicting. It makes me want to go to Vegas or something.

Pie Day

Some of you may celebrate Thanksgiving Eve with family, or on the road to visit relatives. Some may watch football or go shopping. Here, the day before Thanksgiving is officially known as Pie Day.

It started out innocently enough; the day prior to the big turkey feast, I'd make a couple of from-scratch pies suitable to the occasion, and they'd join whoever was hosting Thanksgiving's dessert table. Three years ago, we decided to make the meal at our house, and we've stuck with that philosophy ever since. Now, on the day before Thanksgiving, I make five pies.

Do we really need five pies? This year five pies will be topping off the meal for six adults and five kids (I don't count the baby. Love him, but he's not getting his own pie.) I suppose we could get away with just two pies, but how do you choose?

Thanksgiving isn't Thanksgiving without classic pumpkin. I don't even like pumpkin pie, but others do and the meal would be a wash without it.

Then there's apple. You have to have apple pie on Thanksgiving. I'm pretty sure it's a law.

And you can't forget cherry. Having apple pie without cherry pie is like separating twins at birth. It's cruel and unusual.

Now that you've committed yourself to making three pies, you may as well make something creamy and delicious to complement the fruit pies - this is where peanut butter pie comes in. I like to make mine in a peanut butter cookie crust.

At this point you have a nice variety on the dessert table, but no chocolate. What's dessert without chocolate? Chocolate caramel pie rounds the day out so nicely.

Somehow, this year I also made a pumpkin gingersnap cheesecake. Because five pies wasn't enough.

holiday deals

It's that time of year again : the dreaded shopping season. Duhn duhn duhn. You know that's my favorite activity to pursue with 4 kids in tow.

We've started being especially creative this year. With 3 of our 4 kids' birthdays crammed in a six-week timespan right before Christmas, and with nine nieces and a nephew to shop for, deals are a must. I will admit that we usually have the best intentions to "shop early" but this is the first year we've actually managed to get our acts together and start shopping before Thanksgiving. Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

Today on BzzAgent I got the chance to join this new campaign for a website called What's Cheap Today.

I wish I had seen this before we started shopping! I'm not normally a fan of any of the new Web 2.0 sites that phish links from other sites, and that's what I was expecting. I was pleasantly surprised by this site! You truly can go here and see, quickly and prettily, which stores both online and locally have the best deals of the day. I thought I had found all of the deals out there on toys, so I was impressed to see a $10 off $100 or more K-Mart toy purchase listed on the What's Cheap Today site. Of course all of the deals that I had spent several hours researching were there too - but readily available without having to look all over the internet.

I look forward to using What's Cheap Today to finish the remainder of my Christmas shopping!

halfway to sixteen

Half asleep and holding a squirming baby while being toed in the face by an upside-down-sleeping preschooler, I was greeted this morning by my husband who reminded me that it's our older daughter's birthday. "Just think," he said, "she's halfway to sixteen."

The bed never seemed so inviting. I never, ever wanted to leave it.

Alas, the morning started whether I was ready for it or not, and the statement is true : today, Ibis is eight. Our blonde-haired, blue-eyed, havoc-wreaking little girl is eight years old. Eight. That's like officially not a baby anymore. Not a little kid. Eight is halfway to sixteen.

I can still recall when Ibis was a tiny baby. Okay, so tiny is a relative term. She was almost 9 and a half pounds and a natural delivery. I really never envisioned myself being the mother of anyone with blue eyes (and that's actually happened twice now) and find it pretty funny that we named her after a blue-eyed bird. 

Today, we will have cake and gifts. She ordered a buttermilk cake with raspberry frosting. Well, first she ordered an apple pie but decided last minute to go with cake. And I say ordered as though we drove to some bakery somewhere - the only person she ordered around was me. And I'm happy to oblige. Cake photos to come later.  We'll have a special dinner with family, and on Saturday she'll have a party with a few friends. 

I'm still not ready for that one. 

new and improved!

Have you ever tried cramming two kids who couldn't be more different, one of whom has serious sensory issues, into one small space to try to create something like an art project? And had a third kid set up inches away at a desk with no extra space for art supplies, while yet another kid circles below, grabbing whatever falls within his reach?

No?

Well, that won't be me anymore either. Today, I had an epiphany. And the sudden, unexpected gain of our dining room table.

This nifty new setup forms a space-maximizing T shape, which allows plenty of room for multiple personalities to work and create without driving each other crazy.

Well, with less craziness anyway. One can dream. And now no one is left down within a certain little someone's destructive reach. Ahem.

So innocent-looking.

But what's that you're asking? What about our dining room?

That is a gorgeous Ethan Allen dining room set that hubby spied at a yard sale this morning, and we snagged for $100. It also has a leaf to make it Thanksgiving-dinner-sized. The table alone sells new on Ethan Allen's website for $1000. I do wish they'd had 6 chairs instead of 4, but I'm not complaining!

And that is why we love yard sales.

WYSIWYG

Sometimes the learning just seems to script itself. It's funny how that works : we're conditioned to believe that "school" is a place and a time, a set of books and a lesson plan. But learning is taking place ALL the time. Kids are absorbing ideas and values from everything they're seeing and hearing. How we as parents choose to use this truth determines what our children ultimately get out of their education.

Take, for example, our morning trip to the grocery store. Wednesday is our night to plan and cook dinner (Yes, I have a husband who cooks very well. Better than me. And he likes to cook. Be jealous.) So the kids and I had to reach an agreement on what to make. We all voted for homemade pizza, salad, and cinnamon rolls. Staple ingredients were checked, a list was created, our coupons were sifted through, and we perused the 2 local grocery sale ads online to see who had the better deal on bagged lettuce and mozzarella.

At the store, Coral and Hobie rode in one of those ridiculous, impossible-to-steer shopping carts where the front half is a big plastic race car. Lesson in physics right there! As we gathered our purchases, the kids spotted the signs over the aisles and could pick out where our groceries would be. We compared prices per ounce and decided what was the better deal. In line, Alexei estimated our total cost and Ibis was in charge of handing the coupons to the cashier and getting the change. Then we practiced bargaining skills deciding to whom the change belonged.

Once home, Alexei did the bulk of the work starting the dough for the cinnamon rolls - nothing gets a boy motivated like the promise of sweets, and the thought that yeast makes dough rise because of gas. I swear the mere mention of a possible potty joke is enough to keep an almost-ten-year-old boy going for days. No pun intended. Who says a boy's place isn't in the kitchen?

Better make that a boys' place.

While the dough was rising, we plowed through math lessons and had lunch. Then the kids moved on to their big map project and learned all about Connecticut - but that's another post. Mostly because I forgot to take pictures. They also began their postcard project and penned several cards to other homeschool families willing to trade cards from Maryland and Arizona.

I think both kids will understand postcards a little more when they start rolling in. Right now it's this pleasant-sounding, rather foreign concept, where we actually get mail in the mailbox that we want, which isn't a bill or advertisement. Actually this is a pleasant-sounding, rather foreign concept to me, too.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent rolling dough, baking cinnamon rolls, proofing pizza dough, and a flurry of pushing kids on swings, entertaining neighborhood kids, and finishing up dinner. Coral sneaked in under the radar of the big kids and got some cooking time in, too. Give the child a rolling pin and she could be happy for hours.

The kids lost interest in what I was doing when their public-schooled comrades came home, but that's okay. Being a kid is about far more than sitting at a desk with a worksheet; play and friendship are the real teachers.