Christmas Blessing

Our family has had a tradition for many years where we make a handmade gift to open on Christmas Eve. Sometimes the gifts are very thoughtful, sometimes they are silly, sometimes people cheat, and give a store-bought gift, but that is another post.
This year Bub had G's name for Christmas Eve. Bub had really been struggling with what to make. Bub loves to bake, but did his diabetic brother really need a whole batch of cookies? Driving to town one day, I suggested that I had a cute picture of G and his grandma reading on the couch. Bub could print it up and put it in a frame and then G would have his own picture of Grandma to remember her.
Last night we each opened our Christmas Eve present. The Dad got a tin of fancy fudge from our nephew. Bub and I got darling blankets from my sister and her step-daughter, and I gave Fred a skirt pattern and material (I would have made it, but she's never asleep, so I couldn't sneak). Then G opened his present. He was very quiet, but said he liked it.
After the kids changed into their pajamas, I noticed G sitting by himself, clutching the picture and sobbing. He misses his grandma so much. We had a good talk about her and how much she loved him and agreed to put the picture on the back of a shelf until he was ready to see it every day.
Today, my dad and his new wife came for Christmas dinner. G showed the picture to his grandpa and started crying again. Then came the best part of my day.
Cheryl, the new wife, who could have just ignored the whole mess, put her arms around my broken-hearted little boy and told him how special his grandma was. She told him that his grandma loved him and was watching over him from heaven. She told him that he was lucky to have such a good lady as his grandma. Bless you, Cheryl, you saved the day.

The Dad Has a Birthday! FTW

The Dad had his birthday today.  It began with G (wearing rollerblades!) making him breakfast, which was pretty cute.  We gave him the Civilization V game.

He spent the day wearing his snuggie and playing the game.  I don't think he came out of the bedroom until it was time for dinner.  I guess, all in all, it was a successful day.  This has not always been the case with The Dad and his birthdays, so we'll call it a win.

I would post a picture, but I have promised no snuggie pictures of The Dad.  You will have to use your imagination. 

Ghost of Thanksgiving Past

Dinner went so smoothly today that I began thinking about all my other Thanksgivings.
1992:  cooking dinner with The Dad for the first time.  I believe we ate about 9 PM.
1994:  Eating dinner at 10:30 AM so that The Dad could get to work on time.
1997:  Fred's first Thanksgiving.  I was pregnant with Bub and I remember I had to put maternity clothes on that day.  I also remember Fred giving herself a mashed potato facial and scalp treatment that took forever to clean up.
1998:  Bub's first Thanksgiving.  We ended traveled to my parents' in Idaho and Bub discovered the beauty of Thanksgiving rolls.
2001:  Our first Thanksgiving with Nash and G.
 2005:  The year we grew our own turkeys.  Home grown turkeys DO NOT taste better than the ones from the freezer.  They are a giant pain in the ass.  The are stupid.  And no one warns the home turkey grower that the stinkin' things will just keep growing until they won't fit in the oven.  I could go on.  Would you like to know about pulling feathers out with pliers?  Sawing the turkey into pieces so it could be cooked?  The mom crying in her bedroom because the turkey wouldn't cook?  Yea.  I didn't think so.
2009:  The first Thanksgiving without my mom.  She died about 10 days before Thanksgiving and it was a surreal day.  Normally, The Dad and I and our kids just have Thanksgiving together, but my dad, sister, brother-in-law, and niece came out for the day.  Everything tasted good, but the day was just so strange.
2010:  Everyone cooked together and cleaned together.  Isn't that the way the day should be?

Working Mom Guilt

Every year right before Thanksgiving, our ward primary (3-12 year old group at church) does "cheer baskets."  Every kid brings 5 individual items to share and they basket them up and take them to the older people in around town. 
Last year I sent my boys with baggies of  leftover Halloween candy.
I have an excuse.  We had returned from my mom's funeral just a few days before cheer basket day and I was just plain overwhelmed.
But a year later, I am feeling pretty danged guilty.  You know, being the working mom who sends her kids to the activity with non-homemade goodies.
So I made up for it by staying up until midnight Wednesday making cinnamon rolls. 
Yes, you read that right:  midnight. 
This was after I had rushed home from work to make a cake to take to the school Veteran's Day program.  This was after the program. 
Did anyone but me care that G had homemade cinnamon rolls for the baskets?  Probably not, but my guilt is lessened.
I can't be the only mom who has the working mom guilt....

Welcome to Junior High

I am over 40 and I am fairly intelligent.  Most of the time, I am fairly confident, but wow! the whole Bloggy Boot Camp thing threw me for a loop.  I packed and unpacked.  I agonized over my clothes.  I agonized over the size of my butt and the fact that my shoes are dumb.  I told The Dad that I would be the only frumpy person there and no one would talk to me. 
Quite frankly, I turned into the person I'd been at 13. 
The Dad calmed my nerves and reminded me that he believes all the Twitter ladies are serial killers and what did I care if serial killers liked my shoes or not?  (By the way, he has met @nettefrawl and @supernovia, and he realizes that they are not, in fact, serial killers.)
By the time I got to dinner Friday night, I had worked myself back into a frenzy of uncoolness. 
I walked into the restaurant with a lot of trepidation, but decided to pretend to be cool.
I recognized some of my twitter friends and introduced myself and that's all it took.  I had a great time. 

More Than I Signed Up For

Being the mom of a diabetic kid is not easy on a normal day.  Being the mom of a diabetic kid on Halloween is beyond crap.  I kid you not.
Last year, when G's diabetes was fresh in everyone's mind, there were people in our community that had special trick or treat stuff for him.  This was pretty cool and made me really appreciate our community.  This year, G is back to being a normal kid in everyone's mind.  Even though they all know he's diabetic, it's just part of him and he's just one of the mess of 4th grade boys trick or treating through town.
Needless to say, G got a pillowcase full of candy.  None of it healthy.  It's hard to watch him be one of the few kids in class who didn't have Halloween candy in his lunch.  We have been battling low and high blood sugars and the moodiness that goes with it all week.
Most of the candy is gone now so hopefully we can have a couple of good weeks until Thanksgiving.
Hopefully....

Thinking

Yesterday I had the opportunity (!?) to take our school's quiz bowl team to its first match of the season.  We left at 6:30 AM.  It was dark and, as teenagers love few things in life more than sleep, very quiet. 
We had a 100 mile drive, so I had nearly 2 hours of thinking time.
I spent a lot of time thinking about my mom.   I miss her and I wonder if I will ever have an October/November that isn't spent thinking about her all the time.
 I still think about calling her.

Starting Out

So seriously, I've been thinking of doing this for a long time.  I read other people's blogs.  I have words in my head, but I have procrastinated.  Now it is being forced upon me because I am taking a class.

So now I'm posing as a blogger.  It took me a long time to not feel that I was posing as a teacher, and I still, quite often, feel that I am posing as a mom and wife. 

Who will read my words?  I guess that's what made me procrastinate in the first place.  What if someone reads them and thinks I'm stupid?  What if no one reads them?

I've made the first step.  I'm sure I will have lots to say in the future about teaching, living in isolation, being a mom, diabetes, and all the other things that make up my world.