I think I like Advent best

Today begins Advent. This is the time (four weeks) that we prepare for Christmas, which I always thought was my favorite. But really? I think that Advent is my favorite.

When I was a kid, we made an advent wreath at church. We had the four purple and one pink candles around the edges. We'd light one each week in church and at home. When I was a kid, those four weeks lasted about a year. Now, they fly by.

Why? Because life is busy.

Life is just busy. There's no other way to say that.

We have work and home and meetings and contacts and sports and parties and activities and Facebook to help us keep up with everyone in the whole wide world and Pinterest to make us look good while keeping up (or make us feel inferior about our crafty skills--whatever).

As an adult, Advent is my reminder to s l o w  d o w n.

The thing is this: Christmas--the birth of Christ--did not happen in just one night. The Jewish people had been waiting for a very long time for a savior. Mary and Joseph had to make a very long trek to get to Bethlehem. The shepherds weren't just hanging beside the manger that night.

Christmas is about slowing down, waiting, taking our time.

Advent reminds me of this.

We have two advent wreaths in our home. The first is from my childhood. I found it when we were cleaning out my mom's garage. I grabbed it and screamed, "Mine," before my sister even know what I was hiding behind my back. (Not really, but kinda.)

The second is one that I had put together/made. The jars are a Pinterest success.

So, what is my hope this Advent season?

To slow down. 
To prepare.
To anticipate.
To accept.
To pass along.

 What do you hope for this season?

Thankful Thursdays: Come along with us

CLICK.

Daughter 2 reached over the locked the doors as I stopped at the intersection.

"Whew," she sighed. "That was close."

"What was close?"

"That homeless man was standing right there with his sign and our door was unlocked!"

Not the actual sign--
even I knew better than to snap a pic at that moment.
Source.

It stopped me cold. Our town isn't known for peddlers but we are seeing more and more here and there. And, we have traveled to the bigger cities on several occasions and have seen the peddlers and beggars and have visited with our kids about who these people are and what they do.

I know ... I know ... a lot of them are scam artists, but I'm not on this planet to judge or interview or audit them. I'm on this planet to love them and to help them in whatever way I can. And I was really taken aback that Daughter 2 locked her door at the sight of this poor man holding his sign.

The light changed, and I turned onto the highway and drove straight to McGaggles. I bought him and his companion a couple of meals and some waters. I also talked to Daughter 2 about empathy. If we were in that situation, how would we feel? How would we feel when someone helped us? What would we want someone to do for us? So, we also got them a couple of fried pies.

We returned to the couple, and Daughter 2 opted to stay in the car while I delivered the food. She rolled down the window so she could hear me talk to them and to hear if I "yelled for help." We have a long way to go.

Brian and I have gone great lengths to make sure our girls understand that we are ALL (collectively, as a human race) in this world together, and we are called to do one thing as far as our fellow humans go: Love them. I'd like to believe that Daughter 2 does love the man with the sign, but she's not entirely certain how to do that ... and she's not entirely certain that it's okay. Since she's only nine years old, being a skeptic bodes well for her. This really did need to be something that I, as her momma, leads her in.

So, we're going to count down to Thanksgiving every Thursday. Come back here (www.Minivan-Momma.com) every Thursday--starting in TWO days--for the Thankful challenge. Each week, I'll post a challenge for you or you and your family to expand your world, be thankful for your life and love people.

We'll have a link to our Thankful Thursday Pinterest board. (Email me at Minivan.Momma.2{at}gmail{dot}com and let me know you want to contribute to the group board). We'll reveal our Twitter/Facebook/Instragram Hashtag.

You do not need to be a blogger to play along.

I can't wait to do Thankful Thursdays with you!

G 49

We played BINGO last night with Daughter 2's school--none of us won (much). Wait. Let me back up.

Yesterday, The Daughters and I went to Tulsa to get a new power cord for my MacBook. The fact that it was raining sheets of water and that we'd have to drive an hour there and back did nothing to keep me from going to get my new power cord.

If I had known exactly how rough Daughter 1 would have made the trip, however, I might have thought twice.

Daughter 1 is entering that time in her life when everything--including life itself--is pretty much stupid and it takes very little for her to tell you, and anyone else listening, just how stupid everything is.

I wondered just how stupid it would be to leave her and her tween attitude on the side of the highway in the pouring rain. Thankfully, I realized it would be stupid. Very stupid. And I took her back home with me instead. Without going into great detail, I Googled how to join a convent. I'm not Catholic. Dammit.

As a result of her less-than-desirable attitude, I threatened to take away a lot of things: her birthday, her impending class trip, her oxygen, her books, her Kindle, and, possibly most important, her night with the family at BINGO.

But, I gave her an out. I wanted to show her redemption. "If you can change your attitude and just shut your mouth, I'll think about letting you go to BINGO with us."

And she did. She changed her attitude and kept her mouth shut, and we went to BINGO.

I've spent over 20 years teaching this age group. I've heard the parental angst that comes with parenting this age group. I remember the horrific-ness (shut it, Spellcheck; it's a word) that is being an adolescent. And what I know is this: It's not an easy age for anyone involved. Parenting my anxious, smart, obsessive, beautiful, impulsive kid through this time is rough, yo.

A Tiger Mom might have locked her in her room and stuck to her guns. Hell! A Tiger Mom might have used guns. And I'm fairly certain a Tiger Mom would have never even considered going to BINGO. Drs. Spock and Dobson might have spanked me for giving her an out of her behavior and letting her go to BINGO anyway. But ...

Sometimes, I think we need a win.

And last night, we almost got it.

The grand prize game was worth a gazillion dollars and contained everything, including, maybe, a kitchen sink. And my kid almost won it.

It was a blackout game, and she needed G 49 to win. On the screen, B 6 was posted.

She held her breath. The announcer called out, "B 6," and the new number posted on the screen G 49.

The rule is you cannot call out a BINGO until the announcer says the number. She began to take shallow breaths. She needed this win. I needed her to win. Sometimes teens get so caught up in the injustices of life--like no clean underwear and an earlier bedtime than everyone else in the world including babies--that this BINGO would have been a huge booster for my girl.

And then a little voice at the table next to us said, "BINGO!" And ... G 49 was never called. It was a good BINGO.

We all exhaled and cocked our heads to the side and said words like shoot and darn it and what the--.

Daughter 1 was disappointed, obviously. We all were. But I think the message here is clear:

When we are having a rough day, I'll be dropping her off at the American Legion because those old BINGO Bitties will have met their match in Daughter 1, and she appears to be kinda lucky despite her hellacious attitude.

Friday Flashback: Just Ignore It

Daughter 1 had a rough start to her schooling. She went through several Mother's Day Out programs before we found one that didn't forget about her as she played outside. (True Story.) First Friends had great hours, worked with her through nap time (the kid gave up naps at 18 months old), and had great teachers.

Miss Julie was one of those great teachers.

My Little Conservationist

"Don't kill that fly, Momma!" Daughter 2 shrieked as I had the fly swatter raised and ready to strike on the %&(@ fly that wouldn't stop buzzing my head or landing on my hands as I typed.

"Oh, honey, this fly is about to meet it's maker," I said through gritted teeth.

"Please, Momma," she begged with a little catch in her voice. "Let me catch it and take it outside to feed the frogs."

"If we win the lottery..."

In an effort to expand The Daughters' horizons beyond reruns of Friends and random nonsense--did I say nonsense? I mean crap--on Cartoon Network, we forced our beautiful girlies to watch the news. Gasp! I know! Do not call Human Services. They've been out and assured The Daughters that the nightly news is not abusive. Cruel and unusual, yes, but not abusive.

Countdown: The Sex Talk

In counting down to TMI Mom: Oversharing My Life's release on April 1, I'm taking your suggestions and writing what YOU want me to write about as determined by the likes on our TMI Mom Facebook page.  Today's suggestion comes from Stronger Me. Email me Stronger Me--You've won a big ol' chocolate bar and some TMI Mom bookmarks!

In TMI Mom Oversharing My Life, I share and share and share again about sex talks that have gone wrong. I tell about the time that I thought the F-word was related to Matchbox Cars. I tell about the time Daughter 1 reads a book about puberty and turns our whole household 50 shades of cra-cra. Even on this blog, I've written about the bona fide, real-life, this is how we "do it" sex talk with Daughter 1.  But, that wasn't the first time Daughter 1 and I had visited about S-E-X.

An Open Letter To My Family.

Dear Family:

I am so excited to see you all this weekend. It's one of my most favorite times of the year. The Dad, The Daughters and I are busy burning up the road seeing as much of our families as we can. We'll deliver the gifts that we lovingly chose just for you. We'll eat your sweets and laugh at your jokes and then, just before Christmas arrives, we'll crash back at home.

Picture by numbers

My favorite fall tradition is taking pictures for our annual "Aren't our kids more beautiful that your kids" Christmas card.

Let me break down this tradition for you:

Innocence Lost

Last Easter, Daughter 2 came to terms with the reality of the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus. She, however, chose to believe in tooth fairy because the fairy's overwhelming job of buying teeth at night made her totally a believable myth. How else could we explain her tardiness and forgetfulness? Personally, I think we should cut her some slack. She does, after all, work a full-time job, maintain a home, cook healthy foods (quit laughing) and do hours of homework for which she gets no grade. She's entitled to forget a tooth or seven over the course of her fairy-ing experience.

Conversation of The Week

In a pickle

Ten weeks ago when school let out, I had a list of a gajillion things that we would do as a family over the summer to create meaningful and magical memories that would last a life time.  And since school starts in two weeks, I figured it was time for us to do all that crap since we sat around for ten weeks doing nothing. Well, doing nothing while melting.  With the heat as my inspiration, I decided that we'd make sun pickles.

Friday Flashback: Dead or Alive

When I a freshman in high school, I had a crush on a guy named "John"... but he sat next to me in my freshman English class (maybe others), and I couldn't very well doodle "John" all over my notebooks, so I wrote "Jon" instead. I was quick on my feet for a 14-year-old, that's for sure.

A momma's role

This past week, we took The Daughters to their very first theme park, complete with giant roller coasters and expensive food.  As we walked through Mt Olympus Theme Park in The Dells, they were wide-eyed with awe and thought they had died and gone to heaven.  It was actually Wisconsin, and I actually stole that line from Field of Dreams, which we visited on our way up.

Conversation of the Week

Daughter 2:  What will you be when you grow up?

The Dad:  I am grown up.

The Dad:  What will you be when you grow up.

Daughter 2:  Hot.

Don't forget to register for the Blacklisted from the PTA givewaway!!  

My little environmentalist

We are fortunate enough to live not too far from the Tallgrass Prairie Preserves. (This is also close to another famous Oklahoma.  I won't name any names. The Pioneer Woman.) It was hot and it was steamy and the only reason Daughter 1 agreed to drive over to the Prairie was because we told her it was close to the aforementioned blogger. I hold no clout with my own kid. (Or Klout - jeez! I'm so confused!)

Say cheese, all ye bretheren

Sunday morning, The Dad was assisting with worship service - this meant I was left sitting alone with The Daughters in our almost-back-row seats. This causes me great anxiety because when I am alone with The Daughters, they outnumber me and I just can't play a zone defense as well as man-on-man without dozens of unwarrented fouls being called.  See, OKC Thunder?  I feel your pain.

If it weren't for Bo...

I thought I was being smart.  I always think I'm being smart, but it never turns out that way.  Saturday was no exception to this rule.

Quality Mother Daughter Time

Over the holidays, Daughter 1 and I went shopping for her a new dress that she could wear for her choir concert and any other dress-worth occasion she might have.  Basically, we bought her a dress to wear one time because no other times are worthy of dresses in her little mind!

I don't have to be Super Momma

It was my hope that I could, between Thanksgiving and Christmas, cook our meals at home.  It would be more healthy than driving through McGaggles.  It would be more economical than heading out to the chips and salsa place every other night.  As I made my Martha-Stewart-esque decision, I had visions of us sitting around the candle lit table using the Christmas dishes and laughing with each other right before we broke into "Silent Night" sung in three-part harmony!  Idyllic to say the least...

 For heaven's sake, why couldn't I pull off this "cooking at home" bit for a month?