I’m slightly excited… <sarcasm>

I’m very excited.  I’m excited that the hubs and I get to spend some time together…not that we don’t here in the states, but it’s different.  I’m excited to be able to use my new camera to capture photos that I never thought I would be able to… I’m excited to explore the islands, not on an exusrsion, but just to see what we can find… and, truthfully, I’m slightly excited to be incommunicado.  I guess my cell phone would work, but the roaming would be outrageous… and I have no more money to spend after this “free” cruise…

Next week is a big week in that the hubs and I will be celebrating Valentine’s Day away from the children on a tropical island, but it’s also my Jesus birthday…

FIVE!  I can’t believe it!

But I am…

So that means that next week, while I’m gone, I’m going to share my testimony with you… it’s a birthday tradition around these parts!

Enjoy next week (even if you’ve read it before)… and I’ll see you when we get back!

Until next time…

And this year was a little more blah because for the first time in FOREVER we had emergency expenses that required us to get into our emergency fund.  (Thank you Dave Ramsey!)  They were out of nowhere and just plain unexpected.  IT was one of those when it rains, it pours kinda things.  So that makes another blah aspect of January… all the fun Christmas shopping and then BAM! Tighten the financial belt.

But, I know that if I could just get through January, February would be worth it.

February marks my bloggy birthday… or blogaversary… or what ever term you want to give to the fact that I started this little thing 5 years ago this month…

Additionally?

My Christ birthday is this month!  I’m turning 5!

And because it’s my Jesus birthday, I’m running my testimony again the week of Valentine’s day… the 15th is the actual day…

But I won’t be around on the 15th… wanna know why?

I’ll be here…

With my husband and NO CHILDREN!!!!

At first, I was a little apprehensive about this, but now?  I can’t wait!

10 more wake-ups!  And I’ll get to see Mary Snyder on the boat… and that’s exciting… but speaking of Mary…

She wrote a book!  It was just released in December and guess what?

I have a copy!  Two actually.

Be on the lookout this month for what I think about this…

And when we get home, I’m kicking off a Bible study at church for the women (local?  want to join us?  PLEASE DO!!!) AND participating in a new program dealing with crafting at another church.

So February looks to be a busy, yet fun, month…

It has to be better than January!  Has to!  If not, then I guess I’ll just have to keep looking for the silver linings!

Until next time…

Last Monday (January 9th), I celebrated 35 years of life.  I don’t feel 35.  But I am.

Yesterday(January 18th), I celebrated 15 years with Thing 1.  I don’t feel like the mother to a 15 year old, one that gets his learner’s permit in 6 months.  But I am.

Nestled in between the celebration of the birthdays, I celebrated the life of M. Robert Lesher, aka Pappy Bob.  Pappy Bob was my maternal grandfather.  He lived in Pennsylvania and passed away last Wednesday (January 11th).  It was time.  My grandmother passed almost 20 years ago.  He was ready to go.  This is some of what my dad wrote in their church newsletter this week:

Barb’s dad passed away last Wednesday morning in the nursing home where he resided for the last four years.  Barb was holding his hand as he slipped comfortably away in the night.  Bob was born in Chambersburg, PA in 1923 and enlisted into the Army Air Corps in 1941.  His real claim to fame in WWII was that he “helped himself” to Gen McArthur’s whole milk as his command plane was being serviced and refueled in the Pacific Theater.  Bob made airplanes for awhile at Fairchild Industries and then spent the rest of his life selling and repairing recreational vehicles.  Bob was predeceased by his wife Florence in 1992 and leaves behind two children and seven great grandchildren.  Barb called her father every night at 6:00 and sent him a package every week for the last four years.

Me and my grandpa 35 years ago…

A death can bring down, or rob the joy of, the celebrations of birthdays but not around here.  I chose to look at the silver lining of things.  I say I chose, but I can honestly say it’s not be a conscious effort.  It’s just kind of happened.  For example….

• My mother drove up to Pennsylvania on my birthday to be with him in his last stages of life.  She stopped here and I got a real, live hug… on my actual birthday.  From my mother.  I can’t tell you the last time I had that.
• For whatever reason, the hubs decided to throw me a surprise birthday party that same day.  Upon returning home from dropping Things 2 and 4 at Girl Scouts there were 21 friends in my house.. for me… to celebrate with me… and how awesome is that?  The love of friends when you’ve just learned that your grandfather is dying…I needed it.  I loved it.  I’m grateful for it.

• My grandfather passed early Wednesday morning… just two days after my birthday.  After work, I drove to Pennsylvania with my mother leaving the family behind.  I got two whole days in Pennsylvania with my mother, spending quality time with her.  That’s something that I never get… and oh. my. word. did we have a good time.
• Not only did I get 2 days in Pennsylvania with her, I convinced her to stay a day with us in Roanoke before heading back to Tennessee.  We shopped.  We measured for curtains.  She taught me to knit.  She taught me how to make a favorite childhood meal of mine.  We laughed. (At some point in time, the hubs will learn to take flattering pictures of me… but I’m grateful he thinks to take pictures of important moments…)

• While in Pennsylvania, I got to buy whoopie pies, Pot Pie noodles, ham loaf, Lebanon Sweet Bologna, Gibbles pretzels, and a host of other items that you just can’t get here… AND I ate at several local diners… where I had the best fries and gravy AND omelette (not at the same meal of course) that I’ve ever had.

• After coming back from Pennsylvania Thing 1 came down with the stomach bug.  I hated that he was sick, but LOVED the fact that he needed his mom…and that he kept telling me thank you and that he loved me.  AS soon as the bug was gone, I was back to being just mom.

It’s been a roller coaster the first 18 days of the year, but all in all… this silver lining and celebration thing?

It’s not really all that bad…..

Until next time…

Most of the time?

It’s amazing.

Like the Christmas ornaments I made out of floor wax and glitter?

I gave some as gifts.  I made sure that all the family members got one.  I even kept a few for myself.

They loved them!  (And it was more than just my mom!  She loves everything I make!)

My decorating took off around the House of Chaos and when the Christmas decor came down, it was quite boring, blah, and well, depressing around here.

So I took matters into my own hands and found some Valentine’s Day stuff to make.  The hubs is thrilled.  He pink puffy hearts the day.  Me? Eh.  Not so much.

But I like making things and I love the house when it’s warm and cozy and decorated so this seems to please both of us.

Besides.  Thinking about Valentine’s Day makes me think about the cruise that we won because we’ll be celebrating that day in the Bahamas!  Woot!

I digress.

Julie at From Inmates to Playdates asked if there was a tutorial for the wreath that I showcased yesterday.  And?  There is.  Obviously, I learned how to make it somewhere.  I’m not that creative.  (I just follow instructions well.)

But, because I wanted to play with my new camera and feel like I run a craft blog flesh out a few of the instructions AND have a What I Learned This Week Post, I came up with a tutorial of my own.

The Felt Heart Wreath

Items Needed:

• Styrofoam heart wreath shape (I got mine at Joann’s — I didn’t see one at AC Moore and I didn’t check Michael’s and used my 50% off coupon — so it came to $2.50)
• 3/4 yard of red felt from the bolt  (The 72″ bolts) — it runs about $4.99 a yard.  I managed to catch mine on sale at $2.99/yard
• Stick pins (at least 150 or so… I bought a pack of 250 for about $3)
• scissors (you’re going to use them alot)
• time — I worked on this over the course of two days

Minus the empty soup bowl and Christmas cup left on the table from dinner.

And just in case you are obsessive… like me… here is what a close up of the wreath looks like.

A few notes about this… you don’t have to do the back.  In fact, when I started the first time, I only did two rows down each side before I decided that it looked forced and tore half of it out.  And there is no wrong way to do it.  And Amy over at the Idea Room has some GREAT ideas… I’m thankful that she provided the tutorial that she did!

I forgot how hard it was to cut out all those flippin’ circles love the way that it turned out so much that I took my left over felt and am making topiaries out of two styrofoam balls and glasses that I picked up at the Dollar Store!

And this?  Is what I learned this week. What did you learn this week?  Link up at From Inmates to Playdates

And, uh… oh yeah…I’ve figured out how to (I think!) add a “pin it” button to my posts!

Nevermind… a project for another day!

Until next time…

I now have one of those pairs of scissors.

After seeing the price tag of $22, I know why she got mad when they were used on something other than material.  (Like cutting cardboard to make a ramp for the hotwheels…)  I used a coupon of course, but still.

I will kill the person that takes my “good” scissors.

And it came to this because I can’t find one non-safety pair of scissors in this house EXCEPT the ones that came with the hair clippers.  And I bought several over the holiday season, along with a miriad of tape, that I also can’t find.

Our house apparently eats scissors and tape.

After cutting out over 100 felt circles to make this….

My fingers just couldn’t take it anymore… and I marched myself to the craft store to buy a pair… and some new yarn.  Because I finished the wreath and now I’m on to working on this….

But not in those colors.  Just because it’s a Martha Stewart pattern, doesn’t mean that I have to use her $7 a skein yard… which are really small balls of yarn… and i would need 15.  It’s just not worth it.

I’ll have to tell the kids to lay off my loom and yarn too, because they like to get into those things as well.

And they all wonder why I take a sharpie to all the items I get at Christmas…

Until next time…

(This was the same boy who was begging me to come pick him up from his father’s the night before.  But I digress.)

Truthfully, somedays, I can’t wait to get out of this house.  And, if I take myself back to the time that I was 15, I, too, couldn’t wait to get out of my house.

That lessened the hurt a little.  He’s just shy of 15.  Why would he want to be here all the time?  I’m dumb, uncool, old and a plethora of other unpopular adjectives attached to mothers of teenagers.

What’s odd to me is that I can’t imagine ever feeling that way about my mother, but I know that I did.  Oh, I was downright rotten to that woman and for no other reason than because I could.

Isn’t that horrible?

Don’t answer that.

But 20 years ago I couldn’t wait to be away from my parents and now?  I miss them… my mother the most.  We have SO.MUCH.FUN. together.

Like Friday night.  She blew through town on her way from Pennsylvania back home to Tennessee and stopped for the night.  We ate.  We shopped.  I told her all about Pinterest.  I gave her lots of homemade goodies I learned about on Pinterest.  We compared cameras.  We had a photo war.  We laughed.  And laughed.  And laughed some more.

All of that in just 6 hours.

AND?

She’s just freakin’ cool.

She handed me a bag and said, “I didn’t wrap these because I didn’t know if they would fit.  So, go try them on.”  And I did as I was told.

They were pajamas.  With little pigs on them.  And the shirt says, “When pigs fly.”

When I came out of the bedroom with them on, she was walking out of the bathroom.

She had the SAME jammies on!  And I screamed.  And giggled.  And promptly told the hubs to grab the camera.

And then we broke into song…. “Sisters” from our favorite movie….”White Christmas”

And then we laughed… alot….

It was after midnight.  I was so tired but didn’t want to go to bed.  I knew that she had to leave early in the morning, so I said goodnight, gave her a hug and a kiss… sent her up to the Princess Tower (Thing 4′s room) and went to bed…

Saturday morning she peeked in at me and said she had to leave…so I loaded her up and sent her on, making her promise to call when she got home.

If I knew then that we could have this much fun or that I would feel this way about her twenty years ago, I might not have been so horrid back then.

But I sure do appreciate her, love her, and can’t wait until we get to visit again.

And that gives me a glimmer of hope that in twenty years my kids will feel the same about me.

Until next time…

I am set in my ways. I don’t like change unless I initiate it. It really should be no surprise that Christmas Eve in the Jacobson household mirrors that of my childhood night before Christmases.

My father thinks this is hysterical and is forever telling me to start some of our own traditions — because I’m a grown up now and because I own my home, yadda yadda yadda. I don’t see why I must make new traditions when there’s nothing wrong with the ones that I currently know.

There’s a reason they are traditions. I just chose to carry them on with my children. That being said, we do have a few that have been implemented since birthing my children.

Now, first, let me tell you that the moment our feet hit the floor on Christmas Eve, we track Santa. The kids love it. We leave the computer up all day long and check in every hour to see where he is. Not only to we check to see where he is, but we feel the need to call everyone we know to tell him. Sadly, I am the one who awakes and bolts to the computer and then call to the children about where he is. As the day goes on, they start to get a little more excited.

My mother, loves to play along, and if we miss our hourly check in, she will call me and ask where is he (she could easily look this up on her own computer, but it’s more fun to call us.) Then, when we give her the report, she turns around and calls her father to update him on the journey of the fat man in a red suit.

This year, we’ll be traveling home from Mom’s on Christmas Eve, so we’re going to be relying on her to call us and update us while we make the trek home.

Since there is no immediate family in the area, and never was growing up, Christmas Eve is pretty quiet. Typically, we hit up the church, and I prefer the latest service I can find. There’s just something magical the carols in a dark, chilly church. Perhaps it’s because, minus the carols, it’s what Mary and Joseph had… cold and dark. I don’t know…

The other reason I like the late service? Because as soon as we walk in the door, I can get the kids ready for bed, ASAP. For the past few years, if we went to church at all we would go to the 4 or 6pm service. After 9 with these two and they are like banshees and I fear that they’ll be swinging from a chandelier because they can’t contain their excitement. When the idea of Santa is gone from their heads, I’ll probably resume finding the latest service that I can.

Once we get home from church, the kids normally scurry into one of their rooms and wrap their presents so that they can put them under the tree. Because we are a family of snoopers, unless someone mails us a package, we never put presents under the tree before Christmas Eve. (Might I also add, that people who do mail us presents typically wait until the last possible minute… and not because they are procrastinators but because we snoop… and there’s a better chance of it still being unopened Christmas morning if they wait.) Well, that and there’s a chance that the dog could get into them. She never has, but she might… you never know.

We start our traditions around 8. I have this timed perfectly. Santa is typically in New York City by 10 and that’s the latest they can be up. They freak if they see that dot in the Big Apple and they are still up. They are just so afraid that they’ll get passed over. Thank God for Norad… how did you guys to get your kids in the bed before that came along??????

We read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas from a popup book that I received Christmas of 1977, yes the year I was born… 30 years ago. The popups don’t work anymore, but the story is still the same. Over the last few years, the kids have started reading it to me, or taking turns. Then we read the story in the Bible. If we are with my parents Christmas Eve, I make my dad read it. And I’ll always do that no matter how old I am.

When that’s done, it’s time to write a letter to Santa. The kids include any last minute wishes for him and leave him instructions on where his milk and cookies are and where the reindeer food is. They then place the milk and cookies out and head back to the tree and look for one gift that they are allowed to open.

When that’s done, we check NORAD and see where he is. As I stated, the last possible minute they feel they have to get in bed is when Santa’s in NYC, but typically it’s as he rounding Iceland that they jump in the sack.

Once they are in bed, I commence to whatever it is that’s left to do. Most of the time it’s wrap, so I wait until they drift off or lock myself in my room with a good movie and wrap, but this year? I don’t plan on having anything to do Christmas Eve because it will all be done before I head to my moms. I plan on sitting there. Then I plan on putting my Breakfast Casserole in the crockpot, putting all of the presents under the tree, and going to bed….

Because even at 30, I’m excited for Christmas Morning… where there are even more traditions to be had…

and that’s another post for another day… 

Until next time…

Heather

PS. For those of you who would like the recipe for the casserole, it’s as follows – please note… there are no onions, peppers, or dry mustard in mine — and only because my kids don’t eat peppers or onions and I don’t know where the dry mustard is in the store…and i use shredded cheese and regular hash browns, not the southern style. I know I could’ve just typed out what I do, but I know others might like all the extras!

1 bag (32 oz.) of frozen southern style hashbrown potatoes
1 pound of bacon cut into pieces, fried and drained.
1 pound sausage, crumbled, browned and drained
1/2 cup diced onions
1 green pepper diced
3/4 pound cheddar cheese diced
1 dozen eggs
1 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
salt & pepper

Layer the frozen potatoes, bacon, onions, green pepper and cheese in the crockpot in two or three layers. Finish up with cheese. Beat the eggs, milk and mustard, salt & pepper together. Pour over the whole mixture. Cook on low for ten to twelve hours.

Breakfast is ready as soon as you get up!

Our family loves to be jolly… much laughter… and there isn’t one Christmas that has gone by without a gag gift…

This year is no different…

But it all started many, many years ago…

My mother doesn’t want me to tell this story. She’ll think that you all will think less of her as a mother, but if you are a mother, I bet that you’ve had a similar situation happen to you. I know I have. Like yesterday… but that’s neither here nor there.

Anywho, my brother and I, in true sibling fashion, were arguing, again. Mom had enough and told us, more than once, I might add, to stop. She was in the kitchen doing the dishes and she’d finally had it. She turned to the two of us, glass scrubber in hand, and yelled,

“If you two don’t stop it right now, I’m going to.. to… shove this dishwashing equipment down your throats!”

John and I looked at one another and immediately fell silent.

You know, my poor mother. I never realized just how not nice we were some times (sorry Mom! I’m getting it back 10 fold now I promise!)

We escaped my mother. We left her alone. But we were very quick to tattle to my father about what she’d said and how she’s threatened us when he returned home.

That Christmas there was a glass scrubber wrapped up for me.

The following year?

There was one wrapped up for him.

This went on for years until my mom finally asked us why we gave each other these dish scrubbers.

She had absolutely no recollection of this threat.

It’s been several years since my father or I have exchanged glass scrubbers so this year, I picked one up for him.

Then there’s my grandmother. She’s the coolest grandma ever, but she’s the butt of many jokes as well.

Once we gave my Dad porn, there was no stopping us.

So, last year, we had a little scandal here involving a weatherman who was fired for a nude picture on MySpace. He was shaving…not his face. I used to work with him and my mother knew him so I called to give her the gossip. She told my grandma and I jokingly said, “I’ve got the edited version” to which my grandma said, “Unless it’s the real deal, I don’t want it.” She was joking of course, but it left her wide open.

When the picture circulated around to all the former employees (we got it whether we wanted it or not), I printed it out, “autographed” it, framed it and wrapped it up for my grandmother.

Sometimes I worry that I’m going to give her a heart attack from laughing so hard.

This year, there’s no porn for any members of the family. But she is getting fart putty, an Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader activity pad and an arm tattoo, with a pirate on it…in addition to her real gift of course.

But there was also the year that we wanted to get one over on my mom and we didn’t. I’m so glad too, because it was the year that Christmas almost wasn’t…. but she’d been asking for a rotary cutter and cutting mat for her quilting. Dad sent us out to get them and they looked so much like placemats and pizza cutters, that we almost bought that for her…

Did I mention I was glad we didn’t do that?

Last year, Dad wrapped up a 50% off coupon for mom.

We do stupid stuff like that.

However, this year, I’ve heard that Grandma is fighting back and there’s something funny for me…

And that’s something that I just can’t wait to see…

Until next time…

First things first…

Do you know what it means to deck the halls?

I didn’t, so I asked my best friend Google.

And then I felt dumb. Deck? Like decorate… or getting all decked out…

oh well. I really just wanted to throw some fancy trivia your way to make me appear some what intelligent, but guess that’s not happening. I’ll try again next year… 

Decking the halls growing up was an all day thing. And it was mandatory. So were the smiles that you must have while participating. Being grumpy or bah humbug were not allowed, although trust me. There were many years that I pushed the envelope with the Christmas cheer.

But it made my mom so happy for all of us to do it, so even dad pretended as if he liked doing this.

We all had roles in decking the halls and trimming the tree. We would all go and pick out the perfect tree. We all had a say in what we thought we should get, but in the end, it was my mother who made the final decision (as long as it was within the budget that my father had set.)

After we got the tree home, my mom, brother and I would haul out all the boxes while Dad did his thang with the tree. He was responsible for getting all the loose needles out, making a fresh cut in the stump and getting it in the stand, something I obviously didn’t pay enough attention to when I lived there as we all know.

When the tree was placed in it’s spot in the living room, it was then time to get the lights ready. As in true military fashion, with my dad being a soldier and all, there was a system that must be followed.

We used the strands with the big bulbs. Oh how I wished for twinkling little lights. They seemed so easy to deal with but we used the big ones. The strands had no bulbs when we started and we would get the bulbs out of the box. Most families probably left their bulbs in the strands and if they did take them out, there were probably all dumped in a box. Not in our house. When the bulbs were put away the year before, each of the four colors were separated in baggies.

So John and I would then put the bulbs in the strands, but not in just any ol’ way. No, we put them in sequences — green, blue, red, yellow… repeat. We did this until all the bulbs were in and working. We tossed the bulbs that weren’t working and handed dad the lights to which he hung perfectly on the tree. (This is something else that I apparently never paid attention to. The man taught me to change the oil in my car but not how to string lights… amazing.)

Now, while Dad, John and I are working on the lights, Mom is unpacking all of the boxes. She’s getting the ornaments out and her snow globes, and wreaths, etc. While doing this, we’re hearing, again, the significance of each of the decorations. As a child, this bothered me. As an adult? I’m ever so grateful that she did it. At the time, I didn’t realize exactly what memories meant, at least not like I do now.

Ok, so the lights are on and mom’s unpacking, but we can’t decorate yet. First we have to go through the lights, now hung on the tree, and make sure that there aren’t two colors next to one another. Anal? Yes, however, I dare you to find a more perfect tree anywhere in the country. This was important to my dad. Today, I have the little lights and ::gasp:: there are even some bulbs that are out that I didn’t replace… primarily because I didn’t have any extras.

When the lights are on, and the tree is anchored to the ceiling so that little ones or dogs can’t knock it over, Dad gives the green light for the trimming to commence.

The ornaments are all layed out on the floor and we must attach a hook to each of them, because last year we took the hooks off of them and put them in a little baggie… which means they are all tangled up and we spend more time untangling them than we do actually hanging the ornaments.

We talk about where they came from and the memories behind them. While my brother, mother and I are hanging the ornaments, Dad begins to gather the stuff to decorate the outside. Mom of course tells him where she wants what and Dad makes it happen.

The Christmas Carols are going and we’re holly jolly decorating the house. There was always a fire going, but not because it was to set the mood, it’s because we heated our house with a woodstove which meant that we were either burning up or freezing cold depending on where we were in the house.

And let’s not forget the music. The music was all classics… Berl Ives and Barry Manilow… John Denver… all played on the record player. No fancy CDs for us. It’s another great memory for me, the music, and the sound of the records flipping and the slight scratch when the needle set down.

But, when the house was finished, it was great. It was festive and there were decorations that I looked forward to getting out every year… like the knitted know people… and our manger scene, which was missing baby Jesus… he apparently didn’t survive one of the moves and to this day it’s the bottom of a match box with a blue tissue in it and a plastic naked baby. Classy, I tell you. But that’s a memory.

My parents have enough money to buy a new manger set, but I would be devastated if they did.

And then there’s the fish. The fish hangs above the woodstove (even in their new house) and he gets a Santa hat. The fish is one that my dad caught many, many years ago and it was a biggie. He had it stuffed and he gets decked out for the holidays too. (Sometime, I’ll have to tell you the story behind the fish.)

And then there are the stockings. The stockings are old, but all hand made. When my brother and I moved out, Mom tried to give us our stockings. But we made her keep them. Because when I go “home” even though I didn’t grow up in the house they live in now, Christmas is seeing all of those stockings hung. Of course, they aren’t hung by the chimney with care as they would catch fire, but they are hung. It preserves the memories that I try so desperately to hang on to.

The best view of our tree was when we lived in Virginia. One year it was downstairs, but every other year it was proudly displayed in the bay window. And one day, I want a window where everyone can see my tree.

So those are my decorating memories…

And tomorrow I promise a new memory… a little earlier… hopefully… I’ve been working on this one since Thursday… 

Until next time…