December 22, 2012

For Sale: One Cheerleader

Oy. If BabyGirl doesn't stop clapping and stomping her feet soon I'm going to have to have her quilted.  Wrapped in batting and stitched together to muffle the sound.  She claps in the shower, she stomps in the bath tub, she jumps in her room all. day. long.  She feels the need to Do All The Cheers.  Right now.  And oddly enough, I'm losing my spirit to the intense amount of, "Dynamite! Our team is Dynamite! Our team is hold on- wait a minute- put a little BOOM! in it!" that has gone on in my house for the past 2 months.

I am glad she enjoys cheer and it has helped with her SPD in a big bad way.  My daughter- the child who spent 6 years stark nekked (that's naked only more so)- asked for a pair of tennis shoes last month.  I bought them.  She wears them.  Everyday.  She's also wearing socks, jeans, and shirts with sleeves.  Ponytails are no longer of the devil and undergarments (while still high on the picky list) are not the battle they were 2 years ago.  She even asked for brassieres for Christmas (if you ever tell her I blogged about that I will denounce you for the liar you are). Junior High peer pressure may be working in our favor.

In other news I have never ever been so happy for Christmas vacation to begin in my life.  Not since the FarmHands started school. Not since I was in grade school, high school, or even college and Christmas break meant coming home for the first time in 2 months.  The past 2 weeks have been 14 days long each.  And since the children weren't really doing school work, Miss T and I thought we shouldn't have to do ours. We proposed popping pop corn all day long, filling the cafeteria floor with it and letting them eat themselves sick for lunch each day.  Unfortunately that did not sync up with the new school lunch nutrition guidelines. Instead we made hot rolls from scratch and sweet potatoes from cans and enough turkey to feed my Grandpa M&M for 1,000 Thanksgivings to come.

The Christmas gifts are wrapped.  The tree is lit.  Chex mix is made and pfefferneuse dough is happily melding it's spices in my fridge awaiting tomorrow's baking marathon.  Christmas mixes are made on Spotify.  Stockings are waiting to be stuffed.  The calendar is miraculously clear for the next week and a half with the exception of church on Sundays.  I'm dying to watch the FarmHands' faces as they unwrap their gifts.  In fact, a few had to be wrapped early on to keep Mom out of them.  I'd have a hard time explaining why they didn't have to unlock any levels on their _________ because I'd already been playing it for 3 weeks as they slept (see how I left the important information out in case someone tries to read over my shoulder. Yeah, I'm sneaky like that.  Ninja like).

Tonight may find me breaking into my (very small) stash of Tiny Wine before bed.  That way I can sleep without chanting, "D-E, D-E-F, D-E-F-E-N-S-E," as I try to drift off to the Land of Nod.

Merry Christmas Eve, eve, eve to all and to all a good night.

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