Christmas Eve

When I was a little girl I have fond memories of our Christmas Eve traditions. My parents would gather us all together and each of us would be assigned some part to play as we acted out the Christmas story. Mom was always the narrator, reading from the Bible the story of Jesus’ birth. It was always followed by fun treats, singing, and sometimes even a few presents as brothers and sisters exchanged. I had always hoped that when I married my husband would be eager to carry on this cherished tradition.

Paul was not only willing, but eager, though it took some time for our family to grow enough to even get Mary, Joseph and the Angel covered. This year, even though some of our troops weren’t feeling well, the children excitedly got ready for the play and donned their costumes. Elizabeth was Joseph, Emily was Mary, Dorothy was the angel, and Jacob switched back and forth between shepherd and wiseman. 🙂

Here are just a few of my favorite photos:

The Angel Gabriel Appearing to Mary

Mary and Joseph (I’m not quite sure what that expression is on Joseph’s face, I’ll take suggestions for captions on it though. It sure cracks me up.)

Our Little Shepherd

Joseph doesn’t quite know what to make of Mary kissing the Shepherd…

The Wiseman visits Mary and Joseph….”Here Mary, take it. Take it!” (That’s all I could think of for this pic, which made me laugh too, I’m sure you guys can think of better ones, if you have any suggestions, drop them off.) 🙂

The Family Troop, except Dad, who is taking the pic.

A newer traditon for us, that will last as long as we have Santa at our disposal, is to have him come visit after the kids are in bed on Christmas Eve. Oh no! I just received a dreadful report, children all over the world will be so dissapointed. Hopefully they will get this resolved in time:

ELVES REVOLT! “ALL WORK AND NO PLAY.” SANTA IS TAKEN HOSTAGE!

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I couldn’t resist posting this photo of Elizabeth’s surprise as she recieved a new book for Christmas. She has really found a new love for reading. 🙂

What Can I Say??

I suppose it was always meant to be…. and I promise I didn’t cheat! 🙂 So, which character are you? (Though to be fair, I suppose I did tie with Peter Pan, in fact I had to answer a tie breaker question which resulted in me being Goofy, heh.)

You scored as Goofy.

Your alter ego is Goofy! You are fun and great to be around, and you are always willing to help others. You arn’t worried about embarrassing yourself, so you are one who is more willing to try new things.

Peter Pan 75% Goofy 75% Sleeping Beauty 69% Ariel 56% Cinderella 56% The Beast 56% Donald Duck 44% Pinocchio 44% Snow White 31% Cruella De Ville 0% Which Disney Character is your Alter Ego? created with QuizFarm.com

I am to be…

PUBLISHED!!!!!! Not a book or anything, I haven’t finished that yet and won’t for a loooooooong time. Actually a few months ago I submitted a short story/article to a magazine called the Ensign. I was very excited when I walked out to my mailbox yesterday to find a letter accepting my story for publication! 🙂 One of the cool things is that even though they are buying the rights to publish I get to retain the copyright which means after the story runs I can reuse it if I desire to do so, etc. Or, use excerpts from it, and such. I don’t know yet when it will run, we are still in the paper work stage and it very well could be a number of months to a year or more before it runs, the monthly deadlines are met months ahead of the actual publishing date. (I’ll let you know when I find out what month it will appear, it will be available online as well.) Anyway, I am very excited, it is my first thing ever to be published in official print. My letter even started, “Dear Author.” Boy, was I excited about that one, it thrilled me to no end, and Paul just laughed and laughed. 🙂

Yippee! Happy Dance!!!

A Series of Unfortunate Events….

After baking up a storm over the last few weeks I happily prepared 16 goodie plates to take to friends on Friday and Saturday evening. The kids were excited to do some carroling and we bundled everyone up tight, loaded the car and took off. While Friday was fun and rather uneventful, Saturday was fraught with peril. Well, maybe just a little peril.

Some months ago our very good friends began an addition on their house. Things never go as quickly as planned and the house is still unfinished. They had been preparing to pour concrete and so things had been even more altered than usual. My first discovery of this had been a few days before when I went to pull into the driveway, in our little old truck, or Silver Bullet as Sariah calls it (we still can’t bring ourselves to bid the poor thing farewell). To my horror I felt the truck drop beneath me as I fell into their driveway, not realizing in the foggy dark that they had dug it out to get ready for the concrete. There was no getting out, so rather sheepishly I went into their house and to their jovial hillarity I explained my predicament, and he was kind enough to tow me out, while she called and told my hubby, having a good laugh.

I suppose I can say that they cursed me, and it all started because of that fateful night, but Sat. after singing at their home I turned to follow my family out. There was quite the step down from their front porch, due to their nonexistant stairs, though there was a small mound of uneven dirt below it. All the framing for the walk way up to the house was done.

Well, I stepped off that porch and with all the grace in the world, twisted my ankle and went crashing to the ground and into the framing. I even scraped the side of my forhead on something, and have some of the most colorful bruises yet, though I don’t know if they surpass my last escapade. I managed to hoble back into their house to wash my hands off and we all marveled that me, with my graceful goofy tendacies managed to last this long, heh.

That night and the next morning I made every cooking faux pas possible (I poured the pecans into the pie pan without the crust, I forgot the eggs for the pumpkin pie filling but thankfully I remembered just before I poured it into the pie crust, I forgot to spray the jello mold before pouring the jello in, I left the bread in the oven that I was trying to dry for stuffing while heating it up for the pies and found brown crispy bread when I went to put the pies in, I heated the turkey roaster without the turkey in it, I started trying to cook the cranberries without the sugar and water though I managed to remember before I scorched any of them, and just after talking to Paul about needing to spray the muffin tins for the rolls I put them in with out spraying), and only Paul managed to save me from myself. And he wondered, “Just how hard did you hit your head?” Clearly my brain was else where.

Christmas Eve became a comedy of errors as we drove around looking at lights and Emily christened Moby Dick…. urp slop bring a mop! Later when Santa came, she almost christened him, but instead it all landed on his bag with the kids presents in it. Just after Dorothy sat on Santa’s lap she took off running, thank goodness she made it to the bathroom in time.

Poor kids, to be sick on Christmas is no fun at all, especially tummy bug sick, and not being able to eat anything. Our special Christmas breakfast was called off, I couldn’t bear to eat yummy food in front of the two sickos while all they got to eat were crackers and gatorade. We decided to try for a New Years breakfast instead.

Even with a scatterbrained, sick, and gimpy crew we managed to have an awesome Christmas. The kids are feeling much better this evening, and are happily coloring and playing with new treasures as we watch the first season of “The Muppet Show” on DVD.

Merry Christmas!!!!

Reindeer Games

The girls each recieved a ten dollar gift card from Santa Clause at Paul’s work party, (I will get around to posting about that along with photos, just busy) so, I took each them on a pre-Christmas shopping spree.

Later that afternoon they were gathered on the floor playing with their new toys and I overheard this conversation:

Dorothy: Emily can I play?
Emily: No, I’m playing with Elizabeth.
Dorothy: Elizabeth, can I play?
Elizabeth: No, I’m playing with Emily?
Dorothy: Please, I want to play with you.
Emily and Elizabeth: We don’t want to right now, we are playing together.
Dorothy: (in a pouty huffy voice) You guys are treating me like Rudolf!

Writing Portfolio

I discovered a wonderful site a few months ago on which I have been avidly active, Writing.com. One of the reasons that I haven’t written quite as much as usual here, is that I have been writing alot there. I am taking some classes there and just having a grand old time. But I decided it was about time to share my portfolio with some of my friends, you, who might be interested. So, the link is here, or on my side bar under “Goofy Book” listed as “My Writing Portfolio.” If you do go and read something, please feel free to leave a comment or critique for me, I enjoy and need the feedback. (Oh, and by the way, for those of you who know me as me, please only use my penname over there, J.H. Schmidt or GoofyJ).

Annoying

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The bumper to bumper traffic do to construction was especially annoying with 4 hungry cranky kids in the car.

Of Hooks and Whos for the Holidays

Sometime in the 80’s:

I would consider my Father to be on the serious side, though with a surprising sense of humor. Surprising because most people don’t see it until after they have known him for a while. He is a college professor, and continues to educate himself on many things and has become well versed in history and many other things. I have very seldom seen him without a book in hand. He was always fun loving with us, wrestling, tickling, making up corny limericks, and oh the faces he could pull!

We gathered around the freshly cut tree as Dad strung the lights and Mom gave direction and how they should go. Christmas music played festively in the background and the house was full of squeals, giggles, and laughter. The boxes of ornaments were brought out with care and Dad unwrapped each ornament from is protective paper towel, yellowed with age. Shouts and cheers were given as though old friends were being met after a long absence and one by one we took turns hanging on them on the tree. Eventually we came, as always is the case, to some forlorn ornaments that had no hooks. We all started looking around for the box of hooks, knowing that we would be in desperate need for it. Finally, in a last ditch frustrated attempt, my father calls out, “Mother, where are all the hookers?”

We stood in a shocked silence with mouths gaping open.

“The what?” Mother asked somewhat confused.

“The hooks, the hooks. I mean the hooks,” he hastily replied as a chorus of 5 unruly giggles echoed through the room and my mother broke down in laughter. Dad finally gave in and joined us knowing the damage was already done.

From that historical day on we have always had to search for those hookers to hang the ornaments, much to Father’s chagrin.

December 1998:

It was my first Christmas as married woman to my very charming hubby, Paul. I was just barely starting to get beautifully round with our first child. I was taking Paul home for his first Christmas at my home and my first Christmas home in two years. We had decided, however, to decorate our apartment and get a tree since it was our first time to celebrate in our little apartment. The empty tree stood in the corner and I directed Paul as he strung the festive lights. Then came the ornaments. There were few, but were tenderly and lovingly wrapped in paper towels. As I pulled the first one out, I realized that there were no hooks. I knew Paul had bought some, and I could not find them anywhere, so finally I looked up at him and asked, “Dear, where did you put the hookers?”

“The what?” Paul gave me an incredulous look as what I had said sunk in. Here was his newlywed wife asking him about hookers. She must have gone completely off her rocker.

“Oh dear,” I said laughing. “The hooks, I really meant the hooks,” I fumbled my cheeks flaming as I explained the hilarious moment years and years ago and how it has stuck around ever since. Oh what a hearty laugh he gave, and that year when we were home for Christmas, he was sure to bring it up as we helped decorate Mom’s tree as a good son-in-law should. 🙂

December 2006:

I managed this year to refrain from any mention of hookers while decorating the tree, well, at least while the children were present anyway. 🙂 The house was decorated and Dorothy had brought “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas” home from the school library. It didn’t take much to cajole Papa into sitting down to read the story. He was a vision with three little girls sitting upon his lap and Jacob climbing on his legs. I listened from a nearby chair as he did all the voices and read in his great booming Grinch voice, “And all the hoes in Whoville….”

“All the what?” I cried trying to hold back fits of laughter.

“All the….” and Paul dissolved into laughed realizing his Freudian slip. I teased a long time into the night about that one and it hasn’t died off yet. Poor Paul, he is such a good sport to let me give him such a bad time, of course I know that he would do the same for me if the tables were reversed. 🙂

Our poor children have absolutely no chance. They are warped for life.

Jacob’s Hair Cut

Though certainly adorable his curls were, I was worried we were starting to get to the stage of, “Oh! What a darling little girl, just look at those curls!” I had done two very minor trims, but this was going to be a bit more of a project. Armed with a pair of scissors, comb, water, my haircutting book, and “Winnie the Pooh” I strapped him in his chair and plunked him at the end of the kitchen area where he could stay somewhat distracted by our favorite tub of fluff.

For a first time job on a wiggly toddler, I can say I didn’t do half bad. It’s a bit uneven in spots, and I had a terrible time getting the top shortened up right, since it just kept bouncing back into its adorable tight coil. I might straighten up a few things once Paul is home and can hold his head still. The closest comparison I can make is this: put a curly wig on a bouncy ball, give it a good hard toss on the ground and then try to cut the hair while it is in motion. Yup. That just about sums it up. heh. 🙂

I was trying to take a picture of the boy, but he had different ideas in mind. He had grabbed one of the toy swords and came running over when he saw the camera, “Cheese!” But when I went for the photo he lifted his sword and gave a warrior’s yell. I only wish I had been zoomed on his face at the moment, and had gotten all of him, waving the sword in the air. You can see a bit of it in the top right corner. 🙂

I couldn’t pass up this photo. He stuck on this viking helmet (it is supposed to have horns, but they keep dissapearing) and was waving his sword about. I just love how he is peaking out on the hole.