Just another Bust A Blog weblog

When we go on trips our modus operandi is I get the kids all packed and we take our suitcases to the car where Sean packs the vehicle. That was the plan for tomorrow as well, but we heard another snow storm was headed our way so we decided to leave this evening. Therefore, instead of TeamPacker I am Packer Queen. Sean’s still at work and I’m trying to get us ready so as soon as he pulls in the driveway we can hop in my car and head out. And I am not happy. Not. Happy.

This is crazy - I am loading the car with wrapped present for our children which I will then haul back here after they’ve opened them. My pleas to Sean to let us open our presents first and not take them to Georgia have fallen on deaf ears. But now that I am Packer Queen I’m dangerously close to having the kids open their presents right now so I have room for, oh, our suitcases.

I’m no Miss Cleo but I sense a change next year.

Original post by Christy

An important letter from Santa Claus to all children:

In preparing your letter to Santa, you must submit a 100-page turnaround plan documenting how you expect to be good. If approved by the Grinch from Alabama, you will receive half your presents at Christmas and the batteries to run them in March.

Note: all end-of-year allowances must be forfeited, and current parents must be dumped, even though previous parents may be responsible for your bad behavior. An appointed czar, who once read a blog on child-rearing, will make your life decisions for you.

Bicycles are not allowed; more expensive hybrid tricycles will be substituted, whether you fit one or not.

If you do not comply with your plan to be good, you and all the people you know will have their homes foreclosed and you will be replaced by a child from Asia who gets to keep your toys and send your allowance back to his home country.

Kids from Wall Street are exempt from all of the above.

Merry Christmas,

~Santa

_____________________________________________________
Thanks to Liz and Mary for passing this along.

Original post by Christy

As we were going over our schedule for Friday I reminded Michael and Amy that they have Sound of Music practice. They’re working on the party scene where the von Trapp children sing, “So Long, Farewell.” In addition to playing a Nazi and a nun, Michael and Amy are also party guests, thus they have to learn to waltz. Amy’s got it; Michael, not so much. Reminds me of when Sean and I took ballroom dancing lessons (stop laughing). Sean can play the piano like nobody’s business but the boy has no rhythm in his feet. We were hopeless failures at dance class, so as I’ve been trying to teach Michael it feels like the nearsighted leading the blind.

Anyway, as we were talking about practice Amy comes out with this classic: “You know, I like being a party guest way more than I like being a nun.” Oh my. We rolled on the floor laughing. Of course Amy likes being a party guest more! She gets to laugh and dance and talk with friends. When she’s the nun she has to be quiet and sing in Latin.

I’m fairly certain that falls under the, “Kids say the darndest things” category.

Original post by Christy

Molly is a great photographer. She doesn’t believe me yet, but when she’s raking in the big bucks taking pictures of cute babies and family groups on the beach I’ll be there saying I told you so. Well, I hope not right on the beach because I hate sand and there’s the whole shark issue, but you get the picture.

She came over on Monday to take some pictures of my kids. I’ve never been very good about getting pictures of my kids done. I religiously did the 6 month, 9 month, 12 month shots but after that it was very hit-or-miss. I have tons of candid shots but very few professional pictures. There’s an empty space above the fireplace and I thought three vertical shots of my three little people would fit nicely, so Molly agreed to come take a few:

There are so many good ones I’ll have a hard time figuring out which ones to print.

She also agreed to take some with Rebecca’s pet hamster, Rascle (yes, that is the correct spelling):

What a friend - pictures of my kids and a rodent with a Santa hat. Thanks, Mol!

Original post by Christy

We were with friends this weekend who just purchased a new house. Four bedrooms, three baths, large basement, all to accommodate a growing family and extended family who may need to live with them in the near future. I was drooling over the goodly sized mud room and kitchen and could only gaze in awe at the laundry chute. It’s a great house that will be a wonderful home. When I told the wife how much I loved the house, she looked at me quizzically and asked, “Do you think it’s too big?” Apparently some had commented on the size of the house, causing the owners to question their decision.

I was appalled. Appalled. Beyond appalled.

It’s a great house with plenty of room for this family who regularly hosts groups and friends. The house will be well-used by many who are well-loved by this family. It will be a wonderful investment on both financial and personal levels.

But what if it’s not? What if this family wanted a 5,000 square foot house to use only for themselves? No dinner parties, no small groups, no family activities, only a bunch of space for the five inhabitants. Would that be wrong?

(For the sake of any Democrats who may be reading – welcome, by the way – the answer is no.)

One thing my father taught me was to never look in anyone else’s pocketbook. We can never know how much someone scrimped and saved to get what he owns. We can’t know how much of his life he gave up to schooling or long hours on the job – or several jobs – in order have what he has. Should we say someone that dedicated to education and work shouldn’t be rewarded monetarily?

Of course, there are many who give time for their education and will never be compensated for those hours; if you go into social work or education or the ministry you know you’ll never earn what a doctor or lawyer earns. But you know that going in.

I am weary of people claiming they know how to spend other people’s money. There’s an entire magazine with accompanying blog telling Christians how they ought to be spending their cash – buying a big house is most definitely not on their list. If those folks want to write about their opinions, fine. But I draw the line when they tell me, “Jesus would not want you to buy a big house.” Seriously? He told you that? I thought he was concerned with the love of money, not the careful giving and spending of it.

As long as the owners of the house can pay the bills what business is it of ours how big the house is?

The family we visited this weekend is lovely, and their home is, too. I hope each time they walk into their wonderful mud room they are reminded of God’s blessings and thank Him for their home that, to quote Goldilocks, is “just right.”

Original post by Christy

Mitch Albom is the author of Tuesdays with Morrie. He’s also a columnist for the Detroit Free Press, and his column yesterday is scathing. Scathing. And exactly right.

Original post by Christy

Sean and I decided to stop listening to the news. We can only hear, “GM’s dying” so much and we realized hearing all the negative (and often ignorant) newscasts was really bringing us down. But tonight I was watching ER (I still cannot believe this is its last season – although after tonight’s lousy episode I’m less sad than before) and a teaser for the local late news came on, announcing the bailout bill was DOA in the Senate, so I kept the TV on.

I really wish I hadn’t. But I did, and I heard Mr. Messy-hair-anchor-guy say the bridge loan bill stalled in the Senate over UAW wage concessions.

I cannot listen to this any more. And by “this” I mean seemingly uneducated senators and congressmen and news anchors with great hair waxing poetic about the car industry, having no clue what losing a manufacturing base would do to our economy. You want to see a major disparity between the rich and the poor? Get rid of manufacturing. Actually producing a product is what brought a massive middle class population to America. You want the middle class gone? Get rid of manufacturing.

My libertarian leanings make this situation hard for me to swallow. I do not want GM bankrupt – I enjoy Sean bringing home a paycheck, after all. But is giving loans to businesses the proper function of government? Of course the answer is no. But it is also not the proper function of government to impede businesses from running their businesses and that is exactly what has happened to GM and millions of other companies as a result of an onerous tax code and unfunded mandates passed by representatives living and working in their own ivory towers.

This wake-up call is long overdue. Perhaps the situation with the Big 3 can provide the alarm that is needed to let Congress know that regulating and taxing companies is not helping anyone.

There has never been a greater need for the FairTax.

Nor have I ever needed my iPod more. I’ll just keep cranking out the Christmas tunes and go back to ignoring the news.

Original post by Christy

I love giving presents, so you’d think this time of year would be a good one for me. But it’s actually very difficult because my family has this crazy notion that we should wait until Christmas to actually open presents. As soon as I get a Christmas present for someone I feel compelled by something deep within me to give it immediately. I’ve actually sent a few things from Amazon straight to my Mom’s house so I won’t be tempted to give them to Sean before Christmas. And the fact that we’ve hidden a big ol’ Christmas present for the kids in the garage is killing me! Each time we go out there I’m dying to tell them where and what it is. So far I’ve resisted the urge but the closer it gets to the big day the harder it will be for me.

I celebrated a major secret-keeping Tuesday night. I got Sean tickets to see Grease at the Wharton Center. It was an early Christmas present (my favorite kind!) because the show’s playing this week. It’d be kind of a bummer for him to open the tickets for December 9 on December 25. Anyway, I actually kept the secret until we were driving to the theater. I tried to get him to ask yes or no questions so I could finally tell him but he didn’t want to know. Mark that down as just one of the bazillion ways we’re complete opposites.

He led the pit orchestra for his high school’s production of Grease and has many fond memories of the rehearsals; they began practice immediately following school and didn’t wrap up until long after dark. His mom would bring him dinner and he’d eat right at the piano. He loves musicals and I knew he’d love reliving some of his glory days, so off we went.

Well, Wicked it wasn’t (really, what is?) but it was fun. Sean had a great time and I kept the secret! Unfortunately the people sitting two rows behind us had never been to the theater because they didn’t know they were supposed to stop talking when the lights went down. People – the theater is not like watching TV in your living room. You have to be quiet. Seriously. Sean and I both asked them to hush several times but finally gave up. They talked all the way through the curtain call. Unreal.

Sean walked out singing the songs and reminiscing. He had great stories about practices and how the Danny in their production got the role; seems he was sleeping with the drama teacher… His sister was Jan and he recalled looking up at her from the pit, being amazed that his little sister sounded so good (and still does, for that matter).

Except for the culturally illiterate sitting behind us we had a wonderful time. Now if I can just hold my tongue for 15 more days… I don’t know if I’ll make it!

Taylor Hicks of American Idol played the role of Teen Angel. He sang well and seemed downright adorable, but couldn’t hold a candle to the other guys in the cast. Why in the world don’t some of the folks from Broadway try out for AI? Those people can flat sing.

Original post by Christy

Yesterday five precious babies were baptized and welcomed into our church family. Four girls and a boy from four families (including a set of twin girls) and I knew all of them. I felt like I really was a part of the church family, ready to invest in the lives of those little ones and help the parents by providing meals or lending a listening ear or working in the nursery. Which is exactly how I got poop on my forehead yesterday morning.

It was our turn in the toddler room. Things had gone so well - no major meltdowns, no sharing incidents, no inconsolable two year olds – I was ready to mark the morning a huge success. It was almost time for the parents to come so I sent Michael and Amy around the room to do a smell check and see if anyone needed a diaper change. Amy brought me Alison, an adorable little girl with a sweet smile, beautiful blond curls and an agreeable personality to boot. I hoisted her up on the changing table and as I pulled her tights down the waistband on the tights caught on the Velcro diaper tag which opened the diaper full of wet poo. I didn’t realize this until I yanked harder on the tights which pulled away from the diaper tag, allowing the diaper to spring loose and fling poop on my forehead and in my hair.

Stunned, I stood motionless for a nanosecond until Amy, who was waiting to take Alison back to play, looked at me and nearly threw up. “Mom! You have poop on you!”

That child has a firm grasp of the obvious.

She was kind enough to wipe it out of my hair and off my eyebrows; I would have done it myself but I had poop all over my hands. I’d forgotten what an exploded diaper looks like.

The tights were toast but I managed to keep the girl’s dress poop-free. Fifty wipes later the poop was gone, the girl was redressed and back to playing with the shopping cart. I scrubbed my hands and prepared to move to the next dirty butt. Amy, however, was still focused on my forehead and hair, and declared her desire to remain childless. At that moment I did not blame her.

I couldn’t help but think about the flying poop during the babies’ baptisms last night. When our pastor asked the congregation if we’d be willing to help the parents of these little ones and everyone said, “I will,” I’m pretty sure no one thought about having poop flung at them. Good thing, too. It’s hard enough to get good help in the nursery as it is.

Original post by Christy

The local paper is forecasting up to 6 inches of snow before midnight. Great.

I want to think it’s pretty. I want to think it’s Christmassy. I want to see it as another season I get to experience. But it’s just so dang cold. And when it’s all blow-y it gets in your face and goes down your collar if your scarf’s not on right and it stings your eyes. And did I mention it’s unbelievably cold?

I fear I’m reaching broken record status, talking about how much I hate snow.

I hereby resolve to attempt to enjoy the snow. Or at least quit complaining about it. Except on Thursdays. I don’t think I can go cold turkey.

Original post by Christy