Christmas Meme

I've seen this one on a few blogs -- so, I'm gonna give it whirl...

Wrapping paper or gift bags? I'm guilty of using the gift bag if I need to wrap something in a hurry, but really, it's a lot more fun when a present is wrapped up in paper.

Real tree or artificial? Artificial all the way. Although our artificial tree does look remarkably real. I am not a houseplant kind of gal, so the whole "watering the tree" business would never happen. If we had a real tree, it would probably lose all its needles by Christmas morning.

When do you put up the tree? This year, my husband and the kids put it up super early. Usually, we do it over Thanksgiving weekend.

When do you take the tree down? Growing up, we never took the tree down before the Epiphany (Jan. 6). It had to do with some old Italian tradition of not taking the tree down until the Magi saw Jesus, which I guess was on the Epiphany. This year, I'm hoping to get it down the day after Christmas.

Do you like eggnog? No. The very word makes me throw up a little in my mouth.

Favorite gift received as a child? My roller skates. I never took them off my feet for the next two weeks. I so wanted to be Olivia Newton John in Xanadu.

Hardest person to buy for? My in-laws.

Easiest person to buy for? My kids.

Do you have a Nativity scene? Two -- one is a Fontanini set that we got for our wedding and the other is Fisher Price.

Mail or email Christmas cards? I love to mail them. Although this year, I might be emailing a few of the international ones.

Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I'm coming up blank on this one.

Favorite Christmas movie? White Christmas. The. All. Time. Best.

When do you start shopping for Christmas? I'm one of those annoying people who shops for Christmas all year long.

Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Nope.

Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Cookies!

Lights on the tree? Of course. They're white. Which the kids don't like. But I let them have colored lights in their rooms, because I'm not all Grinch. :)

Favorite Christmas song? O Holy Night

Travel at Christmas or stay home? We're home for Christmas and then we visit my husband's family the week after.

Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? Of course.

Open the presents Christmas Eve or Christmas morning? Christmas morning

Most annoying thing about this time of year? Shopping in stores. I did 95% of my shopping online this year. In my pajamas. With a cup of coffee in hand. Amazon.com LOVES me.

Favorite ornament theme or color? We do a mix -- and that's what makes me love our ornament collection all the more.

What do you want for Christmas this year? I'm finally breaking down and asking for a velour hoodie/pant set. It's going to be so comfy. I might never take it off.

The Halls -- They are Decked

It's time for BooMama's Christmas Tour of Homes!

Come on in and make yourself at home -- let me show you around and share some of my favorite Christmas decorations this year.

When you the walk through the front door, this is the view into our great room.

(By the way, lest you think I have some kind of avant garde decorating sense, that crazy swatch of fabric hanging on the window is a "mock up" for my window mistreatment that is still a work in progress.)

Here is a close-up view of our tree. We've had it up since the middle of November, but (I'm embarrassed to say) it took BooMama's Home Tour to finally motivate me to put the angel on top:

Do you hear the music in the background? I'm playing one of my most favorite Christmas CDs:

It's such a jaunty set of tunes. I love it.

These are the Christmas elves that I inherited from my grandmother.

I know some of them look a little strange, but they mean a lot to me. As a little girl, I remember being fascinated by them.

Oh! I almost forgot to introduce you to Cherry. He's our "Elf on the Shelf." He arrives at our house each year on Dec. 1 and flies back each night to the North Pole to report to Santa on behavior at the Life with Three house. Each morning, we find him in a new hiding spot. The kids think he is just the best.

Here is our Christmas Countdown Calendar, which was made for us by a family friend. We hang an ornament on the tree for each day in December.

And, finally, a favorite sign, which hangs prominently above the door in the kitchen.

Before you leave, be sure and try a piece of this crockpot candy. I discovered it last year over at Brin's blog. It will blow your socks off -- I can't stop eating it. I've included the recipe for y'all below:

(1) 16 oz. jar unsalted peanuts

(1) 16 oz. jar salted peanuts

(1) 12 oz. bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips

(1) 12 oz. bag of milk chocolate chips

(2) 12 oz. bags of peanut butter chips

(2) 1 lb. packages White Almond Bark (or Vanilla Candy Coating), broken in pieces

Layer ingredients, in order listed, into (4-quart or larger) crockpot. Cover and turn the crockpot on low for two hours. After two hours, stir to combine. Replace lid and cook for an additional 30 minutes. Check to see if almond bark is melted and, if so, stir and spoon mixture onto wax paper. (I like to decorate it with sprinkles.) Allow to harden for about an hour. Gym membership not included. :)

Merry Christmas and Happy Home Touring!

Here's where I start to feel old...

Anyone remember when this?


When Nirvana and Kurt Cobain first appeared on the music scene with their album Nevermind, I was in my sophomore year of high school and that album was IT. The cool music. The beginning of "grunge." Remember? Smells Like Teen Spirit. It felt so "rebellious." I loved it.


Well, today the baby on the cover? He turns 18. His name is Spencer Elden.



And me? Well, I'm feeling awfully old. Like someone who's thinking back on Woodstock (or Lollapalooza, in this case) thankyouverymuch.

I'm joining the Par-Tay!

Hi, welcome to Life with Three! I'm Michelle. I've only been blogging for about four months so, truth be told, I probably haven't really earned the right to attend that big ol' blogging conference in San Francisco.

But, that doesn't change the fact that I still really wanted to go.

My husband says it's the first sign of addiction.

He's probably right.

But, if I can't be at BlogHer, at least I can still take a little tour of the blogosphere and make some new friends.

So, please excuse the mess. Come on in, make yourself comfy and let me grab you a big tall glass of sweet tea. Feel free to take a look around -- it's never a dull moment around here. I've been known to share some crazy moments, like when I was trying to get a lizard out of the house or the time I flashed everyone at Mother's Day brunch. But whether I'm learning more about raising boys or celebrating my baby's latest milestone, it's ultimately the small, quiet moments that bring me the biggest joy.

Thanks for stopping by. I hope to see you again, and I can't wait to visit all of you!

(And, if you're looking for another place to meet some great bloggers, go check out my pal Domestic Spaz -- she's hosting an "I'm Not Going to BlogHer Margarita Party!")

Man Cold

Leah over at Style for the Stay at Home Mom (awesome blog -- so glad you're getting back to posting, Leah!) posted this on Monday. Because it has had me cracking up all week, I couldn't resist posting it over here.

Now, I'm not into man-bashing and I hardly ever complain about my husband because -- honestly -- he is as good as gold. But I'd be lying if I told you I couldn't relate to the glimmer of truth in this clip.

For those of us living on this side of the pond: 999 is like calling 911, Lem Sips is an over-the-counter cold remedy (like Thera Flu) and Cbeebies is like Playhouse Disney.

Sweet Tea: A Love Story

I'm just going to come right on out and say it:

I was not born in the South.

Despite the fact I've lived in the South for nearly 10 years, I'm a transplant. A visitor. A Yankee. And, I'll be the first one to admit, when I moved down here there were some things I just didn't get.

Boiled peanuts.

Southern slang.

The slower pace of life.

Sweet tea.

Up north, we drink our iced tea unsweet. It's socially acceptable to stir in an occassional sugar packet. But, we generally stop at one.

They don't do that in these here parts.

For the first few years down here, I continued to drink my tea sans the sugar. Then I got pregnant with my daughter and was hit with a horrific case of morning sickness. I'd drag myself to work each morning and spend the first half of it sprawled across my desk praying for mercy. I tried lemon drops. I tried ginger. I tried eating something. I tried eating nothing. The results were always the same: I felt like I was going to die.

One morning a co-worker, who also happened to be an Atlanta native, shared that when she battled morning sickness, she found a nice tall glass of sweet tea always did the trick. After all, in the immortal words of Truvy in Steel Magnolias, sweet tea is "the table wine of the South."

Seeing as how real alcohol was off limits, I peeled myself off the desk and stumbled into the cafeteria. I was desperate. I poured myself a glass.

Amazingly, it worked.

And so began my love affair with sweet tea.

Now before you attack me in the comments -- yes, I drank caffeine while pregnant. I didn't go crazy, but with my first child it was either drink caffeine and join the Land of the Living or skip it and feel like ick. (As a side note, with subsequent pregnancies, I also drank sweet tea/caffeine. Because, I needed to be awake at three o'clock in the afternoon. It was a child safety issue.)

One morning, I recall asking the cafeteria lady if she would mind making the sweet tea a little earlier than usual, as I was feeling particularly green. I laid sat down at a nearby table and watched as she happily set to brewing the tea. Then she rolled out a cart with the biggest tub of sugar I have ever seen and dumped it all in. There were pounds of it, I tell you.

No wonder I liked it so much.

Now that I'm an official convert, I happily preach the "There is nothing that a big ol' glass of sweet tea can't fix" gospel to anyone who will listen.

Feeling nauseated?

Feverish?

Kids wore you out?

Come on in. Pull up a chair and let me get you a nice big glass of sweet tea. You'll be feeling better before you know it.

After all, it isn't called the Table Wine of the South for nothing.

(If you're interested in reading what other people are thankful for, head on over and check out Fussy's new Thursday feature!)

What happens when I try and entertain two kids at once...

Like the wedding veil's dual use as super cape? Things have been a little slow for Spiderman these days. He's resorted to working retail in his off hours.

This isn't one of my finer moments...

Due to popular demand, Shannon over at Rocks in My Dryer is hosting a messy car carnival, where we reveal what's lurking in the deep recesses of our vehicles. Are you scared yet? You should be.

We upgraded to a minivan in August of last year. With the birth of our third, plus carpooling to my daughter's school, it was a necessary investment.

Driving off the lot, I remember looking around at the sparkling interior, inhaling the heady scent of new leather and thinking, "Finally, I'll be able to comfortably shuttle around the kids and keep all of our 'stuff' in place."

But in the months that followed, I discovered something about vehicles -- they are a lot like purses. The bigger the purse, the more junk you can fit into it. And, if you're anything like me, it doesn't matter how many pockets or compartments there are, inevitably everything ends up lumped together at the bottom of the bag. The same principle holds true for my minivan.


Are you ready to take a peek? I'm warning you, it ain't pretty:






Here's the "main cabin." We removed one of the seats to better facilitate my strapping three preschoolers into the back row. This minor alteration has provided additional space, which you see I've filled with a case of bottled water.


Because I take hydration very seriously.


The blue box with all the junk necessary everyday items piled on top was my one attempt at "backseat organization." I'll let you draw your own conclusions as to how that's working. By the way, the white things you see on the floor are not used tissues, they are socks. My kids love to fling their socks off when I'm driving. It's a ridiculous habit and doesn't do much for keeping the car tidy, but you've got to choose your battles, my friends. It's not the hill I want to die on.

Obviously, if my kids are flinging socks, that implies that they first flung their shoes. My son has come to view the back of the minivan as his own personal closet. At any given time, one can find several pairs of shoes strewn around, which I feel keeps us prepared for just about any social occassion. Naturally, we also have an assortment of various toys that accompany us on errands around town.

Moving on to the passenger seat, you'll notice two containers of sidewalk chalk and the remnants of two "end of year" party bags. You'll also see a life vest. You never know when you'll encounter a water emergency, and I am all about the personal floatation device. Underneath the life vest are a few of my daughter's school papers and a scrapbooking magazine, for those moments when I find I have nothing to do (which is like hardly ever). Today's mail is on the floor in the lower right.

And finally, the piece de resistance -- I present the trunk. I realize from the picture, that it probably looks quite tame. A package of paper towels for my daughter's school party, a lightweight stroller and a beach bag. But, what's really impressive is all the crap necessary items I've managed to crush neatly store underneath. What you can't see are the pool toys, the sand toys, the picnic blanket, the boogie boards, three separate ziplocs with a change of clothes for each child, and the restaurant activity bags I've packed for each child. Always prepared, that's my motto.

I don't know about you, but I'm heading over to Shannon's place to make myself feel better check out all the other messy car posts. I'm hoping I'll find myself in good company. And then, I'm going to go clean out the van.

For those who missed the show...

It's a bit of a slow news day around here, so I thought I'd take a second to fill y'all in on what went down on Mother's Day.

Because there is a story to tell.

Each year, we celebrate Mother's Day with brunch at the local golf club. It's a somewhat fancy affair. Last year I was about to give birth and my wardrobe options were severely limited. So, I was excited that this year I would have a chance to look presentable. I dove deep into my closet and emerged wearing a dress. This wardrobe choice made quite an impression on my oldest, Jillian (5).

Maybe it was the novelty of the dress.

Maybe she liked the feel of the fabric.

Whatever the reason, once I had the dress on, she wouldn't leave it alone. She kept tugging on it. Running the fabric through her fingers. Messing around with the hem.

So there we are. I'm standing in the buffet line fixing Jillian a plate. She is at my side, looking around the room, dancing in place, people watching.

"Do you want a waffle?"

"Yes."

"Do you want syrup?"

"Yes."

At this point, we head over to the fruit table.

"Do you want pineapple or strawberries?"

Jillian leans up against my leg and says, "Strawberries." So, I start picking out a few berries from the tray. That's when I noticed things felt a little "breezy" from behind. It took a few seconds for it to register, but as I turned to look down at Jilly, I realized she had pulled my dress up and was holding it there. My derriere on full display.

Did I mention I was holding plates in my hands?

"Jilly, what are you doing!?! Put my dress down!"

The sense of urgency at this age. Really impressive.

I manage a little half-turn so the dress falls out of her hands and quickly scan the room to see if anyone realizes they were just flashed. I think I'm in the clear.

Jilly and I quickly walk back to the table. As I sit down, I tell my sister, "You are not going to believe what just happened."

Her eyes wide, she asks, "You are wearing underwear, right?"

Uh, yeah. I'm no Britney Spears. But that's small comfort at this point.

"Did anyone see?"

That's when my dad piped up. "I think I was the only one."

Fabulous.

That's comforting and mortifying all at the same time.

Because I'm nothing, if not a product of the '80s

I was recently perusing People Magazine online -- my source for all news and information -- and read that they are re-releasing the Sweet Valley High book series.

I'm probably going to shatter any ideas of my being high-brow and intellectual here (and clearly, if you're looking for high-brow and intellectual, you're reading the wrong blog), but I didn't read quality series-type books like Nancy Drew growing up. I opted, instead, for Liz and Jess. In fact, I spent the better part of a year channeling Elizabeth Wakefield, and don't think for a second I didn't have the polo shirts and khaki pants to prove it. In my pubescent mind, we had so much in common, only she was a blond and I was a brunette, she lived in California and I lived in Michigan, she had a boyfriend and I was too young to even think about dating.

Other than that, we totally could have been BFFs.

Anywho. In my eagerness to learn more -- I mean, I was ready to pick up where I left off with book #53 -- I hopped on over to Amazon. The reviews were not pretty. Apparently, they have decided to "modernize" the series for the re-release. (Which absolutely cracks me up to know parts of my childhood are now in need of being "modernized.") They're trading in the red Fiat for a Jeep. Elizabeth will work for a website not a newspaper (because apparently a newspaper is so last millenium). And the twins will no longer be a "perfect size 6" -- but a "perfect size 4."

Hmpf.

What is wrong with people? Have they learned nothing from the whole "old Coke" vs. "new Coke" debacle of '85? You simply can't improve on a classic.

And while I might be willing to acquiesce to a little updating -- they so crossed the line with the vanity sizing.

It's a good thing I have the first 52 original books preserved in a box in the basement waiting to be presented to my daughters when they come of age.

I am not even kidding.

Because Nancy Drew's got nothin' on Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield.

That there's some high-brow reading fun.

Five Signs You Might Be Living with a Superhero

You find yourself tripping over "super boots" -- a pair and a spare.





You've got "bad guys" hanging out in your hallways.





Your pot lids do double-duty as battle shields.





Your hand towels moonlight as capes.




You provide laundry service for items such as this:

The Stake Out -- Part 2

Well, much to my relief, Hubs came home about 15 minutes after I posted Part 1 of my story. Here's the way it all went down:

Kids run in first and find me standing guard with the broom, my eyes fixed on the corner.

"Where's Daddy?" I ask, trying my best to act calm and natural.

They inform me he's on the phone in the garage.

"Could you please get him?"

Hubs strolls in, sees my concerned face, and tells his caller that he has to go. I inform him that we have a problem -- a lizard in the house.

"Michelle, is this what you've been doing the whole morning? We've been gone for five hours and you're still in your pajamas."

Okay. Look. I wanted to take a shower, but did you think I was going to leave the lizard unattended? Without my watchful eye, he could have escaped and gone anywhere in the house. He could sneak up on the kids, or worse yet the baby, who plays on the floor.

"So?" he says. "Did you think it would climb up her nose and eat her brain?"

Well, no. But now that you're here, you need to get him.

I escort him over to my containment area.

"You press and sealed him into the basket?!"

"I thought he might be in the basket, but I think he's hiding underneath."

Hubs walks up to the basket and gets ready to lift it up.

"Wait!" I practically scream. I had to be sure he was ready, because I can't tell you the number of times I've asked him to catch a bug, he knocks it around and it escapes. When he can't find it, he shrugs his shoulders and walks away, leaving me a nervous wreck. I was not going to take the chance that we'd lose this lizard. No way. I had way too much time invested.

"Are you sure you're ready?" I ask.

"Yes."

He lifts the basket. Nothing.

That can't be. He's hiding. Hubs looks all over the outside of the basket. Still nothing.

"Michelle, there's nothing here. You must have been mistaken."

Surely he's not thinking I made this up? No, I assure him, he's there. Look under the books.

Nothing.

Look under the beach towel.

Nothing.

At this point, I was starting to think I had hallucinated the whole thing. It couldn't be. I was watching so carefully. If the lizard had tried to run away, I would have seen his little black slithery body. He was a good 4 inches or so in length. He couldn't have gotten past me. My mind was reeling -- how was I going to get through the next few days knowing this little guy could pop out and scare the tar out of me at any moment?

Hubs goes down to pick up the last remaining towel on the floor and -- thank goodness! -- the tip of a tail. He grabs the little guy in the towel and escorts him out the door. In my great panic and subsequent relief, I neglected to have my camera ready. By the time I retrieved it so I could snap his picture, he was running away as fast as he could. But, for those of you who have an interest, he looked like this.

Would you want that running around your house?

I think not.

The Stake Out -- Part 1

I'm writing this post camped out in my great room with one eye on the computer and the other on the floor basket that holds our afghans. I've been on a stake out for nearly two hours and I figured y'all might enjoy a little live-action blogging.


When our dog was alive, she made sure that the lizard population outside our house was kept under control. She loved to chase down the lizards, pull off their tails and bat them around. It was her way of "playing" with them, only she often ended up literally scaring them to death. Since she's been gone, our lizard population has flourished. Now, I don't have a problem with these lizards living on our deck, but when they start invading my space, I'm sorry, I have to take issue.


So, this morning, after getting Grace up from her nap and while walking into the kitchen, I noticed something dark scurry by underfoot. After jumping about three feet off the ground from shock, I realized it was a lizard -- that had just sought refuge in a tight corner behind our afghan basket.


Hubs took my other two kids out early this morning, so it was just me holding down the homestead. I can't relax knowing that something like this is loose in the house. They are so fast and they dart around everywhere, it creeps me out. And, I put my baby on the floor to play, for crying out loud. Not to mention, I don't know if it's my aura or anything, but little critters like that always find their way to where I sleep. Always. And I just can't have that.


I knew I had to act fast -- with any luck, I'd be able to catch it without placing a frantic call to my husband. I grabbed a Tupperware bowl and figured if I could just get it down over him, my husband could deal with it when he got home. (As a side note, this trapping approach is incredibly helpful when dealing with other unwanted pests, such as palmetto bugs, scorpions and spiders. In the warmer months, there's often at least one water glass daily that traps something awaiting inevitable disposable when my husband returns home.) I slowly pulled the basket away from the wall. He was sitting there, but I didn't think I'd have enough room to lower the bowl down. I tried to barricade his escape on either side with books (but who am I kidding? He could probably squeeze through the tiniest of cracks.) I stuffed the cracks, as best I could, with rags. He was definitely hiding in the shadows somewhere -- biding his time.


Three frantic calls to husband. Nothing but voicemail.


After about a half hour of panicked searching, I let my guard down a little. I had to feed my child lunch. As I was serving up her food, I thought I'd take a quick peek, just to make sure he hadn't popped out. I looked, and there he was, poised to dart on the top edge of the basket. It was my big chance! Unfortunately, in my excitement to run around and get him, I let out an "Oh!", which frightened him back into hiding.


I tried to poke the basket around with a broom to see if I might get him to give up his hiding spot, but he wouldn't bite. Then, I considered the possibility that he might have darted inside the basket among the blankets. So, I did what any self-respecting mother who is trying to protect her children would do. I press and sealed the basket.






Unfortunately, since I've been sitting here, I've seen his head poke over the books three times. He's getting antsy, which may or may not, play out in my favor. My biggest fear is that I make a wrong move and he'll manage to scurry someplace where I'll never be able to get him.


And, I'm sorry, that would keep me up nights.


So I sit here. Staring down the basket. Laying in wait. Running over with my broom every time I see his little head poke up.


I'm having a very busy Saturday, thanks for asking.

If you're looking to kill some time...

80 words

Speed test

I saw this at Kisses of Sunshine and thought it would be fun to try. I haven't taken a typing test since junior high -- the pressure! :)