Bill has been off this week, so we’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing.  It’s been lovely.

We did go to see The Muppets.  We had 8 free tickets, which meant that ordering 4 medium popcorns and 4 medium sodas for nearly $50 didn’t hurt too badly.  Everybody enjoyed the film; it was nice not having to worry that the next joke or scene was going to include something crude or offensive.  There was one scene where the camera panned to the audience watching the muppets perform, and the rows were filled with 40ish people with dopey, happy grins on their faces.  It was like looking in the mirror…(and that only made my own dopey, happy grin larger).

Bill and I watched The King’s Speech.  Wow.  How absolutely wonderful to enjoy a movie made for adults, with adult topics, but absolutely no violence or nudity.

This is in contrast to a few other shows we’ve been trying to watch, but one little night owl has been repeatedly coming downstairs to visit us.  A large number of scenes are completely inappropriate for children, so we can’t watch the shows at all.  Just as well, I suppose.

The other night, I read Bedtime for Frances to Mary, the night owl.  She loved it, as I did when I was a child.  I asked her last night, “What is your job?”

“To go to bed,” she answered.

“And what happens if you don’t go to bed?” I asked her, just as Frances’s father asked her in the book.

“You’re going to spank my bottom!”  She smiled and laughed and scampered off to bed, finally, permanently.  Corporal punishment is such a terrifying threat in our home.

Bill has not shaved since Christmas Eve.  I hope to take a picture of him today, since he has promised to clean himself up.  We’re going to a party this evening, otherwise he’d probably let it go.  He looks kinda cute with a beard, but he sure isn’t getting many kisses.  He’d need a few more weeks before it was long enough to be soft, but he’s back to work on Monday.

I’m scouring the internet for information on housing in Tampa.  If anybody can recommend areas to live, I would be grateful.  I’ll head there in a few weeks to see potential homes in person and hopefully put a deposit down.

Lastly, I enjoyed this article by Marybeth Hicks: Set New Parenting Trends in the New Year.

Yesterday we (meaning “I”) took a break from the cleaning and the baking and the stressing out about the long to-do list, and went to the beach (that’s where the “we” part comes in…”I” clean, “I” bake, “I” stress, but “we” go to the beach).

Don’t let the bathing suits fool you – the water was cold.  And the air was chillier at the beach than at my house.  I was glad to have a sweater, and I was glad when the sun wasn’t hiding behind the clouds.  But, still, December 22nd and the shoreline temps around 70 degrees were nothing to complain about.

And a cold day at the beach is better than a nice day stuck indoors scrubbing baseboards.

I managed to convince two friends to also neglect their pre-Christmas preparations for a few hours to come along.  It took them a long time to make up their minds and decide to go – maybe 20 or 30 seconds.

No matter how long we stay at the beach – 2 hours or 10 – my children are not at all happy when I say it is time to go.  Mary refused to get in this picture because she was so mad.

My kids grumped all the way to the car, and when my girlfriend asked if they had had a good time, they all said various unpleasant things (no, tell me how you really feel…).  But by dinnertime, when asked, unanimously agreed they had thoroughly enjoyed the day.

Fortunately for them, Bill did receive confirmation yesterday that we are “definitely” moving to Tampa in March (as “definitely” as the Army lets you get).  So trips to the beach – the warm, sunny, go-there-in-the-winter beach – will continue to be a regular part of their lives.

{Side note: I did once go to the “beach” in Maine in December.  Very different experience: it was so cold that being outside for more than a half hour was unpleasant.  But the violent sea crashing on the rocks and the wind, “like a whetted knife“, slicing through every layer of clothing was an exhilarating moment.}

Last week, Bill was making the rounds at work, wishing people a Merry Christmas, asking about their plans for the holidays.  He talked to a woman about family traditions.  I guess she was a single mom, raising three kids on her own.  She had a rule that the kids couldn’t wake her up until 7 am.  Her kids are older now, but they still hold fast to this tradition, even calling her on Christmas morning at 7 am if they aren’t at home.

She said that the time her son was deployed to Afghanistan, her phone rang right on time.  She heard her son’s voice from halfway around the world asking, “Can I get up now, Mommy?”

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OK, if that didn’t bring a tear to your eye, you are a cold-hearted Grinch (perhaps even a communist).  This story about one of Bill’s soldiers down in Tampa should get you.

Coming Home for the Holidays

I hope the Allen family has the most wonderful Christmas this year.

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Lastly, my sister picked her husband up from the airport today!  They only have a few weeks, and then he has to go back to Alaska to out-process.  She actually called me from the airport.  I was astounded, but then she explained that she was waiting waiting waiting for the plane to land, so I was happy to pass a few minutes with her to distract her from her impatience.

She confessed to thinking up all sorts of tragedies that might befall her on the way to the airport.  If you have ever been away from your loved one for 6 months to a year, you know what I mean.  It seems so silly, when you’re not the one nervous as all get about about a reunion.

We hung up before the plane landed and I haven’t heard from her since.  Sheesh.  I think I’ll wait until late tonight, and then I’ll start sending her text messages, one right after the other…

Sent from my friend and blog-reader, Kris Chatfield:

The 5 Best Toys of All Time

Budget-friendly, creativity-inspiring, easy to find.

Me to 19 year old babysitter: “I’ve got sauce warming in this pan on the stove, this pot has the water for the noodles, and there’s garlic bread in the freezer.”

Babysitter: “Ummm…you wait until the water boils, right?”

Me: “Fritz!  Can you make dinner, please?”

Creative Minority Report posted this yesterday, and last year, too, and I love it…loved it last year when I saw it.

The funniest thing, for me, is that my husband really does call people a communist for holding certain opinions: What? You don’t like apple pie? Communist! You put only white lights on your Christmas tree? Communist! You think Vince Lombardi was an ogre? Communist!

My older boys have picked it up, and they routinely call each other communists for having disagreeing thoughts on anything. They have little idea what it really means. I should teach them the retort:

What? Are you saying that I stand in line for toilet paper?

Bill got home late tonight after spending the afternoon with the Scouts at a campsite.  He stinks of smoke.

We talked for a bit, and then he got a beer glass.  “Don’t get too much,” I told him.  “I’m going up to bed in a minute.”

“I just need a nightcap,” he said.

He returned from the kegerator with a half glass, took a mouthful and gagged.

“Is it skunked?” I asked.  It was.  I fear the children may have knocked the plug out of the wall.  We keep the beer in the playroom, of course.  The keg was nearing the end anyway, so it was ok that it skunked out.

But not really ok, since it is 10 pm on a Saturday night in Georgia!

“Quick!  Go to Publix before it closes!” I urged.  Putting his shoes back on and heading out was the last thing he wanted to do, but if he didn’t...”If you don’t buy some beer tonight, you’ll have to drive all the way to South Carolina tomorrow!”  Actually, I don’t know that South Carolina sells alcohol on Sunday either…perhaps Florida does.  Oh, I hope Florida does since we may move there next.  But certainly, a 2 minute drive across the street is much better than hoofing it to another state just so you can have a nice drink while you watch football.

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He has returned, successful.  I can now go to bed, and sleep peacefully knowing that he will be a happy man tomorrow.