Treat Your Husband This Valentine’s Day: Morph Into a 1950′s Housewife

Picture Yourself Here

This is going to be me tomorrow. I am getting my post-holiday holiday. My mini-spa retreat. I’m going to this new place that has you sit in the sauna (supposedly some special infrared light – whatever) before your massage. How cool is that? You get all warm and relaxed before getting all warm and relaxed. I sprung for the 90 minutes because I’m worth it. And because this is my birthday present I saved up for myself. After the holidays, we all deserve a little pampering.

Because…

Gone is the Christmas tree. Gone are all the houseguests. Gone is my little 2 year old niece and her diapers. Gone is my little 93 year old grandmother and her diapers. Gone is my mother. Gone are the in-laws. Gone are the children back to school. Gone are the endless lists of tasks to accomplish and the accopanying guilt that we are not really enjoying the season. Gone, gone, gone – another year of breathing over. And another one begins. This one’s going to be full of changes and excitement, like all the rest.

What are you going to do for yourself?

Merry Chirstmas!

Merry Christmas to you all! I hope your holiday is filled with joyful moments and brushes with beauty.

Make a Gingerbread House

You don’t have to be Martha to make a gingerbread house. You can buy a cheater kit at the grocery store. You don’t have to bake a thing. You don’t have to obsess that your house looks nothing like the one in the picture. You don’t even have to help. You can let the kids do it all by their selves. And look how cute it turns out? Consider it therapy for the letting-go challeneged.

Suspiciously Calm

How to Write a Christmas Letter

Write a Christmas letter. Just do it. While it may be the cheesiest thing on earth, it is also fun, easy, and a great way to update your friends and family on your fascinating life. Not to mention, Christmas letters, taken as a group over time make a wonderful family history in breif. Here are my top tips for a successful letter:

Giving Thanks

Are You Ready?

Everyone gets along at the holidays, right? I’m currently on Day 2 of The Challenge – again. Turns out it’s really hard not to whine OR complain. And gossip? That one is totally beyond me. But we can try can’t we?

Anyway – the least I can do to help you out is steer you over to my Thanksgiving series on HubPages. I hope you find something useful. Please post any other good resources or tips in the comments. Thanks!

Kid-Friendly Vegetable Recipes for Thanksgiving
Keep Kids Entertained on Thanksgiving Day
Thanksgiving Prayers and Other Expressions of Gratitude for Children
Best Thanksgiving Books For Kids

PTA Challenged

Note: This coloumn was written last year, long before I was the room mother. Now I face a whole new set of challenges.

Last year, my son had his Thanksgiving program where he performed as a turkey and a rapper, and read an essay he wrote about being thankful for his education. Yeah, he’s a suck-up. I have no idea who he gets it from. The day before, the kids had practiced their musical for the school and I got some feedback that maybe my son’s turkey costume wasn’t exactly the best in show.

Two weeks earlier, I had received a note from the music teacher saying my child had been chosen to be a turkey and could I please cover a white t-shirt completely with feathers. Use a hot glue gun, it said. Pretty innocent right? But the tone of the note got me, especially the condescending out it gave– ‘if you’re not able to make the costume, please call the music teacher. That’s a dare if I’ve ever heard one. I can tell you no self-respecting at-home mom would do any such thing, regardless of her level of craftiness. Or not.

If I sound a little bitter, it’s because I’m PTA-challenged. They are a political pack, those PTA dogs and I tend to be rather direct. However, on the matter of competition, we’re one. If I’m in, I’m in. That’s why I usually stay out of that particular race. The archetype PTA Mom has a bob, fake nails, and Stepford-pressed khakis. It’s no secret that I too have short and smooth hair, solar nails, and have been known to throw on Gap pants. So what’s my problem?

I blame my single mother’s her lack of involvement at my school, and her incessant singing of that Harper Valley song. Like the mother in the song, later played in prime time by the Jeanie herself, Barbara Eden, Mom was not exactly PTA material. She sang in Top 40 cover bands in smoky bars all over town. What she failed to recognize, however, was that the mom in the song went to great efforts to fit into the PTA. Not my Mom. The only time she showed her face at school was for my plays and choir concerts and then I had to beg her not to wear sequins. It’s clear to see what happened to me.

So, in my on-going effort not to be my mother, I skipped off like a good mommy to Hobby Lobby where they have an entire aisle of feathers. They were not cheap, especially the turkey appropriate colors like brown, white, and black. I wondered how badly a pink and purple turkey would stand out from the crowd. In the end, I compromised on one packet of the good feathers and one value pack to fill in. We’d just save those extra fancy colored feathers for something else.

Like a gay pride parade – or a roach clip.

Anyway, I was feeling pretty clever to get out of there for under ten bucks including a natural colored tee because isn’t that just way better than white? In case I didn’t compete on feathers, at least he’d have a better color of t-shirt showing through. I bought glue sticks and said a little prayer that my trustee old glue gun still worked because no way, no how was I shelling out more dough for this bird. Before kids, I’d been crafty as hell, but after the blessed events, I’d gotten wrapped up in other pastimes, like laundry and flashcards. Good times.

That night I heated up the old gun and started gluing. After about a half hour, I called it good, even if there were a few spots of t-shirt showing through. Judging from the feedback after the dress rehearsal, I should have kept going.

“You forgot the sleeves,” a neighbor girl pointed out.

But my son, always the encourager confided that one kid wore a plain t-shirt. So there you have it. I’m better than at least one mom, and that’s good enough for me.

As I took my seat in the cafeteria, tens of turkeys graced the bleacher stage, some of whom looked like Vegas acts, and others looked like, well, kids being forced out into public with feathers glued to their shirts. My son may not have worn the best costume, but his ‘Turkey Boogie’ blew the others’ out of the barnyard and his essay proved that he is indeed the smartest kid in the school. Ah, sweet redemption.

I just feel sorry for all those competitive PTA moms whose kids had no t-shirt showing through.

I’m Hotter Than Britney

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