This holiday has been an anomaly for us. I can’t remember the last time Jamie took the week off work and we actually stayed home. It was probably back when we were pregnant with Haddie and living with Jamie’s parents while our house was being built.

Over Christmas, they went to Utah for a week. Relishing in our solitude, we dragged the futon upstairs and proceeded to watch back-to-back episodes of The Lord of the Rings (a series I had hitherto despised). We viewed about 20 hours of it, including allll the supplementary materials.

We sure knew how to party.

And still do, evidently. After all the Christmas parties were over, the presents opened and the food devoured, we painted. Oh, lo did we paint.

Our bedroom is mostly finished and completely devoid of any toys or messes. Now, all we have to do is clean up the hall.

My Husband: Jesus Junior

The days leading up to Christmas were so chaotic that by Christmas Eve, we were positively wiped. When I queried Jamie about our plan for the next day, he said he wanted to just lie around.

I poked fun at him, asking if that is what Jesus would do. Jamie’s response? “That’s all Jesus did do on that first Christmas: sleep and eat. We should all follow his fine example.”

And evidently Jamie’s as well.

Girl’s Night In

I boycotted Girl’s Night In with Jamie’s mom and sisters. I would have been in great company but my reasoning was three-fold:

1) I wasn’t feeling well.

2) Their choice of entertainment. They planned to watch TLC’s marathon of What Not to Wear. I liken viewing any such show to the very worst form of Chinese torture, only it is executed by stylish gay men or self-righteous women.

3) I was vehemently compelled to boycott on behalf of people everywhere who choose What Not to Wear every day of their life. Anyone with me on this? Stand tall, be proud! Someday, sweatpants will rule the world!

Join me next time on the slippery slope of of, well, the slopes and the joys of family photos.

P.S. How was YOUR Christmas?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

This year, we will be celebrating a Colorado Christmas! It is a bit of a relief to just BE, especially after the calamities of last year’s Canadian commute (which included a huge blizzard that crippled Denver for a few days and almost made Jamie miss Christmas with us).

However, I will be homesick for The Motherland. A few years ago, I compiled this Top 10 List of Favorite Things about Christmas in Canada.

10. The Left-Right Game on Christmas Eve. A time when it is confirmed we would never win any I.Q. contests as we struggle to tell the difference between our left and right hand.
9. Tobogganing and giving ourselves icy en*mas as we shoot down the steep gully near our house. Followed by hot chocolate in front of a REAL wood-burning fireplace.
8. The year my brother Patrick and I snuck out to open our Grease 8-track
and played it 100X before anyone even got out of bed. Oh, and the nifty shag carpet and lime-green wallpaper in all our pictures.
7. Cross-country skiing in sub-zero temperatures on the golf course across the street. Nothing like snorting frozen nose hairs for the holidays.
6. Playing the bells on Christmas Eve. A confirmation that not only are we
not musically inclined but we somehow seem to get worse every year.
5. Conservative and shy Dad performing the Polish 12 Days of Christmas.
Hilarious even if you’re not numbered among the chosen Pollacks of this
world.
4. Ice skating for miles along the “Bow Liver” (as mispronounced by Dad’s
good Chinese friend).
3. Spending THE ONLY two Christmases with your honey in Canada praying to the porcelain gods as you vehemently puke up Mom’s cooking that you had craved all year. Thanks, Norwalk Virus.
2. Playing the piano for Dad as we sing carols and belt out all 18 verses
of Good King Wenceslas. It’s as if tone-deaf meets off-key for the first time, and what a delightful duet it is. I still can’t figure out why no one else wants to join in.
1. Christmas Eve’s gift exchange game. A brutal competition as we all fight over the coolest farting book of the year. If you think that’s bad, I won’t even mention the lowest of lows when “Bum Darts” somehow made it into the schedule of events one year….

On a more serious note, in keeping with tradition here is a link to my best “Christmas” ever – spent in Shepherd’s Fields. It is a reminder of what all this celebrating is about.

Jamie has the week off and his entire family is in town so posting will be patchy until after the holidays.

Merry Christmas to you all. And I can’t wait to read about your holidays!!!!

XOXOXOXOX

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

We are thrilled to announce that Mile High Mamas is one of three finalists in the coveted Digital Edge Awards.

Founded in 1996, the Digital Edge Awards (also known as “The Edgies”) recognize the most innovative and cutting-edge news, advertising and interactive Web sites each year. Put on by the Newspaper Association of America’s New Media Federation, entries vie for the winner’s circle in nine categories.

Our nomination fell under the Most Innovative Visitor Participation category (circ. more than 250,000).

Next year?

We are vying for the Hottest Mommy Bloggers category.

Think we stand a chance?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Like say your husband’s main gift?

Yeah, me too.

Sucks, doesn’t it?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

On Starting Them Young with Their Christmas V-O-C-A-B-U-L-A-R-Y

A friend dropped off a plate of Christmas treats just as we were on the way out the door to do the same for someone else. I looked at their glorious selection and grabbed some to add to our plate.

“What are you doing, Mommy?”

“This is called regifting. Can you say R-E-G-I-F-T-I-N-G, Hadley?”

****************************************

On Christmas Mailings

I always look forward to our annual flood of Christmas newsletters and cards. And every year, I gain immeasurable pleasure from reading them. And laughing at them.

Last year, I received a newsletter from my friend Angie (who, like me, married a bit later in life). She gloated over their childless state and attested “so the peace and quiet will just have to continue.”

This year? Her retribution was twins. [Insert evil cackle here.]

I can always count on my Great Uncle Peter for an entertaining letter. I have never met the crotchety old bachelor. But it must say something about me because I delight in our correspondence.

After ranting about my own newsletter, marveling how Jamie and I like climbing around our “rockpiles” (which evidently means “mountains” in crotchety man speak), he divulged the thousands of dollars he has given to his nephews – one who is in medical school and the other a farmer. He could have taken the highroad about his generosity but instead attested he only did this because “giving all my money away will deprive the Canadian government of taxes when I leave this earth.” What a giver.

But my favorite part of his letter was the ending:

“This pretty well covers everything. Each day I feed my winter
friends who are too stupid to go south for the winter but hang around the bird feeder. I also kill off any squirrels who try to find holes to get up into the attic. So far I killed four last year and this year, I killed one. One got away from the trap but left his claws. He will have difficulty in climbing trees.

Best wishes for a nice holiday.”

Also known in crochety man speak as Bah Humbug.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Do you buy a Christmas gift for your child’s teacher?

I bought something for Haddie’s preschool teachers. Nothing fancy, just some gingerbread and eggnog fudge and fun cookie mix cutouts from Super Target. But then I got to wondering if other people do the same and if not, will I be one big brown noser.

What I am saying is should I just eat the fudge and call it good?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

We built our house 3.5 years ago. Besides the basement, the only room that has not been finished is our bedroom. To be honest, it really hasn’t bothered me.

Until recently.

And suddenly, those bare, blazing white walls remind me of a psych ward isolation room.

I am not speaking from experience, of course.

Instead of paying a lot of money for shipping presents this year, my parents sent us a generous chunk of money for Christmas. After some deliberation, we bought the kids a few gifts and decided to put the money towards finally painting and decorating our bedroom.

Our plan was to start after the holiday until Bode threw up all over our current dry-clean-only comforter last week. This sped up Project Bedroom Makeover. Either that or spend the next few weeks sniffing his regurgitated pasta dinner.

On Saturday, we hit a variety of stores and finally found our duvet de choix. The issue with buying a new duvet is you also get sucked into purchasing all the goodies that go with it. Another problem is our recent stay at the luxurious Broadmoor led us to believe our bed needed to feel like their million-dollar one.

We eventually walked outta there with arms piled high and hundreds of dollars poorer (I plan to fully bill the Broadmoor). Our purchases? A duvet, pillow top mattress pad, shams, curtains, rod and pillows.

Oh, and licorice. Just because we were hungry.

Upon arriving home, Jamie was eager to make the bed even though we still need to paint the walls. When it came time for the icing on the cake – the duvet – we realized our down comforter insert was in storage somewhere. I spent the next hour in the dungeon of despair, only to discover it stashed away in a bin. I threw it in the washing machine and walked upstairs.

The bed was fully made…and fluffy.

“I’ll bet your are wondering where I got the comforter to stick inside the new duvet, don’t you?”

“Errr…yes.”

[Proudly] “I just used our old one!”

“You mean the one that is covered in Bode’s puke that infiltrates everything it touches?”

“Yep, that’s the one!”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

santa picI have discovered what is perhaps the most innovative, brilliant and gloriously manipulative Santa tool EVER.

Let’s face it – those mall Santas are clueless with their fake beard and padded stomach. They don’t know who your child is or care what they want for Christmas.

Enter MakeBeliever.com.

It is a highly personalized Flash video from a live Santa that you create for the recipient of your choice, delivered by email. Recipients like…say…for your children. Children who just may have been nice or who may need a little “naughty” nudge in the right direction. Like in the direction towards a potty.

Before you judge me, the doctor told me to do it. For “potty underachievers,” he recommended we dangle an incentive as motivation. We have done a year’s worth of hangings: from toys to treats to television. Nothing has worked. Santa is our last hope.

I realize the intention behind MakeBeliever’s fun greetings is not to manipulate the recipient. But not to be forgotten is my Christmas wish for ol’ St. Nick: a diaper-free holiday.

As Hadley viewed the video, she was mesmerized when Santa checked off her favorite things: her birthday, her favorite color and animal. He even knew she wanted a little computer for Christmas and commended her for being nice to her brother.

But then came the [optional] “naughty list” and the mention of her potty habits. Or lack thereof. She gritted her teeth and said, “Uh oh.” But never once did she back down from the challenge of The Man in Red.

She viewed it 13 times before we finally dragged her away. I am hopeful that 13 times is enough for osmosis to set in.

And for both of our Christmas wishes to come true.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

People often wonder why a stay-at-home mom cannot piece together two coherent sentences.

After Monday, I know why.

The Hurricane has occasionally had an attitude lately, specifically a bad one. I often struggle with disciplining her as I attempt to mold but not shatter her free spirit. One of the most challenging aspects of her personality is she has always been headstrong and stubborn. And lately her resistance to potty train has translated into different areas of her life. “You want me to get dressed? Too bad. And brush my hair? Don’t you know dreadlocks are ‘in’ at preschool?”

Case #1
On Monday, our power struggles reached a head after two hours of coaxing her to get dressed. I did not have any pressing errands so I decided this would be my day to teach her who was boss. Or to confirm just how subservient I am.

I finally stuck her in time-out with her clothes and told her she could not come out until she was dressed. There was kicking. There was screaming. There were notations taken for Santa’s naughty list. And despite the fact that she professed to be starving, she refused to budge even when I promised I would give her a sampling of her favorite smoothie after she got dressed.

And then Bode and I proceeded to drink some of it in front of her. Because he made me do it.

After 88.5 minutes, she finally relented. For those unfamiliar with P.D.T. (Preschooler Deviance Time), this is actually equal to 3 hours and 10 hours in T.P.T. (Traumatized Parent Time). If I had not been so frazzled, I would have been impressed with her dedication.

Case #2
Hadley then begged me for some lunch so I made some Mac ‘n Cheese and snuck in some pureed butternut squash. All was going fine until she discovered “The funny-shaped noodles” and then the meltdowns ensued as she accused me of poisoning her with goodness. Note to self: ensure there are no chunks of goodness in the puree next time.

Case #3
After lunch, we were all stir-crazy so decided we would bundle up and go play in the snow. Hadley’s hair was disheveled and uncombed (you know: the dread look) so I swooped it up in a ponytail. And then the waterworks were unleashed, “I DON’T WANT A SIDE PONYTAIL. TAKE. IT. OUT!!”

Bode and I left her inside until she got a grip.

During that final tantrum, I had recollections of my pediatrician when I took her in for her 3-month check-up. “She’s a fussy, colicky baby, isn’t she?” he queried. She was extremely calm at the time so I figured it must have been the veins bulging from my head that gave it away.

Before I could give my confirmation, he continued, “Do you know how I know? She has abs of steel from all the crying. She may be a difficult child now but it will all payoff someday in the boardroom.”

If she survives that long to make it there.

HALLLLP! Does anyone have any advice for surviving the Terrible 3s?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog