Tradition!

For three glorious years in a row, we have had a family tradition over the holidays, it's one we try NOT to share with anyone. Each year, we have thoughts of doing other things--caroling, acting out the Nativity, getting together with family and friends, eating good food--but then this ONE tradition takes over and those things have to wait. But this tradition does help us get a head-start on slimming down. It also helps us spend time as family. And it certainly helps us serve one another.

What IS this fabulous tradition? We share the flu. The puking kind. H1N1 this year??? Who knows. We were too busy washing the tan sofa cover (and the pillow, and the blanket, and the carpet) that had grape juice (not the white kind either) on it . . . that didn't come from a cup, if you get what I mean :) We are grateful no one was puking on Christmas Day and that it was short-lived. We are all actually pretty wimpy when it comes to being anything other than healthy, so we really have nothing to complain about (though you can bet we did!).

Somehow Austria didn't get it (yet) . . . maybe she doesn't like our tradition? (I think she is praying to heaven wearing her new best dress, made for her by her Aunt Sue Ann, in this next picture that she will escape being part of this crazy tradition:)

Merry Christmas everyone--no matter how you celebrate it!

Can You Guess Where We Have Been?

Me: Anya who is your favorite Princess?

Anya: Sleeping Cutie.

Anya: I want to go to Sleeping Cutie's castle now. (After watching Cinderella's light up with Christmas lights.)

Anya in the bathtub: I am Shamu! (As she proceeds to do some interesting jumps and tricks that probably aren't safe in a bathtub . . .)

Anya to Austria: We are almost to Mylando!

Belle: "And what is your name?"

Anya: (no answer, a little shy.)

Belle: "You have a cute monkey on your shirt. What is your name?"

Anya: "Georgie!" (thinking she was asking what the monkey's name was)

Belle:" Georgie!" (pretending she was so happy Anya's name was Georgie)

Me: "Her name is not Georgie."

Belle to Anya: "What is your name?"

Anya: "Daisy."

Belle: "Daisy!" (again pretending it is such a lovely name, like Georgie)

Me: "No, it's not Daisy."

Belle is not frustrated and maintains her princess cool: "What is it?"

Anya: "Belle!"

Belle: "Belle! The same as mine!" (Why is she STILL believing this child . . . )

Me: "No, her name is Anya."

Belle: "Anya! And what is your little sister's name, Anya?"

Anya: "Mickey."

Runaways

A complete investigation is still underway, but a few clues are helping to find the cause of the runaway toddler and runaway cart--two separate, but related cases:

1. The HUGE, uncontrollable "kid" cart at the grocery store.

2. The downward slopping parking lot.

3. Being in the middle of reading a parenting book, title: Screamfree Parenting, The Revolutionary Approach to Raising Your Kids by Keeping Your Cool.

4. Doing 3 errands in one morning.

5. Not noticing that lunch time was approaching.

6. The lady who watched the WHOLE thing, I guess it was just too good to actually HELP me.

Anya did not want to leave the grocery store. Part of the problem was we saw our friends and they were going inside as were we leaving and she wanted to go in as well. It was the last straw for her.

Austria didn't want to ride in the cart by this point. So there I was chasing Anya around the parking lot while holding Austria and trying to keep track of our "kid" cart--which was a huge green car thing. Anya is screaming that she wants to go back inside. Seriously, it ties as one of her worst tantrums. It wouldn't be so bad, but I really can't let Anya run away from me in a parking lot, not the safest thing. So I did manage to get the cart wedged between the cart loading area and my car. Though it kept rolling this way and that. Then I ran after Anya again. One of the employees came to gather the carts. She saw ours was still full, saw my screaming child, saw my open trunk, and said, "I'll come back later." I should have just asked her to please put my groceries in the trunk.

I finally had to carry Anya by force to the car. I put her in and closed the door. But she has recently learned to open doors. So out she went. I still had Austria in my arms. So, I go to get her again. Unwillingly. Yes, I am the mom carrying a screaming toddler through the parking lot.

I manage to get her locked in her side of the car and then I strap Austria in, who begins to cry. I take a breath and go to our cart to unload it. But the cart is gone. I look around a bit, it can't be far. I look in a normal 5 foot radius, then expand to 10, then realize the parking lot slopes and see it has rolled 100 feet away into a car! I glance at the middle-aged lady parked behind me who has enjoyed front-row tickets to the entire show in the luxury of her car. I guess she was in shock or liking it so much she didn't think to tell me that my cart rolled right past her hood and down the parking lot.

I ran to get the cart. I looked at the poor car it hit. It didn't have any marks, that I could tell, it was an older car. I did feel bad. I didn't take the time to write a note or anything, and who knows if the owner would have believed my story. After all this car was parked very far away (maybe to avoid all those door dings:), where no one would park unless there was a chance of snow--the kind of storm that makes everyone in Georgia rushes to get their 3 week supply of French Toast (eggs, milk, bread).

I learned many lessons today. If you go to Publix: Where Shopping is a Pleasure, be sure the conditions are favorable or it might not be so pleasant . . .