Can we move on please?

Someone needs to let the Webbers know Christmas was over two weeks ago.

Brandon continues to turn on our outside lights. He has a myriad of excuses:

• "It's acceptable to leave them on to celebrate the New Year."
• "The neighbor six doors down (the one he normally makes fun of) still has his on."
• "We haven't seen them in the snow!"

Meredith is still walking around singing, "Jingle Bells, I'm not here, I am at the mall, buying lots of gifts for you, but thank you for your call." Good thing she absorbed all my lessons about the true meaning of Christmas.

Alex seems to be on an extended holiday break of some sort. It isn't all that important to study for the spelling test, "Relax, it's the first one of the year. I'm sure she'll grade it easily." Really?

Our tree...our damn 12' tree is still fully decorated and mocking me from the living room. The fire once blazing through Brandon's hair is gone. After the other five trees came down, he lost motivation. Who wouldn't? It's coming down tomorrow or I'm sending it through the wood chipper. Yes, it's artificial. No, I don't care.

Rolly appears to have over-indulged on something that had wheat in it. It may be a peanut butter treat the kids and I bought him. If I haven't mentioned it before we have a Wheaten Terrier who happens to be allergic to wheat. Ironic, isn't it? He's quarantined to the tile of the kitchen and is thoroughly annoyed. He's still wearing a Christmas sweater because an unfortunate groom left him nearly bald. I can't find his regular sweater, so red and green it is. Might as well be.

I have a feeling tomorrow may be the day I snap. To be fair, someone should probably warn my family.

A week ago, I was here:

It felt less like Christmas.

All right, all right!

*A note about today's post: It's making me INSANE that I'm suddenly unable to move pictures around with ease. I think I'm going to switch the blog over to Wordpress, but for the time being enjoy the pictures completely and totally out of order...The following picture will make sense once you get to the end. Way to steal my story-telling thunder, Blogger!

I still can’t wrap my brain around the fact that there are a handful of you who miss this blog when I don’t update it. Then again, there are several blogs I read like the morning paper, so I guess I can relate. I just don’t think I’m all that entertaining. I get sick of myself, so I assume everyone appreciates a break from “all Leslie all the time!” But since you asked, or badgered…

I assume you know our December was busy. Isn’t everyone’s? I could drone on about general business, that isn’t at all entertaining, but just know I did the same Christmas preparation everyone else did. Having Maria’s help was a Godsend all month long. I strategically baked before her visits.

We had a great Christmas. Because my father-in-law is two bricks short of a load and carries with him more drama than Lindsay Lohan, I decided it would be much more pleasant to celebrate Christmas Eve with our family alone. Had he been here, I wouldn’t have needed a salted pot of boiling water to steam the crab legs.

The day after Christmas, we left for Nashville and dropped the kids off with my parents for their annual post-Christmas stay. This year Brandon and I decided we would go somewhere rather than hanging around our house taking down decorations and shopping the Target clearance aisles. We settled on Cancun, Mexico. We wanted to go to Mexico and the Marriott there was billed as fabulous.

It was, but I had to get used to being in a third-world country. I also had to acclimate to over-development. I’m not used to sweeping back the balcony curtains to see another hotel right next door. I know I’m spoiled and obnoxious. I was also 80% convinced we were going to wind up in the cross-fire of the escalating Mexican drug war.

Our first day there, Brandon and I went downtown to shop for junk and wound up at Jose Frog’s for lunch. I am way too old and was sober as a church mouse, so it wasn’t my cup of tea. Brandon however, made himself at home and drank a “big ass beer.” I sat and watched him and longed for a Lysol wipe to sanitize my seat.

Our second day there, the Bickerson’s got into a fight in the lobby over the tour Brandon scheduled for us to Chichen Itza. Brandon said something mean to me after he was convinced I let the bus leave without us. In a mature response, I demanded $500 cash if I was forced to go on the trip.

The third day there, we restored harmony by SCUBA diving. It isn’t a good idea to get into a fight when you could possibly be dependent on one another should you run low on air. A good time was had by all, aside from me having to cram myself into a wet suite.

We did one other little snorkel-wave runner “jungle” tour, but aside from that we just hung around the pool and the beach. We needed time to talk without acting as referees between the children. It was a welcome break. It was also fun to check weather.com and know it was 9 degrees at home.

Of course I missed the kids and researched Mexican adoptions on-line because I thought maybe I could speed up the process and come home with a little girl with jet black hair. It didn’t happen and after an hour with the kids, I was back to my theory that our family is more than complete.

Oh…I almost forgot…the Cancun airport was a ZOO when we were leaving. Not to sound like a snot, but we were in 1st class because Brandon has 8 billion frequent flier miles. Had we not been, we never would have made the flight. It took people four hours to check in. I felt so bad for the people waiting dragging bags and pushing tired babies in strollers. Ugh.

As we were standing in line Brandon said, “Hey, I think ‘your buddy’ from that silly show you love is over there.” Hot snot, he was right! It was the guy who plays Mitchell on “Modern Family,” which is seriously the funniest show I’ve watched in years. I violated my own, “I don’t bother celebrities,” rule and asked to take a picture with him. He was unbelievably nice and accommodated my annoying request.

Now we’re home. I forced the entire family into action this morning because I thought Maria was coming to clean. She didn’t, but it was an exercise in productivity. We’re now de-Christmasing the house. I’ll be vacuuming artificial pine needles until Easter. In between then and now, I’ll try to be better about updating the blog.

I'm the Homecoming queen after midnight...

I am wildly popular at night. Before you get scared and stop reading, I assure you I don’t mean that kind of popular.

I just mean everyone in our house, or out of our house as so happened last night, wants to either be near me or talk to me. In the middle of the night, when I most enjoy being completely and totally a-l-o-n-e.

It’s a well established fact I enjoy animals, just from afar. I love Rolly dog, I really do, but I would like him even more if he was a robot. He’s such a good dog and asks for nothing, aside from lavish attention whenever we have company. --I think I may know why. Of all the people in our family, I probably have the least connection with Rolly. Brandon and the kids love him. I live with him.

Either out of shear will or because I feed him, drive him around, and treat him with turkey bacon and chicken, Rolly LOVES me. He needs to be near me at all times. The older he gets, the more needy he becomes. He follows me from room to room and waits outside the closed door while I powder my nose.

Lately, Rolly’s decided he should sleep right next to my side of the bed. ON THE FLOOR naturally, I haven’t completely lost my marbles. It would be fine if he just slept quietly, but he doesn’t. Rolly barks at imaginary UPS men and runs a half marathon in his sleep every night. He yawns louder than anyone I’ve ever heard, and occasionally he burps. Gross.

Meredith tends to visit at least once a night normally reporting that she hasn’t wiped well, has dribbled, and requests permission to change pajama bottoms. Sometimes her CD player is skipping. Last night her tree was off-balance and due to come crashing on top of her bed any minute regardless of physics dictating otherwise. It’s always something. She loves to visit.

Alex often comes in around 5:30 a.m. to tell me Meredith woke him up while going to the bathroom and now he can’t sleep. Do I know where one of the wheels to his Lego plane happens to be? Will I pack his lunch tomorrow because he thinks they’re having burritos and he doesn’t care for school burritos, only El Rodeo burritos, and can we eat there over the weekend?

Because Brandon travels, I have a king size bed all to myself. It doesn’t bother me in the least. I’m in no way a cuddler. I like space and lots of it. No one turns over 18 times an hour, no one’s snoring keeps me awake, I have all the pillows I want. Most importantly, I fall asleep and wake up on my watch; at least in theory.

Brandon is working in Phoenix, which means we have a two hour time difference. It means he eats dinner when I’m brushing my teeth for bed. It means he calls really late sometimes if he’s taken clients out to dinner. Last night, the phone rang at 12:45 a.m. I answered the phone with, “At which hospital should I meet you?!” Brandon didn’t seem to appreciate that he’d woken me from a deep sleep and thought it was pretty funny that I didn’t really want to talk. “You always want to talk," he laughed. At least that’s what I think he said, I hung up on him.

Hello again!

If you could hear my as you read this, you would know why I haven’t had much to say in the past week. I’ve had plenty going on and a cough that sounds like I’m on the edge of developing emphysema.

Since I last updated you, I shot pictures of Sarah Palin during her book signing in Noblesville.

I don’t need to tell you this was a huge thrill for me. I’ve told the story seventeen times to anyone who will listen, but I wound up in the front of the press line twice. It pays to have freckles. If you have freckles, people automatically assume you’re friendly and want to help you. It also pays to be naïve. It was an experience I wouldn’t have dreamed of having three weeks ago and one I won’t soon forget.

My new favorite person in the whole wide world is Maria, our cleaning lady. It’s not even fair to call her a “cleaning lady.” Miracle worker and brave soul are much more fitting. Not only did she not run screaming from our house, she even cleaned out the light fixtures in our bathrooms. I ♥ her!!!!! An hour and a half into her day, I asked her to come every other week instead of the budgeted once a month. I may have to stand on the corner with a sandwich board to drum up photography business to pay for her. I am willing.

We are 99% decorated for Christmas. All the trees are up and decorated, except the 12’ in the living room. I let the kids decorate it and it needs to be redone. In secret, of course. They put all the snowman ornaments on one branch, all the grill themed ornaments on another. Don't ask. Meredith’s tree tried to end its own life while we were away, so I have to re-decorate it today and pray that Gorilla Glue can hold Tinkerbell’s wings.

We spent Thanksgiving with my Mom’s side of the family in Carmi, Illinois. Friday morning, we went to Olney so I could re-shoot Jennifer’s Christmas card photos, after I pulled a Mary Lou Propes and lost her files. We visited my Grandpa & Grandma Berger and stayed until the kids started doing sommersaults in their living room. We grabbed lunch at Hovey’s and ran into my parents and half of Richland county. I was so miserable with this “cold” that I wasn’t very pleasant company.

After hitting CVS for Zicam, which come to find out is not at all safe for me to take, we went to Newton so I could re-shoot Jill’s Christmas card pictures which met the same fate as Jenn’s. Piece of cake. Brandon went to the restaurant with Gaspare, while I draped myself over Jill’s leather chair and drank hot tea. I love spending time at Jill’s house. It’s so warm and cozy and she is without question, the best hostess in the world.

Over the weekend, we decorated like fools. I think it helps Brandon feel connected to his mom. She was over the top with decorating, and he wants to do the same for our kids. Our house is dripping, dripping in garland, which the kids both call ‘garlic.’ Maria and I will be vacuuming fake pine needles for weeks.

I have photography orders to process, Christmas cards to mail, laundry to do, and tress to finish. Good thing I’m updating the blog, but I missed all of you! Hope your Christmas season is off to a great start!

This close to sanity...

As I’ve mentioned before I’ve become an undisciplined house keeper. I don’t want to be. I don’t like living in disorder. It makes me very grouchy.

My mother in law always gave me a hard time about the time I spent cleaning. She would tell me I just needed to relax and play with the kids. Time was fleeting and I would regret spending hours wiping down baseboards when I could have been playing UNO. In some ways she was right. Her time certainly proved to be limited, but she also wasn’t living with two mess generating machines.

It’s important to me that my kids remember growing up in a house of order. We always had a cleaning lady when I was growing up. If we hadn’t had the help of many saintly women, I have no doubt our home would have been in far worse shape. My mom always worked like a crazy person and she simply doesn’t like to clean.

I do actually like to clean. I would rather gouge out my eyes than pick up Legos and Barbie shoes all day, but the actual act of scrubbing down a room is something I strangely enjoy.

That is the reason I’ve been reluctant to hire anyone to help me with our constant mess. I reasoned that I could do the cleaning part, it was the picking up part I hated and who on earth could I possibly pay to pick up our stuff?! I wouldn’t subject Nancy Pelosi to that kind of torture. Well, maybe.

As I got busier and busier with writing and photography the situation with our house became more and more volatile. Any extra time I had during the day or early evening, I was spending on laundry and cleaning. The kids played in their playroom and didn’t seem to mind, but I did.

I finally decided we were either going to find room in the budget for a cleaning lady or a therapist. I can do other things while someone cleans my house. I don’t have time to sob on a couch, much as I’d like to. The cleaning lady won.

My neighbor has an immaculate house and a secret weapon named Maria. Maria is 4’ 11” of cleaning power. She doesn’t speak much English, but all I needed to hear from her was, “Yes! Leslie. I’m happy to be cleaning your house.”

Today was the big day. I’ve been picking up and wiping down bathrooms since Sunday. I know it sounds counter-productive to wipe down our bathrooms, but I didn’t want Maria to run away screaming. I had all the cleaning supplies laid out. I emptied all the trash and gave her a lesson on the steam mop. Then Maria broke my heart. She double booked herself for today. She will be back, but not until Monday. Sigh.

Now that my house is at least picked up, I should probably tackle the closets and drawers where I stuffed all the evidence.

Farm hand!

Meredith had her first “Imagination Destination” day at pre-school on Friday. It’s actually the second one of the year. The first was camping day and Meredith informed her teachers she wouldn’t be there because she “got a better offer.” We were in Chicago. I tend to agree, but I wouldn’t publically declare it.

Friday was “a day at the farm.” The classroom was completely transformed into a farm. The floor was covered in straw--and corn in the areas anywhere near sensory stations that included corn. There were sunflowers everywhere. Bales of straw dotted a wooden fence. Behind the fence was a pretend cow the kids could actually milk. There was a chicken coup, complete with roosting hens and their eggs.

There was a fruit and vegetable stand where the farmers could sell their crops. The produce was real. I know this because I kicked an errant onion half way across the room. One of the hazards of wearing a size 10 shoe...

The farm’s kitchen was stalked with fresh bread dough and rolling pins, making it smell just like I expect a kitchen that feeds farm hands to smell. The dough looked decidedly different between drop off and pick up.

Even after experiencing this class with Alex three years ago, I’m still in awe of what these women do. Next week is another imagination destination and where they find the energy to clean up the last one and move onto another is beyond me.

For movie night, Alex chose a Scooby Doo movie. Something about how the “gang” originally got together. I forgot Scooby Doo usually has a ghost or two. Meredith did fine, but Alex was a nervous wreck most of the movie. Meredith told me Saturday morning that she was scared in the night, but didn’t want to yell for me because I’m always “such a grouch” when she wakes me in the night. Wow!

Alex’s school had their first pancake breakfast Saturday. It was both a fundraiser and a kick-off for the book fair. I don’t really care what it was, it got my family up, dressed, and out of the house by 8:30 a.m. I used the momentum and finally put away six loads of laundry that lived on the island in the kitchen for two days. Brandon fiddled around with Christmas lights all day. I have no idea what he accomplished, but he claimed something about researching stuff on line so we don’t repeatedly trip the circuits this season.

Sunday morning, Jeremy and Amanda Williams came over for breakfast. They asked us to brunch, but Amanda wanted to show Jeremy some canvas prints I have. I thought it would be just as much fun to have waffles in our pj’s. Jeremy made “beermosas,” which I’d never been introduced to before and probably shouldn’t have been. Jill C., you would like them…Orangina mixed with a light beer! They sound terrible, but there not, I promise you. Sort of like a less sweet mimosa.

Brandon spent the rest of the weekend hanging Christmas lights. The sight of the lights, threw me into periholiday baking mode. The kids and I made a quick treat to have on hand for drop by company. The kind of company who always comes when my house is at its worst; I hope to distract them with baked goods.

Sunday night we watched the Colts game!!! I can’t say enough about the intensity of the game. That being said, I dozed off when it looked like we were tanking. I should know Peyton and Reggie better than that. Woo Hoo!!!! I try to be a good sport, so I root for my team and not against the other. Well, Bill Belichick is hard not to root against. When he took off his headset right after Indy scored in the final seconds and barely touched Jim Caldwell’s hand as he stormed off the field; I wanted to choke him with his cropped sweatshirt.

I have three sessions to work on today, a field trip, a client meeting, and a column due tomorrow. Thursday I have “New Moon” baking to do with Annie. Friday, I’m working the book fair at Alex’s school. Good thing I’m a stay at home mom. Ha!

Late to bed, early to rise, and I survived!

My plan to start going to bed earlier lasted a whopping two days.

A friend of mine, with whom I lost touch with about the time Meredith was born, found me on Facebook. We’ve been trying to plan a lunch since last March and decided Wednesday evening cocktails at my house would work much better.

When Brandon and I first moved here after college I had a hard time finding anyone my own age to hang out with. I had plenty of older friends from work and Linda, my mother-in-law, was always up for a craft show.

One day while on the phone with my mother, I mentioned I’d purchased a dried floral arrangement at a craft festival. She got really quiet and suggested it might be time to find some friends my own age. I told her I wasn’t into bar hopping and just where did she expect me to randomly meet women my own age?! She suggested the library. I said something to the tune of, “Oh yeah! That’s GREAT idea. I bet the library is brimming with fun 23 year olds!”

Believe it or not; my mother was right.

I was headed up the stairs when I noticed someone my own age coming down. She was wearing a Sigma Kappa jacket and she looked completely normal and fun. To put it delicately, the Sigma Kappa chapters at most Indiana schools were significantly different from Bradley’s chapter. (Not that they weren’t wonderful women and that was incredibly shallow of me, but I was 23. Cut me some slack.)

So, I took a chance and said, “Hey, are you a Sigma Kappa?”

Knowing her now, I’m surprised she didn’t retort back with, “No. I stole this jacket.”

Knowing her now, I’m surprised she was wearing an SK pull over. She’s not a pull over kind of gal. I’ve always been really thankful she was because I needed a friend and she dropped out of the sky. If it weren’t for those lavender letters I probably would have brushed by her without a second thought. It wasn’t an accident.

Before kids and her marriage we had all kinds of fun together. Brandon was traveling, so my evenings were free and lonely. We took yoga classes, went out to dinner afterwards, and occupied the leather couches at Starbucks, before they were on every corner.

We did THIS to Alex:

April tried earnestly to save me from myself and always made sure I had great haircuts and better shoes. The woman knows styling products like no other and is the closest thing to a female Tim Gunn that I know. We had a great time and then life got in the way and we got busy and lost touch.

Cue Facebook.

I was thrilled she found me. I was excited to catch up with her to see where life had taken her. She’s had a very interesting few years and has emerged a completely different person. She’s still wickedly funny, incredibly intelligent, and more stylish than ever. I’m glad to have her back.

We talked until midnight, which did nothing for my new sleep routine, but I woke up feeling just fine this morning. Completely worth it.