Accidentally... on purpose.

Part of the fun of having small children is their innocence. They are seeing everything for the very first time. Everything is brand new. With that innocence comes an especially difficult time comprehending the greater concepts such as right, wrong, lying, and my particular favorite, accidents.

We all know what an accident is, bumping into someone at the store, throwing out the wrong bit of paper, running over the flowers with the lawn mower. What is not an accident is purposely peeing in your pants. When you lift up your shirt and sit down on the ground so you can pee, that is not an accident. It is also not an accident when you "accidentally" shove your sister.

Most recently, the neighborhood was outside playing. A handful of kids running rampant through the cul-de-sac, and the responsible adults occasionally taking a head count. We were thinking of teaching them to number off as a version of marco polo. One of the older kids came over to her mom, said something, and her mom just laughed. The girl went over to tell her dad what she had just told her mom, and this is what we all heard:

"I accidentally threw my sister's helmet in the orange tree."

Accidentally, of course. Her dad then asked her why she did that. The poor guy was trying to be serious, but none of us could stop laughing at how ridiculous it was.

"Me and Caleb were trying to get down oranges."

Oh the clever innocence of little kid logic. Why would they not realize it might be a bad idea to throw a bicycle helmet up in a tree to try to knock down oranges? It makes perfect sense. It was just an accident that they did on purpose.

Clark, Is this the Airport?

Today was Christmas, the season of perpetual hope if you will. Some are celebrating the birth of a baby, some are celebrating the solstice and still others are simply celebrating a day off work or school (or not). Whatever your reason for the season, if you are glad it is over, you are not alone.

As parents, we look forward to Christmas. We plan and we save, we start buying gifts early, we bake and we shop and we scheme to keep that one guy alive and going... you know who I'm talking about... not Elvis, the other one. We spend months figuring out what to buy, hiding the gifts, adding our special touches, and developing family traditions. It's a lot of pressure, though, Christmas. If you get the right gift, your kids will let you know, if you don't, they'll definitely let you know. How do you keep them from becoming too materialistic like Lucy? Poor girl never gets what she really wants... real estate. Do it right, don't get caught. Oh, please don't get caught... you'll kill the magic of Christmas. Don't. Get. Caught.

If you add family into the mix, it turns into raisin bran with two scoops of fruit. Holy cow. I know in my family, there is more planning that goes into Christmas logistics than a troop movement into Afghanistan. Grandma one has to have this day, but Grandma two only has that day off, and Grandma three just went to the hospital, but Uncle five is only in town for three days, none of which correspond to anything, and my brother's hairdresser's uncle's aunt's boyfriend needs this friday, but the dog has worms. Cue head exploding.

All of this. ALL of this, the craziness, the stress, the poorhouse, just for a few hours (if you're lucky) of smiles (again if you're lucky) from the people you love. You have to ask yourself, is it worth it? Is it? Well, is it??? One could argue that it is not, the commercialism has taken over the holiday that is supposed to be about family and togetherness and salvation and love and stuff. It would be very very (VERY) easy to fall into that when you've just witnessed the little kid equivalent of a lion on a wildebeest in your living room with the poor shreds of snowman paper littering the floor and piles of dolls twist tied into their boxes just beckoning for you to come and say colorful and unchristmasy things to them while wondering why a barbie needs this much security.

But... just take a step back. No, a bigger one. Now a deep breath. I said breathe, your lips are turning blue. In, out, in, out (do the hokey pokey and turn yourself about), and look at the people around you. Those crazy kids on the floor in the middle of the worst paper massacre you've ever seen, ignore the paper. Look at the kids. They're smiling aren't they? Yeah, I know. And feel that swelling in your heart? You did that. For just one day, you brought magic to their lives, you made them think you are the coolest person ever, and let's face it, you are. You pulled off another Christmas.

So, breathe, drink some eggnog and dedicate this house to the Griswold Family Christmas. Remember, it's all about the experience, Russ.

Does Your Friendship Have a Large Carbon Footprint?

I've been thinking a lot about friendships. In a way, friendships sustain us. It is free therapy for sane people. It is validation for all of those crazy overwhelming moments. It is a comradery that says, "You're not alone." Friends are vital to living a happy life. The reason I've been thinking so much about friendships is because we have just moved (That's a whole different post), and I find myself in the same boat as my kids. I have to *gulp* make new friends. As moms, we're worried about our kids making friends, but what frequently slips our minds is that we need friends. We need a break from all the "Mommy, I'm hungry", "But I don't want to", and "Mama, I gotta go POOP!!!" Sometimes you just have to talk to someone whose butt you don't have to wipe. And I'll admit, there have been days when I have hung on every pleasantry given to me by the check out girl at the Walmart because she was the only adult I got to speak to that day. I will also admit that I probably over shared with her too. Oops. Making friends as an adult is hard. There's more social stigma attatched to everything and you're so concious of how you are perceived that sometimes it doesn't seem worth the risk to put yourself out there. That's how I was before I had kids. I just didn't get out of my house. But as a mom, I get out of my comfort zone much more often. I don't know if it's the freeing notion of nothing possibly being as embarrassing as cleaning up a pee puddle at a restaraunt or having to claim the kid that just stripped down to his bare behind at the playground, but I've found it easier to make friends. There are some perks to being an adult-friend-maker. First of all, you have a kind of litmus test for personalities. Through trial and error, you've kind of whittled down the types of people you get along with the best. You know what works for you. So... after a few days of eavesdropping, you can tell if someone is friend material. The second and probably most beneficial thing is school. Not yours, your kids. The preschool pick up line was just like a bar, you could pick up anybody there. You immediately have something in common. Oh, your son's in Mrs whats-her-face's class too? How does he do with nap time? And POW! Before you know it, you have a new friend. Which leads me to my last and final plus for us friendless grown-ups, it may seem obvious, but... KIDS!!! You have kids?!? Me too! Let's sit at the park and talk about them! I don't know the number of times I've made playdates for myself and just dragged my kids along. And it never fails, their kid does something crazy that your kid does, and you laugh about it and mutter something like, "Oh thank God, I thought I was the only one!" POW! Friend time! That's how the best friendships are formed. They're just kind of organic. They just happen. Sometimes completely by accident. Something else I've learned from my extensive friend trials is that it's totally okay if your house was hit by Hurricane (Your Kid's Name Here), mine was too! You know, except my kid... until we have a play date, then it was both Hurricanes (babies qualify as Tropical Storms, just fyi). But, that lady on the bench has the knees ripped out of her jeans too (I'm sure there are a million moms who are anxiously awaiting the return of grunge... just so we're in style again.), and if you look a little closer at the woman at the store, there's a spit up stain on her shirt, and Lord help you if you open my closet door (THAT'S how my house "stays so clean".). We all have our things, and the sooner we own them and accept them, the more fun we'll have! So... whether your friendship was organically grown or factory farmed, go have fun with your friend and try to remember that it's rarely socially acceptable to pick another adults nose.