Is anybody out there? I haven’t disappeared! I have successfully moved a family of five several hundred miles and survived multiple Christmas celebrations and I will live to tell you all about it!
I was forced by circumstances, my children and the cable company to take a short break from blogging but I’m back, baby!

My kids (and I) were uber excited to sleep in their own beds last night and as I tucked them in for the very first time in our new house, Aubrey squealed with delight.

“Momma, I am stho glad I’m in my bed it’s stho cuddly and soft!” She promptly pulled the covers over her head and went to sleep.

I turned to Emma and begin arranging her blankets and animals for her. “Are you so excited to be in your bed, too?”

“Yip. But, ugh. My mees are killin’ me!” She flopped back on her pillow with the exasperation of a 6o-year old retired NFLer. Apparently unpacking was as hard on Emma’s knees as it was on my back!

If you want to see pics of the new house, send me a Facebook friend request.

Today was a very long, hard day. I drove for 10 hours with all three kids in what can only be described as Forks, Washington. (It’s a Twilight reference, people.) It was hazy, overcast and foggy from Charleston, SC to Birmingham, AL.

We made good time until we hit Covington, GA. At which point, Sadie began throwing up. Thankfully for me, and all the good people at the Covington Target, my brother-in-law Zack was with me and able to stay in the car with the kids while I ran in to get some Pedialyte. I got back to the car in enough time to get Sadie out of her car seat and hold her as she puked on the sidewalk. I stripped her clothes off as she threw up and tried to ignore the dirty looks people were giving me while holding my naked baby in the nasty weather.

Sadie fussed and cried for the rest of the trip, unless I was holding her hand…while I was driving. Zack tried holding her hand for me, but she knew it wasn’t mine. Zack tried driving but then Sadie couldn’t see my face. So I drove, and held her little hand while trying not to dislocate my shoulder.

Zack was reaching to hand Emma a snack and after dropping it three times said, “See this is why I don’t believe in evolution. If evolution was for real, mother’s arms would swivel!”

We were supposed to drive all the way to Jasper, but I couldn’t hack it. I had a splitting headache and my baby wanted out of the car. So I stopped at my mother’s in Birmingham to spend the night.

Today could have really sucked a lot more than it did. If Zack hadn’t been with me, I would have been standing in the check-out line at Target with all three kids while Sadie threw up, I would have had to stop and take all them to the bathroom countless times and I would have had to pump my own gas. (GASP!)

But as it turns out I didn’t have to do any of that because my brother-in-law rocks. He cleaned throw up out of Sadie’s car seat, played DJ on the DVD player for the girls, broke up a few fights and traded quotes from The Office with me.

Single ladies, you can’t have my husband, but if I were you I would form a line for Uncle Zack starting…now. He’s a Marine, a musician, a lover of Nicholas Sparks and all things family. He was on leave and he could have been doing anything or nothing at all today, but instead he was helping me. Because he is full of awesome.

So I was cleaning my house and instead of walking to the bathroom every time I picked up a hair bow or a headband, I put them on. Final count: 2 sparkly headbands, 4 hair bows, 1 pair of antlers, and a partridge in a pear treeeeeeee!

PS I’m pretty sure my husband will try to have me committed if he sees this, so let’s just keep this between you and me…m’kay?

As Christmas approaches people inevitably begin asking my kids, “Is Santa coming to see you? Have you seen Santa, yet?” and other related fat man questions. And here’s the thing, my kids know Santa is pretend.

As a Christian, the birth of Jesus is everything to me. It was the fulfillment of prophecies and the foundation of my faith, and I personally don’t want to dilute or confuse it’s importance for my kids. I don’t think that Santa is bad, and when Aubrey asked me again just a few days ago, “Momma is Santa real?” I answered without hesitation, “Yes he is.”

She crawled into my lap as I told her the true story of Kris Kringle and how he embodied the Christmas spirit. I told Aubrey how he had given selflessly and because of this became Father Christmas.

My question is this, children have such vivid and wonderful imaginations , why NOT include them in the charade? My kids know it’s really Mommy and Daddy putting their presents under the tree, but that doesn’t stop us from hanging our stockings and rushing to bed so “Santa” can come, or even going to sit in his lap. They understand Mickey Mouse isn’t real but it didn’t dampen their enthusiasm a bit when we went to Disney World.

Aubrey and Emma pretend they are princesses, puppy dogs and kittens and they aren’t disappointed when I tell them they are really little girls. They understand pretend. Likewise, they have never been upset by Santa being pretend. Because we all play along together there will never be the dreaded conversation and subsequent let down of “letting the cat out of the bag.”

What’s your Santa situation?

My mother slid the cornbread dressing into the oven as my sister and I chopped vegetables and stirred pots. The turkey was almost done and we could hear the sounds of football and male conversation drifting in from the den as my Grandaddy, brother, husband and uncle attempted to stay out of the way. My petite and very proper, Southern Baptist grandmother was wearing her Sunday best and chatting with us as we prepared our Thanksgiving feast.

I took a moment to pause, mentally, and appreciate the beauty of what we were sharing. Three generations of women, gathered around the stove and giving thanks for all the blessings we enjoyed. I became a little teary as I realized my grandparents were getting older and one day, this crystal clear moment would fade to a hazy memory.

The channel changed in the next room and now instead of hearing Sports Center, we began overhearing Fox News reporters discussing President Bill Clinton’s recently discovered indiscretion.

“Mmm, it’s just shameful,” Momma said as she stirred the gravy.

My sister and I nodded in agreement as my grandmother said in her very Southern drawl, “I cain’t believe he had oral sex in the Oval Office. What is this world coming to?”

I lost consciousness after that, but awoke certain that this particular Thanksgiving would never fade into the recesses of my mind. And for that, I am thankful.

It sounds a lot worse than it really was. Tonight as I was tucking Aubrey and Emma into bed, Emma had a small basketball she was carrying around as if it was a baby. While I was reading “Pinkalicious” and trying to be a very sweet Mommy, Emma chunked the ball at her sister’s head.

“EMMA! Stop it. If you throw the ball again I will take it away.”

“I didn’t do it Momma, it did it all by it-sef. Mm-hmm, yeah. It did.”

With a completely serious face I picked the ball up looked it straight in its, um, face (?) and talked to it, “You listen to me, Ball. If you can’t behave you will not sleep in Emma’s bed! Do you understand?”

“Him under-dan, Momma.”

The ball slipped from my hand as I tried to put it back in Emma’s bed and before I could bend over to pick it up, Aubrey lunged of her bed and picked it up with her teeth.

“Aubrey! Stop it! We don’t bite balls! Ever-” I couldn’t even finish reprimanding her, much less reading “Pinkalicious” without laughing hysterically. Aubrey and Emma laughed with me…hopefully because I was laughing and not because they understood what I had said…

I don’t even HAVE a boy. How do I end up talking about this stuff all the time???