Is There A Santa Clause?

As my daughter gets older with each passing Christmas, I reminisce about the days when she did believe that all the presents under the tree were from Santa. I would sneak home and wrap the presents that Santa brought in special Santa wrapping paper and place them under the tree on Christmas Eve, so that the next day when she came down stairs, there would be twice the gifts because Santa had made his visit. The look of surprise and awe was always so thrilling. She's twelve now and knows there's no Santa, because mommy and daddy are Santa, she tells me. Apparently she has known this for some time now, because, as she said, one time she found the Santa wrapping paper in the garage. Just like the time she knew there was no Tooth Fairy, when I tried to put a dollar in her pillow as I kissed her goodnight, when 5 minutes later she yelled, "Mom, I found the money you put in my pillow"! Damn, and I thought I was being sneaky! It's goodbye to those innocent fairy tale days, gone are the toys from Santa, replaced by electronics from Mom and Dad. Why it seems just like yesterday, when she was 5 and her school took her class on a field trip to the 99 cent store, where each kid got $2.00 to spend anyway they liked. She stood in line and when her friend asked her what she was buying, she held up her hand and showed two boxes of scotch tape. Why are you buying that? her friend asked, with boxes of candy in her hand. "Because my mom likes to tape things" my daughter replies, "So I'm buying her tape". Now that's, sigh is priceless!

Christmas Dogs, Henry and Hazel

What's the Big Deal About Facebook?

Welcome to Facebook, Donna. Ok, so I've finally caved into the pressures of my daughter and my friends and created "our" and I say "our" Facebook page as it has my name, but mostly my daughter's friends. As a conservative mother of an eleven year old, I don't want my daughter on any social networking cite, but after the other Donna did it and said that she could look up her old pals from way back when, I'm like cool. And when I sent an email to my friend Jay to tell him we were going to be on Let's Make a Deal, only to receive no reply back, he promptly chastised me by saying that if I were on Facebook, I would have known he was in Paris, so la de da! That tears it! My cousins back East on are it and they are way more conservative than us. So I did it and now I'm thinking what's all the fuss? Of course my daughter is absolutely in a trance about the whole thing, chattering with her school friends, for me I just don't get it. Probably because I'm so ancient, whines my daughter. I tried looking up some of my old friends from high school. Not many came up, either they're dead or haven't entered the social cyberspace like me, no they're probably dead. I did find one person, a guy, only because his name came up on classmates. When I went to look him up, up popped his picture. Kinda looked like him vaguely. Did I want to send him a message to be his friend? What would I say? High school was like centuries ago. Maybe he's some kind of maniac or pervert, who knows? So I didn't, what would be the point? It's ancient history. Apparently no one is searching for me, oh yeah, they're probably already dead. Facebook looks like a messy teenage girl's room. I like order, neatness and blogging. Guess it's good for sending out messages but other than that, it's just another website to check on. Surprising how many tweeners have their own page. As my daughter whines, when will I be able to get my own and to this I reply, when you're married and have kids of your own!

European Vacation 2009

This year we had the opportunity to take our daughter to see some of Europe's famous landmarks, before myself and husband become too infirmed to travel. According to my daughter, we're practically ancient. Doesn't help that I always ask her when she goes to her friend's house if I look older than her friend's mother. To which she mostly replies yes, but there is that one time when she says I look younger. Ah ha! So I do look younger than some of the other mothers!
As I get older, I have less and less tolerance for traveling. Especially less tolerance for the airplane ride that seems to last an eternity in coach. Going there is not so bad, since you have the trip to look forward to, but coming home, during the last 2 hours of the 13 hour trip, I was practically pitching a fit, wanting to scream and jump out of the plane, not to mention that we had another 4 hour plane ride to look forward to once we landed. I had no tolerance for the French lady sitting in front of me, when only 10 minutes after take off she reclines her seat all the way into my lap nearly knocking down my water bottle. I fumed and stewed until I couldn't take it any more. I'm always a courteous passenger and never recline my seat all the way especially on a 13 hour plane ride. Nothing like trying to eat food out of a tray with a seat in your face. After about 2 hours, my daughter decided she needed to go to the bathroom, so I grabbed really hard on the seat back and pulled it down viciously. The French lady looked at me with contempt, to which I answered her unspoken glaring comment with the reply, "that it is really hard to get out of the seat because it is so narrow because someone has their seat all the way back!" If before she didn't speak any English, she knew what I was saying and promptly adjusted her seat forward and there she remained for the remainder of the flight, not even getting up to go to the bathroom or eat for 13 hours. She must have the kidneys the size of a large bathtub. From then on, I was very careful not to disturb the nice French lady. Careful Madison, don't grab the seat when making your way to the bathroom!
Coming back home is always easier to adjust to the jet lag, because you're flying during the day and once at home, I force myself to go to bed at a normal time. Going to Europe on the other hand is much harder, since I don't have the comfort of my bed and had to sleep sitting up. My mother used to sleep sitting up in her bed, something about her herniated ulcer. Me, I need, I crave comfort. Who can sleep in coach? I don't care if they give you a sleep mask and ear plugs. Where's my down pillow and sleep number bed? It's no wonder it took me 6 days to overcome my jet lag in Europe, I didn't sleep a wink on the plane!