My dear friend, Leslie, presented My Captain and I with the very beautiful gift of a hand-crocheted blanket around Thanksgiving.  It has lain on the back of my favorite wingback Laz-y-boy chair, where the cat and I have violently fought over it, ever since.

I love this blanket.  It’s the kind of blanket you cuddle under with a Critter, before bedtime.

It’s the kind of blanket you read ‘Dragon’s Christmas’ under, when you’re in your Red Snowflake Flannel Pajamas.  (NOT from Frederick’s of Hollywood.)

It’s the kind of blanket you snuggle under when you’re receiving a kiss from your Critter, for no reason other than opportunity knocking.

Mom, we’re not alone.

Everyone should have a Leslie Blanket.  It’s the building block to any good snuggle.

Get your’s today!

The day dawned gloriously sunny; there wasn’t a moment to lose.

We had a happy mission before us!  So we rushed over the river and through the woods, picked up Grandma Jane, and then made our way to Mayne’s Christmas Tree Farm .

Our object: to hunt down, kill, and retrieve a this year’s Tantembaum.

“Ok,” you think.  “So what?”

Hang on, friends!  Hang on!  This was a special gift, you see.  This was no ordinary tree cutting.

Because our 9-year-old Critter was absolutely SET on cutting down his grandmother’s tree.

Grandma Jane, God Bless Her, was patient, and willing and after she had chosen the perfect tree, just sat down on the grass to let her Critter have his way.  He wanted to cut down his Grandmother’s Christmas Tree, and By God, he was going to do it!

They discussed the how’s and wherefores.

They strategized the cut.

They considered possible pit-falls.

And he laid out his plan of action.

And then he got out his trusty Multi-Tool with 3″ saw blade from Canada.

And got down to business.

He had no illusions that this would be a quick job.

Though he probably didn’t count on all the sap he would be getting in his hair.

And he probably wished it weren’t so uncomfortable.

But his family was there to encourage him and that motivated him tremendously.

Though to be fair to them, it was a trial in patience and perseverance for everyone.

And eventually he had to admit that he’d need to use My Captain’s big-boy saw.

And My Captain had to help him out with that a bit, but just a bit!

And in the end, with a little push from My Captain….

It came down.

And Grandma Jane?  She won’t forget this particular Christmas gift any time soon.

Or the moment’s leading up to it.

Merry Christmas, Mom!  We love you!

There is an ancient tradition in our family, that reaches all the way back to 2011, where we make paper chains for Advent for each member of the family.

Inside each link we write words of love, kind inspiration, encouragement, or ridiculous jokes.  ( My favorite was one of Critter’s to Grandma Jane:”I’m glad you’re still alive.”)

The object is rather fortune-cookie-esque…to make the opener of the link smile and feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  (Not that a fortune cookie ever gave me the fuzzies; though one time a bad shrimp ball did.)

So every day, starting on December 1st, we open one of our links and go “Aw!”

It beats the heck out of crappy chocolate advent calendars.  (Unless they are Lindt Advent Calendars.  Nothing beats THOSE.)

My Captain has been working 80 hour weeks ever since our rental house in Frederick became vacant.  It’s a nasty time for us financially, but we’ll get through it.  He’s bearing the work load, I’m bearing the parenting load, and the kids, well, they’re just loads.

***snicker!***

Critter, Varmint, and I knew that My Captain wouldn’t have had time to open his Advent chain’s links over the last couple of days, so we took his Advent Chain to him today.

We missed him, after all!

How did he feel about that?  A big strong Captain?  A man among men?

Judging by the look on his face?

You tell me.

We haven’t gotten our act entirely together yet this Christmas Season.

The outside Christmas lights are not on the Colorado Spruce yet.  Haven’t even plugged ’em in to see if the ding-dang things light up.

But we did finish our Advent Chains.

And we did chop down our up until then perfectly-healthy-and-oxygen-supplying Christmas Tree.

And we did put the peel and stick Santa figure up on the bathroom window so the kids feel like they are being watched when they are pooping.

But frankly, if it were not for our Moose, we would be poor holiday greeters, indeed.

“The Moose?” You ask?

Yes.  The Moose.

“What the hell is that thing?”

“It’s exactly what it looks like, of course.”

Our Christ Moose.

We hesitate to add much else to the yard.  It would be like Gilding the Lily.

And we’d hate to be Gauche.

This was not the first time she’d done it to me.  We’d been down this road before.  Sometimes she would call, and beg me, sometimes I would catch it without her telling me.  But always it would end the same way:  I would have to make a special trip.

She’d forgotten her lunch box AGAIN.

This morning, I’d put together the most delicious, nutritious, fantastic lunch, complete with fancy-schmancy mixed fruit carbonated beverage, and gingerbread-shaped peeps for desert (did I say nutritious?), and actually brought it with me as we got into my car to leave for school.

She even asked me “Do you have my lunch?”   To which I replied by heaving it to her in the back seat.

We drove to school, Mother and daughter, alone and enjoying each other’s company in the quiet morning.   We arrived, she got out, dutifully kissed me goodbye, and headed into the school.

I drove home loving my sweet Varmint.  So old and wise for her age.  So competent, reliable, and consistent.

I arrived at our little cottage, turned off the car, and prepared to get out, when I saw this:

I DID say consistent, didn’t I?

I’m telling you, a person has to work at being this forgetful.  Nobody comes so poorly by it honestly.  She must be practicing some kind of 12 step plan to get this scatterbrained.   Maybe she has a life-coach teaching her or something.  It’s like I gave birth to the Absent-Minded Professor.  I keep waiting for her to break into Jerry Lewis impersonations.

“HEY LAAAAAADYYY!”

Of course I know she could just buy lunch at the school.  But now, NOW I was on a mission to get her to remember her own needs.  I knew what I had to do.

So I wrote her this note:

And I made sure I was at school when her lunch period started.

I positioned myself at the front of the hallway before the Cafeteria, and laid in wait.  She saw me.  Looked simultaneously chagrined and grateful, and came in for a very cutsie hug.

And that’s when I handed her the note.

She giggled.  Her friends gathered round on their way to lunch.  Varmint smirked at me with a challenge in her eyes as if to say, “You wouldn’t DARE.”

Oh, Sweet Varmint, I thought you knew me better than that.

And friends, I Gangnam –Style Danced all the way out the door.

In front of 100 6^th graders.

All glorious 220 pounds of me.

Wearing my nasty Crocs.

“HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO YOUR DAUGHTER???”  You cry?

Because sometimes nothing gets a point across like a 220-pound, middle-aged woman, Gangnam-Style Dancing out the door in nasty ol’ Crocs.