PARENT FORWARD

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Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

See What I Did?

Would you like me to prune the dead stuff?

Some of the best Christmas memories happen leading up to the big day. Letting your child  play an active role
in choosing the tree and decorating around the house is healthy and fun, although you may have to let go of some of your predetermined ideas of how things should actually look. Providing options for kids to join in will make the experience more fun and memorable for everyone.

This year I got the great idea to make ornaments out of pine cones, popcorn, and cranberries with my grandsons. We are going old-fashioned cheap chic so to speak. Now all we need is the tree.

The kids are coming up for the "First Annual North Woods Tree-Trimming" at Grandma's and Papa's farm this weekend. I can't wait. Although we are still searching for the perfect tree for them to cut down. I've always wanted to be able to do that, go out into the woods and find the perfect tree. Turns out, having almost 200 acres of woods at your beck and call does not mean you will find the tree of your dreams. 

I feel your pain, Charlie Brown.

Nonetheless, we may need to go to Plan B.

Plan B for Picking Out the Perfect Christmas Tree  

1. Air drop by Papa: Sounds easy, but former drops of  messages, toilet paper, and other items have been known to miss their targets completely; visions of a rogue tree stuck in a guest's windshield keep popping into mind.
2. "Plant" one in the woods: We tell them the story of St. Nick don't we?
3.  Support local tree farm: Each one could get a whack at the tree, might relieve some of that pent up energy from the long car ride while my grandsons go with me to get hot cocoa.
4. Occupy the forest until I find the perfect tree: Sounds noble and romantic, in July.
5.Go green:  Have the kids make one out of my recyclables, after I find out where that smell is coming from...
6. Go virtual: Festive tree skirt, gold garland, silver tinsel, and Skype with a Christmas tree.
7. Go artificial: Save the planet, recycle, reuse and incentive to reorganize the attic after the holiday.

Anyway, while I'm thinking about it I'll be sure to have plenty of band-aids and some heavy duty glue-slash-pine-pitch-fighting agents on hand -- oh, and plenty of that special Christmas punch. 

Here, here to Christmas cheer!


Cheers! 
Good Luck and Good Parenting!!

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Excerpt from Growing Up Crazy by Bonnie J.Toomey

Freeze Pops



Winter 1972







There’s ice on my bedroom window in little cornered crescents. It’s still dark out, but it is time to get up for school anyway which I happen to like a lot.



I wriggle out of my pajamas and pull on a hand me down sweater and jeans from my aunt who works as a nurse in Boston. She was always giving us bags of clothes which I would pull apart and alter to fit my style and size. This gave my wardrobe an eccentric and eclectic look all its own which I thought was quite individual and even artsy.



I hated to leave the warmth under the pile of blankets and old coats I had layered on for extra insulation at night. It could get pretty cold upstairs this time of year, and the transition from clothes to no clothes to clothes again was a little unpleasant in the wintertime. There’s never been heat up here, Dad didn’t put it in, but instead cut a hole in the floor the size of a wood stove chimney pipe to let whatever heat rise up from our wood stove down in the kitchen.



“Heat rises,” was how Dad explained it to us. I kept thinking, well maybe it does, but I sure can’t feel it up here.



It is colder than usual this morning. My fingers don’t work as quickly as I want them to. I head downstairs where mom and dad are hunkered under some blankets on the couch which they must have dragged in front of the fireplace during the night. They’re still sleeping. Dad’s head at one end of the couch and mom curled up at the other end.



I grab my bag and step outside into the ice cold morning and my nostrils form tiny icy needles on the first breath in sticking together like metallic glue. Luckily, the bus arrives in less than a minute but long enough to finish turning my toes in my sneakers into ten freeze pops.



I slide in next to Claire careful not to break off any digits.



“Vaugn, you look really cold,” she says, very concerned. The newscaster on the bus radio says that it’s five degrees this morning over central New England, and that it warmed up from the overnight low of zero.



I explain that I think our furnace broke again and she offers me her mittens with the fancy rabbit fur cuffs.



“Thanks, Claire,” I say, and between her offering and the noisy over head heater blowing puffs of warmth into the air, I thought I had died and gone to heaven.



Excerpt from Leaf Landing by Bonnie J. Toomey

French Lesson







French is not the easiest class to miss.



I missed almost two weeks straight



after Mom died



and a lot of other days before that



and now I am really behind.



Mom wanted me to take French



because she thought it would help



in ballet class.



Dad lost a couple of bids.



He says people are losing



their jobs,



the economy is bad



The TV keeps warning



unemployment is up,



gas prices are up



and people are fed up.



I don’t know why Dad



has to watch



it only makes him



yell at the TV



Dad says we need to conserve more than we have been



now the house feels cooler.



When I complain,



Dad says



to go outside and come back in ,



then I’ll feel warmer.



Harriet and I spend our time bundled in



an extra layer of clothes



or dragging an afghan around



like giant moths in cocoons.



We are out of butter again.



Dad says



to try using peanut butter.



Well, isn’t the word,



butter,



in it?



Harriett won’t eat her toast



and it just sits on the plate



getting cold



like the floors



in this house



and suddenly the one phrase



in French,



“It is cold.” comes back to me:



“Il fait froid,



la maison est fait froide."