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Merry Christmas everybody!

As promised, here is the actual Christmas card photo we sent out. I hope you all are having fun hanging out with real people, people who do not live only on the internet (People who live on the internet AND in real life are acceptable for holiday fun.).

I’ll be back on the blogosphere in a few days.

I apologize if you live south of Seattle and we’ve passed through your town on our Christmas road-extravaganza. We’ve brought the rain with us. Seriously. It’s been pouring the whole way. Better than ice and snow, better than skating all over the freeway. Besides, we have that sweet rear window wiper now.

I’ve been using your travel tips and many have worked. Karli tipped me off and we’ve made great use of some Cinderella magnetic paper dolls. The DVD player has also earned its keep.

In the hotel, Laylee slept in her own queen-sized bed, spread out like a starfish. When she heard people making noise upstairs, she said, “That’s rich. I’m gonna get rid of all the noise.” We stayed in a hotel that Karen had marked as “questionable” on her list of possibilities near her home. We chose it for the free wireless internet. Internet was good. Broken glass found under Laylee’s bed, not so much of good.

Fun things we’ve seen along the freeway:

A grounded helicopter covered in Christmas lights and left it by the side of the road to excite small girls named Laylee and big boys named Dan.

A Christmas tree hanging from a crane, suspended 10 feet above the ground next to a pink Cadillac with fins, and a pink flamingo.

Magoo’s first tooth.

Laylee’s two-year-old molars’ appearance.

A 100% perfect spill record for the DYM. Every fluid or food item I touched the entire trip has now exploded all over my van, my clothes or my kids.

A man walking along the top of a semi-truck. Dan suggested that maybe this was not a trucker. Maybe it was Tom Hanks’s hobo-ghost-alter-ego chillin’ down state-side with some trucker friends before his busy weekend terrorizing children on the Polar Express.

First, I would like to say for the record that when I left Karen’s home last night we both said it was too late and we wouldn’t post until today. Of course, I couldn’t wait to post something. So I put my post up and then hopped over to The Big Trade-Off to see if she could wait. Alas, we even had similar titles on our late night posts…

Planning for my “blind date” with Karen and her family, I had packed some of our cutest clothes, my makeup and a hair brush, in anticipation of getting primped out to make a good impression. She would never know how nappy we could be at our worst, the kids in their pajamas and I in my stretch yoga pants.

Driving for 11 hours through the rain had slowed our trip just enough that we didn’t have time to stop at the hotel first. So, with un-brushed teeth and hair, wearing our rattiest clothes, we arrived to meet our new friends.

Cool was adorably fun and Laylee was immediately smitten with him, referring to him by his first and last name and following him around, learning about trains and Bionnicals.

He had things to teach me as well.

From Cool, I learned that all kinds of people like all different kinds of drinks. Karen brought him some water and Laylee some juice. “This is good water. Some people like water and some people like juice. People like to drink all kinds of things. Some people like soda or Pepsi or Dr Pepper or coffee. Some people like just water.” So cute.

The toddler girl spoke so much like Boo from Monster’s Inc. that I think I will call her that from now on. She wore her hair in an adorable pigtail, tied with a pink gingham bow and her beautiful eyes laughed when she played with Magoo. He loved her. We all did.

Karen and the Brownie had made the cutest flannel PJ pants for the kids. I am so excited to show them off to the fam.

I got to wear the green sweater AND hold the wisemen.

Oops! That was close!

We had a wonderful meal, with nary an awkward pause in conversation. Mr. and Mrs. Trade-Off were such fun hosts that we had a hard time dragging ourselves away. I think when we finally left, it was close to midnight, they had slaughtered us at Rook and Karen had rocked Magoo to sleep (a task that seemed beyond mine and Dan’s ability).

When I first started blogging, I had many motives, free therapy, an outlet for my writing bug, an audience to practice on. The last thing I expected to come of this was friendship. What a lovely surprise. It makes me want to move to WakaWaka, MiddleState and move in next door.

The blog world and the real world can co-exist peacefully.

Karen and I had a great evening in the real world, our families meeting in person for the first time.

They were lovely, the kind of family you want to stalk after playgroup and hope they will want to be friends with you. Dinner was awesome. The kids were gorgeous. The house was beautiful and sparkling clean.

The Daring Family was nappy, travel weary and in need of a shower or two.

More on this tomorrow.

The hilarity will have to wait for another time because today is Tuesday, time for Tips.

So, it’s vacation time. Ah, the joys of extensive travel with kids. The laughter, the tears, the strong and persistent Braxton Hicks contractions brought on by cramming my second-trimester-pregnant belly into the back seat of a small car, trying to comfort a screaming 18 month old who will not be sedated by the flashing lights on the DVD player because we have conditioned her to never watch more than 15 minutes per day. Oi! Memories……

But wait, since when did this become all about me? Tip Tuesday is about sharing, about community. It’s the one day a week that my blog is supposed to be about all of us, teaching, sharing, helping each other grow. This week’s topic is how to make traveling with kids fun — for everyone.

In the spirit of sharing, I will share one of my own childhood travel experiences, because, after all this is my blog; it’s at least mostly about me. This experience illustrates why I don’t deserve to have a moment’s peace in my road-tripping life as a parent. It illustrates why I deserve to be cursed and why I so desperately need your help.

At this juncture, I will not be offended if you skip to the numbered list of tips at the bottom and then post your own. This story is not for the faint of heart, or really for any decent, non-reality-tv-watching human being.

It was a dark and stormy summer vacation. I was 10ish and the fam and I were driving from Calgary, Alberta to Victoria, BC, camping along the way. The baby was sick. Shortly into our drive, I began asking to use the restroom with increasing frequency. By the end I think I was asking to stop approximately every 30 seconds. (This is not an exaggeration. I vividly rembember pulling away from one filling station and begging my dad to stop at the next one on the SAME STREET.)

My parents drove into a health clinic to have me looked at and it turned out that I had a flaming bladder infection. We got a prescription and continued on our trek in the pouring rain towards BC, camping along the way. Did I say we were camping? Everything was wet (no pun intended). I peed in rest-stops, restaurants, gas stations, bushes, a plastic grocery bag in the back seat of our Chevy Astro Van. (I warned you not to read this)

I cried. I bawled. I whined. The antibiotics upset my stomach so I yorched spaghetti into said plastic grocery bag. My parents deserve a congressional medal of honor for what they went through. After driving for two days, all of our earthly possessions were soaked with rain or other fluids, two of the 5 kids were sick, my uncle in BC said the rain was not supposed to let up for weeks and my Dad decided we should turn around and head home, in the rain. He drove 20 hours straight along some of the most dangerous highway in Canada…with me… in the back… and the fluids.

He patiently stopped for me over and over and over and over and over again. When we got home, they talked about what an adventure it was. We got to eat the individually packed yogurts, Jiffy-Pop and other fun camping treats. It is one of my most memorable and in fact beloved vacations – even though I was sick as a dog and we were never “there yet”. We just turned around and came home.

Some tips from a woman whose mom used to teach classes on traveling with children (Mom, I hope you comment today):

1. Buy a van.

2. Trip presents — small items that the kids get at milestones along the way, every 50 miles, every rest stop, every hour or two. These can be as simple as crayons, a cool eraser, a paper fan or as nice as a new DVD or CD.

3. Coupon books — each kid gets a coupon book full of things like, “pick the next CD,” “pick a song for us all to sing,” “choose the next game,” “switch seats with someone,” “get some extra gummy sharks.”

4. Food — lots and lots of food, special food, food they can’t normally have at home. Try to avoid food that is messy, food that will make your car wish it had never been born …er …manufactured.

5. Games and activities —
I Spy — traditional version or the one where you have to spot something that starts with a certain letter of the alphabet.
Count the cows — count the number of cows on your side of the car. The person with the most wins. If you pass a graveyard on your side of the car, all of your cows die and you have to start over again.
For Younger Kids — we like to play the “I’d be so sad if…” game. This started when Laylee would whine and say she was so sad to get attention. I would diffuse it by saying, “Are you sad because the house is upside down?” and she’d grin and say “Yeah!” and we’d laugh. Now it’s a game. “I’d be so sad if, my teeth were made of pladoh!” Hysterical laughter. Laylee’s turn. “I’d be so sad if the carpet was blue!” Fake hysterical laughter. My turn. “I’d be so sad if there was cheese in my ears.” Hysterical laughter….. This can go on forever.

6. Storytelling tapes and CDs – Great storytellers can mesmerize both kids and adults. Some favorites are Donald Davis, Carmen Deedy, Jim Weiss, Jay O’Callahan, Joel ben Izzy, Dovie Thomason, Bill Harley, Willy Claflin, Syd Lieberman, Kathryn Windham, Bil Lepp. There are tons of excellent ones out there and many of these should be available at your local library.

7. Songs — We got through our rough contraction-ridden ride over the icy mountains last year by singing 800 verses of “Down By the Bay, Where the Watermelons Grow,” after exhausting every song we had ever heard of in our lives. At least that one can go on forever and it’s different every time.

My favorite verse came from Dan — “Did you ever see a gnat with a cocoanut hat, DOW-N by the bay?”

A lot of these ideas are too old for my little kids, which is where you come in. What should I do with them? Laylee is currently getting all four of her 2-year-old molars and is only 60-70% potty trained. Magoo is…….gonna scream.

You can also share ideas for older kids. I’m open. Mine may live to maturity.

Liz just asked about this comment:

Jim Turner said…
Congrats on your nomination for the BoB Awards. Good Luck!

What? Is this guy behind the times? Did he miss out on BoB-Gate 2005? Yes, he probably did miss out on BoB-Gate, the fiasco that wasn’t, but no he is not out to lunch (at least I don’t think so. What kind of a name is Jim? He will henceforth be referred to only as JT on this blog.).

This is round 2. This is a nomination for Best of Blogs, a contest that started last year to recognize smaller blogs. I’ve found some of my favorite blogs by looking at the finalists from 2004. It’s a great little competition so go and nominate someone you love. I plan to. (Oh, HUD! Dan doesn’t have a blog. Well, I’ll nominate someone I like then. Dan will just get an extra squidge when/if he comes home. Now seriously, did you think I’d be blogging if he were here right now?)

I’ve been nominated in the Humor and New blog categories. I’m not expecting much to come from this but it feels nice whenever someone says they like me in a public forum. I was nominated for a Weblog Award recently by some uber-nice anonymous reader (you know who you are, right? And thanks, yo!) but didn’t pass the judges’ inspection or didn’t get enough nominations so I didn’t make it to the finalist stage. Ah well.

I guess I should stop this expository nonsense and post something hilarious…..just in case JT is watching.

I was reminded of Karli’s post about surprises yesterday when DY Dad and Laylee got back from shopping for my Christmas presents.

In the past, I have enjoyed giving him a hard time by asking Laylee what they bought me as soon as they got back from buying my birthday and Christmas surprises. She was always too young to respond accurately. She’d mumble something in toddler-ese, he’d say, “Don’t tell. It’s a surprise,” and we’d all laugh. Ha ha ha.

Well yesterday, the first thing he said when he walked in was, “Don’t ask her this time.”

Me: Okay.

D: I drilled her repeatedly at the store on what she should say if you asked her. Things didn’t go so well. So, don’t ask, okay?

Me: Okay. (I do like surprises)

Me (to Laylee): Hey sweet girl. Did you and Daddy have a fun time together?

Laylee: We got you a tea pot!

This afternoon on the way home from church, she asked me if I wanted her to go get me the tea pot so I could use it. No thank you, I want to wait and be surprised.

A while back, before I was banned from watching Oprah unless “it’s a show about kitties and fluffy bunnies,” she did an episode where snobby-ish etiquette experts answered all our burning questions about decorum. The consensus was that it is unacceptably tacky to “re-gift.”

Note to my friends — I am unacceptably tacky and you will occasionally reap the benefits because my re-gifts are often much nicer than things I would have purchased myself. (The actual re-gifting has slowed since we used up the last of our wedding gift duplicates. Man, we got a lot of George Foreman Grills a few years ago.)

As we were leaving church today, we overheard this from a speaker in the other congregation that meets in our building:

“So at this wonderful time of year, I hope we will all ‘re-gift’ the greatest gift that we have ever received.”

I’m not sure who was speaking but it made me smile.

James Wallingford wrote the following:

Christmas is not a day or a season, but a condition of heart and mind.
If we love our neighbors as ourselves;
if in our riches we are poor in spirit and in our poverty we are rich in grace;
if our charity vaunteth not itself, but suffereth long and is kind;
if when our brother asks for a loaf, we give ourselves instead;
if each day dawns in opportunity and sets in achievement, however small-
then every day is Christ’s day and Christmas is always near.

Hey everybody, unite to re-gift the love, the joy, the gratitude, the service, the true spirit of Christmas. We all need it. It’s there for the taking. Spread it around.

We could all use more compassion, more dedication, more kindness, more forgiveness, more quiet holiness in our lives (whatever our religion). Breathe. Think before you speak. Determine each day to share the best part of yourself and you will be surprised at what will come of it.

I’m determined that there is more good in each of us than we have yet discovered or can even imagine. There is so much joy to be had in this world. Let’s have it!

BlackBird, please don’t give me a tardy!

I don’t remember when I got hooked on Show and Tell, probably 2nd grade, but I love it and I can’t stop. It is my bedtime, but I couldn’t go to sleep until I posted this. I don’t want to get in trouble. Here are my ordaments (second grade pronunciation).

Purchased in a shop outside Westminster Abbey, this Buckingham Palace guard guy is a favorite. My mom and I were crazy enough to go on a girls week to England with Laylee when she was 7 months old, stay in a TEENY hotel room, eat fish and chips and trek around London and Bath. What an adventure! (shout out to Dan and Uncle Bill for sponsoring the trip) This actually belongs to Laylee. Mine is a Beefeater. So as not to offend the vegetarians, I posted this instead….

This is the new ornament I bought this week to start Karen’s tradition (see comments section) where the parents hang up the first ornament on the tree and then force the children to watch as they passionately follow the misletoe mandate.

Legend has it that my first Christmas coincided with this angel’s first Christmas and she conveniently has my name tatooed accross her skirt so I got to keep her when the family ornaments were doled out.

So, if you want more info on the Un-Scrapbooks, contact my friend Carrie by email. They’re selling in several countries right now but only in a few cities here in the US. The brand name is Baysics and the website should be up soon. I’ll let you know. Carrie can send you a catalog if you want to order or are just curious. I LOVE them.

You know how sometimes you let your car make a weird noise for a while before you get around to taking it in to the mechanic? You think, maybe it’s nothing or maybe it will just go away on its own. Then when you’re planning a big road trip, you think, “Maybe I should at least get the oil changed and see if it’s anything worth worrying about.”

Well, Magoo’s had a bad cough for a few weeks now but it’s the kind of cough the doctors always say is no big deal so I haven’t worried about taking him in. Now we’re getting ready for some Christmas travel so I thought I’d take him in to the pediatrician for an LOF.

I planned poorly, deciding to start feeding him solids at breakfast for the first time the morning of his appointment was not a good idea. Traffic was worse than usual, a stalled car on the side of the freeway causing no end of excitement and rubber-necking.

I arrived…dun..dun..dun….19 MINUTES LATE to my appointment. I think lateness is rude and shows disrespect for the other person and their time. I was embarrassed. I apologized to the receptionist.

Then they sent the nurse in to give me “the talk.” They allow 15 minutes lee-way but 19 minutes is just too much. The doctor would see me but they would put a note on my chart. My tardiness was not acceptable.

I felt awful, like a 2-year-old getting kicked out of nursery school for biting (or maybe the 2-year-old’s mom. The two year old probably wouldn’t care all that much and on the ride home, he’d just ask for a snack and then fall asleep with graham cracker drool all over his face). I apologized profusely.

When I told Heather, she asked if 3 tardies would equal an un-excused absence. Karen IMd that maybe there would be cute boys in detention. I’ll have to ask on my next visit to their office when I’m sitting in the waiting room, 20 minutes early.

Oh, and the doctor said, “It’s a cold.”