Disney Pictures, part 1 of 456.

The man with the plan:

 I think he's a keeper.

Andy helping Mia get all her school work done.  They had it completed before the first flight was over.

Bode was not quite himself on the plane, poor kid.  

Mia has always been Andy's twin - in every way.  But look at this picture.
Might we have the same chin?  Perhaps not all of my genes are recessive after all!

 First stop in the Magic kingdom:  The Buzz and Zurg ride.  

Bode has recreated this ride at home using a rolling chair, stickers as targets and a fake gun.

 The first and last time I rode Space Mountain.  Mia was just getting warmed up.

 The teacups are a classic.  

It's a requirement to have this sort-of-fun sort-of-miserable experience each visit.

The Disney power couple:

It's all in the details.

I promise you that this sweet husband of mine would not go to all the trouble to pull off these elaborate surprises if he didn't get more out of it then we do.  Thankfully we get to benefit from his hobbies.

You should have seen some of the things he did when we were dating.  Let's just say he has always thought outside the box.  That's why I married him.

To prove how serious he takes these little projects of his, check out his itinerary of the morning:

1.  Leave for the donut shop / Starbucks (tall Americano w/ one pump of mocha) at 6:55

2.     Arrive back at house and get everyone up at 7:30

3.     Eat breakfast until about 7:50

4.     “Notice” the missed Christmas present under the playroom couch and begin the investigation

5.     Prompt kids to call grandparents to see if they know anything (mom & dad will suggest they look for fingerprints on the package)

6.     Kids will dust for fingerprints – help them make the match to mine

7.     Turn their attention to the hole in the box > help them come up with what might have done it > ask them where we might find a mouse

8.     Kids will find “Jerry” in the mouse trap in the closet with an envelope in his hand

9.     Kids will find two pages in the envelope that they must decode

a.     Page 1 – use two different codes (code grid + a new one): Great job.  You are getting closer to solving the Mystery of the Missing Christmas Presents.  The next page will reveal another clue.

b.     Page 2 – write in invisible ink: The green Jedi master can tell you where the missing presents are. 

10.  Kids will go find the Yoda in Bode’s action figure drawer; he will have a speech bubble attached that says, “Look in Andy’s closet, you must.” 

11.  Kids will go to my closet to find three presents hanging inside; each present will have a sign above it and the decoder glasses will be there as well

a.     Beatles t-shirt (Mia)

                                               i.     Hidden message: Hope you like the gifts

                                             ii.     Written multicolored message: This is for Mia. Pretty cool, huh? The Beatles are my favorite rockers! Try this on when you get a chance. I found it just for you.

b.     Coloring book

                                               i.     Hidden message: You should take them with you to Disneyworld

                                             ii.     Written message: Any of you know who this is for? He is blond and uses a lightsaber. Yep. Bode! Turn the pages and check them out. They’re made with black paper. I think you should try it out later. Doesn’t it seem neat? You will have fun coloring these cool drawings.

c.     Sgt. Pepper’s t-shirt (Summer)

                                               i.     Hidden message: You have two hours to pack. Love Dad.

                                             ii.     Written message: Maybe you know who this Beatles shirt is for. A very pretty woman who loves me and you very much. She is the most spectacular, rocking wife and mom. I love all of you very much. Dad

12.  Mia will read the regular messages and then put on the glasses to read the encrypted messages

13.  Pack for Florida!

Laugh all you want.  I just spent a week in Disney World and didn't have to do a thing.  Andy rescheduled hair appointments, dentist appointments, found people to cover a few obligations that couldn't be rescheduled, arranged for the mail, the dog, and the fish to be taken care of, talked to Mia's teacher and had all of her work ready to do on the plane, rescheduled her piano lesson, bought her a new swimsuit, got the kids new jackets, and did laundry at 1:00 AM so we would have everything that we needed.  

All I had to do was put on some dorky super cool decodable glasses and read this: Hope you like the gifts.  You should take them to Disney World.  You have two hours to pack.  Love, Dad.  


And then jump up and down with my kids and scream like a seven-year-old girl.

Before you vomit in your mouth, hunt me down and decide to choke the life out of me, or write me off as a cheezy, sappy Disney weirdo please remember this one thing:

This blog is for my children.  I have no choice but to document this most blessed of events in full detail.  It's about the children.

Last Saturday started off with the most dreaded of wake-up calls.  The cry in the night that every parent dreads,  the sound that will shoot us out of bed faster than a black Friday sale:  The "Mom, I'm going to throw-up" cry/yell/cough/gag/scream (you can't really understand this until you experience it, but it really is a combination of all of those).

And that is how our Saturday morning began...

3:30 AM - Bode bursts out of his room like a tornado and made the above dreaded proclamation.  In a fit of fear and dread, Andy and I jumped out of bed, met him in the hall, and dragged him to the toilet.

And the next thing I remember is tasting blood, dry-heaving, and hearing Andy yell my name over and over again in a complete panic.

According to Andy I was standing over Bode while he was throwing up and then I went down. Literally.  Andy said both of my eyes were open and each eye was looking different directions and he thought I was dead.

Side note:  I can remember fainting twice in my life.  That's the point - I remember it.  I remember having that dizzy out-of-body experience where I was thinking, "Oh no, I'm-going-to-faint-but-there-is-nothing-I-can-do-to-stop-it-oh-look-at-all-these-shiny-swirly-things-I-want-to-go-to-them.  This was not that.  This was no warning, no shiny, swirly feeling, nothing.  It was just I'm here and now I'm not.

But let's not dwell on the fact that I am probably dying.  Back to the story...

So after Andy cleaned up my bloody face and Bode's vomit face he put us both to bed and, knowing what I know now, went into the 5 stages of grief:  shock (I can't believe this is happening), anger (why is this happening to me?), denial (No, this is really just a bad dream), bargaining (I will never ask for another thing again if you will just fix this...), and, finally, acceptance (I will wait until 7 and then call the travel agent and cancel this gig right before I go drive off a bridge).

Much to his surprise at 7:00 AM when Andy left for his "very important meeting" we had both seemed to recover nicely.  Besides my ginormous lip and a weird brain fog I felt fine, and thanks to that lovely drug known as phenergan, Bode was already asking for his morning milk.

*This is already getting too long and dramatic (but that's okay because it's for the children, remember?). And speaking of children, they are both yelling for me to do something that they are both perfectly capable of doing themselves so I will return to this story another day.

Until then, may all your dreams turn out better than this one.

A week of the most surprising extremes

Our week started with a reunion with the family vomit bowl,  

 and ended with one of the biggest surprises the kids and I have ever experienced.

Let's just say Andy took the Valentines scavenger hunts to the next level.  I can't wait to tell you all about it.  

But for now, I'm snuggled in a nice, big bed pouring over Disney World maps, creating our plan of attack.

See you in a week.

Come home, Mia, COME HOME!

We are both feeling kind of lost without you.

This little activity will only kill about 15 minutes.

 And then the consumption of the chocolate chips will take another 5 to 10.

And that leaves about 6 and a half more hours for light saber battles.  Oh goody!
The first day back is always the hardest...

Our week has been wonderful because...

Two words:  Star. Wars.

There is nothing like stepping on a teeny-tiny light saber.  Immediately afterwards you are humbled when your kid says, "Mommy, you shouldn't talk like that."

Mia's very own desk.  That's the wonderful part.  The part that makes me bite my tongue and physically contort is her insistence on hanging stuff like that princess dry erase board on her wall.  I thought she would keep her opinions and preferences to herself until she was at least 18.
The good news:  it's been a week, her stuff is still on the walls, and I am still breathing.  I knew I didn't have control issues.  Take that, Andy!

There is nothing like holding tiny, floppy babies that are still in that stage of life where they will blissfully sleep through 50 different people passing them around.  And there's nothing like not being around at 2 AM when they won't sleep at all (but if you need me at 2 AM, Darci, I promise I'm all yours).

And finally, our week was wonderful because we took frizz head (and apparently no make-up) to the next level.  Why groom yourself when you don't have to?  It is vacation, after all.

I am heading into my normal grieving process that happens every year when a wonderful break comes to an end.  Remember this?  It's ugly, I tell ya.  It's ugly and it's coming...

There is nothing like some horrible photography to document a wonderful day.

These pictures are just plain bad, but I've never claimed to be a perfectionist or a photographer so feel free to embrace them or make fun of them - whatever floats your boat.

All Bode asked for from Santa was a light-saber, because four light-sabers in one house isn't enough.

 There is no shortage of crazy, messed-up hair in our house.  

Mia asked Santa for a detective kit.  She thinks that her teacher is going to let her stay in from recess and solve mysteries while the rest of the class is wasting their lives acting like children and actually playing.
What can you say to that except, "You might need to find a new dream, Babe, cause that's never going to happen."

 This is a true minister's family on Christmas morning:  Having to set the timer to take a family picture because Daddy has already been gone for two hours.  I can laugh about this fact of our lives or I can cry - I choose to laugh.

 I guess I was a bad girl this year because after yet another five jabillion pictures of these four, this is as good as it gets.  After this I went and banged my head against a wall for some stress releif.

 There is nothing like a Jedi and his Daddy.

 And finally, this is what unconditional love is all about:

Boppy dressed as Darth Vader trying to destroy his grandchildren.

Christmas, Chickasha style:

Which for my children means no grooming what-so-ever.  Mismatched pajamas, hair matted to their heads, teeth covered in high-fructose corn syrup - we're classy like that.

I'll have you know that shirt I have on has a holly leaf and a dove - that's as Christmasy as I get without being ironic.

 Remember my brother-in-law with the foot that was rotting off of his leg?  That's him (and my sis) and his foot is still there!

 A bear hug from DD is like a little piece of heaven (and a slight fear that if he hugs you any tighter you might be going there sooner rather than later - but still totally worth it).

 No dinner is complete without some booty shaking.

 I love bed-head present opening pics, reminds me of my childhood.

 If Yaya would not have whipped up a Jedi Knight costume, Bode would not have continued to exist.

What do you get this little girl for Christmas besides an agent and a recording contract?  A microscope and an experiment kit, that's what.

I just ran a brush through Mia's hair for the first time since Wednesday.  

I'd say that's what you call a successful Chickasha trip.

I can't hide it any longer...

I have felt it for years and it is finally time to admit who I really am - an 80-year-old trapped in a 34-year-old body.  Not only do I love waking up at 5 AM,  going to bed at 9:00 PM,  and eating dinner at 4:30, I have officially "joined the club," and once you're in you can never go back:

Yes, the highlight of my holidays this year has been my acceptance in the Harry and David fruit of the month club.

All you ladies out there getting fancy purses, botox gift certificates and pilates classes - you go right on ahead.  I'll be at home in my fuzzy socks eating pears.

I feel no shame.

We tested the limits of the "raw eggs cause salmonella" theory. So far so good.

The kids and I decided to make cookies for the neighbors last night.

About half of them actually made it into the oven, and less than half of those made it to the neighbors

 The consumption of raw cookie dough was in the dangerous levels, but my kids weren't screaming, poking, hitting, or glaring at each other so I just went with it.

 At one point they decided to make cookies in the shape of light-sabers.  The ended up looking a lot like poop, which thankfully, helped end the dough eating frenzy (for me).

One of the best thing about kids:  You can give ugly poop-shaped cookies to the neighbors and they actually think it's cute.

Team Loser

Last night, as a throwback to our childhoods, we went on a photo scavenger hunt.  There were four teams.  Technically, we came in last.

 Which is ironic considering my husband helped write the clues and had the answers in his pocket.  

He just couldn't bring himself to cheat.  

Although, I was sure able to bring myself to try and convince him to.

Yet another successful holiday party in the books.

I love this time of year.  Mostly for the great candy, but the great company is pretty good too.