Peanut Better

We have a lot of kids. We eat a lot of food. Therefore, we shop in bulk for a lot of the foods we need. Ten pound bags of chicken. Grapes in a four pound package. Hundreds of granola bars. And, most importantly, large tubs of peanut butter.

Oh, the peanut butter. I love having vats of PB at my disposal, but I absolutely LOATHE scraping the bottom the jar once it is almost gone. Our peanut butter jars are roughly 8 inches tall, which makes it virtually impossible to get a standard knife into the bottom of the jar. I end up with more peanut butter on my knuckles and wrists than I do on the bread. It drives me INSANE.

So you can imagine my joy today when I discovered that it was a scrape-the-bottom-of-the-PB-tub kinda day. I complained about it to Matt and I saw his eyes light up with a boyish excitement.

"Want me to cut it?" he asked.

Huh?

But then I put it together. Mischievous grin + Over sized PB tub = Boy's knife-wielding dream come true. Yes, he wanted to cut the jar in half.

Seeing as I was suffering from post traumatic peanut butter knuckle disorder (PTPBKD), I happily agreed. A few wild stabs and some sawing later and we went from this ...

(Sorry, I know it's just the halves put back together. I didn't think to take a picture until after the deed was done).

To this ...

I'm not quite certain, but I think I heard strains of Handel's Messiah coming from the heavens once the deed was done. There it was ... total and unrestricted peanut butter access. I was able to make sandwiches without so much as a smidgen of peanut butter on my hands. It was life changing (and yes, I know this makes me realize that I must not have much of a life).

So, so long PB hands from Hades, there's a new sheriff in town. And he's not afraid to cut you down to size to make his woman happy.

The Best Santa

This past weekend we continued our traditional Breakfast with Santa at the kids' preschool. Can I just say (again) how much I love this preschool? We have the best teachers, staff, and parent volunteers that make it possible for all of these great events to happen. It's been such a joy to have our kids there and someone is going to have to carry me out kicking and screaming in a couple years when we have to leave.

Breakfast with Santa is one of the cutest events. It eliminates the need for us to have to drag the kids to a mall Santa and the Santa we see every year is the real deal. I also think it's pretty cool that our kids will see the same Santa every year when they visit. I have this hope that always seeing and talking to the same exact Santa will somehow prolong the magic and season of believing for them (or maybe me!). Anyway, he is awesome and we love getting to go back to him year after year.

We arrived at the breakfast and headed straight for crafts before we saw the big man himself. The making of the reindeer food is always a huge hit. Everyone got to make their own recipe and package their own bag of special food for Santa's work "horses."

Peyton added extra glitter this year for just a bit more sparkle.

We also got to make Christmas mugs (or "muffs" as Sam insisted they were called) with stickers. We love us some stickers at our house. I'm moderately surprised that all of Luke's stickers ended up on his paper. I usually find them on his back or belly when it's time for bath.

Then, finally, it was our time to see Santa. We prepped the kids ahead of time to only ask for ONE thing from Santa. This was very easy for Adah, Peyton, and Luke as they have only had one item on their lists all along. Sam, on the other hand, was a different story. His list changes daily, though it always includes some type of airplane or helicopter. Yes, he has requested specific types of aircraft, including a 747, a 767 (because it's bigger than a 747), a B-29, a Blue Angel, a rescue helicopter, and a B-52 bomber. It all started with my idiotic mistake of giving him aircraft magazine while we were at the barber shop recently and it has spiraled out of control. We finally had to tell him that Santa has stopped taking orders and he'll just have to be happy with what Santa brings him. All I'm certain of it that it will be something that flies.

We had pretty good success with a picture this year. Everyone looking, which is always good. And there was no fighting over who got to sit in Santa's lap and who had to stand. So the hope is that they are safely cemented on the nice list.

I liked this next picture as well, but Matt pointed out to me (in his words) that, "Peyton's mammoth bow is blocking Sam's entire face." Hey, lay off on the bows. I only have a limited amount of time with them. As long as they agree to wear them, they are wearing them.

Here's a view of the conversation with Santa. Can you see how hard Sam is trying to narrow it down? I think he ended up settling on the B-29. This Mrs. Claus has NO idea what that is so I hope the Santa of our house does.

After our visit, we proceeded to eat our weight in Chick-fil-a minis, doughnut holes, and Moravian sweet buns during the "snack" portion of the breakfast. Our family didn't exactly get the memo that this was supposed to be a light snack and not an all out breakfast buffet. I think they were glad when we left and that there was still a little bit of food remaining for those coming behind us.

I love this school event so so much and I'm glad we're going to get to do it for a few more years. The kids have been attempting to tie jingle bells to their shoes all week so they can "be like Santa with the bells on his boots." Didn't I tell you this guy was the real deal? If you've got bells on your boots then you MUST be the real Santa.

Picture of the Week - December 11

Visit with Santa ... check!

Elf on the Shelf Friday

Oh that Johnny had a grand old time this past week getting himself into all kinds of predicaments. He proved that he's not above a little mischief, but that he's also an elf aware of his health and well-being.

On Saturday, Johnny went with us to the Mistletoe Half Marathon! He placed first in his species group (elf-sapien) and also managed to cheer us on as we ran.

After that big run on Saturday, he knew what his body needed was a day of rest. So he holed up in the doll crib in the girls' room and slept the day away (with his teddy, of course).

On Monday he finally realized that he hadn't showered since he ran ... yuck! So he had a nice long soak in a bubble bath. His toes were just a bit pruned after a day long relaxation session.

After a few days off from exercise, Johnny was feeling invigorated. He was inspired by the kids' tree swing in the back yard and decided to fashion one of his own. Sure he fell off a few times (but always managed to right himself when no one was looking), but he kept at it and swung the day away.

Johnny also made sure that the kids knew he was listening to their Christmas requests. One morning he left them with a lovely artist's rendition of what each child most wanted from Santa (and no, the girls don't want dolls dressed in drag for Christmas ... let's just say drawing elegant looking princesses is not Matt's Johnny's forte).

Johnny's mischievous side came out yesterday when he decided to roll the tree. Toilet paper is a precious commodity around here, so we made sure he cleaned it up and re-rolled it once he was done.Now we get to have pine scented behinds for a few days. Thanks Johnny!

I had noticed Johnny eying our nativity set for a few days so it didn't surprise me when we woke up this morning to him self-casting himself in the role of shepherd for this year's Elf Christmas Pageant. If he does a great job, he may have a shot at the role of Joseph next year!

Johnny definitely had an eventful week, but I'm sure he's got a few more tricks up his sleeves in the coming days. Only 16 more days until Christmas!

A Morning at Discovery Place Kids

The Amazing Race Packet Pick-Up

Matt and I ran (and finished!) a half marathon this past Saturday. It had been a while since I'd run in an organized race, and this one was a lot of fun. I really only agree to run in races if they require some significant training AND come with a cool t-shirt. Gotta have priorities. I'm not paying $30 to go run 3 miles when I could just walk outside and do that any day I wanted. But running for two hours is worthy of a race entry and I'm proud to say that we made it alive and in tact. I did walk around like I had a small horse between my legs for 48 hours after we finished, but who doesn't love that, right? Cowboy up!

So even though the race was great, it was actually the easier part of the weekend. The major hurdle to me finishing the race actually occurred on Friday, the day before we ran. We were required to pick up our packet of racing materials sometime on Friday between 12-7pm. If they could have only extended this into the morning hours I would have been able to stop by for a quick and smooth pick-up while the kids were in school. But the gods of certain preschool upheaval were not smiling on me that day and I would either have to pick the packets up at lunchtime or after the kids' afternoon nap. Both really wonderful (insert sarcasm here) times of the day for me and the kids.

I had told Matt that maybe we could all go together in the early evening to pick them up so we would have some semblance of control when we carted all four kids into the massive hallway maze that poses as the Central YMCA. This isn't our regular Y and I was only vaguely familiar with the layout and where we would have to go. However, when I picked up the kids at preschool at lunch time I, for some reason, decided that we would just scoot on over to the Y right then and pick up the packets. Sure the kids were whining and complaining of hunger and thirst, but it would only take a few minutes. Why I laughed in the face of all the red flags being sent my way and decided to embark on a solo reconnaissance mission to obtain the packets, I'll never know. Let's just chalk it up to that runner's high that I always hear people talk about (and have yet to experience myself).

So we make the drive over to the Y and I immediately realize that I have not had an original idea. Apparently everyone who entered this race also decided that 12:13pm would be a perfect time to pick up their own packets as well. I should have turned around then, but, as previously stated, I enjoy ignoring red flags and frequently laugh in the face of danger. After driving around for several days hours minutes, we finally found a parking place as far from the entrance as possible. I unloaded all the kids with promises of chicken nuggets and chocolate milk if they would just stay with me and be good for the few minutes it would take to get our packets.

We finally made it inside and the hunt for the gym began (this was where they were handing out the packets). Again, this Y is designed labyrinth style, so we spent at least 10 minutes aimlessly wandering the halls while meeting several dead ends. At one point Luke was missing and I found him in one of the weight rooms tossing medicine balls at the mirror and laughing hysterically. While I was pulling him away from those, the girls decided to mount the elliptical machines while Sam systematically emptied the wall-mounted hand sanitizer ... into his eye. Once I extracted everyone and got Sam to stop screaming, I gave up and asked for directions. Apparently we were on the wrong floor. There were multiple floors? What kind of sicko designed this place anyway?

We finally found the gym and I breathed a sign of relief. There were tons of people there, but I figured I would just wait in my neatly alphabetized line for the packets and we'd be out of there quickly. The line did move fast, but no 2 or 3 year old wants to wait in a line. The kids took turns running around the gym and someone managed to scrounge up a basketball to play with. One of the Y trainers was setting up some sort of obstacle course with cones on the opposite side of the gym and the kids thought it would be HYSTERICAL to knock the cones down with the basketball. The trainer would set up the cones, leave the gym to go get a few more, and while he was gone they would roll the ball around until they knocked all the cones over. Then they'd run away and the poor trainer would come back and find his cones demolished and would have to start again. They did this at least three times. That poor trainer, I don't think he ever figured it out. And I was DYING because I wanted to stop them but I also didn't want to lose my place in line. Going to the end of the line = more time in the hellhole formerly known as race packet pickup. So I let them do it and pretended I didn't know whose kids they were.

Once I finally made it to the start of the line, they asked for my bib number. Huh?? Yes, didn't I know that I was supposed to look up my bib number on the opposing wall before standing in line to pick up my race number and packet? So yes, I had to leave the line, look up the number, and then get back in line again. By this time I had rounded up the kids and had a death grip on them so they could no longer torture clueless cone trainer man. We finally made it to the front, I produced my number, and I had our packets in hand when the inevitable happened. As we were turning to leave, Luke stuck his chubby little hand right into the nicely alphabetized and organized box of race numbers, pulled them all out, and ran across the gym while scattering the papers like pieces of confetti and yelling, "Look! I'm exercising!" I helped the poor workers clean them up, but there was no evidence of any alphabetization left once we had collected them all. I grabbed the kids and we booked it out of there before anyone could memorize my face and run me over at the race the following day. I even wore a hat when I ran the next day in hopes of disusing my identity as the parent of the de-alpabatizing hellion.

So the moral of this story is to always, ALWAYS listen to the red flags. You think you're courageous and admirable, but you are really just plain dumb if you try and defy them. Unless you want to be tagged with the "Mother of the De-Alphabatizer" moniker for the rest of your life, I would advise you heed the warning and stand down.

Picture of the Week - December 4

Even though I can't walk today, it was great! Now can someone pass the ice and Advil?

The columns show name, start time, end time, and total race time. My first half marathon in 10 years and the first ever for Matt!