The other night we were returning to our house around 7 p.m. in the evening. It was dark and the kids were grumpy. There had already been threats of “time outs” should the yelling/hitting/looking at each other, etc.  not stop (between the boys, not Kevin and I). Needless to say the mood in the car was a bit tense.

To understand the little story I am about to tell, you must know that an extended care facility for the elderly is on our street so we often have emergency vehicles paying the area a visit. It is sad, I know. However, the children quite enjoy the up close time with fire trucks and ambulances because they are boys and shiny cars with lights make them go crazy (boys are simple creatures).

So, as we pull on to our street, we immediately notice two fire trucks and an ambulance blocking a portion of the road. There is however, still enough space for us to pass, so Kevin inches forward. Suddenly a fireman starts waiving his flashlight around – not at us, just at the ground. I would soon learn that this was his way of saying “Stop” but at the time, it seemed like a good idea to move forward some more.

Kevin was literally going 2 miles an hour and the guy was still 100 yards away, when all of the sudden the fireman starts screaming at us -

“I said STOP YOUR VEHICLE NOW! STOP! STOP”

He was waving his light again, at the ground, as though we knew what this meant. By the time he screeched out his second “STOP” we were already stopped so his reaction startled us a little. I rolled down the window and said “we live on this street.” Well, apparently them’s fightin’ words because he started screaming at me again -

“I SAID STOP!”

Upon hearing the last part of “STOP” something in me snapped. Who is this guy and why is he yelling at me on my own street? What does this flashlight bobbing mean and is it the universal symbol for something I am unaware of ? I feel like I am up to date on emergency communication but maybe not…

So, I poke my head out the window and yell back:

ME:  I don’t know what you are doing with your flashlight, is that supposed to mean something to me?

Angry fireman: I AM TELLING YOU TO STOP, DO NOT MOVE FORWARD.

ME: OKAY! I AM NOT MOVING! I SIMPLY DIDN’T KNOW WHAT YOU MEANT!

AF: I HAVE TO PROTECT MY MEN AT ALL COSTS!

ME: YOUR MEN? WHAT? DID YOU THINK I WAS GOING TO BARREL THEM OVER GOING 2 MILES AN HOUR?

AF: STAY IN YOUR CAR, MAM!

Dear lordy, now I am pissed. How dare he yell at me like that? As though I am some threat to society. Anyway, at this point my husband decides it is time to chime in and let me know I need to calm down. I was ready to get out of the car and punch this angry firefighter in the noggin but once again Kevin’s calm and cool demeanor saves me from jail time. I don’t know what I would do without that mellow husband of mine, but I am pretty sure it involves starting a gang and roaming the streets looking for emergency personnel to terrorize.

Because my children are now eerily quiet and watching with wide eyes the exchange between Mama and the fireman, I realize that I should calm down and resist my carnal urges. This takes some serious self-control, considering I am pretty sure firefighters don’t carry guns so it will be a fair fight.

I don’t know what it is about the holidays but I can go from zero to maniac in about 3 seconds during the month of December. I have to keep reminding myself to calm down and resist the desire to level everyone in my path with my ridiculously loud voice and catlike reflexes.

After the exchange with angry fireman, I decided I need to have the following phrase on repeat in my brain “Jesus is the reason for the season.” For some reason, when you repeat the name “Jesus” in your head it keeps you from going ballistic when people act like idiots.

I will say though, it has taken some time to get the normal refrain out of my head, “It’s the eye of the tiger it’s the thrill of the fight…”

Well, as my last post indicated, we got our tree last night. It wasn’t without a bit of stress and the usual family calamity that I’ve grown so accustomed to. You see, when we moved last June, a good portion of our stuff went in to storage. Well the Christmas stuff, the stuff I spent years collecting and hundreds of dollars amassing, is at the very back of the storage unit. Basically it is unreachable.

So, I had to head to Target to pick up a few decorations and some lights so that we may have some semblance of Christmas this year. By the time I got to Target and saw all of the people, I was much more “Bah Humbug” than I was “Jingle Bells!” In fact, I really just wanted to cancel Christmas this year.

Luckily, by the time we got to the tree lot, my mood had changed and we managed to have some fun. Isaac was so excited to pick a tree and Joshua was just excited to be on an adventure so their collective merriment made up for my utter lack of holiday cheer. We managed to snap a few cute pictures of the event for your viewing.

In the end, the tree was decorated, the lights were hung and Mariah Carey’s Christmas album was ringing throughout the halls. Happy Holidays!

If I had any guts at all, this would be our family Christmas card this year. However, pretty sure Kevin’s very conservative grandfather would have a heartattack if he opened the mail and saw this:

I like to take pictures. The people in my little family don’t like to sit still for said pictures. So sometimes I experiment with my camera on myself. This usually ends in several awkward, what I like to call “myspace/facebook angle” pictures. You know, the one where your arm is extended and your chin tipped downward, trying desperately to hide the fact that you stood and posed by yourself because you couldn’t bring yourself to ask someone – “Hey can you take a picture for me to post on my favorite social networking site so that I look cool and people from high school won’t think I’m a douchbag?”

Anyhow, Sunday afternoon I was taking some lame self portraits and managed to snap a cool one.  I was jazzed about the lighting and then… I looked a little closer. Well, hells bells, methinks someone needs a little magical cosmetical surgical intervention (I just made that phrase up, I am wrinkled but damn funny, right?). Okay so take a looksie for yourself.

However, heed my warning fellow thirtysomethings – back up from the camera, the close up shot is no longer your friend.

Look, I didn’t even start on the “I have giant pores” issue. Clearly I need a facial. I am taking donations for both spa treatments and magical cosmetical surgical interventions. I accept PayPal. And cash.

While doing my morning web surfing, I came across this ad on Craigslist:

At first I was shocked that egg donation pays so well. Who would have thought. I sat there for a minute imagining the conversation with Kevin as I told him that I found a way to make more money.  Then, I realized something. Notice the age qualifier in the add.

Ages 21-29 ONLY!

So even if I wanted to donate my eggs, they wouldn’t take them. The worst part? I am almost 3 years past their expiration date. People my eggs are like the milk in the fridge that you wonder about, sniff at, and then decide to pour out. One more career option down the drain…

I guess I am moving on to plasma donation, it will take more dedication but at least there isn’t an expiration date. Your plasma doesn’t go bad, right?