Our Christmas visitor

This is Gandalf. Gandalf Goodorbad.


Gandalf is visiting us from the North Pole. He's a gnome-elf who works for Santa keeping an eye on little boys and girls and reporting if they're naughty or nice.

I thought inviting Gandalf to our home would be a fun little way to prepare for Christmas (read: a great way to manipulate the kids into behaving). I never imagined he'd become such a feared fixture.


See, he absolutely freaks Nelly out. To make him more lifelike, I moved him from position to position around the house when the kids weren't watching. At one point I moved him into Nelly's room. She came out screaming. SCREAMING. Now she thinks he's stalking her and she won't settle down each morning until she knows exactly where he is.

Sigh. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. And sometimes you terrorize your children.

Tell me how ... to hide Christmas presents

Talk about a smooth move -- Saturday I managed to buy one of Nelly's Christmas presents in front of her and she didn't notice.

And that no doubt is where my good luck will end. I am absolutely mortified that my kids (Ben counts in this category) will find their Christmas presents. I mean, they do have my genes. My sisters and I were notorious Christmas-gift-finders. We never, ever were surprised. I mean never. We would open the presents right under the tree then wrap 'em back up. No shame. And no stopping us.

Sigh.

I don't want that for my kids. I want some magic on Christmas morning. I want surprises. But more than anything I don't want the whining of, "Mommy, I want to play with it now."

So, seasoned veterans, tell me your secrets. How (and where) do you hide your Christmas presents?

Cheap can be cute

We have been blessed beyond belief that so much of Hammy's old clothes have been the right size at the right season for the boys. I mean, considering Hammy was born in August and the boys were born in March, that really shouldn't be the case. But it has been, and we've been so grateful to not have to buy new clothes.

Unfortunately, this hasn't been true with coats. Hammy had fantastic coat that he got for his first Christmas that, to be honest, he probably wore once. And it's WAY too small for the babies to wear. I was planning on just not getting the boys coats and making it through the winter with blankets as needed or my personal preference of staying inside all the time. But then I found these puppies at Macy's.


See? Literally puppies. That's right, they're Halloween costumes. They're Carter's brand, so they're nice. They're soft and warm. They're absolutely adorable and just the right size. And the best part of all? They were less than $3 each.

That's right, two winter coats (and matching warm pants to boot) for $6.


If you think that puppy's happy, you should see his money-saving mother.

I always try to buy winter coats for the kids in the spring -- they're on clearance and I have a pretty good idea of what size they'll need. But since planning ahead like that can be much tougher with infants, I strongly recommend other moms check out the Halloween costumes the first week of November and get themselves a killer deal on an adorable coat.

Sweet dreams

Ben and I, we're classy people. We put hot dogs in our mac and cheese; we leave our kids' toys out in the front lawn (on accident, I swear -- we're still not used to having a front yard). And for the last two months almost, we have been sleeping on the living room floor.


We have a perfectly wonderful bed in our bedroom. Unfortunately we also have two very light sleepers in our bedroom. In a desperate attempt to help our babies sleep through the night, we moved into the living room. It's been a pain cleaning up our bedding every morning and setting up camp again each night. And it's been a pain, literally, sleeping on the hard floor. But it's resulted in hours more sleep every night, so we've gratefully endured.

Nights when Ben's working, I remain classy by making a bed for one on the couch.


But now? Big changes in the Stellmon household. As of today, we are super-DUPER classy. We now sleep on our newly acquired hide-a-bed.


Nothing says luxury like a metal bar down the middle of your back. We are absolutely moving up in the world.

Some day, maybe a year or three in the future, I look forward to sleeping in my actual bed again. But for now? This sure beats the minimally padded, cold, cold floor.

Wonder where he gets it

People often comment that our kids look nothing like us. But these never before seen pictures may change some minds about that.



That's right, people, Ben's genes are most definitely in this pool.

Tell me how ... to get rid of a headache

Headaches are the worst. I've had one for four days now and I just can't get rid of it. Granted, I've taken Tylenol once and Ibuprofen once and that's about all I've done to try to get rid of it. But after it kept me up all night last night, I've decided to get serious about getting rid of it. So, tell me, what are your best headache remedies? (Bonus points if anyone can make a convincing argument that gorging on doughnuts and egg not will cure a headache.)

The day after a night shift

This is what happens when your poor husband gets called in to cover a 12-hour night shift at the hospital on a day he didn't realize he was on call.


You think that's tired, check out the full picture.


Given that Ben's job is part time and our bills are full time, we're grateful for any and all extra shifts he can pick up. But I'm pretty sure tonight (once he gets back from the hospital -- got called in again, but only for about an hour this time) Ben is going to be even more grateful for sleep.

Dumbfounded

A year ago I had this.



The two cutest skeletons in the whole world. I didn't know they were my two boys. In fact, I was certain they were anything BUT two boys. I knew just what we'd name my little girl, and what we'd name two little girls. I thought there was a chance we'd have a little Hawthorne. But a little Deakin? Ha. That wasn't even supposed to be the second boy's name. The second boy (and there was no way there was going to be a second boy) was supposed to be Hudson. But that was beside the point, because there was no way I was having two boys. I even told the sonographer, after reminding her that we weren't going to find out, that we didn't care what we were having ... as long as it wasn't two boys.

Today, I have this.


My Hawk (who was supposed to be a Thorny) and my Deak (who was supposed to be a girl). And I couldn't possibly be more blessed.

I don't mean to leave the older two and my wonderful husband out of the equation -- if I only had one member of my family, any one, I would be the most blessed woman in all the world. But something about the snow falling outside has me thinking about last year when my entire world was rapped up in anticipation for these two precious bundles. I thought I had it so good then. I know I have it so good now.

Whatever potty training nightmares or tantrums in the middle of church we may have coming in the next few years, whatever financial struggles we'll face putting so many kids through college at once, whatever absurd car insurance rate we may get slapped with down the road, I know that right now I've got it good. I have the two best babies ever. I have the two most obedient and helpful "big" kids. I have the greatest husband, friend and companion who also serves as the best daddy. And I have a good, happy, secure life. I get to be a wife. I get to be a mother. I get to be a woman. I get to be me.

The last year has been good to me. I am dumbfounded by just how good.

Date with Hammy

I wouldn't say I dated a lot in my younger years -- I'd say I dated a hecka lot. I can say that in a non-braggy way because (a) it's not bragging when it's an indisputable fact, and (b) the reason I dated so much was because I always paid and let's face it, guys would put up with just about anything for a free meal.

Just because I've been married for six years does not mean my dating years are over. I've got three sons. That gives me plenty of opportunities to treat a young buck to dinner.

It wasn't dinner or a movie or anything fun, but yesterday I got to take this little goofball on a one-on-one date.


Sure, a trip to the pediatrician's office and Walmart doesn't seem like that great of an outing. But really, it was. We sang songs on the drive there. We played with the bead chasers at the doctor's office (man, that kid loves those things). At Walmart we counted the Christmas trees. And on the drive home we enjoyed the cookies he picked out as his special treat for being so good at the doctor's office. It was wonderful.

Our home isn't as crowded as many homes, and to be honest sometimes our family feels really small. (I'm sure that will change when my three little boys grow into three huge, gallon-of-milk guzzling teenagers.) But I truly relish any opportunity I have to spend one-on-one with my kiddos.

Here's hoping Deak throws up for another day or two so he and I can take a romp out to the pediatrician as well. (Well, OK, maybe I don't wish for that. But you know what I mean.)

Tell me how ... to make the world's greatest S'mores

One of my favorite traditions is coming up. I'm a little bit excited.

As I've boasted about before, our Thanksgivings rock. Every year on the night before Thanksgiving we pitch the tent in the living room and have a family slumber party. To add to the "campiness" of it all, we have chili for dinner and s'mores for dessert. Yep, the best preparation for a huge turkey dinner ever -- lots of beans. Our extended family just loves spending the next day with us.

A few years ago we had the greatest s'mores ever. They were Schwan s'mores, and oh man. Let me say that again for emphasis -- oh man. Unfortunately, Schwan is no longer in the s'mores business. Tragedy, really. Tragedy and travesty.

Since I can't have those, I'm turning to you for alternatives. Give me your best s'mores or s'mores-like recipes. Personally I'm looking for something on the cleaner side, but maybe someone else would appreciate your goo-tastic suggestions. So share whatever you've got. I'm thinking this year I'd like something cupcake-ish or maybe cookie-esque that still retains the basic characteristics of s'mores. But I can be swayed by a good recipe and strong argument.

And go ahead, be jealous of my awesome tradition. Or better yet, steal it and make it (or something like it) your own.

Weekly competition

Ben and I are blessed with our unique working situation.

Plenty of parents both work. But we haven't met too many parents who, like us, are spoiled rotten to be able to work our schedules so there's no overlap. Don't get me wrong, it has its challenges -- it feels like someone is ALWAYS working. But it's wonderful that one of us is always home with the kids.

Because of that arrangement, Ben and I have devised a bit of a competition. Yep, a competition. Because isn't that what child-rearing is all about -- proving who is the better parent? Each day the parent who is on Home Duty (vs. Work Duty) has the opportunity to earn points. For every load of laundry done, that's a point. For other household chores like mopping the floor, tht's a point. If the house is clean when the Work Duty spouse comes home, that's a point. And for every outing, such as taking Nelly to dance class, boys in tow, or heading to the park for a change of scenery, that's a point. Basically any good thing that we need a little extra motivation to do, we get a point for doing it. However, for every 20 minutes of television the kids watch, we lose a point.

At the end of the pay period (two weeks) we compare points and the winner gets a treat of her choice ('cause let's face it, I never lose) from the winner. That could be a Frosty or a pint of Ben and Jerry's -- whatever the winner wants. The loser gets to have one, too, but he has to pay for it out of his pay check. Plus he doesn't get to choose.

It's a silly little thing, but it's fun. There's certainly a lot of strategy involved -- how many Laundry Points dare I squander on Television Deductions in order to take that nap I so desperately need? How many outings can I lump into one trip -- dropping Nelly off at preschool, visiting the park with the boys, then hitting the recycling center on the way home -- to rack up points with the fewest amount of car seat loadings possible?

I feel so blessed to have a husband who shares in the household responsibilities 100 percent. He really is a stay-at-home dad who also works 12-hour shifts 3-4 times a week. I feel as though our kids are extra blessed, too -- they get to spend quality time with just their father in a way that almost no other kids do. But more than anything, I feel totally psyched to get a 24 Karat Cookie milkshake from Pretzel Maker when I pulverize Ben this pay period.

No babies were injured in this photo shoot, I promise

My babies are cute. I mean seriously, seriously cute. For reals.

Each month I look forward to taking their pictures on our big recliner. We have loved this tradition (thanks again, Boogs, for the inspiration) with all of our kids. However, once they get to a certain age, getting the picture fast enough is a challenge. Getting the picture with two of them on the move? Well, sometimes it goes something like this:

Cute babies. Smiling. But uh-oh, one is starting to move.


Crap. He's REALLY on the move.


And plop.


Still smiling. We're OK.


But this photo shoot is definitely over so Mommy can snuggle some wiggly sweethearts.

Hot commodity

My little girl is the best. She's funny, she's smart, she's kind. She's super fun to be around. So it's no surprise to me that she's well-liked by most if not all of her peers in preschool.

I didn't realize until yesterday, however, just what a hot commodity she is.

I had a rare opportunity to take Nelly into school myself (normally I have all of the boys with me, so I call her teachers and they meet me in the parking lot and take her downstairs for me -- sooo much nicer than making my way down and back with all those car seats and kids in tow). We went in and took her coat off and put her name tag on, and I was just turning to go when a little girl came skipping over.

"Hi, Tonnelle. Will you be my friend today?"

Cute. Adorable. But something wasn't quite right about the exchange.

See, during this verbal exchange, there was an actual exchange going on. This little girl slipped Nelly three silver coins.

Nelly sized up the coins as though counting their worth, jingled them for a second, then smiled. "Sure, I'll be your friend today."

Turns out Nelly's been charging this little girl "$100" a day to be her friend. Nelly assured me it was just play money, which apparently made it OK. But this poor little girl has been paying up day after day after day to be Nelly's friend. This particular day was even her last day of school, and so Nelly charged her a special fee -- three coins instead of the usual two.

Hmmm. Do I frown upon this for obvious reasons or do I just accept that my girl has high self-worth and knows how to market herself? Hmmmm.

Tell me how ... to look younger

One of the sweetest individuals I've ever met, dear sweet Tami, sent this question.

"I am about a week away from my 31st birthday and starting to notice the tell-tale signs of aging on my face. You know, crow's feet, laugh lines, sun damage ... ugh. And they are just getting worse with every passing year. So I was wondering what products or home remedies your readers use to slow down the visible signs of aging, or maybe I should give up all together and embrace my lines as a sign of wisdom. Obviously I know sun screen will help the sun damage but other than that I am clueless."

She sent this last week -- her birthday is actually THIS week. So as a nice collective birthday present for Tami, let's give her all of our best age-defying beauty secrets. She added that she doesn't want to spend a fortune, especially on products that might not even work in the end. So what are the things you've actually tried with success?

Halloween 1, 2, 3 and IV

When I was a kid and Halloween landed on Monday, we celebrated Monday and that was that. So when in the heck did Monday Halloween turn into four days of non-stop trick-or-treating madness?

Not that I'm complaining.

The kiddos loved every second of Halloween. Even the lame stuff, like carving pumpkins. What can I say, Ben's the traditions guy around here. I'm the woman who stands in the background and shouts, "Don't make a big mess doing that."


Nelly and Hammy were great helpers.


Deak and Hawk loved being involved, too.


And there I was. Pretending the mess wasn't bugging me.


It was. It really, really was.

We had three dinner parties, one trunk-or-treat, two parties and a bunch of trick-or-treating in the four days of Halloween. Lots of chances to show off our cute kids. Lots of fun.

We had our pride of lions.


Ben dressed up as Daniel. No one got it.

Our boys had their clearance Walmart outfits.


But their costumes were my pride and joy -- Clark Kent and Superman.


Yeah, no one got that, either. But it doesn't stop me from being insanely pleased with myself.

One holiday down, a whole slew of 'em to come.

Tell me how ... to graciously send people home

A friend, who asked to remain anonymous, sent me this question:

"We don't have people over very often, but it seems like whenever we do they come and stay long past their welcome. How do you kindly let someone know it's time for them to leave?"

Honestly, I think she sent this as a hint to me. I am the WORST. Whenever I go to someone's home, I have every intention of getting in and getting out -- always leave 'em wanting more. But when it comes to it, I either lose track of time or feel like I'm obligated to stay longer when in reality my host is probably watching the clock and dying to be rid of me.

So how do you appropriately let someone know it's time for them to go? And on the other side, how as a guest do you help get yourself out the door in a reasonable amount of time?