Oh, Druther.

In re-planning Christmas with Fred's family (thank you, blizzard), Grandma Judy emailed me asking to know what my druthers are.

Which -- side note -- reminds me. Hey, Channel 8 - I don't really care to hear you proclaim that December has been the 'snowiest December' in Lincoln's recorded history and then chuckle. There really isn't anything funny about it. I was stuck in my house for 3 solid days. We missed our family Christmas. Are you offering to find me a spot to stash all of this snow? I didn't think so. Zip it Coskren.

I digress... let's get back to druthers.

Those sound like bad things to me. So, I emailed her back to let her know my druthers are Greyhound buses, Geometry and broccoli.

Seeing how she announced that she's sending a Greyhound to pick us up and doing Geometry before enjoying our dinner of creamed broccoli, broccoli salad and broccoli... I think I had the definition wrong. And I think this Christmas is going to suck.

Happy Monday!

Tooting my own horn:

I made it onto the list of Favorite Etsy Finds in 2009 from Ohdeedoh!

Thank you, mom and dad, for creating my sister as she's the one that started it all with Ohdeedoh so many months ago.

Elliot's Christmas Insanity

Being trapped in the house by the Christmas blizzard weekend is starting to get to all of us. However, I think the combination of being inside for days and the excitement of Santa Claus has blown a fuse in poor Elliot. He has frantically alternated from one activity to another for most of the day, then while we were making dinner he began performing to himself. Using the reflection from the front of the dishwasher he serenaded himself with a song and dance routine that included an apparently new version of "Jingle Bells."

Elliot has made this one of my favorite Christmas seasons ever. He is so excited by every gift and completely in awe of Santa and his "reindeers". This is such a fun stage of his development and it really takes me back to being a kid again.

Sweet, Sweet Snow Day

1. Get a cup.

2. Get a KCup of hot cocoa.

3. Unwrap a homemade marshmallow/fudge stick.

4. Enjoy.

Nightlights and Little-Tiny-House-Lights

Since he was 1, Elliot has gone to bed with at least one book in his hands. Propped up on his elbows, he'd flip through the book - sometimes reading, sometimes singing - and then slip it through the slats in his crib and go to sleep.

Lately, he's demanding the lamp be left on. And by 'demanding' I mean screaming and wailing like someone just hacked his leg off with a butter knife. The first night, Fred obliged and we turned it off when we went to bed. Second night, same. Third night Elliot was stuck with me and I gave him my No Way, Jose - you only get to sucker your dad look and he was okay with that.

Fast forward a week.

Last night, he was wailing again because Fred wouldn't leave the lamp on. Fred's solution? He remembered this tiny little key chain we got from our realtor that is shaped like a house and emits a tiny red light when you squeeze it. This not only satisfied him but made him happy to have a little light of his very own. Finally, he slept.

I got up to him yelling around 4:30 a.m. and went in to see what the problem was. He looked at me and very seriously said "Hep me. Not fine da yight." I looked over and he had his blankets all pushed in one corner and his book open as though he were trying, desperately, to read it. Still in my sleepy-stupor I said "What? You want me to find that dumb little light? Are you kidding me?" (Kind of harsh, I know, but I never once said I was a morning person.) He responded with "Fine da yight mommy?" and I did.

He. Was. Sitting. On. It.

Someone pray for this child. It would be in his best interest to NOT wake me up at 4:30 asking me to find the dumb little flashlight.

Next time, I'll grab it from under your butt and peg it at your sweet little head. Now, MOMMY SAID TO GO TO BED.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

My name is Elliot Seckman. I have been a good boy this year. I would like a Gordon train, underwears and a game. I will leave you milk and cookies. Please leavce the presents under the tree.

Merry Christmas,
Elliot

Final Answer

I'm going to let Santa know that he doesn't need to wrap the presents he brings for anyone in our house. There's really no need to wrap up gifts fresh from the workshop and what if it snows on the package and the paper gets ruined? Couldn't he potentially get the presents to the wrong people if they're all wrapped up? Tags fall off, you know, and Fred would probably die if Elliot got Barbie's Corvette.

Further, to give ample space in which to lodge the various presents, we will be opening non-Santa gifts on Christmas Eve. (Secretly, I've just always wanted to do this so now that I am THE MOM I get to make this decision and write it off as a new family tradition!)

I am considering adding more traditions like Fred grilling Christmas dinner, caroling around our cul de sac and having Christmas, Round II on New Years Day on which everyone will present ME with lovely gifts from expensive stores and boutiques. I have a sneaking suspicion, though, that I'll be completely overruled on these.

To (w)rap or not to (w)rap

Growing up at the Wenciker house, presents were found on Christmas morning all wrapped up and tagged so you'd know who they were from. Most were from Santa, but some were from parents.

Growing up at the Seckman house, presents from the parents were wrapped and given on Christmas eve. The family woke up to presents from Santa - unwrapped - on Christmas morning. The logic here is that the presents came directly from the workshop (right?) so why would Santa bother with wrapping them?

How to meld the Wenciker and Seckman homes? We're not sure. I can totally buy into the unwrapped thing because the logic is there. But that's just not the way it was for me. Control Freak Anna is having a hard time giving up the 'final say' in this battle.

So... we are opening it up to you. Leave a comment, take the poll.... how did Santa leave your presents?

Snow Days

I spent the last three days home with Elliot while Fred was either working, running or scooping the never-ending piles of snow that are now frozen ice mounds on our driveway. My condolences go out to the family of the Abominable Snowman that exploded all over town.

Being trapped to the confines of our house with a potty training, almost-3 year old drives home the simple fact that I was not created to be a stay-at-home momma. I was created to be a not-at-home momma so that when I am around my darling child I'm not irritated and annoyed but instead enamored by his every thought and sound (including the stinky farts).

I did learn some things, though:

• Dora will always use her backpack. Always. Just like how Handy Manny and the tools always rescue the bumbling white guy Mr. Lopart. And Mickey's Clubhouse goes away at the end of each episode and Blue thinks it necessary to give clues as to what she wants to do.
• When a package comes that can't be opened in front of him, your toddler will come unglued. He will beg, plead and cry until you find a 2 minute window to dash in a room, stuff the boxes into a closet and say a quick prayer for 'out of sight, out of mind' to work.
• Cell phones call different people. I was looked at like a complete idiot when I thought I was on the phone with Grandpa Jim when it was so obviously Grandpa Frank because ONLY the lion phone will call Grandpa Jim. Jeez, mommy.
• If you tell a toddler that it's time to take a nap, he will look at you and say "I don't love you Mommy. I not. I not. I wan my Daddy." and it will crush your soul and infuriate you at the same time. BUT when he gets up from nap and ASKS YOU to cuddle with them you somehow forget that earlier (and obvious) misspeak.
• It's impossible to build train tracks on carpet and couch cushions-- I'd like to see you rationalize this with him because it fell on deaf ears for 3 ENTIRE DAYS. It doesn't matter if Thomas or the pumper truck leads, it just isn't going to work.
• All I talk about it pee and poop. No, really, it is.
• You don't actually get to watch soaps, lay on the couch eating bonbons, shop online and have wine parties with other moms.

I am not a stay-at-home mom because I need my sanity to be a good mom. Kudos to those of you that can do it.

Now, a stay-at-home sewer and quilter? Sign me up!
(And sign my kid up for daycare.)

To Every Up ... There's a Down

Elliot has been working on names and doing well. He knows that mommy is Anna and that daddy is Fred and that we all have the last name of Seckman. Great, right?

Except when this happened:

A: (Sees Elliot doing something naughty) Elliot James!!!
E: Seckman!!!

From One Holiday to the Next

'Twas the weekend after Thanksgiving

And all through the house,

Elliot was talking about 'cwrissmiss yites'

and visiting Mickey Mouse.

The weather was sunny and calm;

Fred hung up the lights.

With lights on our house,

You can imagine Elliot's delight.

Inside we went when the night went dark

And in the morning rose to see

Another day that would prove to be perfect

For erecting the Christmas Tree.

Elliot jumped and Elliot screamed;

He even did a happy dance.

Ran circles around the tree -

I think he almost peed his pants.

Decorations went up with Elliot's help -

On bells, on garland and candy canes too

All hung at eye-level...

Except for a few.

With Christmas music on,

And the light's soft glow...

The only thing we're missing

Is some good Nebraska Snow.