Newbie in the house

I have to say, Boo Boo seems to love being an only cat. He has always had other cats in his life, and sadly for him, he has always been the lowest cat in the hierarchy. The one who got beat up, had his snackie treats stolen, and got knocked out of the good spot on the bed (between the pillows). Since Bailey died over the summer, he has reveled in his aloneness. He struts around with all the authority of a mountain lion. Then he goes back to sleep because after all, he is 17 years old.

(I know, I've used this pic before but it's so awesome. Plus, he hasn't changed any).

The rest of us however, have missed having other cats around. Boo Boo is great and all, but a cat who is only awake eleven minutes a day doesn't want to spend that precious time playing. Food to eat and litter boxes to miss. I think its good for kids to have pets to interact with. Boo Boo has been here since well before any kids and survived every single one of The Screaming Years. So even if he were more active, he still would not hang out with the noisy children.

Having decided it was time to bring in a new cat, I started looking around listings. We did not want a kitten- I mean, I looooove kittens but no way would Boo tolerate such a thing. I thought someone between 1 and 7 years old. Bat Cat died a few years ago at 16 and Bailey died over the summer at 15. Boo is surprisingly healthy but still at his age we gotta' assume he's near the end and we just can't take more cats passing in our near future.

I found a cat I thought looked nice online. The shelter was about a half hour away but meh- what the heck. I communicated with the staff by email several times, packed up a carrier and went to see her.

She seemed like a nice cat. Not that interested in me but excited to be out and playing with whatever rolled her way. I had already filled out the paperwork and let the staff know I wanted to take her.

Great! They said, just bring your kids and husband to meet her and then if that goes well you can come back and adopt her!

Screeeeeeeeeeech- huh? It's an hour drive round trip and this shelter is only open 5 days for 4-6 hours. My kids are involved in stuff as well so the next opportunity to get back there would be a few weeks! Not to mention, honestly, if my kids don't like her, tough shit. And if she doesn't like the kids, tough shit for them again. I had thought I could take her that day, but that's not how it works. Argh. Ok. Moving on.

I decided to try our local humane society. There were a few possibilities, one in particular was just gorgeous.

She was apparently a head- rub addict, and was pleading through her cage for a hand to just lay there to be rubbed across. She got scared when I opened her cage to take her out so I didn't. I went and asked the staff about her. She had been adopted before and returned. The reasons were because she did not always use the litter box and the owners reported she had mood swings.

Um, NO THANKS I GOT ENOUGH OF THAT IN MY HOUSE ALREADY!

So I moved on again.

I went to a big box pet supply store that gives space to local shelters to show cats waiting for homes. When I walked in the cat room I went to the first cage with a cat in it, but heard a little sound from the opposite corner. Someone was saying "hey you! don't look at that cat there, she'll claw your face off and start rumors about you but there's a beauty in the corner who is sweeter than ice cream!". Well, that seemed like a long speech considering I was the only 2- legger in the room so I went over. There was a jet black cat with a few white markings making the cutest little meeps at me and stretching her foot out the bars, waving hi.

The staff brought us to a visiting room where she proceeded to ignore me and sniff at stuff. I spent a good 45 minutes with her and she only grazed my knees. I had toys and dangly things and even snacky treats but she was just not interested. Meh, no problem. She didn't try to kill me either so that was good.

We had a winner! The staff started the paperwork and I did mine. The shelters run a background check to ensure you're not the kind of warped jerk who hurts animals. So, what do you think came up? That's right. That. She's looking though the listing and asks me awkwardly " Uh, do you know a Mr. Fuckta.....Mr. Fucktard Moron?

My blood chilled. Of all the shit. I try to explain briefly what was listed. That I took out a restraining order (not the other way around!!!) on behalf of my daughter but he had moved away several years ago and we had not seen him since and everyone was safe. Crap, she was still giving me the googlie side eye. I explained the whole thing. Then she was giving me the look of WTF ARE YOU SERIOUS. Yep. Background check passes.

So! She is 2 years old. She had babies about a year ago and they were all placed but she spent the next year in shelter, unadopted. Poor little thing! We tossed around a lot of names. We have a thing where we name our cats with a "B", so we had Banana, Bindi, Brooklyn, Beruca Salt,  and Brandy. We had just gotten mail from the vet addressed to Mr. Boo Lastname and thought that was hilariously hilarious. That caused us to toss around a few other choices that would make for fun mail and we came up with "Barackabama". Also fun would be watching my Dad's head blow off his neck and roll away ha ha. Ultimately we (I) decided that would be disrespectful. Bindi it is!

And she is the nicest little cat! She purrs super loud and with voice, she sounds like a pigeon. She loves to play with the kids who are so far reasonably behaved. In fact, we demanded they be supervised 1:1 with her until we could see they were respectful. Teena has been good but keeps trying to entice her when she's clearly worn out or sleeping. Genea however, has listened to everything. Genea has earned the right to be unsupervised and is so happy the smile is almost levitating off her face! She told her psych and my mom "I did everything Mama told me and now Bindi loves me so much"! Of course, the pink glitter icing on the cake is that Teena is still required to have an adult watch her.

The Stovepipe Winner

Dun dun DUNNNNN (drama music)

We drew a name from here:

That's a juniper Fiesta Ware mug
 

 

It's Teena's turn to pick, she is very excited.

 

 

She takes her job seriously and stirs up names with great concentration.

 

Ok Teena, my hair is getting old. 

 

 

 

She makes a selection!

 

The winner is.....

 

Lifeinourlane!!!!

 

 

So! Please email me your address and I will send out your book right away. My email is....

 

theaccidentalmommy@live.com

 

 

For the sad folks who didn't win, I'm sorry. There are a few people who enter every time and have yet to win. However, if you want the book you can buy it right here The Stovepipe .  But hurry- as I'm writing this there are only 4 copies left!

The Stovepipe

If you have foster children, or "kids from hard places", The Stovepipe is a book that will give you insights you may not have considered.  Normally I like to give away review books, to sort of pay it forward but lemme tell ya', I wrestled with myself for several days this time.

The author, Bonnie Virag, was removed from the care of her mother at the age of four. Despite her young age, she vividly remembers and describes that day. Much time is spent in her head as she experiences confusion and sadness. The book takes us through life in various foster families, as she and her sisters grow up without roots.

The author is honest about circumstances in the various foster homes and doesn't point fingers or issue blame. She does not complain. Instead she openly describes, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions.

The story takes place in Canada during the 40's and 50's. I was surprised to find out Canada was so progressive with social services. Case workers seemed well intentioned, but are not able to uncover the reality the girls were surviving. Almost without exception, the families who take in the children want something from them and the neglect they experience is contemptible. Having each other though, makes all the difference in the world.

So! Please don't think it must be a depressing read! I was surprised at how un- unhappy the book is. For sure there are events that might make the reader feel angry or disgusted.  However, the book is a story, a complete and rounded story of good, horrible, and all the in- between.

The Stovepipe


In spite of what I want to do, I'm giving my copy of the book away. Just enter yourself by commenting and I'll have a drawing on Sunday. Did I mentioned the book is signed? It's even signed by the author!

Who woulda' thought?

If I were to place bets, I'm not the kind of person to go for the long shot. Not the obscure potentiality with the big payoff. I'm more the type who would go for slim margins with higher chances of winning. I like to win, but I also like to keep my money.

So I would never have bet that in two years, two separate children would manage to shut down the refrigerator two very different ways. Resulting in two problems-  big stink and big mess.

A couple summers ago, we were all off to visit the in-law Grandparents in New Mexico. We (I) decided that since we had a full week we should not impose our rowdy selves on the elderly for all that time. Most conscientiously of me, I thought it would be nice to go someplace fun first. Like Albuquerque. In July.  Regardless, the preparation and actual "vacation" were exhausting. The sort of "vacation" that boiled down to a shit ton more work for me plus all the usual stuff, just in a different location.

Prior to leaving, after weeks of work and preparation, we were shoring up the house. You know, locking all the windows, taking out the trash. I asked Genea to unplug the toaster. Why? Because my parents always unplugged the toaster. Why did they do it? I believe it goes back to the days when a single toaster could set a house ablaze. Although it seems to me electronic pluggie things have come a long way and it's actually pretty rare that a house goes up in flames over a modern UL listed appliance.

At any rate, Genea did what she was asked to do. Unfortunately, the toaster and the fridge share the same plug hole. Not knowing which was which, she pulled both plugs out.

Coming home after an 8 day vacation in JULY, entering the house was akin to an assault. The hairs in my nose quivered and tried to escape. I thought we must have left some trash around. The cats were boarded so we knew it wasn't them. Walking through the house, nostrils constricting and trying to cauterize themselves, the stench got stronger. Once in the kitchen though, where it was strongest, I couldn't locate the source. Logically, I grabbed some air spray and unloaded the can. Now it smelled like aerosol stuff and canned fruit. And funk.

We all crashed hard. The next morning, the stink still stank. Opened windows, put on fans and the funk remained. I went into the fridge for something and..... sweet mother of Xanax.... what the-... omg.

The atrocious smell is something I'll never forget. The fridge was bad, so bad. But the freezer? That's where nightmares are born. Lets just say I had no idea that meat could reproduce.

Weeks of cleaning, scrubbing, de-funk-ifying knocked it back but didn't kill it. It was a few months before one could breathe freely in the same room.

But, ya' know, these things happen. It was a lengthy ordeal requiring lots of carcinogenic chemicals to clean up. But after all, I could have left the freaking toaster alone or unplugged it myself. Of all things honestly, Genea will rarely mess with a food source and I know it was an accident.

Forwarding about 2 years, I noticed the other day that the freezer food had become mushy. Knowing our fridge can be finicky (it came with the house which was built in 1980), I reset the control at a higher number and went about my business. Later, Genea mentioned she thought it stank. I sort of ignored it, knowing I had a few packets of foil with mysterious contents in there. I was feeling sick that day and Teena was home from school and so we had drive through for dinner and I never went in the fridge again until the next day.

WHOOSH! The stench of Satan's bowels slapped me in the face and I recoiled. But..... how had this happened again? The coffin of evil was plugged in and I had just reset the freezer so.....

What's that? I squint and try to get close without causing olfactory damage. ARGH! Someone had turned the dial off in the fridge! WHY?

I knew there was one person likely to have done it. That person wasn't me. That person loves little things that twist and turn and thinks the universe was created solely for her exploration. Sigh.

Sure enough, Teena came home from school and immediately confessed. Not a care or worry in the world just- yes, she had turned the dial. But nothing happened! So it was ok! Besides, I'd never told her NOT to turn that dial!

ARGH. Maybe all the neurotoxic chemicals I used last time to clean it out had affected her brain because that was the lamest excuse I'd ever heard from her. I prefer, if my kids are going to lie or try to outsmart me, that they put some effort into it. No go. However, when she realized the magnitude of what she had done (melted her ice cream) she commenced to freaking out, twerking through the living room, writhing in grief for her loss. So sad. Really. Ahem.

Sometimes I need a kick in the head

You know how some things are obvious, but only after you've suffered? Like when you're driving along, trying to scope out the interior decor of the homes you pass, and all of a sudden your car makes a scary bang- and- shatter type of sound. I don't know about other people, but personally I keep driving and hope it won't make a difference. I should probably check it out, pull over and call for help, but I don't. I keep going and hope it doesn't catch fire. Then some important and expensive engine part falls out.

For years, as long as we've known her, Genea has been a terror at restaurants. When she was little, we could smile and snort and pass it off as normal kid-whack-a- doodle- ness. If we went to a loud chain restaurant her funk blended in with the background. But now she's ten, and she is a big ten. Failure-to- Thrive be damned, the kid caught up and there is no chance of mistaking her for a younger child anymore.

It's much like dining with a petulant 3 year old. She shoves her way through to the table. She sits, slamming the seat back, jolting the table. Grabs my napkin roll- her own immediately in front of her- and unrolls it from the air. Two forks and a knife clang down on the table. Snatches the little cup of crayons and hordes it to herself. Finally shares with her sister, "accidentally" dumping them so they roll off different directions. Scribbles on the paper, and the table. It's amazing how noisy this can be. Kicking me. Discovers her chair squeaks and rocks it back and forth. Bumps the table every time. Reaches for her water and knocks over the salt. Kicks some more. Elbows clunk down. Pretending to choke on her water. Now taking the ice out of her water. Drops ice on her lap. Jumps up, screeches, chair hurled back in to the wall with a bang,  the table jolts 2 full inches. Talking non-stop. Nonsense, interrupting, instigating with comments. We've not yet ordered.

I hope it goes without saying that we tried all the usual methods time out blah blah blah, walk to the car blah blah blah. Redirect, direct, yell, etc. Mostly the solution seemed to be to stay home and eat.

Years of this. Years.

So a week ago The Husband decides he wants to go out to eat. I'm not one to ever turn such a thing down, so I agree. Then I begin the dread- session. Sigh. Ugh. I hope she can behave. Blegh. She was such a turd last time. Ugh. I don't want to do this. I don't want to make dinner either. Argh, this is a bad idea.

It occurs to me finally (finally!), to just ask her about it. I have her come sit in the bathroom with me while I get ready to go. I bring up all the above listed behaviors and ask her what would help her feel more secure at a restaurant so she could relax. She immediately had an idea. Sit on the inside, she tells me. Sit on the inside in a booth.

Huh. I hadn't even thought of that. It sure seemed like such a big, pervasive issue should require months of therapy. Hand signals at the table, maybe a carrier pigeon to relay messages between us. Some hypnosis or maybe biofeedback. Something complicated that would take a long time.

So we sat her on the inside of a booth and she was fine. 

Evidently, sitting on the outside makes her feel nervous and insecure. All those people going by and she can't control any of them and what they might do. I'm guessing there is an abandonment thread in there someplace, possibly being snatched by a stranger? All I know is sitting in a booth and giving her the inside against the wall was the big secret and our dinner was great.

All this time and I could have just asked her about it.

Cold-mageddon

Our global warming here in Green Bay is all screwed up. We're not getting our share of the warming part. Maybe it's broken. Probably Al Gore broke it, since according to my dad he also invented it.

So. Cold.

This year we had a lengthy winter break. The kids were out for almost 2 weeks, compared to last year where it was just over a week. Actually last year the district calendar-maker made a mistake and shorted the teachers out of 2 holidays. You can believe THAT wasn't going to happen again. So anyway, break ended New Years Day and the kids went back for Thursday and Friday. While it was wonky to do it that way, we all knew it was coming and did just fine.

However! Following the Packers loss on Sunday, it appears that indeed Hell actually froze over and it was bad. So many flavors of bad. The forecasted windchill for Monday was like, negative 40 or something. I stop paying attention when it goes below zero because in my opinion, any temperature less than nothing should be shot. And so, school was cancelled. Boooo hisssss.

We survived though. The Husbands car died, but mine was okay. I let the kids watch large chunks of TV and I mostly prayed for Tuesday to arrive.

However! Tuesday was forecast to be less than zero as well. Like, -20 with the wind chill etc.  Personally I thought since it had clearly warmed up, school should be ready. We're not raising little frozen wienies here in Wisconsin. We know where we live and we send our kids out with no less than 17 pounds of gear. Regardless, school was cancelled again. Now my car won't start either.

Though it was a mighty struggle, we all kept sane, but barely. One of us is violently opposed to change and especially big changes that no one can predict or control. Ooooh doggy, when big change is foisted upon us we respond by micro -managing our own environment with things we know will be predictable. Not good predictable either. But I hung in there, repeating to myself "it's almost over it's almost over sweet mother of xanax it's almost over".

However! For reasons unknown to anyone with two brain cells to rub together, school was cancelled again on Wednesday. And so despite the sweaty temperature of SIX, we all remained home. No cars were miraculously fixed and we were out of cereal. Now shit's getting real. At this point, my little anti- change enthusiast has lost it. She was so stuck in her rut of hysteria it seemed she was trying to stay in it. To test my theory I asked if she wanted ice cream and her response was to take another trip to Funky Town.  I pointed out to her what happened there and she did not even understand. Once in a while though,  a nap re-sets her and this was one of those times. Phew.

Because! I swore, with every molecule I own, that these kids were going to school Thursday. Irrelevent whether the building was closed or not. Made no difference to me if there would be any supervision or, you know, teaching happening. As far as I was concerned, and I was pretty sure  Genea would back me on this, they could sit in the parking lot for 7 hours and I would pick them up at 3:15.

However! Ultimately the school district made one good decision and school was not cancelled. Although, I saw some district dude on the news last night trying to explain himself so it seems I was not the only one who thought Wednesday was a bad call.

SO! Have you ever used the phrase "when hell freezes over"? Thanks, thanks a lot!

Minimize Holiday Meltdowns

I have learned a few things, directly from the source, about managing the holidays with a child who has Reactive Attachment Disorder. Things which have worked to help Genea remain on the planet during times of stress, and I thought I would pass them on. I'm not an expert and I don't even play one on TV.

With holidays and school breaks, kids easily go haywire and stay off track for weeks, even months. Most child-care professionals will verify- kids who are sensitive often destabilize this time of year. Genea actually has six other mental health diagnosis's, and so much of this could apply to any child sensitive to change.

First and foremost, be mindful that your RADish will probably not emerge from the other side of the holidays in good condition. Work from a position that expects problems and makes the effort to contain them before they blow. Anticipate. Think to previous years and plan.

RADishes do not like change!
My RADish (affectionate term for a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder) does not like change. She has every day scheduled to be exactly the same as yesterday. It might seem as if a  holiday like Thanksgiving where my little food hoarder/sneaker can eat all she wants would be a positive. However, the overriding feeling will be anxiety due to change in schedules, locations, people and rules.

But.. but... but... it's Christmas! She's getting presents! How could she flip out about that? That was my question until I realized, it's because of the changes. All change- even good change- is bad.

Anxiety always comes out.

When your child starts up with provoking behavior, constant demands and does bizarre things it may mean she is feeling unsure and unsafe.

So what do you do? You talk it through at every opportunity. I would describe every single thing I could think of to Genea ahead of time. We are going to Grandma's house. We are taking my car. It will be a long car ride and I want you to bring a few books. We will try to drive straight there without stopping. When we get to Grandma's, remember her 2 dogs will bark at you at first. We will not eat right away, it will be about 2 hours after we get there. These are the foods she will have. These are the people who will be there.

But wait! Do Not tell her too far ahead of time because then she will freak out anticipating the day. For Genea, usually the night before a big event is good. Sometimes, the day of. Seriously, rarely more notice than that. Where you have anticipatory anxiety you have your Wango Tango. Simple.

Do what you have to do to keep the chances for failure at a minimum.

My child could not control her urine when stressed. Even though she was 7 and fully capable, unfortunately her continence was always one of the first things to go. We use night time underwear style protective garments at the homes of other people. Nancy Thomas can come get me and bash me over the head with a diaper genie. If Genea doesn't need the back up, she doesn't need it but if she does it will not ruin the whole day, her clothes, or the furniture of others.

Know your child's signs of stress and look for them.

Genea can look perfectly calm, even happy, on the outside. I know she is feeling anxious because her pupils dilate. That may well be the only sign at all that she is internally dysregulated. And where does all that go if left to fester? After all, she looks good on the outside, why not take that for the truth? Here is why. Because the Wango Tango will always come out somehow. Maybe not at Grandma's for Christmas, but the next day? The next 7 unstructured days at home without school? Oh yeah, you will feel it!

Check in with your child often with physical contact.

I am always amazed when I casually hug Genea and I can feel her heart beating out of the chest cavity. Another cue she is feeling stress! I make her sit  next to me and I firmly hold her. Not forcefully but as the adult in charge. We might discreetly work on breathing or counting. I will have her place her hand on her chest to feel her heart beat and work on slowing it down (I call that biofeedback for the poor, lol). We might escape to a bedroom and close the door and do some strong sitting in quiet.  We can do quick brain shifts now that she is getting older and can do some academics. I might ask her to spell "frog" or use the math trick. The answer doesn't matter in the slightest- it will shift the brain out of panic and fear and away from fight/ flight/ freeze. Other ideas- ask her favorite color, favorite tv show, etc. Think of it as driving a car with a manual transmission (good God, why do those things still exist). If the car is in 1st gear going 45 miles an hour you are going to wind up with a messed up car. You have to shift to bring it into safety.

Other things that have helped Genea and I survive:

• Keep visits to other homes short. Short.  Short as you can.

• Plate your child's food for her. A buffet style or family style meal is going to overwhelm and freak out your little loved one.

• Keep as many rules from home as possible. Example- we have a rule that you have to try everything on your plate with one bite, then you can decide not to eat it. Awkward and annoying to keep that rule at another persons home, but rules are reminders that someone is in charge and the child is safe.

• Try not to "let it go because it is a holiday". I have wound up with 2 ungrateful, overstimulated brats on many occasions thinking I was giving the gift of fun and freedom from structure. Not. Good.

Get over the idea that this is your holiday too and you should be able to have some fun. Maybe you will, maybe you won't. Yes this will all be a lot of work. No, it probably isn't fair.

What about pushy relatives?

Those that are sure your RADish needs a fistful of crackers and you are just being too strict, you know them? They spend half the holiday trying to convince you that you are too hard on the child, you need to loosen up. Or the other where your child runs off totally out of control and just needs a good spanking. I have two lines that I have found will stop all opinions, second guessing, and unwanted "help".

1. Say this with your head tilted to the side and try to look tragic.
"You know, she will just never be totally sure that we won't abandon her too. No matter how long it has been she still doesn't quite fully believe we will always bring her home. Our rules may seem odd but she functions so much better with them".
Without fail, the "helpful" relative will make sad clucking noises, quickly look off into the distance, and wander away. I think the comment helps kick open the door that reminds people, we are not working from a regular box of chocolates. Half the box isn't even candy.

2. Looking helpless or a little doubtful, shift the focus (blame) off of yourself.
"Mmmm hmmmm, her therapist (insert whatever professional you want) says we have to 'blank' for her to be emotionally healthy you know, after all she's been through". Around my relatives that will move immediately into a discussion about this feelings crap in society now-a-days, psychiatrists are nothing but drug pushers and the Big Pharmaceutical Companies are running the world.  Clears the room. Get out with everyone else.

I realize the above idea may turn folks off completely. Do what works for you. This is what has worked for me. 

Now, on to gifts!

Around here, my kids get a lot of gifts. What a problem, right? No, it's not something I complain about. However with my children, too many new things at one time overwhelms them. Then they wind up playing with the box or an old cat toy from way under the couch. Spread it out.

We will do our family gifts 3 days before Christmas. No one has ever been arrested for opening gifts early. Winter Break from school starts five full days before the actual holiday this year- that's a long time and I'm sitting on a pile of new toys? Gifts mailed out from relatives get opened two days before. That will give the kids most of the next day to play with their new stuff. We once tried having Santa come early the night before Christmas because.......

For  2 years my little neurotypical child became so excited about Santa Claus that she vomited. She works herself so far up into a tizzy that she gets a fever going and cannot keep food down. All day. So, Santa will came early the night before, like 7pm,  instead of Christmas morning. Does that just not seem right? Kids are supposed to wake up Christmas morning at 4 am all excited and flipping out about Santa! Well, that may be how it is in all the stories but if the excitement is too much for your kids than how much fun is it going to be? Anyway, no one is having fun when there is vomit on the gifts. Words to live by.

It was a good plan I think, but Teena still remembers the year Santa came too early. However, she did not get sick so, in that regard it worked well.

Anyway, like I said, these are the things that have worked for us. You may have already tried every single thing on the list and none of it worked. For me, it's about maximizing the fun and helping my RADish be successful and that may mean my day sucks. But I would feel worse if she managed to ruin the day for a bunch of other people.  We will absolutely still have fallout, but if we try to work at the problems ahead of time and have a plan for the other stuff, it helps.

I actually wrote this a few years back, but to this day we still do most of the same things. Just this past Thanksgiving I was helpfully informed that a spanking would be a great idea for Genea.

So, opinions? Suggestions? What has worked for you and your family that is not typical? Fill me in, I will take all the help I can get!

Saint Who?

There appears to be, in the great state of Wisconsin, an extra saint with his own extra special child-focused holiday. As far as I ever knew, there's one St. Nicolas and he also goes by Santa Claus and Kris Kringle. However, here we have this whole other guy, who goes by St. Nick, and he gets his own day to give out presents. Just to children, not their parents.

Sounds like a scam doesn't it? I thought so. I'd heard about this St Nick dude years ago from some of the younger children I worked with. Apparently, dude comes every December 5th, only to Wisconsin, and maybe Europe. The littlest cheeseheads are supposed to leave their boots outside and in the morning there will be a gift. In the boot. Seriously.

So when our own little cheesehead appeared, and was joined by her sister-cheesehead, I firmly took the stand that I was against extra gift- getting holidays for the kids. My excuse was that I am from Illinois and there are well known rivalry's and several unflattering nicknames for us not all of which revolve around football. The Husband is from New Mexico where they don't even have football, and they have all sorts of other holiday traditions, none including this Mr. St. Nick. However, he is a soft and mushy sort of Daddy and he insisted our children participate in the getting part of this invented holiday.

SO I WAS CLEAR. If YOU want to do this, than YOU are going to have to do it. I will NOT do it. Raise your hand if you think The Husband pulled it off more than the one time (ha ha that's kind of a trick because your hands are probably on a keyboard but I'm thinking I win anyway). Right. Anyway, I wake him up around midnight and ask him what he put outside on the eve of December 5th. A combination sound of moaning/begging/whining vomits out his mouth and he asks me plaintively.... can you put something out? Naturally.

I dig through the gifts I've managed to obtain prior to the actual real holiday and pick out some small ones. I stuff them outside in the smelly, fetid boots of my children with rain or snow or both pummeling all of it. However, this year there was a small issue. See, since I don't know anything about this St. Nick dude (is he the same as the Saint Nick Santa Claus dude?), I don't remember to think about it. Additionally, it's not my responsibility. When Genea came home and announced it was St. Nick's holiday the next day I took her at her word, assuming she would not mess up a gift- getting opportunity.

I was sort of right.

In her Genea-ness, she was a day early. So she and her sister proudly carried off their little puzzle books to school to show their friends and all their little demon friends told them..... He didn't come last night, he was going to come the next night.

Well shit.

The Husband and I decided to come clean about St. Nick. Somehow, my 8 and 10 year olds had not figured it out despite our rather obvious error. Genea cried for about 2 seconds, then told me thank you for the gift. She seemed to think knowing the truth was pretty cool. Teena was angry we would even speak such evil. We had told them Santa is still, um, a thing. Teena informed us that if Santa is real, and the Elf of Shelves is real, then St. Nick is real and that's that. She told us unequivocally that Santa does not want kids to have to wait all through the dregs of December for their gifts so he spreads some around early.

Many of Teena's theories seem to work in her favor. She also believes that kids only have to be good in  December for Santa to come. Really.

The girls think St Nick and Santa are the same person. I spent like, 90 seconds looking for answers before this post and couldn't find anything definitive. Santa has his own big holiday, though it's really not in celebration of him per se, it's about someone else's birthday. If they are the same saint, is it his birthday 3 weeks prior? Are they different saints? I just do not know.   I think it's made up.

The last thing they wanted to know was if they could still get gifts for the holiday. Sure, I told them. Go buy them and I'll stick them outside for you to find. No problem!