Thursday things: come on in - the place is open, Murphy's Law, new install, 3 cheers for our 3 point gal, who's the grown up?, & I'll sleep on it

unprecedented level of excitement for my new garage doors:  We have a 3 car garage:  a double and a single. The big ass van, GW, occupies the double side with a dozen bikes, two lawnmowers, scooters, coolers, and everything else known to man. 

The small side often serves as storage for college kid mini fridges,  couches, bedframes, etc. It's a struggle to reclaim that space, but with a ton of effort, we can usually park a car in there a few months of the year. 

Our remote keypad doesn't work in cold weather. Here in Chicago - that's been fun.  

Small garage door broke months ago, meaning the opener no longer functioned and since we rarely park there, we barely noticed. 

Translation:  One could lift that door without much effort and gain access to our home. Any time day or night. 

When I returned home from the funeral in Tampa in early Nov., I made like a character on the 70s sitcom Happy Days, and lifted the garage door while Marie sat in her car, looking disgusted and judgy (her specialty). Coach had forgotten to leave the deck slider unlocked, and I was part horrified at how easy it was to enter our house (Coach initially assured me it still locked, oops), and part relieved that I could break into my own home. 

We should have keys to our front door, but do we? Who even knows? 

For ages, our double door has sounded like it might take the rest of the house down with it, killing us dead. Coach exits in the early am thru the deck slider for fear that the sound of the opener would wake me. (The garage is not under our bedroom - but it's not far from it). Majority of our cars live on our driveway anyway.

Tune in next time (or soon) for how our neighbors reacted in Jan. to our cars blocking the sidewalk.

Right before Thanksgiving, I ordered our Christmas gift to us - new garage doors through Costco in a color that'd match our newish siding, plus - next level openers include cameras, remote keypads, multiple openers, and an app to check the door status and manage it from anywhere. 

Welcome to the 20th century, Shenanigans. 

Enter Murphy's Law:  The install was set for Friday, Feb. 6trh. I was giddy with excitement. Our garage would be warmer too, and in Chicago - that's not nothing. 

On Thursday while I was talking to Reg's epilepsy specialist, the garage door people left me a message. "installer . . . family emergency. . . Friday cancelled."

*sob*

Saturday the opener on the big door broke. Yep. The day after it was supposed to be replaced. 

The reschedule = Feb. 16th. (10 day wait?!)

Sunday night, Coach and I tested to see if I could lift it solo for my Monday baby/tot drop off. Coach pulled GW onto the driveway. It slammed down, louder than normal - the spring broke. Game over. Drop off peeps had to enter through the raised small door and weave through all our garage stuff. 

Come on in, tots. When GW is parked here, the other side of the garage cannot access the door to the house. 

Monday:  I called and requested an earlier install:  

Wednesday. Let's go!

A delightful installer arrived yesterday. I moved the minivan to the street before tot drop. When the workers arrived, I realized I had to move GW off the driveway. I backed it off the driveway and then I remembered . . . 

OH SHIT, GW LIKES TO DIE IN THE COLD AFTER IT REVERSES. PLEASE DON'T DIE, PLEASE . . . as soon as I put it in 'drive' it stalled in the middle of the street. C'mon.

I told the guys my car died. Could they push my car to the side of the street (thankfully we don't live on a busy street). First I put the crawling baby in the exersaucer, grabbed the minivan keys, moved the minivan further down the street, hopped in GW, and waved the guys over to push me to the curb where minivan had been. I'm going out on a limb, guessing the workers hadn't had to help a homeowner push a giant van to the side of the road before installing a door. 

That marks the third time that GW has died after reversing in cold temps, and then being put into drive. It's a head scratcher, but par for the course. 

All that to say - the doors are up. They look amazing. Whisper quiet. Match the siding nicely. The motion sensor light- I'd forgotten how nice that was. 

****

In other news:  Curly won the 3 point contest in our (region?) area Tuesday night. I think there were 10 - 12 schools represented. Her first round score was 16, and the next closest was 10. My knees were shaking. So excited for her. Long time readers will recall Reg went downstate his soph year for the 3 pt contest. Then they stopped doing it. 

We 'won' tickets to the musical Bernadette at a silent auction. We're taking Kay and Rae, and my folks on Sunday afternoon. I shared that info in the now-defunct family group chat. My sisters have stopped updating in the group chat imporatnt news about our folks' health/doc appts, etc. which had been the norm. My brother now sends me a separate text. I didn't want my sibs to show up to visit my folks Sunday and find an empty house.  I'm the grown up here, is what I'm saying. But I think you already knew that. 

I've discovered that my body requires more than 8 hours of sleep, and I'm working hard to make that happen. Is it an autoimmune issue? No clue, but prioritizing my sleep (usually) has been a treat. 

*****

Your turn:  Has Murphy's Law ruled your life lately? Do you live in a fortress that no one could break into? Do you have keys to fit your doors? Do you do anything that ticks off your neighbors? Have you felt unprecedented excitement about a home improvement? Do tell.

Creating: gifts, and 'Where I was when . . . " memories

Banner I made for Mini
and friends in '23.

Reg update:  he's feeling better. Someone suggested that maybe he had covid, and that set off his epilepsy? Hmm. 

Christmas gift creations:  (let's pretend it's not Feb. and it's still normal to chat about Christmas gifts)

My goal: gift experiences or unexpected stuff for Christmas vs clothes . . .  didn't pan out, but I had one lightbulb moment. 

I can't find a pic of
the one I made for Ed,
but I made this one for
 Becky's daughter in '23.

Make Tank a photo collage banner. This fell off my radar when he graduated in May. I didn't have a sublimation printer and heat press available to me thru our library's awesome Maker Studio back when Lad graduated. 

Hoping to whip up something in time for Christmas, I reached out to one of Tank's  roomies, Sam, in the city. 'Splaining:  top secret, pls send college pics. 

I waited, and assumed the gift would not materialize. Didn't have enough of my own photos/ wasn't convinced Sam would come thru.

Sam, the man! When just about all hope was lost, holy big ass photo dump. 

Where were you?  Bear's fans will probably always remember where they were when the Bears beat Green Bay in OT on Dec. 20, 2025. 

My memory? We were hosting cousins for Curly's surprise b-day weekend. I was at my computer in the study (no where near a TV) adjusting photos to fit in the Creighton logo. Of course I was. 

I did run into the family room when summoned by Mini and Coach for the crucial ending that put us into OT. Curly, friends, and cousins were watching in the basement. I stupidly went back to the computer, thinking OT would take time. When I get in the zone, very little will steer me away from a project. 

There was a weird delay between the fam room TV and the basement TV, so when Mini and Coach knew we'd won (I was squinting at the computer, putting on the finishing touches) - they raced down to the basement and (to quote Monty Python) they all rejoiced. 

So exciting. 

Equally exciting (depending on who you ask): Born on that same night . . . I give you:  Tank's Creighton banner. 

If you look at the bottom of the C, you'll see a pic of Tank
 showing off the divot in his tongue. IYKYK

When he opened it, he was mind blown.
I didn't find time to hem the edges
 at the library until after Christmas. 
My sewing machine is on the fritz. 

Since my family members dislike my loud hollering and frantic pacing, my energies were best spent NOT cheering in a room during a tense game.

The graphic was phase one. Next, I bought fabric, and scheduled the sublimation printer and the heat press at the library for 12/21. I also ordered 100% polyester t-shirts to make a few t-shirts, if time allowed. 

An Amazon truck pulled up as I was preparing to head to the library. Mr. Amazon was delivering at my bestie Mary Ann's house. He couldn't tell me if he had anything for me until he'd delivered hers. The clock was ticking on my heat press reservation, so I left. 

My 2 BILs on Coach's side modeling: 
Popes from Chicago:  1,
Popes from Green Bay:  0
(not my original idea - I saw this online)

Once at the library, about 6 min from home, I got an email that my t-shirts were delivered. *&%($%#@&*!  

Mini brought them to the library. She left one of the two boxes at home - thinking they were the same thing. Gah.

Mini didn't think my dad would wear this,
 but a few days after Christmas - he
showed me that he had it on under his
 button down. He always wears a button down
 and dress pants, as if he's still going to
work. His shirt reads: 
I'd make a spreadsheet for that.
He didn't remember who'd given
 it to him on Christmas and
thought it was very funny. 

She made a 2nd trip BACK with the other box, and if you wonder whether or not she was happy about that - consider:  she's a college kid with zero stress, no shopping or baking or cooking or cleaning responsibilities who tends to sleep till noon . . . but alas . . . she was grouchy.  

Funny shirts: (see photos)  

My FIL will get his Pope shirt when he returns from SC, and he'll probably never take it off. 

*****

Did you get or gift a funny t-shirt for Christmas (can you remember back that far)? Or do you like a good funny towel? (I didn't buy this one, but I thought about it). 

the uncertainty of epilepsy: Thursday was a day

SMALL & MANAGEABLE:  I woke up Thursday and made a quick 'to do' list. I often create manageable lists that I think I can get done in a day on the back of a used envelope. Friends, my coat pockets and my purse and my countertop . . . littered with written-on, folded-up envelopes of to do's or grocery lists. I have my main notebook where I write stuff, but sometimes there's so much stuff there  - I recycle an envelope to keep things small and manageable. 

During morning naps, I was gonna: 

1. plug in my crockpot of leftovers. 

2. submit my next chapter (already got a 'reminder to submit' email Wed. night

3. We 'won' tickets to the musical Bernadette at a silent auction for Rae's high school, so I wanted to select the date and clear it with my folks, as we are taking them, and email the ticket office to share our chosen date. 

4. I like to post on Thursday morning, but I was working diligently on my chapter on Wednesday, so I was all . .  .'It's fine. I'll draft something quick Thurs. am during nap time.' It was gonna be a bunch of random stuff. Ever draft something in your head, imagining it short and sweet? This was that, or at least that's what I envisioned.  

5. Bake cookies for 2 events.

REAL LIFE:  I put babies down right at 9 am, the 3 toddlers were playing. I plugged in the crockpot and was about to sit at my laptop at the countertop. Reg called. 

"I've been having so many deja vous (his term for his mini-seizures) a day over the last week - I'm losing count. I was having like 1 a week. I threw up this morning. My head hurts. I have a cold, so maybe my head hurts from that, but I slept terrible last night because of all the deja vous."

 ***(skip to 'derailed' if you've been here for years) Flashback to 8/1/22 Reg threw up all day the day before while caddying, but wasn't ill, and had nonstop deja vous (at the time we hadn't pinpointed them as mini seizures - unaware he had epilepsy). He woke up the next day and his head was killing him - I put him in the car to drive to the ER and he seized in the passenger seat for what felt like hours - but was minutes. His one and only tonic clonic (formerly grand mal)***

We'd gone our for Mexican with the whole gang the night before - before kids headed back to college. I look at the photo of us from that restaurant and I think of it as the time before. 

DERAILED & EMOTIONAL:   Told Reg to go to class but keep his phone out in case the doc reached out to zoom with us. Called the neuro. Called student health services. Then I fell apart. 

Why'd I let him go to class? What if he takes the stairs? 

Started out as a to do list, but used it to
take notes while in the car on the way
 to Kay's game, because that's
when the specialist called me.

A nurse, Melissa, called from campus - the other nurse (at a clinic - loud, sick people, maybe off campus a bit?) had Melissa call me, saying Melissa's location would be better for him to be monitored while doing homework, etc. 

Melissa was amazing. Gave me her personal cell#. Both nurses helped me get his records sent (yes, I thought this was done before school). Set up an account. 

Reg went to Melissa after class, but knew he'd not be able to sleep much on the available recliner (a space for students who need infusions), so he made sure his roommate was in the room and he napped there. 

I paced my kitchen. Called Coach sobbing. Texted friends and family, requesting prayers.

The neuro increased Reg's morning med. Had me call the specialist, who'd previously said Not much I can do, cuz can't control the mini seizures. He'd ordered the neuro psych which diagnosed Reg as having lost 95% of his verbal memory from, we suspect, all the deaj vous (ramped up when a coach verbally and mentally abused Reg/we sued our school). Specialist called back after hours - I'd called him at the end of the day. He's the best. 

Specialist called Reg in an RX rescue nasal spray. I was so excited - 

Feel like an event is about to happen? use the spray. 

Um, no - if he seizes for over 5 minutes, then his roommate has to put the nasal spray up his nose. That's not comforting. What if his roommate isn't there? What if no one notes the time? I'll stop. There are a million what if's. 

There are no answers. No quick fixes. It's scary. I wanted to get in my car and drive there (6.5 hrs). Lad offered to come watch babies so I could do just that. I begged Reg not to go anywhere alone, to steer clear of stairs. No pools, no working out alone. 

During afternoon naps, I submitted my chapter. I baked. In the evening, I brought my huge desk calendar in the car as Coach drove to Kay's b-ball game. (see:  envelopes, desk calendar . . . old school much?). We found a date for the musical. I invited my folks. Emailed the ticket guy. And now I'm drafting my Thursday post.

And I'm trying not to worry. Reg has called to check in multiple times, per my request. Once he did this while he was talking to someone else in the distance and I only heard 'noises' and I panicked. Was he seizing? Then, "Oh, hi mom. Sorry, I was talking to someone. Um, I took a nap . . . " 

*****

Anyone else recycle envelopes from snail mail? Do you make doable lists when your big lists get too overwhelming? Anything derailed you lately? 

Tough stuff: the here and now vs living in the past

Tough stuff:  the past vs present edition

When I got home from Tampa, Kay shared with us that she'd been feeling down ever since she'd accessed the internet while at a friend's house over break. She googled her address at her out-of-state home of origin, learned it was for sale, and then lost all of those memories. 

In fam therapy, Coach pointed out that he lived in 7 houses as a kid, and he still has all those memories. In other words, KNOCK IT OFF, KID. Sometimes therapy can lead to too much validation or misguided focus. (I'm not asking you to dispute this. I'm living it, so I see what I see). 

The point:  we're uncovering an issue that can probably explain why we're struggling to connect with her. Why she can't move on. It seems she's living in a fantasy world. 

Rae:  so grateful to be out of that food insecurity, unsafe situation. She has her moments, but what she wrote in my b-day card hit me right in the feels:

"I 'd like to thank you for so many things, but none would be possible without this one:  thank you for opening your heart to God's voice, for not being afraid to welcome two impatient and no so open minded girls to live with you. I know it's 100% not easy, because you already had 6 children of your own, and I bet you thought you were done with middle school children, and then you met us. so thank you for saying yes to your own fiat to God. You truly are an amazing mother . . ."

Remember a few days before the adoption when we busted Kay for walking to the gas station with money? The girls got into an arguement because Kay wanted Rae to keep her secret, etc.? That night Rae told Kay to stop living in the past. "those people didn't do one decent thing for us in 10 years. You need to move on. The adoption is just a day - they aren't cancelling it. They made us part of their family years ago and you've just not figured it out." 

We thought, Wow, Rae nailed it - but we were still unaware of how much Kay was clinging to this belief that she'd get herself back to her home state and all would be wonderful. There are time when I wanna open the door, point her in that direction, and say GO FOR IT.  

Kay:  we believe she fixates on a few good or happy memories, wanting to go back there. We think she disassociated from the trauma and has yet to address it. 

This is textbook 'everyone moves at his/her own pace', and all that. Yep. No need to school me on that, but I'm gonna allow myself some time to be frustrated. That's where I'm at. FRUSTRATED. 

Unrelated:  I wore this sweater to mass
on Saturday evening. Curly whispered to me
 that she hates this sweater. Says it looks like
 something a 2 yo would wear. I had her snap a
 pic, so I could sent it to Mini and get her
 opinion. Mini must've sensed it wasn't
 pressing, because crickets. I don't think my
 posture in this photo helps my cause - but
 should it stay or should it go. Note:  as a woman
 of a certain age, I like the full zip, easy to
 remove when I overheat. Please vote in
comments, if you feel so inclined. 

We paid $2,200 before we adopted her, to find out what was up. Why was she not gelling with us, not able to connect? Turns out, it's hard to connect with a kid who lives in a fantasy world, and whose lousy therapists play music for her so she can figure out 'who she is'. (to which I said:  Well, she's not ef-ing Taylor Swift). 

Perhaps this is good news, because now our great fam therapist knows the score and maybe she can help move things along. In the meantime, I've sort of felt like I've stalled. Run out of momentum. I'm not waving the white flag, but I need a break.

There are constant day in and day out tasks that come with trying to connect, trying to reach her. Yeah, nope. It's been 2 years and 8 mos. I'm tuckered out. I spent the last week or two, since the 'fantasy world' realization became clear, going through the motions. It's often like living with a boarder. 

Me thinks I need a vacation. 

editing to add: Yesterday (Sunday), Coach and I took Kay to lunch. We asked how she thought things were going. He and I had mapped out a strategy in advance to point out that there are only so many things she can control. Where she's going to high school - not within her control. We are still debating that, but her vote will not be tallied. 

We asked a lot of 'Why?' and 'Because . . . ?' To try to get her to admit some stuff. 

Ultimately, I told her that while everyone works at their own pace and that no one thinks this is easy, it is time to put in more work at therapy to address her longing for a place where she was not cared for. 

Our fam therapist pointed out during the session a few weeks ago:  Hey, Kay. They don't take kids away from homes where things are going well. 

I pointed out that Rae sees things clearly - that she's glad she's out of that situation. Rae doesn't say, My friends and family are in (other state). She says her friends and family are HERE. 

Again, Work at your own pace, but understand that life gets better when you embrace the here and now. There are perks to building trust, to coping with the past and moving forward. 

And I told her that we feel somewhat stalled, frustrated. It's within her control to address this issue. She asked if she can start to see Fam Therapist, and that was music to our ears. That was the plan when we switched them to our insurance, but we haven't pulled the plug on the Friday therapy yet, but this was a decent cue that we can. 

A step in the right direction. 

*****

Thoughts on the sweater. Don't worry, you won't hurt my feelings. Even if everyone hates it, I might keep it around. Or, last b-day card that brought you to tears?

I had a chapter to write this weekend, so I'm behind in commenting - but I've read a bunch of blogs while riding the bike. Forgive me. I'll get there.

Hold the phone . . . while I punch a wall, OR was there a hidden camera - either way, LAUGHING (sort of)

Category:  some posts just write themselves.

EMDR:  Our fam therapist suggested that Rae try EMDR therapy. Snapping fingers, eye movement. Helps with trauma. We added the girls to our insurance Jan. 1 to access better therapy, exhibit A for Rae. 

1st try:  Rae didn't like her 1st appt, felt like she was being judged. Coach drove her home and she and I never chatted about it. (unintentional, life busy and not a hot topic at dinner, etc.). The next week we didn't have an appt because I was in Tampa. 

Enter insurance:  CM, the therapist, emailed me to say that my insurance had rejected the claim. Huh?

I spent over an hour on the phone with Blue Cross Blue Shield. "CM is not in your network. Oh, wait, yes she is. You're all good. It's covered."

Pep talk:  Last week, I drove Rae from school to EMDR. Alone in the car, my 1sr chance to deliver my pep talk.

Me:  My fingers hurt all the time - if someone told me they could fix my fingers (and this pales in comparison to what you have to deal with and I get that), then I'd do it right away. I wouldn't wait. You need this. Dad and I want you to feel better. No one said it would be easy. * Try to be open and choose something to look forward to afterward, probably a big hug from me (inside joke, she's not a hugger). 

*I often use the example of Tank's OCD. He works to stay ahead of feeling crappy - not his fault, just like the girls' trauma - not their fault. 

The good, the bad:  CM said 2nd appt went well, that she encouraged Rae to take  breaks, etc. Great. 

CM (A few days later):  your insurance rejected the claim and still won't pay the first claim. 

Wednesday (as in yesterday):  I called BCBS. Remember last convo:  you're covered. I shared my frustration. The guy called me belligerent and hung up on me. Hey, if you're gonna jerk people around - brace yourself, AND - I was only getting warmed up. I called back, asked for a manager, in the process - disconnected. Beautiful.

Unrelated:  I'm organizing my photos.
Moving stuff to Snapfish. I came
across this. See the face?
 It made me chuckle. 

3rd time, not charming:  I spoke to Keith for almost an hour. He discovered that CM is in network, but our BCBS policy doesn't include CM. Huh? 

Keith:  We'll send a list of other providers who ARE in your network. 

I explained through tears that this was not happening. It's not easy adopting teen girls, and paying out the ass for good insurance, and begging her to open up for THIS to happen? After she's put in effort? You guys said we were covered. Not having it. He suggested I speak to Coach's benefits dept. 

*anyone need a break? Get some water? Run 5 miles to burn off some steam? Take some deep, cleaning breaths? Just me? Well we're getting to the good part*

I called Coach's 'Company'. Spilled my guts, then the guy said he couldn't speak to me without Coach's consent, since Coach is the worker bee. 

I think it's a shadow
of the gutter.
 Looks like a face, right?

Me:  Really? Well I'm the boss lady, so stop it. I'm not in the mood. Consent? What is this 1950? I'm on the policy. I'm an adult. This is MY health insurance. He treats patients at work and I DO.EVERYTHING.ELSE. So, I'm handling this.

I hung up. Texted Coach. He happened to be in a meeting today at corporate. I envisioned the benefits people being at corporate - like back in the day (FUN FACT:  Coach just celebrated his 25th anniversary with Company and I was happy to tell everyone at benefits who didn't know their ass from their elbow this fun fact). Because Company is bigger now, the benefits people are in Iowa. 

A few hours later, Coach called benefits after his meeting and gave consent. At home, I put on a string of pearls, some pumps, and an apron to play the part. 

Comedy central:  I call benefits in Iowa. 

Samantha:  I can't speak to you, because I need Coach's consent. 

Me:  Yeah, no. He called less than an hour ago and gave consent. Look it up. 

Samantha:  Oh, well you only get one phone call, so yeah - sorry. 

*is one of us imprisoned? If so, it must be me. I felt incarcerated. 

Me (glances around, opens the oven)  OK, where's the hidden camera? We aren't Siamese, so like I wasn't with him ON.THE.CALL.WHEN.HE.GAVE.CONSENT. so THIS.IS.MY.CALL. 

Samantha:  blah blah, nothing sensical - Oh, wait - she told me that she'd studied to become a therapist. for awhile. So, she knows some things about therapy and this must be hard. 

WHAT? LORD, MAKE IT STOP. 

Me (whisper-talking very intentionally):  I'm gonna dial back my anger here and I'll wait while you get a manager.

Samantha (puts me on hold):  Oh, the manager can't talk to you because you only get one phone call with consent and yeah. You don't have a phone call left. 

Iowa friends, these people aren't doing a great job of representing, just saying. 

Me:  Hey, Samantha. It's the year 2026. I can hang up right now, call back and say  my name is Coach. I know his SS#. And no one can question my gender. So that's what I'm gonna do. Good luck to you. 

I called benefits for the THIRD TIME, claiming to be Coach and no.one.questioned me. I'd have loved it if they'd have tried. 

Stephanie:  I'm sorry to hear this, I know how you feel, because I have a kid who needed therapy. (UM, NO - STEPH, PLEASE DON'T). 

This part dragged on for awhile but mostly because Stephanie didn't know anything. She escalated the issue, but thought maybe I should've been talking to someone in a different department. It'll be 3-5 days before we hear. She told me that I should call BCBS back. This is their issue. (hold me back)

Me:  They said my COMPANY HEALTH POLICY DOESN'T INCLUDE THIS ONE PROVIDER, SO THIS IS ON YOU PEOPLE AT COMPANY TO FIX IT. I WILL NOT REST UNTIL YOU DO. ADD CM TO MY POLICY BECAUSE I'VE HAD BCBS FOR YEARS AND I'VE NEVER MET A PROVIDER THAT WAS IN NETWORK THAT I DIDN'T HAVE ACCESS TO. 

I connected with CM before the comical company phone calls. She charges $150 a session, takes a set number of discounted clients per quarter, but she's already reached her quota for those. If we pause treatment, she should have an opening in a few months at the discounted $75 rate. This treatment typically only takes like 8-10 sessions. My preference is that the insurance thing gets patched up. 

*****

Anyone been hung up on or disconnected more than twice in the same insurance call before? Is this an industry wide thing - the I can't talk to you unless you're the insured, or is it just Company? Anyone think CM will be added into our policy? I've never heard of an in network provider being off limits. When have you thought you were on candid camera?

Mishap aftermath: how Christmas morning shaped up, plus passive aggressive much, Marie?

How things shaped up: 

• On Christmas morning, a few of the guys opened a box with ALL/MOST OF THEIR GIFTED CLOTHES INSIDE. What happened to the separate boxes?

Coach:  The wrapping dept seemed busy. I decided to consolidate. (not a big deal, but some people finished unwrapping sooner than others).

• Ed opened a sweater. Held it up. 

(Me:  hmm, did I get him a sweater?) He cocked his head, asking:  Is this a woman's sweater? Yes, yes it was. 

Mini (who'd only requested sweaters):  Oh, Mom, is that supposed to be mine?

Memorizing each gift is not one of my super powers, so I nodded, I GUESS, SO. (if you see where this is headed, then let's assume your brain isn't as muddled as my Christmas morning mind that was distracted by  Did I start the crock pot? I still need to wash the tablecloth, Where the hell are the damn men's socks? and other Hosting-related tasks). 

• Reg (opening a flannel shirt lined with fleece):  I WANT IT! 

Poor Reg. We've been quoting him ever since. I wrinkled my nose to activate my thinking cap. Reg owns plenty of shirts, I'd mostly gotten him pants, his deficit area. Finally, I leaned forward - "Hang on, Reg. Check the size . . . is that a small? Oh, shit. I think that was meant for your cousin, Reg. My godson." (yes, cousins have the same first name, part of the reason Ann hates me - will explain next time). 

This marks the first time I'd confused a Reg godson gift with a Reg son gift and we all had a good chuckle. (when I retold the story at Christmas dinner, Ann did NOT chuckle. Shock). I told Reg I could get him a shirt like that, since he seemed to like it so much. He assured me he really didn't care/had enough shirts. But the I WANT IT lives on. We rewrapped it before cousins arrived. 

• Ed opened the record, and it was the one I'd ordered for him. 

Then he told me he'd also ordered his GF a record and had it shipped to our house. Aha, well, I wrapped it for you - that record-shaped mystery gift was under the tree. Would've been funny if he'd opened the record he bought girlfriend. Luck of the draw. 

• I dug in my closet and brought down the 17 boxes of shoe options for Kay and Rae, and there - even though I'd looked so many times, lost in the shuffle of shoe boxes was the Macy's bag of men's dress socks. No one really cared, but misplacing them made me grouchy so a collective cheer for found dress socks was sounded. 

Everyone raced off to shower and do chores to get ready to host. Finally showered and dressed, I walked down the stairs a few minutes after people had walked through the front door. My sisters' two families arrived at 3:00 on.the.dot.- not the norm, but since they planned to march out right at 8 pm for their separate party, remember - so, they'd chosen punctuality, I guess.

• I was carrying the godchildren gifts downstairs, realizing that I didn't have a gift for Meg, my goddaughter. Marie's daughter. Where was it? 

Lightbulb moment:  I'D BOUGHT HER THE RED SWEATER. THE ONE ED OPENED, AND MINI CLAIMED AS HER OWN. 

When I was getting dressed, Curly had popped into my room - I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR? 

Now, hang on - had I not asked her weeks prior, multiple times, if she (my sweats-wearing kid) had an outfit for Christmas? Of course I did.  

During my descent down the stairs (it's a standard staircase, not extra long - but lots of clarity happened here) I replayed Mini calling into my bathroom while I was drying my hair, I TOLD CURLY  TO WEAR MY NEW RED SWEATER WITH YOUR BLACK FAUX LEATHER PANTS, SO SHE'S ALL SET. 

Shit, shit, shit. Now the tags were removed from the would-be Meg sweater. I had nothing for  her. I summoned Mini and Curly into the front hall. Our pow-wow would've been entertaining if it'd been captured on video. Our guests were milling around in the kitchen, greeting one another. Meanwhile my two girls and I huddled in the front hall - well, we know the score, screwing something up that impacts Drisella and Anastasia is not the goal. We groaned over the sucky-sisters-situation, and spit-balled what to do. Give Meg a sweater Mini had just opened? 

Mini:  Let's just tell Meg. She'll think it's funny. (unlike her mother, Meg has a sense of humor. She's 27, Lad's age and a huge Mini fan). 

Mini was with me when I ran in to buy
 another sweater for Meg. She
 chose this one - that she
 also got for Christmas
 and happened to be wearing it. 

So we recreated the moment - Ed opening a woman's sweater, Mini claiming it, etc. Meg laughed. I promised to run back to Von Maur and get her another sweater soon-ish.

The next day before all hell broke loose when I confronted my sisters with 'Why is the adoption polarizing for you', etc., I'd run into Von Maur and bought Meg a different sweater after Curly's nearby b-ball game. At the sibling meetup, Mini was so shook up, she left it in the car. 

That night, Tank ran over to my folks' house to deliver Meg's sweater to Marie, who was still staying at their house. If you don't know, Tank could be an actor. He does excellent imitations. His Mr. Bean is off the charts great. He reenacted Marie, somewhat reluctantly accepting a shopping bag with a gift for Meg. 

When Marie, aka Drisella, returned to Milwaukee, she left the gift at my folks' home, in the middle of the room. Passive aggressive much? What if all adults were juveniles? *shudder* 

*****

Do you now wish your family quotes include I WANT IT? It is catchy and versatile. Trust me. Have you ever gifted a male child a female sweater? Are you like me - need everyone to show up at least 10 minutes later . . . manners, right?  What would you do about the new Meg sweater that's collecting dust at my parent's house? Keep in mind, Meg is camp-Marie and has probably been told a twisted version of events. Neither of Marie's kids, who are big Mini fans, have been in touch, liked anything on socials, etc. since the fallout.

Five-Christmas-mishaps Friday

Thought I'd share some heavy issues I'm sifting thru, but it's Friday. I'll fill you in next week. Besides, pretty soon the window might close on y0ur interest in (insert ominous music here) . . . the Shenanigan Christmas mishaps. 

Background to how things ran amuck: In a word, I delegated (unheard of!), sending Coach to Von Maur with the boys'/his gifts for the co0mplimentary giftwrap. 

Pro tip:  I buy boys' clothes on sale, have them try things on in advance - particularly pants. Items on sale have fewer options for returns after Christmas. The shirts/sweaters remain surprises for the boys - Coach selected a few things he wanted, and we chose which boy got what. Coach never wants ANYTHING, but I point out when his wardrobe needs a refresh. 

I labeled every item, talked him thru it, wrote it out on paper. 

Curly, cracking up:  Dad, have you ever been to a store? 

Beneath this tree sits
 some mystery gifts.

He was recently shocked that the grocery store has a public bathroom, so you probably know the answer to that. All he had to do:  Drop the items off. Give the wrapping dept my #. 

After Rae's b-b all game near the mall, I dropped her off at her next activity, and drove to the mall solo. As I pulled into the parking lot, I got the 'wrapped gifts ready' text. Perfectly timed. 

But - Coach would've flunked Santa's elf-school. 

Issue #1:  He'd called me as he left the mall. "I think I messed something up. A few things had no names on them, and there was only 1 gift for me (should've been 3). But we'll figure it out."

Me:  Huh? How? Everything is WRAPPED?

Issue #2:  Unbeknownst to me, the name tag fell off Marie's daughter's Meg's gift. Meg's my goddaughter. This didn't happen on Coach's watch. Von Maur, get stickier nametags next year. 

I had to order Kay a new stocking this year,
because we changed the spelling of her
name when we adopted her. A few days later,
she comes home with this - a stocking that
 matches ours exactly. She randomly got
this stocking at the school's St. Nick thing. I
 could've saved a bundle ordering a new
 one and embroidered it myself at the
library. Ugh. Crazy though, right?
 What're the chances?

Issue #3:  I ordered Ed a vinyl record, suggested by his girlfriend. My goal:  a non-clothing gift for everyone. Two record shaped packages arrived from Amazon. Huh? I wrapped them both. In the interest of time this was easier than going to Amazon account to see which one I'd ordered him/opening the outer packaging which I didn't bother with. 

Issue #4:  I had almost nothing for stockings. I ran to Macy's on the 23rd and bought loads of men's socks with gift cards that I've had forEVAH. When Nana used to shop for Christmas, she'd buy my boys Ralph Lauren polo shirts, rarely large enough to fit them. I returned them when I could and built up quite the Macy's gift card collection. When we filled  stockings, the bag of socks was NOWHERE. I worried I'd dropped it in the parking lot. We looked in the car multiple times. I was so annoyed. 

Issue #5:  Redbubble stickers did not arrive until the next day, blowing my only fun Christmas gift. 

Well, I did put 13 nuts in Kay's stocking. When I was a kid, we didn't get coal. My
folks put nuts in naughty kids' stockings. Each of our kids get 1-5 nuts. It's a tradition, and they always compare who got more, etc. Kay got the motherload. Coach was slightly opposed, but I over ruled him. The truth hurts sometimes and if I need to spell it out with nuts, then so be it. 

Old photo - our former
stockings with a pile of nuts. 

I'd intended to put my kids' stickers in their stockings and the cousin stickers would be distributed at our party - instead, I gave out no stickers and rude cousins left to have a separate party. If only I could locate a 'you're rude and you don't know it' sticker to send to each of them after the fact. 

I reached out to Redbubble and requested they reimburse my shipping costs, which were ridiculously high because I'd ordered them on the late side - but the website listed 'choose this shipping method to receive by Christmas.' They  emailed yesterday that they are reimbursing me. Let's go!

Tune in Monday to learn about how each 'issue' was handled, or laughed at. 

****

Mini and a few of her friends are part of the Notre Dame/Saint Mary's Irish dancing group at Notre Dame. I'm heading there today for a show, and have plans to meet one of the other moms ,who's in town from the DC area, for dinner. I'm excited even though the weather is freaky cold and the girls' schools are cancelled. Coach texted me to wrap my brain around the no school on my day off possibility, and I was like STEP AHEAD OF YOU. I'LL BE DROPPING THEM OFF AT YOUR OFFICE WHEN I DRIVE TO NOTRE DAME. Teamwork makes the dreamwork. 

Did you get coal in your stocking? Ever heard of nuts in a stocking? Any predictions for how this played out when we opened gifts?