Bah Humbug Averted

So towards the beginning of the month of December I was definitely channeling some Ebenezer Scrooge.  But thankfully, due in part to the multiple visits from various Spirits of Christmas, I finally caught the Christmas joy myself.

My first Spirit of Christmas came in the form of my wonderful husband who pointed out the whole dead dreams ordeal.  Thankfully that light-bulb moment has turned my whole direction around.  I am dreaming again – just not putting concrete time frames on those dreams – but definitely working towards them again.

My hubby also sent me to Idaho to visit my side of the herd.  The 30 plus hours in a car with 5 kids fortunately didn’t do me in, thanks in part to audio books.  And I got the bonus of seeing my kids dress up for a family nativity.  Abner, T-Rev and my brother Zippy make quite the impressive beardless Wise men, don’t you think?

 

Santa even made a surprise appearance and Hope had to bend his ear and then some… I mean the girl would talk to him non-stop, even as he was visiting with her other cousins.  She nigh near snowballed him with question after question about reindeer and his sleigh and everything Christmas.  But seeing her so into the magic of Christmas helped me gain a little bit of that magic myself.

Then it was back to the house to see how many grandkids it takes to tackle grandpa.  I got a workout just watching the mini-wrestling match.

All in all it was a wonderful trip, full of family visits, elf previews of Christmas, lots of nummy-yummy treats, digit numbing cold snow, Christmas lights, Iron port drink from the local drive-in, and Love.

Then it was back to our Pacific Northwest home for Christmas.  It was by far our most simple Christmas but the kids handled the low volume of presents with not a single complaint.

My husbands parents nailed me with one of the best gifts,  a dream necklace and CD full of dream songs.  I keep them right next to my dream journal when I’m not wearing or listening to them.  My kids thought I was nutty when I started crying when I saw the thoughtful gift, and they are right, I am nutty.  But it was the perfect gift.

Christmas day would have been perfect had the car not broken down.  But we are used to these unexpected bumps.  I have to say the downer of that break-down was more than made up for by this miracle.

Remember my redneck kitchen?

Well my friend Good Enough’s Angel Husband decided to help rebuild part of our missing kitchen.  We salvaged the drawers and door fronts from our old cabinets and he built them into some more salvaged bases and painted them for us.

Poor guy had to endure me sitting in the kitchen, watching the cabinets go in,  grinning like an idiot cause I was so happy.   Wow, it’s beginning to look like a real kitchen again.

I love all the angels that made this year so special amidst all the unbloggable stuff.  Thank you Angels.  I certainly hope that sometime in the near future I can pay it forward times ten.  I would just love to share the happiness that they gave to me.

Angels, Dreams and Ding-A-Lings

So the last couple of weeks have been a roller-coaster. As with most families we have experienced the extremes of the season.  Angels popped in a couple of times to brave the Clutter Heap clean and decorate and help our family find some of the seasons joy.  It seems that Scrooge Mr. Murphy and his law also decided to take up permanent residence with us as well.

So without further ado… The Good,  The Bad, and well let’s just skip the Ugly. 

The Good:  Four Angels stopped by and helped me find the floor, even better they attacked and cleaned two of my bathrooms.  That act alone should insure Sainthood.

Another Batch of Friends showed up Monday and helped us Decorate, Decorate and Decorate.  The Kids loved it.  So did I because I was tempted just to decorate a tree and leave the rest of the stuff packed up.   Now I’m surrounded with reminders of  service and sharing and it feels like love to me.

As for Mr. Murphy… He prompted my teenager to put his feet on the windshield of the car and stretch.  So the single crack in the window became a spider web of cracks.  If I could knock some sense into the boy I would, but I don’t have a hammer large enough,  and I don’t want Child Protective Service knocking on my door for child battery, so I guess I’ll just have to deal him the way he is. 

Cha-Ching #1.

Since a broken windshield wasn’t enough, the next thing on his list was to cause the wiring in our portable swimming pool truck to go funky on the tail-lights.  And after we spent nearly $170 trying to fix the problem on our own,  we finally admitted we are auto idiots caved and took it to the dealer.  But the story doesn’t end there.  On the way to the dealer the radiator blew.

Cha-Chings #2 & 3.

But the biggest single incident that proves Murphy has joined our family happened to Prince Erik and Evo-man.  They decided to kill some time between appointments and window shop at the mall.  While they were in the mall some huge Ding-A-Ling driving a 11 foot tall U-Haul truck decided to pull in a 7 foot tall parking garage, thus hitting a high pressure water line which burst and get this… of all the thousands of cars parked at the mall that evening only one car was affected by the jet blast of water.  OURS!  Resulting in dents in the roof and somehow water found it’s way in through invisible vents to flood the cars floor with a few inches of water.

Cha-Ching for Dina-A-Ling #4 

Ding-A-Lings should be banned from driving U-Haul vehicles.

So Yesterday, Prince Erik unsuccessfully tried repeatedly to get a hold of Ding-A-Lings insurer but we can’t wait to fix the car or the water can mess with it’s wiring or so the dealer told us.  So the car is at the shop.  I think the dealership might give us the most valuable customer award for frequent visits.

Cha-Ching for Ding-A-Lings Insurance #5

Mr. Murphy also talked Mother Nature into giving our area a deep freeze with no temperatures over freezing for nearly a week – resulting in two broken pipes.

Cha-Ching #6

And I tell you all this because…  I’m laughing.  They say bad things happen in three.  And since we are up to six I’m showing Murphy the door.  That’s right Mr. Murphy and Mr. Ding-A-Ling.  I’m laughing at you.  Sure you can drain every spare penny out of my bank account, but you can’t touch the Spirit of Christmas.  And the harder you try the more I’m going to laugh in your face.  And even though you are trying to get me down, get this, in the meantime just think of all the friends in blog land, eternally grateful that they are not us.  

Of course I know that in telling Mr. Murphy that I’m laughing in his face is like saying to him… Try Harder.  In which case, I’m knocking pounding on wood with crossed fingers (rather unpleasant) while I’m typing this because I don’t want to invite any more of the shenanigans.  I’m done with them.

On the good side.  I finished sewing the Nativity costumes for our Church’s Children’s Nativity Program.  They worked out great and I was able to make Mary, Joseph, Three Wise Men, the Inn-Keeper, Two Shepherds and an Angel for Under $100.   (Thanks be it to Thrift store materials, and a good serger).

  

O.K. I’ll go ahead and show you the Ugly.  Our Christmas Tree came this year with a gift.  A Mummified Frog of all things.

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Now go enjoy your Christmas goodies after that fine fact.  I slipped the mummy in Mr. Murphy’s suitcase before I kicked him out the door.

I can’t wait to share with you an Honest-To-Goodness Real Christmas Family Letter.  It will be the best one we’ve ever sent.  Look for it soon.

Digging up Dreams

Light Blub Moment…. Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding,  Well Duh!

‘FawnDear, you’ve stopped dreaming.’ My husband told me yesterday and I burst into tears because, you know, I’m a deranged hormonal female he nailed it.

Since the unbloggable happened in July it feels like my soul has shriveled to the size of an old prune shut down.  I couldn’t pin-point why until until my Prince enlightened me with his wisdom.  He was dead-on.  I had stopped dreaming.  My motivation had gone from following my dreams to being a zombie mom on a schedule.  The pain of reality hurts less when you assume the zombie.

Dreams have been such a huge part of my life, my motivation for Improvement, Fun, Laughter and Magic.

So why did the dreams disappear?  Turns out, I unknowingly buried them, about a mile deep under bedrock, or so it seems.

I chatted with my Always Young and Gorgeous counselor about it yesterday and we figured that all the knocks I’ve received over the past year with the house and finances self-imploding and, of course, the bombshell unbloggable;  well it turns out that all of those negative things had been shooting down some of my more established dreams.  And after the pain of losing some of those cherished dreams I shut down and quit dreaming in an attempt to not suffer further future hurt.  And that stupid shutting down turned out to be me destroying even more my own dreams. 

Zombie life stinks, to the tune of finding 50 lbs. over the past few months, the the detriment of missing out on opportunities to live magically with my kids, and being extremely self-conscious of my rapid fall while trying to enjoy those precious, few moments I have with my Prince Erik.  I think I’ve found depression, self-imposed though it may be, and I don’t want it anymore.

So how in the heck am I going to dig up my box of dreams?  I realized that yesterday was the first step.  Just realizing the extent of the damage was a place to start.  And I don’t want to be here anymore.  I want to Dream again!!!  And I want to dream now.  Who cares if life is raining unmentionables on me at this very moment,  I need to get back to the FawnDear that did this when the storms came.  I miss me.

Waking up from being a zombie is painful, emotionally and physically as I try to re-shed these layers of protective walls I’ve unconsciously erected over the past few months.

Young and Gorgeous told me what I need to do to start dreaming again.  I have to journal, blog, scribble in a notebook etc daily about my dreams. 

And I need to go through the motions of following those dreams even when I don’t feel the motivation burning in my veins.    She promised that if I at least started going through the motions again, those old dream muscles will start to wake up, get a little more feeling, reawaken from the zombie slumber etc.

Get this – She told me to put myself first.  That’s hard for me to do, especially when I don’t have enough hours in the day to even put my socks on.  Now I’ve first got to make time to physically and spiritually put my life in order.

I know she’s right.  Here’s hoping I’ve started the dream recovery process on this latest funk and am on my way to dreaming those dream once again.  I know they are there, just on the verge of my imagination.

Special thanks to all my bloggy friends who have been so patient with me as I went through this latest funk.  I can’t wait to experience joy again.  I promise my next post will be about fun stuff again.