Delusional Winter Break

I could not wait for Winter Break. Two weeks I had blocked off for vacation from work, so I could stay at home with Cole and Patty and pretend I was a Stay At Home Mom. I had it all planned out, I would bake them delicious blueberry muffins for breakfast, we would giggle while playing rounds of Candyland and Monopoly. Our days would be well planned, riding bikes to the park, creating crafty projects like making castles out of toilet paper rolls and baking cookies together.

Delusional? Oh yes.

My children commented that "these blueberry muffins taste REALLY bad...they are NOT like Bubbie's...", Candyland turned into a wrestling match on top of the kitchen table and my vocal chords are spent from screaming at my darling offspring. ALL. DAY. LONG.

Threats that "...and if you don't behave, I'm cancelling Chanukkah tonight..." hung in the air. Time out after time out and taking away TV time was becoming standard. Where was the Brady Bunch Break I so yearned for?

A few playdates, driving around looking at Christmas lights and cute family movies later, things have become more peaceful and quite wonderful for all of us.

Happy Holidays to All! xo

On Becoming A Hobo and The Great Depression

Happy Holidays to all, I am late in these wishes to everyone, but I guess better late than never. I have felt less than inspired to write anything once again. Excuse of the month: Holiday hub bub, lists that don’t end. It’s not that I’m so totally slammed with stuff to do, just little things here and there that stress me out.

Cole came home from school the other day stating that in Social Studies, his class was discussing the Great Depression.

“Yeah, mom, um, during like, a really long time ago, like in the old days or something, there was a really bad time and they called it the Great Depression.” Cole explains.

“And…” I prompt, wanting to be assured our tax dollars are hard at work.

“And, like, well, people were very poor because they lost their jobs and so they didn’t have any money. So then they couldn't work and so then, they couldn’t buy any food and they couldn’t live in their house any more. So they had to live on the street. It was sad. “

And the nine year old version of the Great Depression continues, "And my teacher said that history repeats itself and we’re probably going to have a Great Depression, or somthin', like that, Mom.” He looks up at the ceiling, thinking deeply, tapping a pencil in the space where his two front teeth used to be. Long pause… and then, “Why did they call it the Great Depression, it doesn’t sound like it was really that‘great’…”

“No the Great Depression was not ‘great’, Cole. And your teacher might be right. Things are tough right now, Cole. There are people losing their jobs all over the country. Luckily Daddy and I are ok right now. Our jobs are safe at this time. We are just being careful, watching every penny we spend.”

Patty, the quiet, but soaked little sponge sitting nearby, taking in all of this serious commentary, bursts into tears, announcing dramatically, “I don’t want to be a hobo, Mommy!”

Hobo. Hobo? Where did this child get this term? When we were young, a hobo was someone dressed up for Halloween with a stick resting on a shoulder with a filled, red bandanna tied to the end, black smudges painted on their cheeks and tattered clothes. Nothing gets past Patty.

So this holiday season, let’s hope that if we are headed into a Great Depression, that we can make it somewhat ‘great’?...and that Hobos will be somewhat back in style?