Alas, I cannot take credit for coming up with this wicked wisdom, but I felt the need to share it with all. My favorite is #2 — I’m an eggnog-a-holic.

1. Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Christmas spirit. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they’re serving rum balls.

2. Drink as much eggnog as you can. And quickly. Like fine single-malt scotch, it’s rare. In fact, it’s even rarer than single-malt scotch. You can’t find it any other time of year but now. So drink up! Who cares that it has 10,000 calories in every sip? It’s not as if you’re going to turn into an eggnog-alcoholic or something. It’s a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. It’s later than you think. It’s Christmas!

3. If something comes with gravy, use it. That’s the whole point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on. Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the volcano. Repeat.

4. As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they’re made with skim milk or whole milk. If it’s skim, pass. Why bother? It’s like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission.

5. Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to control your eating. The whole point of going to a Christmas party is to eat other people’s food for free. Lots of it. Hello?

6. Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and New Year’s. You can do that in January when you have nothing else to do. This is the time for long naps, which you’ll need after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food and that vat of eggnog.

7. If you come across something really good at a buffet table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa, position yourself near them and don’t budge. Have as many as you can before becoming the center of attention. They’re like a beautiful pair of shoes. If you leave them behind, you’re never going to see them again.

8. Same for pies. Apple. Pumpkin. Mincemeat. Have a slice of each. Or if you don’t like mincemeat, have two apples and one pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more than one dessert? LaborDay?

9. Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it’s loaded with the mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have some standards.

10. One final tip: If you don’t feel terrible when you leave the party or get up from the table, you haven’t been paying attention. Re-read tips; start over, but hurry, January is just around the corner.

Have a great holiday season!

I don’t know why mothers who don’t work outside the home — because we all know mothers work in the house, out of the house, around the house, on the house, under the house, you get the idea — are referred to as stay at home mom’s or SAHM’s for short.

I’m hardly ever home. EVER. And when I am, it’s because I just got in from being out. We’re up and out most days by 8:30am. Although it is like herding cats, I get everyone fed, dressed, and into the car having also done a load or five of laundry, emptied the dishwasher, changed the sheets on the bed, pre-made lunch so that it’s ready when we get back in, and checked my email.

We hit the streets up to the YMCA where I get two uninterrupted hours to work out while Fric and Frac get spoiled rotten at the ChildWatch. Back to the car by 10:30 and out to hit triumvirate of SAHM shopping. You know them as Target, Wal-Mart and “the mall”. Sometimes we have returns, sometimes we have legitimate shopping, but mostly, we’re just roaming like nomads. Seriously, when you see the nanny and child of a friend at Target because “We haven’t got anything else to do”, you know that we’re all moths to Targets red bullseye flame.

Maybe it’s Wednesday and time for a playdate at someone’s house. Good times. . .

Home for lunch by 1pm and then two (or five) books before nap. Two hours of blissful silence.

So long Doe a Deer!

This song comes on the radio and my girl starts singing her little heart out! Thank goodness I’m a fan.

“Words have meaning and names have power” — unknown

When it came time to name both Morgan and Coever, Craig and I had no hard and fast rules except one — nothing that will render their resume to the circular file. We were (and are) pretty adamant about it as well as vocal. There are times, especially when meeting new people and introducing my girls, when I wonder if we didn’t break our own rule naming Coever. Here’s a sample exchange —

Jane Doe: Oh, look at your girls! What are their names?

Me: (pointing) This is Morgan and this is Coever?

Jane Doe: Cobler?

Me: No, Coever.

Jane Doe: Colder?

Me: No, Coever.

Jane Doe: Colver?

Me: No, Coever. Like Dover, but with a C.

Have I doomed my child to exchanges like this going forward? I hope not. Coever’s full name is Catherine Coever, but we liked the sound of Coever and it’s a family name. The actual spelling is Cover, but that looks like cover, as in “Cover your mouth when you cough”. So we added an “e” thinking that would solve the problem. We didn’t want her to forever be correcting people’s pronunciation of her name. It was inevitable that they would “put emPHASis on the last sylLABle”. We chose Catherine because we both liked the sound, it started with “C” like Craig, and it went well with Coever. Plus, it’s a solid name that she can use if she decides that she doesn’t like Coever or is fed up with having to constantly re-introduce herself. As for the resume, she can either use her full name or go by C. Coever. Whatever works, just so long as we haven’t inadvertently ghetto-ized our little butterball.

This may seem so trivial and such a “Who cares” type of rant, but I just read this on a mom confession website —

So, I say all this to say, I didn’t want my girls to be one of a dozen Hannah’s in their first grade class. Don’t get me wrong. I love that name; it’s a family name on my mother’s side. But, I love the names my daughters have. Who knows, they may have seven friends named Olivia who all have at least one sister named Addison, Madison, Ashley, Emma, or Emily.

Of course, given the way things are going, it’s more likely to be Ahliveeyah (or Ohlyveeah), and her sisters Addysun, Maddesun, Ashleigh, Emmah, and Emilee.

Originally, I had planned to introduce both Morgan and Coever to the mysteries of womanhood once they had lost their baby teeth and no longer wore shirts that snapped at the crotch. Sadly, when you have an audience for every-single-thing-that-you-do-24/7, some mysteries are solved sooner rather than later.

Morgan has been consistently accompanying me to the bathroom since she was an infant, so I shouldn’t be surprised to still have an audience lo these two years later. It’s the running commentary that makes these trips so surreal.

Morgan: Where are you, Mommy?

Me: I’m on the potty, Morgan

Morgan: (flinging open the door, sliding aross the tile and stopping right in front of me) Mommy goes pee-pee on the potty!!!

Me: Yes, Morgan. Can Mommy have some privacy?

Morgan: Privacy?

Me: Yes, Morgan. Privacy is when the door is closed.

Morgan: (closing the door, but still staying IN the bathroom) Privacy, Mommy! Privacy!!

Me: *sigh* Yes, Morgan

Morgan: What’s that?

Me: It’s a tampon.

Morgan: Tampon? See it?

Me: It’s for grown up ladies.

Morgan: Grown up ladies. Mommy’s tampon for grown up ladies. Mommy’s okay. Mommy goes pee-pee on the potty!!! (leaves the bathroom)

*sigh*

I thought that would be the end of the Sanitary Products 101 lecture, but seeing as how bathroom breaks are a multiple daily occurrence, especially when you are trying to get in your 8 glasses of water for Weight Watchers, I should have expected to be teaching Sanitary Products 201 (pads and panty liners).

Morgan is smart and she remembers everything. Later on in the evening, we were reading a book about colors. Each page provides items of a specific color. I have Morgan identify the color and the items on the page when we read this particular book. So on the page for pink, there are pink balloons, pink flowers, pink socks, a flamingo and so forth. I point to a pair of candy canes and Morgan says, “TAMPONS!!!”

I guess that I should be glad that she can recognize health and beauty products over candy, right?

“I can live for two months on a good compliment. ” Mark Twain

Apparently, I cannot. Ahhh, Mark, were that it were that easy. I’ve noticed lately that when being given a compliment about how well behaved my girls are, how clean my house is, how good dinner is, how quickly I’ve gotten back into shape after having had Coever, and so on, I find myself making excuses as to why I should received the compliment. For example, here’s a typical exchange —

You: “Wow, the last time I saw you, you were out to here (miming a beach ball tummy) pregnant. You look fantastic! And it’s only been 3 months!”

Me: “Oh, thanks, but I worked out the whole pregnancy”

or

You: “What a sweet little girl you have. She hardly makes a peep”

Me: “Yeah, but she was SO bad yesterday, I thought we were going to have to exorcise the demons!”

See what I mean? What’s up with that? Why can’t I just take it for what it is? A compliment is defined as an expression of praise, commendation, or admiration. It’s meant to be taken as such. There is no qualifier that says you must explain to yourself or anyone else why you deserve that praise or admiration. I don’t know if this is just unique to me or if it’s a woman thing, but I don’t think guys have this problem. I mean, have you ever seen an exchange like this?

Jack: Dude, great coverage on the defense during that last play (swats teammates butt in a strong, masculine but not homosexual way — not that there’s anything wrong with that).

Joe: I know, right?! I’m on fire today! I’m the man! (pumps fist in the air and then punches teammate in the face with a strong right hook, stands over his prone body, beating his fists on his chest in a display of animalistic, masculine, adrenaline-infused, no-one-hugged-me-as-a-child pride).

Okay, I grossly exaggerated that, but you get the point, right? Men just take the compliment. Actually, it seems like that take it and then they embellish it! Like telling you, Yes, I agree with my greatness and let me point out some other things for you, too. Darn that extra X chromosome!

In any event, regarding the receipt of compliments, the plan is to be gracious and accepting, consider each compliment a bite-sized morsel of something decadent and totally satisfying (it always comes back to food for me), because that’s really what it is.