I am Michelle D. Carter

Everything in moderation. That’s what the “experts” will tell you. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as you do it in moderation, you are OK. It is the inability to take things in moderation that puts you over the edge and it becomes an addiction. All you can think about it getting your next “fix.”

My husband’s addiction is caffeine in the form of Diet Coke. On average, he will drink 80 ounces of the stuff EVERY DAY!! PEOPLE, THAT IS JUST OVER A SIX PACK EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!

I try to do my part. I don’t buy it that often when I grocery to the store. Mainly because occasionally I’d like to have one but when I go to drink one, THEY ARE ALL GONE! If Tim’s the one who goes to the store, it will some how end up in the refrigerator. Or, he’ll have to make a Lowe’s run and when he gets home, he’ll be carrying around a 44 ounce drink.

We’ve discussed the need for him to cut back. He agrees but it never seems to happen. The other day at the doctor, he confessed how much he was drinking. The doctor said, “Well, at least it’s diet.” Umm, thanks doc. Don’t think you could have helped me out a little?!

The other night, Tim and I were talking and he tells me that: “on the way to work the other day I didn’t have any cash on me. I wanted a Diet Coke. I remembered that I had a receipt from Sonic that if I did a survey, I would get a free Diet Coke. I completed the survey just as I arrived at Sonic.”

Me: “And yet you don’t think you have a problem.”

Doing whatever it takes to get your next “fix” – that’s when you can tell you are addicted. I can tell you about Tim’s addiction because I am perfect. I don’t have any addictions. NOW GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY EFFING COFFEE!!

A few weeks ago my beautiful girl turned 10. Ten, double digits. Wow, where has the time gone? She had a wonderful day. I brought cupcakes to school during lunch and ate with her. That evening, she chose McDonald’s for her meal. She invited her best friend. They all played together in the Play Place. We returned home to open presents and have cake. This is her with the card I made her.

Here she is opening the card that her brother, Alex, made her. On the outside is a big heart he had drawn. On the inside it said, “Happy Birthday, Alyssa. What do you want to do today for your birthday? Love Alex.” He also taped $10 in it. $10 of his OWN money!

Alex has always been generous. His philanthropy amazes me. He is always willing to give, give and give some more. Tim and I struggled with letting him give her the money. It is so sweet. Yet, we don’t want him to give away all of his money. Here’s a picture of my compassionate little guy.

After Alyssa opened the card with the $10, I told her that it was his money that he had given her. The following conversation ensued:

Alyssa: “Alex, are you sure you want to give me your money?”

Alex: “Yes!”

Me: “Aww, that is so sweet of you guys.”

Alex: “I couldn’t decide how much to give her. Then I remembered she was going to be 10 so I thought $10 would be good.”

Me: “Alex, you are such a sweetheart! I love you.”

That’s my six, almost seven, year old son, always thinking how to be kind. Well, except when he’s fighting with his siblings.

We have a rule in our house. Actually we have several but I’m only talking about one in particular right now. Anyway, this rule is YOU MUST ASK PERMISSION FROM THE OWNER BEFORE YOU BORROW ANYTHING. It’s a simple rule yet it is so hard to follow at times. I think the difficulty comes when you really really want to borrow something and you just know that person will tell you NO.

Or perhaps, the owner isn’t available to ask. This is exactly what happened to Alex recently.

Crank up (literally) the volume and listen to this!
 

Did you catch it? Alex wanted to borrow his sister’s camera that will also create videos. He wanted to take some pictures of his new “dog,” Jumbo. At the end of the video you’ll hear ANDY, DO YOU KNOW HOW TO WORK THIS?

He took his sister’s camera without asking her AND without asking an adult. Don’t you just love self-incriminating evidence?!!

For the last few years, an American Girl catalog would show up in our mailbox, Alyssa would look through it and show me the cute girls that she wanted. I would tell her that they were cute but I’m not about to spend $100 on a doll. No way, no how – my famous last words.

My neighbor told me about the unveiling of the new girl of the year at the American Girl store in Atlanta on January 1^st. The store puts on this big production and wanted to know if Alyssa and I would like to attend with her and her daughter. It sounded like fun so we jumped at the chance. I then started thinking WOULD WE GET WRAPPED UP IN THE EXCITEMENT? WOULD ALYSSA WANT A DOLL? HOW AM I GOING TO HANDLE IT?

Me: “Tim, I’ve been thinking about this trip to Atlanta. What if I talk to Alyssa and tell her that I would buy her an American Girl doll but this would be her present from us and her birthday party?”

Tim, much to my surprise: “Yeah, that would be OK.”

Alyssa was thrilled. She was finally going to get an American Girl doll.

New Year’s Day, I get up at 5:15 am and get myself ready for our journey. Around 6:00, I wake up Alyssa. We are ready and on the road at 6:30.

Just before we crossed into Georgia, we stop at a gas station. My neighbor wasn’t feeling very well. She decides she can’t go on and will have her husband come and get her. I felt bad leaving her. But the gas station had a restaurant attached to it and appeared to be relatively safe.

Once in Georgia, the girls are now thirsty. I stop at McDonald’s and get drinks for them. A few more miles down the road, Alyssa starts to complain about her stomach.

Me, very sympathetically: “Hmm, after eating three donuts, I wonder why.”

Alyssa: “Mom, it really hurts.”

Me: “What do you want me to do?”

Alyssa: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Do you want me to stop so you can use a restroom?”

Alyssa: “Yeah.”

Back in the car YET AGAIN. We discuss whether we want to continue on or should we just turn back around and go home. Gasp! Mom, how dare you think of not going on?

We FINALLY arrive at the mall around 9:30 am. The line to get in wraps around and around and around.  We wanted to be there early because the first 100 girls would receive a goody bag. I told the girls that I was pretty sure we wouldn’t be getting a goody bag. But we were there to have fun and that’s what we were going to do, with or without the goody bag.

The store opens! We finally make it around the corner. The store is in sight. We’ll be in soon. Oh look, they are handing out bags. We get up to the front of the store. This is the last bag. Yes, you read that right, THE LAST BAG NOT BAGS. One bag, two girls. I was able to resolve the situation though. Inside the bag was a copy of their monthly magazine. I was able to purchase an additional one. Also included was a poster of Lanie, the new girl of the year. After the girls did the scavenger hunt, they received the same poster. It was a disappointing goody bag to say the least.

We made our way to the Bistro because we had made reservations. The food was good. Then the girls were able to go make some crafts. Then it was time to shop! It was Alyssa’s first American Girl doll and I wanted her to pick one that looked like her. But we weren’t able to find one that we both agreed upon. The one I liked, Alyssa said the skin was too dark. When she found one where the skin tone more closely matched hers, the eyes were blue. Alyssa has brown eyes. I didn’t want one with bangs. She was also excited about getting Lanie. I told Alyssa it was up to her and that she needed to be the one who was happy with it. It was a big decision! The result… Lanie!

Around 2:00 pm, we are done and begin to make our way back home. It was a lot of fun! I would certainly do it again. Well, except for the getting up early and sickness parts.

Christmas is always such a fun, magical, crazy, pain in the ass time of year. So many emotions trying to keep a handle on everything. It’s exhausting! When my daughter was first born, my husband laid down the law and said we were going to have Christmas morning in our house from here on out. It was the tradition he was setting. At first I was not happy with him. At the time we were living in the same town as his family. My family was five hours away. That was saying to me, that we would be spending every Christmas with his family, while my family got Thanksgiving. I grew up where we alternated holidays. One year we’d spend Thanksgiving with Mom’s side of the family while Dad’s side got Christmas. Then the following year, we’d spend Thanksgiving with Dad’s side and Mom’s side got Christmas. That seems like a fair solution to me. Yet, here is my husband completely rocking that boat. As the years went on, I was glad Tim had decided Christmas morning was at our own home. It’s hard enough to pack the whole family up for a trip let alone include Christmas in the mix.

This Christmas was our first Christmas in South Carolina. See, it was a good thing we had decided not to travel. First of all, the drive would have been awful. Twenty hours in a van with three children – makes me want to slit my wrists just thinking about it. Not to mention that we would have had to drive through tons and tons of snow and cold. My Mom said they couldn’t even get out of their front door and it took a lot of pushing to open the back door. Although, my kids would have loved to have been there to play in the snow. All three of them kept asking MOM, WHEN IS IT GOING TO SNOW HERE? I digress.

Typically, my kids are really good about going to bed Christmas Eve. They know that in order for Santa to come, they have to be asleep. For some reason, I had a tough time going to sleep Christmas Eve. Maybe it was the excitement of Christmas morning, wondering if the kids (Tim included) would enjoy their gifts. Maybe it was the holiday classic I was watching, Forensic Files. I shut the TV off around 1:00 in the morning. GIRLFRIEND, YOU HAVE GOT TO GET SOME SLEEP. As I lay there, I started to hear some commotion upstairs. What are those kids doing? Surely they won’t try to come downstairs. It is way too early. Shortly there after, I hear the pitter patter of little feet on the stairs and the glow of the flashlight swinging about. I come out of my bedroom and find ALL THREE of them about half way down the stairs shining the flashlight directly on the presents “St. Nick” had left hours before.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GET BACK TO BED! They hurried back up the stairs totally shocked they had been busted.

Around 6:00 am, I can hear them waking up and getting around. I got up to brush my teeth so I’d be ready when they came downstairs. However, I didn’t have time to complete my task when I hear MOM AND DAD’S LIGHT IS ON, WE CAN GO DOWN.

With the master bedroom on the main level, gone are the days of telling the kids WAIT FOR US BEFORE YOU GO DOWNSTAIRS. I had barely peed when Alyssa brought her new skateboard in to show me.

The excitement – that’s what I love most about Christmas. It’s what makes the exhaustion worth it.

I apologize for being so behind on my blogging. I swear the time fairy comes in and snatches time away from me. I start each day with a list of tasks I need to accomplish then about half way through it is time to pick the kids up from school. It has nothing to do with the fact that I tend to over extend myself or that I’ve had writers block. Sometimes I’ll stare out the window and believe that everything is magically getting done. All my hopes and dreams are being accomplished as well. It’s nice living in an imaginary world. That is until I’m ruthlessly pulled back to reality.

It has always been a Carter tradition to make sugar cookies for Santa. I received the recipe several years ago from my cousin, Kim. It is a process to make them BUT everyone is involved and it is a lot of fun.

First, the kids and I make the dough. In years past I used to make a double batch of the dough because we LOVE to eat cookie dough. However, with all the e coli outbreaks, specifically Nestlé’s chocolate chip cookie dough, we don’t do that anymore! Although everyone tends to grab a little bit here and there. After the dough has been refrigerated for a few hours or overnight, I roll it out. The kids use the cookie cutters. Tim is responsible for the oven and moving them to the cooling racks. Then the next day is comprised of making icing and the kids getting to decorate with sprinkles. There are always lots of sprinkles everywhere. Some cookies you’d think are nothing but a big pile of sprinkles!

Here’s a picture from this year. Getting ready for Santa…

It was the week before Christmas break. Alex comes running off the bus.

Alex: “Mom, I threw up.”

Me: “Are you OK? What happened?”

Alex: “My head was hurting and people kept talking. I got some on my jacket.”

Me: “Poor sweetie. That’s OK, it can be washed. I’ll give you some medicine when we get home.”

It’s only a half a mile drive from the bus stop to home. This time; however, it seemed more like an eternity. As the smell of vomit quickly overcame the van, I rolled down the window to hopefully subside the smell. IT WAS NOT WORKING! Alex was even sweet enough to roll down his window AND hold his jacket out the window.

Alyssa: “Alex, what are you doing?”

Alex: “Putting the smelly jacket outside.”

Alyssa: “Well you better be sure you hang onto it tight.” That’s her Mother in her.

Me: “Alyssa, it’s OK. He’s trying to make it not smell. If he drops it, we can stop to get it.”

Poor kid! Obviously he doesn’t feel good and then his sister starts in on him.

Finally, home! I leave the van outside to let it air out some and I tell Alex to just throw his jacket in the washing machine. In the meantime, I see Andy running into the house. He has left his backpack in the van and the door wide open. Good gravy! As if I don’t have enough going on. I thought for a second that I need to holler at him and tell him to get back here and get his stuff. I decided, though, that I had enough going on and I would just deal with him in a bit.

I walked into the house and headed to the laundry room to start the washer. I pass by the bathroom where ANDY IS NOW THROWING UP! Apparently the smell was enough for him. I’m glad I didn’t holler at the poor kid.

As a parent, you often wonder what your kids will be when they grow up. You can’t help but dream of a world renowned doctor or a well adjusted celebrity of some sort. It’s easy to put your thoughts and goals on your child. You want them to be financially stable and in a profession they love. You want the best for them. Better than you had it yourself.

This is not the first time we’ve had a situation like this. So, it’s probably safe to say that my dreams of my kids being doctors are flushed down the toilet. Pun intended!