Let nothing you dismay...

Did you know that you can follow the Dalai Lama and Deepak Chopra on Twitter? Me, too, of course, but I digress (it's at Eliskacounce. Follow me! I'm feeling along in the Twittaverse). Weird to think about clerics and monks tweeting. Do they have Blackberries?

At any rate, I love that I can get updates about Miley Cyrus' leather pants and bong usage right alongside words of wisdom from religious figures. The Dalai Lama (and I have to get away from the visual of him in his robe hunched over his IPhone...surely he cusses AT and T too) tweeted yesterday this quote:

"Remember that calmness and compassion are an important part of living a fruitful, positive human life."

Holla, brotha (I'm almost certain I would ssy something different to him in person). I would like to retweet your idea of calm and compassion, particularly for my fellow Collin County citzens during this holiday season. Be CALM when the salespeople appear slow or perhaps lobotomized. Be COMPASSIONATE with the road rager, for he knows not what he does.

Be kind, becuase everyone you meet is fighting a great battle, no matter how much money they do or do not have. Your act will be rewarded in a fruitful and positive life.

McKinney Momma Holidrama

The only way to make it through this time of year and come out on the other side with any semblance of sanity is to retreat to the moment. Find joy in what you can...I did a little inner dance over self-adhesive stamps this morning, for example, when I had to mail forty Christmas cards. Can you imagine the licking?? On the other hand, stop imagining the licking.

Slow down. Do whatever you're doing with deliberateness instead of the usual crazed done-and-I'm-on-to-the-next one we Mommies do so well. Bake the cookies to bake the cookies...smell, taste, really hear and experience each moment. Stop. Hear the carol. Notice your feelings.

All too soon the magic of watching Christmas through your young children's eyes will be over. Enjoy them now. Christmas is amazing for  them, no matter what material goods they might be receiving. Talk about the magic, the believing, the spirit.

I'm also a big believer in the best Christmas tradition as having fun. Please don't let your children remember you as the Yulezilla who would rather have every detail of the decorating and menu perfect than have family members enjoy themselves and you. They won't remember what present you got them this particular year or even if the turkey was dry or delicious. They will absolutely remember you crying and cursing in the bathroom with the door locked.

Good luck with the holidrama!

The Bitch Goddess Megatronics Corporation

My husband's job with Megatronics (not its real name) giveth, but damn, do it taketh away. I'm thrilled with the health insurance; God forbid that ever goes away with my three Typhoid Mary children, but really. Laptop open constantly, all hours day and night, holidays. No time off...even at the holidays. Oh, the days are there, but Megatronics will punish you for using them. Phone bud in the ear, mumbling like a schizophrenic.

This is not a rant against my husband! To his credit, he's doing everything he can to keep me supporting the entire economy of North Texas. But Megatronics is sucking the life out of my already health-compromised husband. He's complicit, of course, but that's for another blog.

It's such a Dickensian dirty little secret, isn't it? You work for one of these big companies, and in this economy everyone's so damn happy to not have been amongst the quarter of staff fired in 08 or 09. Please, sir? May I have some more? You WILL work as many hours as we ask, salary boy, and you will smile and ask for more or go without treatment for your lemon of a liver.

Sick kids? Oh well. Unfed animals? Too bad. Skyrocketing divorce rates among workers who literally are expected to be up at any hour of day or night to answer an email, engineer software, or be on a conference call to India? Alas. I am working very hard not to put an expletive in front of "India," by the way, because I'm a good Southern girl with appropriate breeding. But I am starting to bristle whenever I hear the accent.

But you'd be proud! I'm adjusting. I am here to be the maker of the home for now, while the babies are small. And to support my other wives and mommies. Holla back, those ladies who do all the housework, all the shopping, the maintenance of every social relationship, the cooking, the butt wiping, and some of you work full time too...just not at the Megatronics job that carries the insurance, so you draw the short stick and suck it up for the good of your family.

You do not go unseen or unsung! March on, my domestic sistahs!! I gots love for ya!

Out of the mouths of babes

So this was fun. Got up Saturday morning, managed to get two of three of the offspring stuffed into holiday-appropriate garb by 8am (ugh! It's Saturday!) and packed into the Blazebago to truck down to Megopolis to a charity event featuring, of course, Santa. Naturally the middle kid is scared of Santa, so I've got 1of 3 and 3 of 3 (just deal with the geeky Borg reference) trundling down the road on time with not a small amount of Mommy sweat shed.

Now, naturally I have to get lost because my iPhone is an iPain in my iAss and gives me the wrong directions. So, a frantic call to hubby at home with Skeerdy who saves my aforementioned  ass with directions to where I am actually going.

Having arrived on two wheels into the parking lot, we are thankfully on time thanks to my earliness neurosis. I can relax! I foolishly think. We have snacks, we see Santa (kick ass Santa, by the way: if you're local, look into the December 12 Hope's Door Santa thing in Lewisville. He rocked!), I'm feeling like we may escape with few or no emotional scars. Alas, it will not bear out.

Here's the gem, the parenting moments we all cherish. That I will look back on and laaaaauughh..... I am chatting up the CEO of the organization sponsoring the event, networking my brilliant counseling behind off, thinking how it's all going well, talking to her about possibly volunteering for her in the spring. I'm telling her about how I am making some changes professionally in the spring, would she be interested in my being a part of the organization...here's what rolls out of my seven year old son:

"Hi! Yeah, we can't afford the country club any more so my mom's coming home!"

And...scene.