Rachel Callahan

Signs of Love.

December 15, 2011December 14, 2011 Rachel Callahan Boy Child = Bizarre., Every Now and Then I Can Be Sappy Too., Toddlers: The Experience

Disclaimer: This post is much gooier than usual. In fact, it has a gooiness quotient of 7.65 on a scale of ten where zero is any song from Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill and ten is Butterfly Kisses. You have been warned.

My friends all told me how unbelievably loving little boys are. Although it seemed a rather generalized statement, I hoped they were right. After all, as thoughtful and kind as Ali is, she would much rather sit and have a logical discussion about the pros and cons of having Teal as one’s fourth favorite color than give me a hug.

And sure enough, my friends were right.

OhMyGoodness Noah adores me.

(And Chris and Ali, but I like to pretend that he loves me the best.)

He has gotten sweeter and sweeter by the day. Over the past few months, he’s been randomly crawling up to me and laying his head on my leg, arm, stomach, or whatever he can reach at the time.

But last week, he increased his adorability stock by tenfold.

He always hugs us by laying his head on our shoulder, saying “mmmmmm”, and patting our back or arm with his hand.

So to speed communication along, he invented his own sign language to let us know when that needed to happen.

The definition of this sign is most clearly “I wish I were hugging you right now.”

He uses this sign in three ways.

Sweetness Degree 1. If he’s crawling around and all of a sudden realizes that his love tank is running low, he’ll look up at me, put his hand on the side of his face, say “mmmmm”, then crawl as fast as he can to come get his desired hug.

Sweetness Degree 2. If he’s stuck in his high chair or car seat and he wishes he weren’t, he knows how to talk his way out.

I wish I were hugging you right now.

(This particular application causes a severe issue of crunchy/sticky hair glops around his ear.)

And finally, if he’s thinking of someone that he loves that’s not around, he applies…

Sweetness Degree 3. He gets a faraway dreamy look in his eyes and repeats their name while making his sign.

“Da Da….”

I wish I were hugging you right now.

Mental Note: Come back and read this post the next time he decides to scream relentlessly during naptime.

Traditionally Hating And Loving Traditions.

December 13, 2011December 13, 2011 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Survey Says. . .

Christmas traditions pull opinions out of people with the fervency of a string between a doorknob and a loose tooth. Even people who are typically easygoing and un-opinionated can shockingly explode when a despised Christmas song comes on the radio, or alternately burst into tears of unbridled joy when their favorite holiday movie scrolls by.

And dare you mention one of your own holiday preferences on Facebook, you will receive an avalanche of arguments for both the hatred and the love of your personally opinionated item.

So, in that vein, I’ve decided to open myself up for judgment to the Holiday Masses and share my own opinions. And I hope that you will add your own lists in the comments – who knows…if there’s enough data, perhaps even a graph or two will be birthed.

Rachel’s Top 10 Christmas Tradition Dislikes:

10. “Santa Baby” – the engulfing skeeziness of this song makes me feel the need to immediately wash my ears upon hearing. Nobody wants to think about Santa like that.

9. Elf on a Shelf – This is on my bottom 10 list because I’m the uncool Mom who hasn’t done it. So all of your witty Facebook pictures of what your Elf was up to last night does nothing but pile guilt and intense feelings of inadequacies upon my head.

8. “All I want for Christmas Is You” – I’m not ashamed that I like a bit of 90’s Mariah ballad action. But this song is the epitome of mixing her high-pitched squeal with whine. Yoooooo-oooo-ou BAYBAY.

7. Little Girl Santa Dresses – Obviously, matching Christmas Smock should be on this list, but that was too expected, so I added fuzzy Santa dresses instead. These remind me of the song “Santa Baby”. See item #10 for further explanation of my hatred.

6. Any and all Charlie Brown Christmas movies – I remember these fondly from my childhood, but upon DVR’ing a couple for Ali last Christmas, I was immediately overcome with sadness and angst over Charlie Brown repeatedly being called dumb, fat, stupid, and a loser. I know, Linus and the end and the Christmas story and all… but I couldn’t fight through the depression to make it there.

5. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation – This movie would have easily been #1 on the list a few years ago – I despise trainwreck movies with all my being (“Meet The Parents” = my concept of hell). However, my dear friend Nikki has helped me see SOME intrinsic value in this movie by pointing out it’s more subtle nuances, like Cousin Eddie’s dark black dickie under his thin white sweater.

4. Visiting Santa at the Mall – My child has never had any inclination to talk to any stranger, let alone sit in one’s lap and tell him her deepest desires. Whose kid does this?? And how much Jack Daniels do you have to sneak into their sippy cup to make them want to do this?? And what type of illegal holiday cheer are you on to make you willing to wait in that interminably long and whining, screaming, pooping-in-pants line???

3. “Baby It’s Cold Outside” – Again – the skeeze factor gets me on this song. I don’t want to stay – quit trying to talk me into it! Didn’t you know my sister will be suspicious??

2. “Christmas Shoes” – Nothing tests my radio reflexes like the first four bars of this song. Lock me in a room and make me listen to “Butterfly Kisses” all day long – just don’t make me listen, ever, ever again, to It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size…

1. A Christmas Story – hands down the most depressing movie I’ve ever seen. And was forced as a child to watch over. and over. and over. Despite the season. Despite my hatred. I might be traumatized…and a little bitter.

Rachel’s Top 10 Christmas Likes:

10. Reindeer Antlers and Noses on Cars – I don’t own a pair of these, but if I did, My Pilot would wear them proudly.

9. Multicolored Lights – I get all you white-lighted Christmas tree people – it looks elegant and aesthetically excellent. But nothing is cheerier than 11pm, kids quietly in bed, mocha in hand, snuggled with the hubby, lights out, gazing at the colors of the Christmas tree with squinty eyes in order to make them shoot all over the living room.

Also, they look pretty good on dollhouses.

8. Miracle on 34th Street (both versions) – This movie just makes me happy.

7. Christmas Jammies – Which reminds me – I need to go to the store NOW and find some for my kids!!! SAVE THE LAST TWO PAIRS FOR MEEEEE!!!

6. Wrapping Presents – I may have mentioned this particular obsession last week…

5. “Oh Holy Night”, “What Child is This”, and “O Come O Come Emmanuel” – Put these three songs together in a Medley, and I’d probably float away with bliss.

4. “Mary Did You Know” – I’ll never get over this being my all-time favorite Christmas song. Or the fact that Mark Lowry wrote it.

3. Christmas-Flavored Coffee Creamers – The only difficult part is deciding every morning whether I want Pumpkin Spice, Warm Cinnamon Sugar Cookie, Gingerbread Latte, or Brown Sugar Maple Latte. Yes, we have all of them at once. And no, I don’t care if every one of them is filled with artificial dipotassium phosphate. I ADORE THEM.

2. A Real Tree – This subject has been the source of many “conversations” throughout mine and Chris’ married life. He grew up fake, I grew up genuine. We all know what’s best.

1. Hearing The Christmas Story Read Aloud by my Husband – there’s something warm and supernatural that happens in my soul when I hear the first sentence… “And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus…”

What are your most passionate Christmas tradition likes and dislikes?

(Insert Applause Here)

December 12, 2011December 11, 2011 Rachel Callahan Parent of the Year

I did it.

After almost eleven years of marriage, I finally succeeded in the epitome of wifely success.

For our entire lifetime together, my husband has begged me to help make this happen, and for years I have 100% failed at supporting his hopes and dreams.

But not this year. This year was the appointed time for me to finally make his holiday visions complete.

I sent out Christmas cards.

I know, I know – all of you have been doing this for years. I know this because I get all of your Christmas cards. I even get Christmas cards from some of you whom I’ve never met in real life!

(Thank you for heaping guilt upon my head, year after year, with your holiday cheer.)

But after tackling this feat myself, I have no idea how you people do it every year – I’m pretty sure I need to take at least a ten year sabbatical after I finally get the last blessed card in the mail.

(And don’t expect a personal hand-written note, either. That’s just really going way too far.)

After round one of addressing and stamping, I made it clear to Chris that I deserved, needed, and absolutely REQUIRED some serious accolades for what I had just accomplished.

And he followed through. He melodramatically listed off everything that I did to make his lifelong dream come true, and I was again reminded as to why I now deserved at least two Mediterranean Vacations…

“You chose the photographer, you pinned down a date that worked with us and the photographer, you went shopping, you bought the clothes that we needed to coordinate but not be too matchy-matchy, you got the kids ready, you manipulated their naptimes to make them be in the best mood possible, you got us there on time, you made sure the kids didn’t have gigantic green snot hanging out of their noses, you got them to smile and laugh, you sorted through the photos, you chose the photo that was best, you custom designed the Christmas card, you found the best place to order them, you formatted them, you ordered them, you made a list of recipients, you found all of their addresses, you hand addressed the envelopes, you stamped the envelopes, and you stuffed the envelopes. You, dear wife, are amazing.”

Why yes, yes I am.

So if you received a card from us, feel free to appreciate it fully. And if you didn’t, you might be one of those annoying people that I can’t for the life of me find your address.

And for those of you who have been sending Christmas cards for years, all I can say is, thanks for making me look not nearly as awesome as I obviously am.

At any rate, here’s some of our photos, all thanks to the fabulous Natalie of Sez Me Photography…

…and now I’m off to design my trophy for Wife of the Year.

How to Make Word Search Wrapping Paper.

December 9, 2011June 18, 2012 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational

There’s always at least one odd “homemaker” skill that a wife learns from her husband. My Dad, being Greek and therefore a born-that-way amazing cook, taught my Mom everything she knows in the area of culinary skills.

Chris, being Mister Christmas himself, taught me everything I know about wrapping presents.

He has instilled in me a need to wrap perfectionistically and originally every year. And I must say, I love the challenge.

This year, I saw a wrapping paper idea on Pinterest – it was commercially made word search paper, where you could circle phrases like “Merry Christmas” and “Happy Birthday”.

I liked the idea, but I wanted to do it a bit more personally. So I decided to make my own Word Search Wrapping Paper with everyone’s names built into it – and it was much, MUCH cheaper.

There are plenty of word search creation websites out there, but the one I landed on was on Discovery Education.

I chose 40 letters across by 40 letters down under Step 1, selected the “text” option under Step 4, and entered everyone’s names that would be receiving presents from us in Step 5.

Then I realized that I wanted everyone’s names to show up multiple times so that I could easily find it and so that it would be in different spots on the paper. The website wouldn’t do multiple names, but seeing as how I was making a word search, it didn’t matter what letters were after the name, so I added unique names to my list like so:

KITTY
KITTYA
KITTYB
KITTYC
KITTYD

(The site said to make sure that there wasn’t any unintentional foul language in my word search, but I didn’t check. So if your present cusses at you, I do apologize.)

Since I selected the text option, after it generated, I just highlighted and copied the text and pasted it into Word. I set my paper size to 11 x 17, and copied the grid twice on my document.

This is where it is convenient that I’m married to an engineer, because then I sent my file to work with Chris and he printed it to PDF at 11 x 17, then printed to scale on 24 x 36 paper:

You wouldn’t have to print on such large paper, because I got multiple presents out of one sheet. But if you’re not married to a man with access to a drafting printer and you do want it on large paper, you can get it printed at any print/copy store or drafting supply company (like Alabama Graphics).

I enrolled Ali’s enthusiastic help in finding the names I needed (which was a great way to include her in the process AND entertain her while I wrapped presents),

Then I used a red highlighter or a black sharpie to circle the names before I wrapped.

The regular paper wrapped surprisingly well – much better than the flimsy wrapping papers at most stores.

Since it’s color neutral paper, my options are wide open to use all of the ribbons I’ve had for years that clashed or didn’t go with any wrapping papers – I plan on using every single one of them by the time I’m done wrapping.

And, by nature of being Word Search wrapping paper, no labels required!

…now if I can just keep Ali from circling all of the other names on the paper and completely mixing up the identity of the stash.

Christmas Disillusionment.

December 8, 2011December 7, 2011 Rachel Callahan Just My Luck, Kids: The Experience., Weird Strange and True

Dear Mr. Stover,

When I saw a display of your single serving treats in my local drugstore, I bought a couple for my daughter’s Christmas calendar.

I purchased them because I know that you have good chocolate. And I care about this because I usually manage to eat approximately 53% of my daughter’s loot, and I personally prefer good chocolate.

On the morning that she received her (my) gift of your delectable gourmet goodness, she excitedly studied the wrapper in great detail while she ate breakfast, wondering with sparkling eyes at the fabulous treat that would be enclosed within.

“Will it really be a Santa, Mommy?”

“Yes! It sure will!”

“Will he be colored like the picture?”

(This question took me back to my own childhood, where I always wished that my chocolate would be multicolored and graphically designed to perfection. Why can’t it look as good as it tastes?? I understood her desire perfectly.)

“No, it says it’s chocolate, so he’ll probably be brown.”

Her countenance fell ever so slightly.

“Oh. Okay. But he will look like that Santa, right???”

“Yes, he’ll look like a Santa – he’ll just be all brown instead of multi-colored.”

“Well, okay. I bet he will be very tasty!!”

She finally finished her breakfast, and with a gasping squee of glee, she tore into her package.

And what to her wondering eyes did appear…

“Mommy!! It doesn’t LOOK like a Santa!!”

“What? Let me see… What the … what IS that??”

“Why doesn’t it look like a Santa??”

“That is most definitely called ‘false advertising’, honey.”

“False advertising??”

“Yes. Mr. Stover has tricked us in a most grievous way.”

So, Mr. Stover, thank you for sucking the Christmas Joy right out of my child’s heart. Perhaps consider taking some art classes…or simply just buying some cheap chocolate molds.

But in the meantime, I would recommend more accurately naming this product to something along the lines of Russell Stover Maple Cream Vaguely Shaped Turd-Like Holiday Treats.

Sincerely,

A Disillusioned Consumer who still ate 53% of your delicious, albeit unfortunate in resemblance, chocolate treat.

The Christmas Countdown.

December 7, 2011December 6, 2011 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Kids: The Experience., Parent of the Year

According to Chris, the best part of vacation is the anticipation.

I don’t exactly agree with him, because being the logical person that I am, if anticipating something is better than the something you’re anticipating, then you’re obviously over-anticipating and therefore setting yourself up for failure.

Not that I would ever overphilosophize the minutia of life or anything…

However, I will concede that as a child, one of my favorite parts of Christmas was the build-up.

It all started with the first day of November, when my Mom would pull out the quilted Turkey.

He had 20-some-odd feather holes where us kids were to put feather-shaped construction paper cut-outs in each day, after writing upon them something that we were thankful for.

(Which is odd, since he doesn’t look a bit thankful and really quite angry about the whole situation.)

(Perhaps the construction paper is chafing…I never liked the feel of it either.)

I was just a kid and apparently not a very thankful kid at that, because I found this process to be – meh.

(I did enjoy the job of cutting out all of the feathers, though – apparently I liked scissors more than being thankful.)

BUT – the quilted Turkey coming out meant that it was only a month until the quilted Christmas tree came out – and THAT was a great joy to anticipate.

…with it’s 23 delightful pockets.

…delightful pockets in which my mother would fill with candy and toys – days in advance, of course, to make us agonize in our desire for them.

Finally, the month would come. Every day from December 1st to December 23rd, we would jump out of our beds with spine-tingling anticipation to collect our calendar goodness.

And then we grew up.

I didn’t receive the disgruntled poultry, but somehow, due most likely to my superior awesome-daughter-skills, I was the lucky enough to be bestowed upon the inheritance of the beloved Christmas Calendar.

(Why no, I’m not sticking my tongue out at my brothers – why do you ask?)

So this year, immediately after Thanksgiving, I pulled it out and hung it up.

I began filling the pockets with alluring treats, tormenting Ali until first of December, so as to properly hold our family tradition.

(I was not, however, as good as my Mom at buying only presents that were small enough to fit in the pockets – so I added the increased wonder and mystery of present markers – four days in which she will get to unwrap a slightly-too-big present.)

She spent days gazing upon it’s glory.

And when December finally arrived, she spent no time ripping out her first gift.

And then she happily showed it off to her little brother, who has to wait until next year to be included in the tradition.

(What? No, of course she didn’t stick her tongue out at him.)

He just gets an extra year of anticipation – which, according to his Daddy, is an entire year of the best gift of all.

Serial Vehicular Experimentation.

December 5, 2011December 4, 2011 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Anal Retentivity to a Fault

There are certain things in life that I am very opinionated about, and my transportation arrangements are one of them.

Besides the fact that I refuse to drive a minivan on sheer principle, I also apparently like very polarizing, niche vehicles.

For instance, you may remember my love affair with the Ford Flex. Of which you all screamed out your hatred of it’s unique appearance.

Although I still like how it looks, after riding in one for a weekend earlier this summer, I no longer feel that it fits my extremely limiting requirements for a vehicle. It just didn’t FEEL right, besides the fact that it was gigantic.

My latest crush is on the Honda Crosstour, another not-so-popular ride. And I have to say: I’m completely ashamed at my marketing-suckered reason for noticing this car.

Chris and I have developed an intense infatuation with Anthony Bourdain and his Travel Channel show No Reservations. We’ve been catching up on seasons past, and there’s a 2008 episode of Anthony touring the southwest in an extremely obvious product placementized BMW X6.

As they continued to plaster this car in my face throughout the entire show, I began to fall prey to their marketing whoredom. It had a nice shape…looked like it would be more fun to drive than my current boxy SUV…was low to the ground to make it easier for kids to get in and out…looked nothing like a stationwagon (like most crossovers do, in my opinion)…was definitely not a minivan…

But the value of their marketing dollars took a nasty nosedive when I noticed the extreme similarities between it and the Honda Crosstour.

OHHHH.

Same look,

same shape,

my favorite brand of car,

and exactly HALF the price.

I mentioned my new interest to our friend the Serra Honda Man (of the prior Minivan Challenge), and he offered to let me borrow a Crosstour for a day or two.

At first, I was all like “eh, I don’t need car fever.”

But then he mentioned that he had two new 2010’s still sitting on his lot, that were just like the 2011’s and 2012’s, that he needed to get rid of before the end of the year.

And that he would make me a killer deal.

That piqued my interest enough to drift into vehicular temptation.

Our first test drive attempt was a miserable failure, since Ali started puking right before we took the keys.

Two weeks later, when we were getting our make-up date night from The Puketastrophe, we decided to give it a try again, vowing to each other that if we got another vomitous phone call, we would take that as a sign that we were NOT to look at the Crosstour, ever.

No hurling commenced, so we drove this car for the rest of our date:

We discussed the pros and cons of it…

We loved that it handled like a car, but didn’t so much love the poor visibility in the back.

The stereo system was pretty awesome, but we would have to give up the option of having our third row for additional guests.

We liked it being low to the ground, but – what?? No cupholders in the back?? Doesn’t Honda know that I feed my kids a diet of nothing but Chick-Fil-A drive-thru??

(We did finally realize that there were some cupholder-like openings at the bottom of the backseat doors…its saving grace for sure.)

We fully appreciated the gigantic discount of buying a two year old new car, but were sorely disappointed that it had lost it’s new car smell somewhere along the way – a nasal experience nearly worth the 2012 full price.

We discussed the fact that this was, in all practical terms, a CAR. Which means that we’re basically saying that we’re done having kids – if we bought it, we’d be giving ourselves an automotive vasectomy.

(Or at the very least, a five year vehicular IUD.)

We tested out the trunk space – which was as deep as my Pilot, but not as tall.

Obviously, the engineers knew their target market: perfectly fit to our pack and play and stroller.

The next morning, we drove it out to my parent’s and picked up our passengers.

They were giddy about the test-driving experience.

Ali enjoyed the benefit of getting to lean on Noah’s seat and the added closeness to her beloved brother,

and Noah tested out the car’s Poopability.

Which, I must say, was very impressive – I never smelled that turd until I got him out.

We returned the car on Saturday night with the intention of thinking about it for a few days.

A great deal – definitely.

A rare opportunity to buy a two year old new car – uh huh.

But we weren’t head-over-heels-completely-in-love-obsessed-we-can’t-stand-the-thought-of-not-having- it.

Does that just mean we’re growing up into mature decision making adultish-type responsible parenty people, or that we shouldn’t buy it?

Help us.

Thoughts on the Crosstour? Cool like an X6 or funky like a Flex?

Disclaimer: Serra Honda did not compensate me in any way or ask me to write this post. In fact, they probably wish we would stop driving their cars for days on end and just buy one already.

Jealousy.

December 1, 2011November 30, 2011 Rachel Callahan Guest Post, NoahBlogs, Utter Silliness

Hi, virtual people! Noah here!

So I just found out that The Sister Who Calls Herself Ali guest blogged yesterday.

And let me tell you – my first reaction was not happiness on her behalf.

I’M the guest blogging kid around here – not her!!

And besides that, I had just pitched an awesome blog idea to The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy last week, and she flat turned me down.

Shock and horror doesn’t begin to describe my emotions over her rejection.

I mean, which of you readers WOULDN’T have wanted to see a graph showing how my Uncontrollable Ninja Poos compared in strength next to Bruce Lee, The Karate Kid, and Kung Fu Panda?!?

I told you it was awesome.

But can you believe that all she gave me was a condescending, “Maybe next time, honey…”

And then I read Ali’s guest post.

(Of course I can read. Whaddya think I am, a baby??)

I mean – how can a ridiculously confusing diatribe of Princesses and Fairies sitting on moons be anywhere NEAR as interesting as my uncontainable nuclear bowels??

So yes – I’m mad.

And I’m disappointed in The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy – I really thought she had better taste than that.

But don’t you worry about me – because I’m also busy plotting my tasty revenge.

I’ve watched enough Phineas and Ferb to know The Facts of Life: the little brother ALWAYS comes out ahead.

I’ve perfected my plan, so now all I have left to do is practice my simpering looks of innocence when I am inevitably accused of my crimes.

“Who, me??”

“Oh – you think I could do something like that?”

“Seriously?? I’m shocked at the mere suggestion that I have the bodily coordination and cognitive wherewithal to dunk every last one of your precious princesses in the toilet!!”

Oh yes, dear Ali. I AM THAT BROTHER.

Just call me Nemesis.

The Art of Storytelling.

November 30, 2011November 29, 2011 Rachel Callahan Ali Blogs, Guest Post, Kids: The Experience., Storytime

Ali has begun filling all of our car rides with long, meandering stories with intensely complicated and slightly psychedelic plots, characters popping in and out with no introduction, and with endless subplots with no resolve. She has graciously offered to guest blog one of these high quality stories, with the stipulation that I do the typing for her, and that I type it EXACTLY as told.

And so, I present to you, Ali’s first guest blog.

Once there was one princess. And she was looking for her friends. But they…they were…she found out they were in funny looking stockings. And then they found out that the stockings were down in big holes.

But.

They were all very happy.

But.

One evening they saw a person saying saying an H and a P. Because he wanted to figure out what the princesses were about.

But.

They found all the fairies but Rosetta was looking for all the rest of her friends.

And so.

She also wanted to go look for her Gramamma.

But.

Her Mommy was looking for her Daddy.

And so.

Her Pop was looking for her Gramamma.

But.

She was looking for Cinderella. But she found Tinkerbell. But Tinkerbell was looking for HER Daddy. And so now they thought a very good moons but they sat on a moon. Then they sat on top of a star. Isn’t that silly? And then a lantern…and then they saw a lantern appeared but they realized Tinkerbell had put pixie dust on Jasmine but Jasmine was carrying the lantern.

But.

Tinkerbell and Silvermist were all looking for Rosetta and Iridessa. And then everyone was looking for a moon. But they found a moon way up in the sky.

But.

They found lots and lots – you know how many stars they found? A million hundred thousand. They knew there was a million hundred thousand stars in the sky. But it was really dark. Whoa – my stories have lots of words in them. But a Christmas tree had lots and lots of a hundred million thousand ornaments on it. A hundred million thousand. That’s the end of my story.

I’m going to tell you a longer story now. Make all those words go away so there’s plenty of room for my long story.

Okay. Here it is.

Once there was one star. A star was looking for a candy cane. And then a lantern appeared. Cinderella was not holding the lantern – only Snow White was!

And.

This is going to be a short story, okay? And then the letters appeared. And then princesses appeared. And that’s the end of my story.

Welcome To My World.

The Black Friday Buzz.

November 29, 2011November 29, 2011 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Parent of the Year

Blissfully drunken with holiday cheer and the much needed four day weekend, Chris and I became horrible parents, of the over-permissive variety.

“Sure honey, you can turn the hardwood stairs into a slip ‘n slide!”

“Why not? Of course you can drive today!”

“Oh, you want to drive like your little brother? Okay, Ali! You can have the next turn!”

We were both so carefree and celebratory that if Ali had asked us for a pink pony with a purple glitter tail and five hooves, we would have probably cheerfully agreed and set out to the nearest Custom Bred Pony Farm to order one.

As proof of our overly-indulgent attitude, here is an outline of Ali’s diet:

Thanksgiving:

Breakfast: per request, Cinnamon Rolls.

Lunch: per request, a “Camping Snack”, which consisted of a mixture of Phineas and Ferb Gummies, M & M’s, peanuts, raisins, and yogurt covered raisins.

Thanksgiving Dinner: I didn’t even try to get Ali to eat a casserole or dressing or any other such goodness that filled our table. I just fixed her a plate full of fruit, turkey and deviled eggs and called it a night.

Black Friday:

Breakfast: Leftover Banana Pudding.

Lunch: Frozen Yogurt with all the toppings.

(“Mommy, it’s SO fun to eat Banana Pudding for breakfast and ice cream for lunch!!! Why don’t we do this every day?!?”)

Dinner: Chicken and fries.

Obviously, we are in need of a major intervention.

While the children held their stomachs and moaned, Chris and I spent Friday morning enjoying the delights of Black Friday accounts on Twitter, such as the Great Bedsheet Riot at the Trussville Wal-Mart and the infamous Midnight Tazing at the Florence Wal-Mart:

Photo as retweeted by @Spann – I would give original photo credit to whoever was brave enough to BE at the Florence Wal-Mart in the middle of the night, but despite my research, the original documenter seems to have gotten lost in the confusion.

Though we enjoyed a healthy portion of shaking our heads at the madness and declaring that no deal was worth that, a few hours later, in our state of debonair holiday spiritedness, we….went shopping.

On Black Friday.

With two kids in tow.

With two kids in tow that had eaten nothing but sugary frivolities for two days straight.

We headed out to the Outlet Mall, highly anticipating enjoying the beautiful, sunny day as we meandered down the outdoor aisles. And, much to our delight, there were actually parking spaces available!! And air to breathe!!

It actually wasn’t bad at all, which may be a doomsday sign for Black Friday actually being black, but we enjoyed it nonetheless. The hardcores had obviously already gone home to nap, and the crowds that were left was a fascinating mixture of of Amish people and foreign tourists.

Although I was a bit puzzled at what the Amish people were buying at the outlet mall, the foreign tourists were the most entertaining. I mean – it’s BIRMINGHAM, people – I love it here and all, but… who mixed up your airline tickets??

There was the woman in Gymboree…yelling at her kid in, after I studied intently for a moment, what I convinced myself was Slovak.

“NeeekoLAS!!! NEEKOLAS!! NEEK-O-LAS!!! VEMTE SI ZADOK TADY PRAVE TERAZ!”

Then there was the Chinese Mom tormenting her tween son. She was in full tourist get-up (it makes me happy that us Americans aren’t the only ones who sport such looks), desperately trying to take her son’s photo.

First at the cement benches. He sat with his head buried in his lap, as she waited patiently from ten feet away, camera aimed, knees bent, smiling and coaxing, button on the trigger, ready to snap the world’s most boring photo.

(I awkwardly tried to figure out how I could pass them without potentially making her miss her shot.)

Then we spotted them again, an hour later, this time with him posed in front of the outdoor Christmas tree, looking as mortified as if his underwear was hanging on the massive fake spruce behind him.

Then AGAIN a half an hour later, looking just as thrilled about his latest photo-op in front of the waterfall.

I mean, I love our outlet mall and all, but it’s no Lady Liberty or Mount Rushmore.

But, if Ali had asked us to take her to see Lady Liberty that day, we probably would have cheerfully agreed – after allowing her to stuff her face with more high fructose corn syrup.

So how about you? What’s your Black Friday philosophy? Did you drown in the maddening crowds, or stay at home and scoff in their general direction?