Fear, detailed.

I hear a cry, a piercing, terror inducing shriek coming from just outside our front door.
Its Liam.

I drop the dishtowel and run, full speed, slamming into the front door with both hands before pulling it open with alarming force. Just off the porch and to the right, about 25 feet, he is crouching, shielding his head with one arm and flailing his other arm as something, two somethings, encircle him almost playfully. One yips and swipes at him as the other takes a nip at his frantic little arm. Taking in the unbelievable scene I realize they are mountain lion cubs. Grabbing the broom by the door I jump from the porch to save my little boy. Before my feet even touch down something hits me, slams into me. A wall of beige fur and muscle knocks me to the ground and I tumble in the dirt swinging the broom at the advancing jaw and claws. Its the cub's mama and she is as pissed off as I am. Her jaw snaps the broom rendering it useless and after a quick glance at Liam still crouching, still whole, I realize what I have to do; I retreat back into the house.

I'm frantic as I tear up the stairs and into my bedroom closet. With one sweep of my arm I brush everything from the shelf as I reach for the long leather case. I drop to the floor and pull open the the unlocked zipper as I hear my fathers voice in my head ("If ever you need to use this gun you wont have time mess with a lock"). I peel the case away from the shotgun and stand to grab a box of buckshot from the shelf. It feels like I've been gone for hours and as I run back down the stairs panic begins to cripple me. What will I find when I open that door? Please God. I push the thought out of my mind as I reach the door. I crack it open and I can hear Liam crying. He's calling my name. I call back to him: "Its gonna be OK baby, just stay still, I'm coming." Laying the 12 gauge on the floor I rip open the box of shells and they fly everywhere. I grab a handful and turn the shotgun over to load the magazine, I get two shells in but my hands are shaking so bad I fumble with the third shell and it skips across the floor out of reach. Two will have to do. Standing, the gun at my side, I open the door fully and step out onto the porch. Liam is now laying face down on the ground with his arms covering his head as the cubs nip at the back of his neck. His shirt is shredded and he is bleeding.

Upon seeing me reemerge from the house Mama mountain lion hisses at me. Its a warning, shes telling me to let her cubs hunt. I call to Liam again: "Mommy's here Liam, stay very still now. Try hard for me OK?" Hearing my voice mama lion takes more interest in Liam. She begins to circle him, slowly, her head low. I take my position on the porch, one that keeps Liam out of my line of fire. She is watching, her eyes trained on me. Griping the gun so tight that my knuckles are white, I pump the action to chamber the round and raise it to my shoulder. With my index finger resting on the trigger guard I wrap my middle finger around the gun to release the safety. Closing my left eye to take aim I wait for her to circle back into my sight. The gun is heavy, my arms are shaking. I hear Liam whimpering with his face in the dirt and I am scared.

Suddenly she is there. And now I have to shoot her. My finger squeezes the trigger and I flinch as the explosion jolts my body and rings in my ears.


When I open my eyes I'm staring at the ceiling... I'm groggy. I feel breath on the side of my face and slowly turn my head to find Liam standing at the side of my bed his face only inches from mine. "G'mornin mommy" he says.

5 Things

5 things you probably didn't know about me:

1. I hate talking on the phone. There are only a few exceptions. One is my mother. I will always talk to her at length about everything and nothing. Another is if I miss you and am feeling exceptionally chatty. And finally, if I need something from you, ring, ring. Other than that I'm probably going to stay on the line only long enough to share or receive information. Its nothing personal. My dad is the same way; I blame him.

2. I love mayonnaise. Really. I use way more than I should on a sandwich, burger or wrap. I even dunk my fries in it. But I feel guilty about it, shameful even.

3. I own a gun. Again, when your father is a firearms and toolmarks expert it just sort of happens.

4. I have a very short fuse. I may have mentioned it before but I think it bears repeating. Due to my mostly shy and quiet exterior its actually quite comical if not a little alarming when I turn into the hulk. A few examples of me going off the deep end: If I bang my head or bash my elbow I will immediately proceed to slam my fist into the nearest unforgiving surface (I'm not patching any Sheetrock just because I hit my funny bone). Another time, I slammed an ashtray into a table which in turn shattered the ashtray into my palm. Stupid right? I know. I am not ignorant to the fact that I am now the role model to a strong willed, stubborn little person watching, absorbing my every move, every outburst waiting to make them his own when frustration strikes.

God sent me Liam, to teach me patience and humility... and he tests me everyday.

5. Prior to having Liam, I was a bully. no lie. Whenever I would drink, there would come a point in the evening of consumption when I would have one too many and become... volatile. To the point where something (anything) Chris would say would upset my precariously unbalanced emotional state and BOOM, I'm all:

"You're going to bed? Oh, so what, you're tired and you're just going to leave me down here? Fine GO AHEAD I don't give a... wait, where are you going? DON'T WALK AWAY FROM ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU! You don't respect me!" And then I'm following him upstairs crying because I cant stay in a relationship where I'm not respected. Knowing the drill, Chris just shakes his head at me and pretty much ignores my ranting until I pass out. End scene.

Listen, we all have a little bit of crazy in us. Thankfully, I outgrew mine. sort of.

wasn't me.

He was supposed to be sleeping...

...instead he was tearing the place apart. Busted!

Confession

You'll need to forgive me, in advance, if what I'm about to share is insensitive or even offensive but I'm having a rough day. Maybe its because its Valentines day or maybe its because I'm feeling stressed about my job search or maybe its just because I really, really miss my sister but I don't ever want to see this commercial again:






Because every time I do, I want to scream. Or shout at the t.v. YOU'RE TOO LATE. I look at the faces of the people celebrating one more birthday and I think: why you?

Pretty horrible, right?

So instead of facing the bitter, selfish person I become over a television commercial that is meant to inspire and motivate, I just turn away. Before the tears well in my eyes; before I begin to count the days she had until her next birthday (23) or the days she has been gone from our lives (280) I change the channel.

But not before I think: Official sponsor of birthdays, psh... if you're lucky.

TOP 10...

...reasons losing your job sucks:

10. Unemployment is more of a pain in the ass than its worth

9. Not getting to hang out with your friends at work

8. Not getting to hang out with your friends at the pub after work

7. Feeling useless

6. Daytime TV is HORRIBLE

5. You're the reason your toddler is a Gymboree drop-out

4. Being THAT women in the grocery store shuffling between the coupons, and the list and the
flyer and the calculator, Its ridiculous.

3. Filling out job application after application and then playing the waiting game

2. Having to shop at wal-mart because it really is cheaper

1. Saying goodbye to a place you called home

...reasons losing your job aint so bad:

10. My house is always clean

9. Having time to learn how to use my camera properly

8. Having all the time in the world to plan and prepare meals

7. Not being too tired to read at the end of the day

6. Having the time to catch up on all my DVR'd shows

5. Making cookies and brownies with Liam

4. Play-doh, hide and seek, stories and nature walks

3. Play dates with other SAHMs (aka: out of work moms) that include copious amounts of wine

2. The inspiration the comes when considering the endless possibilities the future holds

1. Being home, every night, to tuck my baby boy into bed

The high cost of making memories..

This is Liam's second Christmas. I had it in my head that I'd like to try and get a picture of him with Santa every year until he refuses out of fear or pre-teen embarrassment. So it was with this goal in mind that we headed to the mall yesterday evening to make a memory.

Now I know what brand of crazy I am to be braving the mall only 5 days before Christmas. All the same I rationalized, we've got no where to be tonight, so we'll just take our time, get a bite to eat and roll with the punches. Little did I know how very foreshadowing that thought was.

So Chris, Liam and I get to the mall about 4:30. We park three quarters of a mile away in the only open spot in the whole lot and proceed to trek in. We make our way to the "North pole" and find that the line isn't long at all. I'm thinking: this is a Christmas miracle! There are, maybe, 5 groups ahead of us in line and I've estimated a 20 minute wait in line. With both Chris and I here, that is do-able. One of us waits in line while other chases after Liam as he runs through the mall dodging and weaving through the masses. Its fun. really.

So after we snake through the empty roped off maze we take our place in line. Someone raising their voice immediately grabs our attention. Its the woman second in line, she is angry. The elf in charge of ushering children in to see Santa has just spoken to the group of people waiting at the head of the line. I couldn't hear what she said but whatever it was, it made the woman in line IRATE. She begins yelling at the elf in a thick accent I cant quite place "I have two children who have been waiting already for 20 minutes!" the elf nods her head knowingly and just points to the cardboard sign she is holding. I try to get a glimpse of it but there are too many people ahead of me blocking my view. As the woman's protests get louder families start ducking out of line. I'm totally oblivious and think, keep on yelling lady, you're scaring everyone ahead of us away! I've moved up considerably in line and can now see Santa sitting in his big throne of a chair surrounded by beautiful poinsettias both large and small. In my head I think: those are poisonous, but not enough to kill you. To the left of the throne is a tall green Christmas tree with twinkling lights and a shiny gold star. Scattered around the foot of the tree are decorative boxes wrapped in glittery paper and big colorful bows. Its really quite pretty and not make-shift at all. Santa's got a little boy on his lap and is trying desperately to ignore the commotion that's happening just a few short feet away from him. But he cant focus on the kid, not when there's a crazy lady flapping her arms and pointing in the usher elf's face. Santa's eyes keep wandering in our direction. He cant help it. As the camera elf attempts to get keepsake picture of this kid with Santa a security guard approaches. He's older than your typical mall guard, I always think of kids in their early twenties but this one is maybe 50. The uniform is ridiculous though. He's got a badge pinned to his shirt, a utility belt with only a flashlight, walkie-talkie and a log book. And the Pièce de résistance: a stetson hat. I'm ALWAYS reminded of a Canadian Mountie. Sans horse and dignity. It just looks silly in a mall. He asks what the problem is and before usher elf can open her mouth the lady begins her rant again. "WE HAVE BEEN WAITING IN LINE FOR MORE THAN 20 MINUTES AND JUST NOW SHE INFORMS US THAT SANTA IS GOING ON BREAK, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" The stupid security guard totally misses her point and replies: "20 minutes is not a long time to wait to see Santa." This only pisses the lady off more. "20 MINUTES IS A LONG TIME TO WAIT FOR TWO YOUNG CHILDREN, BUT WHAT IS INFURIATING IS THAT THEY ALLOWED US TO WAIT IN LINE ALL THIS TIME WITHOUT INFORMING US THAT THEY WERE NOT TAKING ANY MORE VISITORS UNTIL 6 PM.

Wait, what?

I look at the clock, its just about 5. That means if we want to keep our place at the front of the line we'd have to stand here for an hour and wait. No friggen way.

Suddenly, with all the information put into perspective I get it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I certainly wouldn't have made a scene, but if I had been waiting for 20 minutes before they told me I'd have to wait another hour, I too would have been frustrated. Chris and I left the scene at the north pole before seeing how it wrapped up but I'd bet a fair amount that that women got her kids in to see Santa before he went and got himself a number 3 combo at china express. But at what cost? When she looks at her keepsake photo from Christmas 2010 what will she remember?

We wont have a 2010 picture of Liam with Santa but when I think back, my memory will be that instead of waiting in line to see Santa we ran through the mall and played in the play place.

Well, that and the grown woman who threw a temper tantrum in line waiting to see Santa.

Favorite things

Because I've always wanted to, this year I decided all of the gifts I give will be wrapped in brown paper and tied up with strings, among other decorative things!



And they turned out so pretty and festive I couldn't resist sharing my ideas here...


Felt ribbon with some small sleigh bells I picked up at a craft store.



I saved blown Christmas lights in my junk drawer for years, thinking they would be pretty to decorate with, but never really knew what to do with them until this year. Love this!



Again with the felt ribbon, and some festive evergreen, berries and a pine cone from our yard. I secured everything together using a garbage bag tie then covered it with another snip of red ribbon to hide the tie.


Another pretty jingle bell with curling ribbon.


And a last minute addition! I wonder what it could be...


...just a little peek.




Ok, so in my defense, It came yesterday by mail. I was home. It says what it is right on the outside of the box! (smooth, amazon.) So when Chris gets home he pretends he doesn't know what it could possibly be and I'm all Mhmm, right. So about an hour later he just hands me the package.

YOU CANT DO THIS. EVER. not to me anyway. I'm a spoiled little brat who loves presents and can hardly stand waiting to open them.

Before it even registers, I'm opening it. All the while Chris is giving me this look that's a cross between disgust and utter disbelief. Although I know he's just playing. He's no different than I am. Except that I can hold out on the giving, he cannot.
So I mess around with it a while, download a book or two (so I'll have something on it when I open it FOR REAL at mom and dads) and tada, now its wrapped and pretty.

Do I regret spoiling both the pleasure of plucking it out from under the tree Christmas morning and the surprise of opening it to find the only (material) thing I wished for?


Nope, not one bit. :)