There does happen to be one swear word in this post, and I apologize in advance for that. The Not Safe label is due to a holiday related story that will show up later in the post, so if your kids are reading over your shoulder, I suggest that you make them go away.
Thanks for the good wishes! My head is still quite achy, but I’m not feeling quite as desperate as I was last night.
I did have a fairly productive day, but really have very little to show for myself tonight. I’m working on the teacher gifts — I got the quilting done and have been working on the binding. I got some minkee for the back of the quilts. Well, minkee is a specific brand, this is a different brand, but the same kind of stuff — it’s the really soft poly stuff that is just yummy to the touch.
I was composing a blog post in my head about tips for working with it. The top two are (1) be prepared for the shedding occurs when you cut it (I’ve got little red bits of fuzz everywhere…) and (2) don’t get your iron anywhere near the stuff.
As I was mentally composing this I was working on joining the ends of the binding, and had to iron the cotton binding fabric.
“Don’t touch it with the iron, don’t touch it with the iron, don’t touch…….damn it.”
I touched it with the iron.
But then, you knew that was coming, didn’t you?
I should have taken a picture of the bottom of my iron before I started wiping the gunk off. I suppose I could take a picture of the section of the backing that has the iron imprint on it.
In completely unrelated news: My copy of Photoshop is acting really oddly and not letting me do some things I want to do. I’m downloading an update and hope that it’ll fix the problem. Today’s journal prompt was about Christmas’s Past — I’ve got some ideas about that one, too, but I’m waiting to fix Photoshop, plus I wanted to concentrate on quilting today.
And in the Signs That Your Children Are Growing Up Department:
Joe is composing a mental list of the reasons that he does and does not believe that Santa exists.
First up: His Dad informed him that a Dan Marino football jersey would be expensive, and that he shouldn’t expect Santa to bring him one.
According to Joe, it shouldn’t matter how much it costs, because Santa’s elves make the gifts that he brings. Therefore, based on Dad’s comments about the price, it must be his parents that buy the presents and not Santa.
Dad’s response: The shirt itself wouldn’t cost Santa anything, but Santa has to pay licensing and royalty fees to the Miami Dolphins.
Today, at the dentist, the hygienist was asking him about what he wanted for Christmas and what he hoped Santa would bring — he actually said to her “If he exists….”
I just shook my head.
What I need to do is figure out how to tell them that I don’t really care what they believe, but they are NOT, under ANY circumstances to say ANYTHING that would ruin it for their various cousins.
I’ve had conversations with a number of people who have said that in their house if you want presents from Santa you’d better believe…that’s all well and good, but I haven’t yet figure out how to actually say that to the boys. I’ll keep you posted on further developments.
TTFN-
Suzanne
Angela says
Glad to hear your’re feeling better. As for the whole santa thing — I’m one of those that was told if you don’t believe, you don’t get presents from the big guy. Kind of kept me “believing” long after I KNEW who the presents were from. I’d say just wait until they bring it up to you and maybe try and find the “Yes, Virginia” letter — the whole there is magic in that kind of belief kind of thing. It might work (and threats if they spoil it for their cousins might work as well).
joyce says
My granddaughter with 3 older sisters was told the real story at about age 4. Lol. She chose to believe much longer than that though.
Jan says
I have no answers but mine is asking the same thing at 5!! I’m blaming a couple of bad Christmas speacials and Dad slips…… men… 😉
myolivebranch says
what do you mean “if santa exists”? i believe. here’s my list santa!! kayp
Mom says
That dear Joe, sounds like it’s time to tell him the standard, if you don’t believe then Santa doesn’t bring presents. I’m thinking that’s how it worked in our house. You never come right out and say it, because maybe then Santa wouldn’t visit you either.
marcella says
Once upon a time a little boy I was babysitting said “come see what I found” Turns out while mom was showering he had climbed up and opened that cupboard above the stove and found those plastic easter eggs just like the easter bunny hides. He showed me and said “I don’t think there’s really an easter bunny and I have my doubts about Santa too” and then he looked at me pointedly. I said “well, my mom says if you don’t believe than the easter bunny or Santa can’t bring so I believe.” He looked at me and said” then I believe too.” I did let his mom know that the easter bunny needed to use a different color egg that year.
Jami says
When I was a kid, Santa always came to see us on Christmas Eve. I think we all “knew” there wasn’t a Santa, but we really wanted to believe…anyway, Christmas Eve came and us 3 “little kids” were laying on the living room floor by the tree playing the game we got to open early. In the back door came Santa going “Ho-Ho-Ho”, (door is not visible from the living room floor)…All three of us at the same time said “Hi, Ben!” That was the last year that Santa came to our house on Christmas Eve! I’m the oldest “little kid” in the family and I think I was probably 12. Youngest was 8.
PS-Ben was a family friend, and this was his first Santa visit to us. 🙂
I digress…I’d tell him that if he doesn’t believe, Santa doesn’t come any more!
carlafibers says
Suzanne, you are doing good! My kids are now adults (with one on the way), and they still get presents from Rudolf, Blitzer, and Mrs Claus! They know better than to argue with Mom- LOL!
AllenQuilts says
Well, I was glad when my son figured it out. Santa was getting all the credit for the really good gifts! He was so much more appreciative of them when he figured out mom was getting them for him, and it was still just as fun to watch him open them.