2022 Total: $6,218.40

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Wednesday
Nov182009

Yeah. It Matters.

Since starting the Christmas Crazy for Kids shenanigans, I've received dozens of emails and messages from people talking about their own craptacular Christmas experiences. Some have been funny, some have brought tears to my eyes, and all have reminded me that it really does matter that all kids have a chance to receive a toy for the holidays.

One email in particular struck a chord, so I asked the author if I could share it. The following are some of her words.

*************************************************************************

Hi,

I just realized that I don't know your name but I have been reading your blog for a long time. I wanted to thank you for all that you have done to raise money for Christmas toys for kids. It has meant so much to me.

2008 was my bad year. It really was more like a nightmare. I lost my husband after he had a heart attack. Instead of having another 60 years with him, I was left alone to raise our two girls. I gave up my job to be home with them so I was completely lost without Jim*. Just getting by every day was a challenge. We didn't have health insurance when Jim got sick, so I was left to try to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills. I probably don't have to tell you that it was very hard.

When December came, I knew there wasn't a way that I was going to be able to provide my girls with the Christmas they deserved. They had already lost their dad and their childhood and there I was forced to take away their Christmas too. It was by luck that someone told me to look in to Toys for Tots. Toys for Tots saved our Christmas. Because of their help, my girls had presents to open on Christmas morning.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that what you are doing is important and it does matter. Thank you.

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*Name was changed to protect confidentiality

Thank you all for your help, from her and from me.

Tuesday
Nov172009

I Wish I Could Say the Dora Toys Were Exempt from Procreation

I could have saved a small fortune if I had known, but I had no idea. I thought that in order to obtain toys, you had to spend money or find someone to give them to you. Nope. Not true. All you have to do if you want some toys is to send a few off to a storage shed. Once that door closes and the mice and bugs start to invade, those toys get . . . ahem . . . "busy." They multiply. They breed. They make like the Duggars and procreate.

There is no other explanation.

When we lived in the tiny little townhouse, it was a constant struggle to keep the pile of plastic toy factory puke under control (sorry, but that's exactly what it looked like in our living room--like a toy factory had puked all over it). I was constantly rotating things out, boxing things up, and sending toys that I deemed "done" off to storage. I often thought about giving lots of toys away, but we held on to the hope that we would be moving soon and would have enough space for them all.

We did. We do. Alexis has a giant playroom complete with a walk-in closet.

(Aside: the playroom wound up in the living room that is off our family room. That would be the room with its own bathroom. It was selected because My Two Army Brats commented that her boys would throw toys off the side of the loft. In an instant, I knew Alexis would, too. I don't really feel the need to have my head smashed by a flying Dora doll, thankyouverymuch.)

It wasn't until I started unpacking all of the boxes from storage that I realized the depths of depravity we have inflicted on our kid. Toys. Toys. Toys. Miles and miles of toys. There are four large plastic tubs of stuffed animals. There are two full tubs of dolls. A shelf is dedicated to boxes and boxes of board games. It's nothing short of a miracle that the kid doesn't spend her every waking minute bawling her eyes out about how we clearly don't love her and she has absolutely nothing to do.

I'm quite certain that daycare would believe her story, if she were to tell it.

Every Wednesday is Show-n-Tell. Every Wednesday I send Alexis into her playroom to pick out something to take with her. Every Wednesday she walks straight to the little bin that holds Happy Meal toys and picks one out.

Despite a room full of toys that didn't come free with some french fries, the kid takes a Happy Meal toy to school every. single. Wednesday.

I wish I had known that all a kid needs is a few Happy Meal toys before I sent all those things off to storage to procreate.

Monday
Nov162009

7 Layers of Fun

It's been nearly two years since it dawned on me that some of my most favoritest bloggers (who also happened to be parents) lived close enough for me to stalk in person. A few comments and emails later, 17 of us had a dinner date.

Chaos ensued.

The chaos was so spectacular that we decided to make that dinner date a regular thing. Pretty much every month since, a group of us has gotten together. Some people have joined in on the fun only to fade away soon after, but others have come along to take their places. At any given Burgh Moms and Dads get-together, you'll find twenty or so people.

And then there is our annual cookie swap. When you throw cookies into the mix, amazing things happen. Mostly, you know, cookies, but also HOLY LOT OF PEOPLE. At our house. Because I love love love love love that we finally have a house big enough to entertain, so bring it on!

I don't know how many people were here Saturday, but I know that there are ten dozen cookies in our freezer. Actually, hold on . . . make that nine dozen. I was hungry and there were Buckeyes to destroy.

There were kids EVERYWHERE. You couldn't walk five feet without having to make sure you weren't stepping on tiny, adorable, chubby little fingers. You couldn't see the carpet in the playroom because the toys were strewn about. And then you couldn't walk through the dining room without eating a cookie or ten.

Heaven. That's what it was. Heaven.

I would have photographic evidence of the heaven, but it seems I can't figure out how to use my camera lately. Apparently while Mr. Husband and Alexis were battling the flu a few weeks ago, I came down with an epic case of ForgotHowToTakePictures-itis. Please send a cure.

In exchange for a cure to my disease, here is the recipe for the Seven Layer Bars that I made. Easy and kind of generic, but we've already established that I can't be trusted to finish anything. I had to go that route.

4 tablespoons butter
1 1/2 cup crushed graham crackers
1 cup chocolate chips
1 cup butterscotch chips
1 cup chopped walnuts
1 1/2 cup shredded coconut
1 14 oz can sweetened condensed milk

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Melt the butter in a 9x13" pan (I use glass). Smother the melted butter with the graham crackers and even it all out. Add the remaining ingredients in layers, making sure to evenly spread the sweetened condensed milk over the top. Bake for 25 minutes, or until the coconut is lightly browned.

Make sure to score the sides of the pan once the bars have cooled a little bit, unless you want to have to eat all of the ones on the edge. They kinda suck to get out of the pan if you forget to score them and the edge ones will fall apart, turning way too ugly to be given to other people. Ahem.