Marking your child’s growth by penciling in notches on the door-frame
is something that most parents do. It’s exciting to look back and see just
how much your child has grown. I stopped measuring Tyler years ago,
he started to hit his growth spurt and now at 15, he’s leaving me in the dust.
I’m not short — I’m vertically challenged.
Here’s a great twist on the idea of marking your child’s growth. It’s an
easy craft project I found in FamilyFun Magazine. Instead of simply
marking your child’s growth, you make a chart using craft paper that
you hang on the wall and as you measure, you include a corresponding
photo. It’s a visually pleasing way to see how your child is growing
both in height and how their facial features change over time.
The complete instructions can be found here.
I hate Christmas music. Don’t get me wrong — I’m no Scrooge, mind you — but I do feel a bit Bah humbug-ish lately whenever I hear Christmas music. I feel like I’m hearing Christmas music earlier and earlier each year. I think in a few years we’ll start hearing it right after Halloween ! But seriously, I don’t want to hear Christmas music the day after Thanksgiving. Hell, I’m still recovering and probably haven’t even starting working on Christmas yet.
The other day I was in Rouses and I literally screamed out like a mad person, because instead of the muzak they normally play, the music of Christmas was fa la la la la ing- through the store. No, please— not while I’ll shopping for eggs and milk. And certainly not at 8 in the morning. When I reached the register, I was still complaining. The cashier told me she basically tunes it out. Oh, if it was that easy for me!
When I was a young lass, I loved Christmas music. But then again, the radio stations didn’t crank it up it seems until the week before Christmas. Which was great because listeners didn’t get sick and tired of hearing Christmas songs over and over and over again from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas day. Now by the time we arrive at the Christmas season proper, I’m just so damn sick of hearing these tunes, I want to gouge my own eyes out.
Ok, maybe it’s not that serious, but I really would love it, if we could hold off on the jingles until, say December 20. That would make me, and my ears grateful. Perhaps this should be my Christmas wish.
Myra Faye Turner, Writer