To put it mildly, my kids don’t get along. I have a daughter, who is about to turn 13 and a son who is 9 (and a half).

As if being, nearly, a teen isn’t hard enough, my daughter has to deal with a little brother who isn’t a typical little brother. Literally. His special needs make him all the more irritating to her. You would think she would appreciate that he can’t hear well, because it’s like a free ticket to yell.

It doesn’t help that my son is as ornery as the day is long. He will drive my poor daughter to the brink and when I get involved he will say, “I was just doing it to get her in trouble!” Push buttons much? He’s just like his father.

Last night at dinner, we were clearly heading toward a sibling blow-up because every time my daughter spoke, my son had something to add; stuff like, “Oh, please! You are such a teen!”

As her expression grew angry after his incessant comments, he knew he had to back-pedal…or so I thought. I saw him lean toward her and put his hand on her shoulder. I thought, for a second, that he was going to apologize.

Instead, he brushed her hair off of her face and said, “Ali, do you know you love me?”

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One of my favorite things about Christmas morning is opening the gifts that my kids, painstakingly, pick out at their school’s Santa Gift Land. I remember shopping for my own parents when I was a child, usually deciding on anything with a candy-cane stripe; pens, candles, shoestrings…you get the picture.

Though my daughter is about to turn 13 and is, therefore, too mature to shop at Santa Gift Land *place hand on hip* *insert eyeroll*, she does win a blue ribbon for the best item ever purchased off of a folding table in the art room. When she was in one of the lower grades and attended Santa Gift Land, she bought my husband a wolf-clock.

I’m not sure where we have it stored, but it looked sort of like this:

A fine clock specimen if you love a good mini-wolf. Plus, nothing says, “What time is it?” like an animal’s ribcage.

I don’t know why there aren’t many good choices for dads at Santa Gift Land, but this was about as good as it got. Until this year.

Last week, after shopping at school, my son came home with a coffee mug for his dad. Perfect! My husband likes coffee, he needs to drink it out of a mug and there wasn’t a wolf on it! I was actually pretty excited for him to open this gift on Christmas morning. It would be such a pleasant surprise!

The other night, my two fellas were sitting together on the couch when my nine year old suddenly asked, “Hey, Dad. What do you want for Christmas?”

My husband said, “Oh, I don’t know. I need some socks and a new pillow.”

My son nodded. “Do you want anything else?”

“Well, you know I love the Dallas Cowboys. I’d like a new Cowboys shirt.”

Then my son looked up at his dad and said, “Oh, those are good ideas. But, how do you feel about coffee mugs?”

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The other day, me, my friend Bean and our two families were talking about getting together. We were going to go to Bean’s house.

She said, “If you come over, you need to know that my house is a mess. There is clutter everywhere.”

I assured her, that I completely understood, but I don’t think she believed me. I’m here to tell her that she’s not alone. Here’s why…

This is my dining room table. Also, you should know that we recently ATE at this table while this massive pile sat with us. I had to do a two-armed swoop to push everything to one side, because the only other place to sit is our breakfast nook and that space doesn’t look any better.

Let’s take a closer look, shall we?

1. Lots of socks, because my husband has started doing the laundry and he won’t cart them around like I do. Now, they include one baseball and one softball sock from the games that were played IN JULY.

2. Two first aid kits.

3. Golf balls in a Santa bag.

4. Two mini water bottles.

5. Last week’s clean laundry; some thrown over chairs, some folded, but for goodness sake, NOT PUT AWAY.

6. A coverless book called Magic Eye II.

7. Buried under the book is a stuffed reindeer named Comet.

8. Buried under all of it is a homework assignment. Lucky, for us, it was from three weeks ago.

9. And, the white thing that looks like a tablecloth, is actually the table pad from Thanksgiving dinner.

Stay tuned for next time, when I make Bean feel even better about her house when I post a picture of my kitchen counter!

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My daughter brought home a poem today that she wrote about herself.

I am energetic and creative.

I wonder how many stars there are.

I hear the wind blowing.

I see the sun glowing.

I want to travel the world.

I am energetic and creative.

I pretend to always know what I’m talking about.

I touch the grass.

I worry about money.

I say God Bless America.

I dream of going to Stanford.

I hope to have a good future.

I am energetic and creative.

From this I can gather three things of which I was not previously aware. First, when she says, “I know what I’m talking about” I will no longer believe her and, second, we need to not discuss money problems in front of the kids.

Third, my heart broke a little when she said, “…Stanford.” I have never imagined her anywhere but right here, at Ohio State.

Because if she leaves town in six years, who the heck is going to help her brother with his 9th grade math homework?

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