Yeah, yeah…Cowboys and Gunslingers…I’ll get to part two. Yesterday I got a little surprise.

Not a bad one, and not one that was unexpected…just…just…I wasn’t quite ready for this one.

Granted, I’ve had the unmitigated pleasure of having not had to face this line of questioning for far longer than I thought I would. We had a few near misses with this delicate issue, I’ve danced around it as best I could. But finally the statement I didn’t want to hear…

“Mom, there is no Santa Claus.”

OH. MY. GOD.

I was so not prepared for this though I should have been. Mr. C is ten years old, how we avoided this topic for so long astounds me. But there it was, and I had to deal with it. His very best friend shared this information with him yesterday. He had heard it before, but never from such a trusted source.

I remember when I started to question. I was about his age, maybe a little younger. My Santa wrapped the gifts, because in the 70’s, he had time to do that. (Why did he have more time then? Because he wasn’t on facebook or twitter all day, that’s why.) But one day, I was looking for a misplaced toy or something in my parents bedroom and I looked under the bed…only to discover the wrapping paper that Santa had used the year before, because obviously he wouldn’t have the same paper in the North Pole as the rest of the gifts under the tree in Texas, right?

Right.

So I walked out into the den with the wrapping paper in hand, lip quivering, thinking I had been lied to all these years about a jolly fat man sliding down the chimney and you know what my Mother said?

Nothing. Nothing at all. She refused to admit or deny the fact that he existed. She just sort of blinked a few times then wandered off, lit a cigarette, and poured herself a stiff drink. (Hey, it was the 70’s…) Finally after pressing her for weeks like a tiny Perry Mason and brandishing the suspect wrapping paper in her face, she came up with this gem: “To receive, you must believe.” And trust me when I tell you the look on her face let me know we were not to speak of this particular incident again.

So when my oldest child came to me yesterday and said that his best friend had told him that there was no Santa, and that in fact it was Mom and Dad who put the presents under the tree, I immediately morphed into my Mom (sans alcohol because sadly it’s not the 70’s anymore, and also, it was only 3:30) and said,

“To receive, you must believe…”

Sure, he has doubt in his mind much like I did so many years ago standing there with nothing but a roll of wrapping paper as evidence. I guess I want him to believe in the spirit of Santa still more than anything. I want him to understand that at times people will give you gifts for no other reason at all than you are a good and loving person and even sometimes when you don’t deserve them at all. These gifts can come in a varying array of fashions…compliments, hugs, friendships out of the blue or just a simple pat on the back. I’m not ready for him to let go of that thought. And I hope he never does. I never did.

Of course, the good stuff on Christmas morning doesn’t exactly suck either.

You say there is no Santa?

I say I don’t believe you.

This is The Stanley Cup.

This is Mr. C sitting in The Stanley Cup.

The year was 1999…the Dallas Stars won The Stanley Cup in one of the longest final games in history. We had a bunch of friends over and I have no idea what time it was when the game ended…all I know is I was the only one left awake in the room and I whispered “GOAL!!!!!!” at the top of my weary lungs at which point a middle of the night party ensued.

When a team wins The Stanley Cup, each player is allowed to take the cup home or on some type of adventure for a day. I’ve heard stories of roller coasters, spaghetti feasts, all sorts of things. Brian Skrudland, who played for The Stars that year, lived two doors down and he was a total family man so he was all about bringing The Cup home. Such an amazingly nice guy, and I will always remember his little daughters swimming when it was 40 degrees outside because this whole Texas winter thing where we all sat around shivering? For them, not so much. The would literally laugh at us as they ran down the street to a friends house with a little pink towel wrapped around them. Canadians, I love ‘em.

A few weeks after the big win, were minding our own business one afternoon when he unleashed his three adorable girls on the street to tell everyone The Cup had arrived. None of us knew he was going to do this so it was pretty shocking to hear his little girls yelling, “The Cup is here! The Cup is here! Party at our house!!!!” We all ran outside to watch it being unloaded from it’s crate, complete with VERY. HEAVY. SECURITY.

Needless to say, yet another party broke out with everyone posing for pictures with The Cup. In the picture above, Mr. C was six months old and I’m going to go out on a limb to say he may never have a cooler moment in all of his sporting life. We took tons of pictures, many with me in them but if you think for one moment you are going to see a picture of me six months after having that fat baby? You….are insane.

After all the posing and cheering that went on, the men gathered to drink champagne from The Cup. That’s right…The Man has actually gotten a buzz drinking from the very Cup that about half the country is in a frenzy over right now. The party didn’t wrap up until the wee hours of the morning so when I tell you I’ve lost a lot of sleep over The Stanley Cup? I’m totally not kidding.

While The Stars rarely show up for this particular party anymore, I’m still a huge hockey fan and hope all of you that are following the final games are enjoying yourselves!

Or sleeping angels?

You decide.

My day today.

Got up to gorgeous Texas weather….blue skies, 70 degrees.

Took the kids for a walk on the nature trail around our neighborhood. After a few minutes of fighting, they were able to agree on a name for it, The Amazing Full Moon Forest. I almost burst with pride, the words “stupid” and “Jeez” were only used once or twice. And we were off…

There were trees to climb…

And sticks to find….

Oddly enough, this particular time the sticks were not used as weapons of destruction between Mr. C and Miss G…they were used to make “leaf snow”. One stick bearing child would hit the branch of a tree of his or her choice while the other one stood under it and leaves fell all around them giggling with delight.

After an hour or so, it was time to head home….

Whatever is in the Amazing Full Moon Forest needs to be bottled up and sold in the open market because I have never seen two such well behaved children. And especially not mine...