Regarding Annie

As Americans we're big on inventing new ways to skin a cat.

There's always a smarter, stronger, better plan out there waiting to be discovered. Change is part of our mentality. But here in Europe? Not so much. Two plus two equals four -- not one plus three or four plus zero. It's two plus two and only two plus two.

The day we flew into Sardinia was warm and sunny and unexpectedly calm. Any time you try to take four small children across borders and seas it's bound to come with an extra bag of trouble.

So we spent the first six hours of travel time waiting for the other shoe to drop. And drop it did.

With the exception of my mother’s birthday, I’m pretty sure that March is the stupidest month ever.

If you add in the train wreck mustache my man is sporting on his face (I can’t decide if I want to slap him or take him back to the bedroom) what it boils down to is the simple fact that nothing good comes out of March.

Please don’t try to sell me on anything with the word tournament in it or I will poison your computer with a Miley Cyrus Virus. Not that I don’t love a good healthy dose of basketball, but it’s considered madness for a reason.

Apparently, I’m a liar. This is highly disappointing since I tell my children regularly that “liars live with the Devil.”

And then I cackle and threaten to get them vaccinated.

My husband is big on the budget. I recently won a particularly empowering budget war and took home a cleaning lady.

She was scheduled for her big debut a little more than a week ago. After four hours of pre-cleaning for the cleaning lady, not a sock was out of place. I had toys and books and clothing organized, found homes for things that were still camping in boxes and pre-spotted my kitchen floor.

So my husband sold our old queen bed.

Here’s the thing about extra cash. We’re not dying of money-less-ness, our cupboards are overly stuffed with food I should think about cooking. And, I’ve been blessed with a spouse who pays me to stay home and make house to my heart’s content.

But when an opportunity comes up to earn an extra buck, you can bet Old Moneybags will jump at it with arms and legs extended.

Over here in Germany, Christmas is serious business. Nearly every village puts on some sort of Christmas festival or market, some of which run for an entire month of holiday bliss. The food alone is enough to keep me coming back for more.

But my favorite thing about Christmas in Deutschland would have to be the nativities. They are absolutely everywhere. I haven’t seen Santa at a single Christmas market, but the story of Jesus is presented in nearly every format imaginable, including live animation.

The other day my girlfriend and I took the children to one of the local village Christmas markets not far from our area. I had a few Christmas gifts to buy and had been looking for something decidedly German to send back to family in the states. Leaving my purse in the car, I pocketed 100 euros ($130) and my cell phone and headed out with the kids in search of Christmas treasure.

Birthdays are a funny thing.

Isn't it interesting that last year I couldn't wait to turn 32? I lectured my sister and my friends and the lady at the drugstore about the importance of getting old and why I'm going to love it. And yet I can't seem to remember how old I'm turning this year because whatever the number, it is more than 32.

I also like to refer to my birthday as an event that hasn't happened yet, even though it took place last week.

I grew up in a family where birthdays were considered nothing more than another excuse to have cake after dinner. You got a quick song, a single gift and a little slice of Heaven on a plate. I have found through my friendships that my family's method was pretty normal. Culturally, birthdays don't seem to be a big deal, and the older we get the more we hate them.