Pakjesavond (Sint Eve)

Success.

click here for the rules.

Jumping for joy too? Leave a comment if you love me, and your link if you're playing!

1. Anneke 2. soccer mom in denial

3. Flower Child 4. Goofball

Powered by... Mister Linky's Magical Widgets.

Rhyme Time

This is it folks. The time has arrived! One more sleep before the Sint delivers his sack! To say that a certain someone among us can hardly, hardly wait is actually to say nothing at all.

The boy is jazzed.

The mama still has a lot of work to do.

Among the tasks remaining is the wrapping of all gifts in proper Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet paper specific to the season. Then stuffing the burlap bag to burgeoning capacity. Also, there are the poems...

Ah, the poems.

Traditionally, the Sint writes a poem attached to each gift. They are clever, witty, and generally (as the brits say) are meant to take the piss out out of the recipient. For instance, last years poem to Don mentioned the fact that he comes to bed with his socks on, this year's poem will mention something about the way he, *ahem*, keeps his wife up too late every night.

I am The Sint is tinkering with altering lyrics to songs for each member of the family.
Don's holds echoes of Billy Joel's "Piano Man" and Andrew's poem will be set to the tune of the theme song from FIREMAN SAM, just in case you were wondering.

But I am running out of time and inspiration for Ian and Emma.
If you've got some bright ideas (I know you do) about easily alterable lyrics or brilliant poetic stanzas for my teens, please, please, please email me or leave thoughts in the comments.

C'mon, help a poor poet out here!

After all, that last sleep is upon us.

De Lieve Goede Sint

Wordless Wednesday

(and only 2 sleeps until the Sint drops by!)

Bonne, Bonne, Bonne!

The countdown is on.
Seven more sleeps till the Sint
and his bag of gifts!

Shoes by the fireplace
have been filled nightly for days~
The best night still waits!

A knock on the door,
a mysterious brown sack
delivered to us.

Peer inside to find
gifts for everybody.
Dank u Sinterklaas!

On the 6th he'll leave
back to Spain on his steamboat
Oh, we'll miss you Sint!

Coming to Town

Sinterklaas.

click here for the rules.

It's that time of year! Put your shoes near the chimney...

1. Anneke

2. Soccer Mom in Denial

3. Flower Child

Powered by... Mister Linky's Magical Widgets.

Late in the Evening

The living room floor was littered with torn wrappings. Paper bits discarded here and there, my children and our guests inspected the goods which had been delivered to them via the Sint's large sack. It had been determined just after the loud knock on the front door that as the rounds went for opening gifts, I would be the last spot.

That was okay by me.

Andrew got his fish; a swimming one with a tail. He watched it circle round the tiny bowl.

Ian and Emma were blown away when they opened cell phones. Ian's spontaneous happy dance made everyone in the room howl with laughter.

Our guests each received photographs, something from my heart and personalized for each of them.

Don got his photos too, and then it was my turn.

I knew he had written his poem, just as I had begged asked him too. Early in the evening I spotted him surreptitiously stashing a set of scribbled notes on top of the bookshelf. I have to admit, I couldn't wait to find out what he'd come up with. He called attention in the room back to focus on me, and then pulled his papers from the top shelf. He appeared to study them for a minute or two, then shook his head and said aloud "No, this just won't do." I watched him then leave the circle of company and step over to collect his tall stool.

You know, the one he sits on to play his guitar.

I started to cry.

He set up the stool and grabbed his guitar from its stand. And then?

Then he sang to me.

Yup, the boy came through on this poem writing thing with a bang.

And. He. Sang. To. Me.

He apologized for being neither a songwriter nor poet, and apologized again for stealing the tune from one of our favorite artists. I apologize now (to you, not to him--I know he's secretly pleased about this next bit) that the video which was captured on the night cannot be displayed. I have tried it every which way but Sunday and cannot get the file to upload properly. So I have nothing to show for it, really. But you can trust me when I tell you the performance was brilliant.

And now, my friends and readers, a Sinterklaas poemsong. From my house to yours.

"The night's getting long
And the Sint's come and gone
Leaving pakjes and goodies for all
The last one's for you
and it seems to be true
It really looks awfully small.

Oh, Jenn, you know me so well
You asked me 10 times
but not once did you yell
You said 'please write my poem'
Okay, what the hell!
Oh, Jenn, you know me so well.

So, your poem is a song
Let's thank God it's not long-
The misery soon will be through.
You ask, you receive
Although none would believe
That I'd sing something funny to you!

But, oh, Jenn, you know me so well.
You asked me 10 times
but not once did you yell
You said, 'please write my poem'
Okay, what the hell!
Oh, Jenn, you know me so well.

Well, the night's getting long
And the Sint's come and gone..."

Linking to you Live from Soccer Mom in Denial

Spot Check

The status report from Jenn's place:

The youngest is sick (yet again) with a barking cough. Sounds something akin to a TB patient. Might be why I get strange looks on the tram when I take him out in public.

The middle one is on emotional overload. Should she go to the Winter Ball tomorrow night for her middle school or not? Yes, no, yes, no, maybe. If only she had something to wear. Fairy Godmother? Anyone?

The oldest is copping a 'tude. His chores undone, his schoolbag tossed carelessly in the hall. Seems like it might be high time for a holiday from school.

The Dad is fine by all reports. He doesn't sleep much lately. He says it's beginning to feel normal.

The Mom is holding it together, albeit by narrow threads. Good thing Mom nerves are strong as spider silk.

And so, no good blogging to be done tonight. I shall put off the report of all things Sinterklaas and promise you that forthcoming. I will however leave you with this pre-pakjesavond conversation. It might make you giggle.

That's a good thing.

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

"There! I've got it done. The gifts are all wrapped and the poems are written. It's just down to you to take care of my stuff.

"Your stuff? What stuff?"

"You know, my gift and my poem which you're going to write yourself."

"Awwwww, I don't want to write a poem."

"Bummer."

"But I'm no good at writing poems, can't you write one for yourself?"

"Nope. I wrote all the others and it's kinda lame if I have to write my own. That's your job this year."

"I just don't think I can do it."

"And yet, you must."

"So this poem that I HAVE TO write for you, does it have to be long? Is it supposed to rhyme?Can I write it in any format I want or are there special rules?"

"It can be anything you want, it just has to be a poem."

"Anything I want?"

"Yup. Anything."

"Cool. So I can write a haiku?"

Will Work for Food

Shhh! I can't talk now, I am in the middle of preparing a Surprise (Soo-pree-zah) for a co-worker. Standard to the Sinterklaas celebration we will have a work party tomorrow evening, complete with a visit from the Sint. We have exchanged names and will exchange gifts accordingly tomorrow--in anonymity as all gifts for this holiday come from Sint himself.

I am working diligently to finish up a hand crocheted sjaal (neck scarf) which I have stiched in all the in-between-minutes of my life, which then I will tie around a bottle of wine to present to one of my favorite people on the staff. I must also figure out how best to disguise the box I wrap to make it an appropriate surprise.

Then, there's one more thing, and this is where you, my friends and my readers, come in. Attached to each gift the Sint delivers there is a poem. This poem generally contains some information about the gift itself and about the receiver. Meaning, it is the perfect venue for Sint to talk about/tease/cajole that person. For instance, my darling husband comes to bed in the winter with his socks on which is something I tend to tease him mercilessly about. His gift last night was a framed series of photographs I took one day while he and I were out together. The poem read in part like this:

There once was a boy, name of Don
who slept with his long stockings on!
"In the winter" says he
"I'm as cold as can be--
with the temperature ten below one!"

Back when the sun shone so bright
With Jenn he saw two birds in flight.
She was quick with the lens
and with flash now and then
She captured the moment just right!

I have to admit, after the fun of last night's visit for the children and our guests, I am a little Sint-poem'ed out. So I turn to you, masters of all that rhymes, for your ideas and your assistance. In the comments section, leave me a verse or two, or hey, an entire poem and I will ... what?

Be forever grateful? Uh-huh.

Sing your praises? Absolutely.

Send you chocolate? Yup.

You heard me, assist me with this poem and I will send you a Sint treat via the post. Yes, this is me stooping to bribery to escape five minutes of work. Really, there are no depths to which I will not sink.

Info about the recipient here:

Her name is Marie
She is a teacher
At the ISH
She comes from Nova Scotia
She is new in The Netherlands
She is blonde, tiny and incredibly sweet
She tap dances
She lived in Ireland
She loves her wine
It doesn't take much of that before she is a little loopy
That's what I call her: Little Loopy
She is great with the kids
Especially mine

Go forth now: be creative, rhythmic and rhymey. This is an offer you can't I hope you won't refuse.

Hij Komt!

Everything you need to know about the Sint can be found here.

Sinterklaas Wednesday

A Point, A Chat and A Vote

Point of reference: Lekkerbek (pronounced just the way it looks--lecker beck) is a white fish filet breaded and deep fried.

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

"So how are things shaping up for Pakjesavond then?"

"Fine, I think. Nearly there anyway. I would still like to find a mini-trampoline for Andrew and then there is the matter of his fish."

"His fish?"

"He wants a fish from Sinterklaas"

"Oh, we're not getting him a fish, are we?"

"In his letter to the Sint he asked for a fish"

"Oh, man, can't we just get him a lekkerbek?"

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

I ask you.

This?

Or this?

Dank u Sinterklaasje!

Thankful Wordless Wednesday

With a Song in My Heart

Today, there is a single song in the hearts, minds and voices of all Dutch children (and at least one expat family) here in Holland.

Well, not a single song exactly, but a single type of song which is being played, whistled, danced to, hummed and sung in playgrounds, stores, homes and bathtubs around the country.

They are all about this guy:


Yup, that's right. The Sint is in town!

Zie ginds komt de stoomboot
uit Spanje weer aan.
Hij brengt ons Sint Nicolaas
ik zie hem al staan.
Hoe huppelt zijn paardje
het dek op en neer,
hoe waaien de wimpels
al heen en al weer.

Sinterklaas arrived by steamboat from Spain on Saturday along with his helpers the Zwarte Piet. All will be in town from now until the 5th of December when the season culminates with Pakjesavond or the night of gifts. Between now and then it's all about singing the songs, spotting the Pieten on the streets, visiting the Sint at parties and parades, and of course, leaving shoes out by the fireplace at night in hopes of finding a treat inside in the morning.

Sinterklaasje bonne, bonne, bonne,
gooi wat in mijn regen, regentonne,
gooi wat in mijn laarsje,
dank u, Sinterklaasje!

You can be certain I will be checking my shoes and if you're looking for me, you can find me by listening in for the song of the season. I will be belting it out with the best of them, because it's true, I am crazy about Sinterklaas.