Get Your Etsy On

It's that time of year again people.

The time of year I fall down the Etsy rabbit hole and bring you all with me, kicking and screaming.

Because it's the season of giving, yo. And my gift to you is a guide to some of the awesomeness hidden over at Etsy.

Because if you are anything like me, you'd rather have a rabid gerbil munch your eyeballs out than set foot in a crowded shopping mall during the holiday season.

The brilliance of Etsy? Besides the wide assortment of basically any item you could ever imagine all conveniently located on one shopping site? Etsy delivers.

That sound you here? It's the magical sound of the heavens singing as the postman delivers your parcels. Postal workers are way better than a fat man in a red suit posing as a mythical holiday saint I tell ya.

So without any further ado, I bring forth my own personal Etsy gift guide.

Feel free to check out last year's guide (because brilliance is timeless) and then get your fingers ready to do some happy holiday shopping.

Disclaimer: Please note that the following gift guide is a reflection of my own personal tastes and in no way should be a reflection of the person my parents had hoped I'd turn into.

JEWELLERY

I don't tend to wear a lot of jewelry. In fact, I almost never wear my wedding rings and most days just sport a pair of cheap earrings. However, when I saw the necklaces from this shop, I knew I had to have one. I've worn it several times and each time I wear it, I get a boat load of compliments.

Creation Twinne 

I love bracelets. Possibly because my grandmother always worn them and possibly because I like to wear them to distract from my freakishly hairy arms. When I saw this bracelet I immediately coveted. This shop is filled with amazing jewellery, including a personalized silver bangle etched with your own child's art. I'm seriously jonesing for it.

 Tina Roeder Jewellery Design

I have big hands. Or as my children tell me, I have man hands. The upside to having big hands for a woman means I can wring their necks easier wear big rings. Which I love. I especially love this ring. In fact I adore the entire shop.

Delias Thompson 

Of course, a gift guide wouldn't be complete without me adding in my number one wish list item. I've been begging my husband for this necklace for a while now and he just keeps shuddering and giving me the stink eye while wondering where he went wrong in choosing a wife. I swear my husband has no sense of fashion. Whatever. I'm totally going to get this even if it means buying it myself.

 Loved To Death. Best shop. EVER.

 

ART

Part of the fun of being a grown up is having the ability to decorate your walls without your little sister drawing moustaches on all your kitten posters in your bedroom or having your mother refuse to let you paint your bedroom completely black and not buying you the black light you asked for three Christmas in a row.

I like art. And I like odd art. Because let's face it, I'm a tad odd.

So when I saw these sculptures I knew I had to have one. I absolutely adore them.

 Kenjio

After my husband bought the oversized, Godzilla poop coloured leather sectional last fall, I took it upon myself to redecorate my living room. It was a desperate attempt to draw the eye's attention away from the monstrosity hulking in the middle of my living room. My attempts were mostly unsuccessful, but it did lead to one thing: Colour. I've got colour everywhere in my living room. Which is why I love this shop. She's got great fiber wall art and beautiful drawings. I covet.

Sometimes I Swirl 

Sometimes when surfing through Etsy, you find a shop where you want to buy almost everything. This is that shop. In fact, I not only want this sign to hang in my front entrance, but if I ever get a dining room, I want this plate set. I should totally get Jett Superior to come and redecorate my house. Maybe she could make my ugly oversized couch disappear.

 Pretty Gritty Things

I want this doll so bad. Mostly so I can watch my nieces and nephews freak out when they see it, but also because it may be the coolest thing ever. In fact, I want every one of the dolls in this shop. I could send a different one each month with Jumby for show and share. Shh, don't judge me.

 Vanessies

KIDS

As my children get older I am learning how much harder it is to buy gifts for teenagers without going to the poor house. Every year I hunt for something interesting and affordable and every year I end up weeping in a dark corner and wishing my kids were young enough to just want to play with an empty cardboard box.

Enjoy them while they're young is what I'm telling you.

When I found these bags, I knew I had to get one for the Jumbster. Nothing screams cool like a furry monster bag for him to bring to school.

 Bags That Bite

For my teenagers, who are currently learning about biology while dissecting dead animals in science class, I found the perfect gift. Not only will they be comfortable as they study but they won't forget the lessons their teachers are trying to drum into their heads. It's a win-win for everyone. This entire shop is awesome. Be sure to check it out.

Dirtsa Studio 

When I was a wee lass, my best friend and I used to spend rainy afternoons by playing with puppets. We'd put on elaborate shows that no one would watch until my brother would steal our puppets and let our dogs hump them. Anyways. Puppets are awesome fun. For everyone and every dog. Everyone needs a puppet to play with.

My Puppet Buddy 

Which leads me to the next item. A stage. Every child needs a stage to play with and this one is perfect. I love it.

 Made by Mommy

One of my favourite Etsy shops for kids is a repeat. Because sometimes a shop is so awesome (as is the owner) that it bears repeating. Jumbster has a rattle he loves to shake from this shop and if he were able to, I'd buy him this rocker to ride. Be sure to check out the beautiful nativity set as well. I want.

 Little Alouette

A gift guide wouldn't be complete without a fabulous doll to decorate a daughter's room with. Especially if your daughter is anywhere as twisted and dark as mine. (I'm so proud of her. Sniff.) I love these dolls. Zombie dolls are always timeless treasures.

 Paper Moon Gallery

HOME

I collect tea pots. I have tea pots of all shapes and sizes, some uglier than others. But this tea pot, well, it's beautiful and I like it.

 YogaGoat

If your family is any thing like mine, you'll know the importance of having coasters nearby. Otherwise your furniture will end up looking like mine. Full of rings. And there is nothing precioussss about these type of rings. I love these coasters.

 Decoy Lab

For the coffee lover in your life, I love these mugs. They've got some great other mugs all suitable geeked out by science and that makes them a winner in my book. Be sure to check out this shop.

 LL Townley Ceramic

I have a weakness for pretty things and this shop obliges my fancy just fine. I love these nesting bowls. Actually, I pretty much adore everything in this shop and wish I could purchase it all. My husband however, would likely not approve of such shenanigans, regardless of how beautiful these items are.

Prince Design UK 

I'm a big fan of pie. I dislike cooking in general, but when it comes to baking, pie is my game. I make a mean pie. And I don't care what anyone says, store bought pie is never good. Don't even argue with me about this. The only good pie is a home made pie. Preferably one I've baked. Which makes these pie plates perfect. Beautiful. Just like my pies.

 Leslie Freeman Ceramics

I adore a nice bowl. These bowls? They're so beyond nice, they're almost naughty. I want. Pay attention husband of mine.

 J&L Wood Turning

This shop is one of my absolute favourites. Her stuff is whimsical and fantastic. I am a big fan of her work, and the proud owner of one of her poppy bowls. I'm totally coveting these mugs next.

 Natalya Sots

PETS

I tend to spoil my pets. Okay, scratch that. I tend to spoil one pet. My Boston Terrier, Nixon. My other pets, from the fish to the barn cats, well, I feed them. But they aren't my babies like my dog is. I'm one of those sick people who lets her dog lick her face and doesn't mind that he sleeps with his arse just inches away from my nose as he farts all night long. Well, okay, so I do mind that part, but I over look it in the name of love.

So when I saw these little dog cowls, I knew my little Nixon had to have one. Just so I could watch my husband roll his eyes at how fashion forward my pooch is.

 EarthWalkers

Of course, winters can be brutal up here in the land of maple syrup and beavers, so I want my puppies to stay warm. Which is why I totally want to buy him this shirt. (Besides the fact it totally rocks.) Nixon will be a complete badass in it. No matter what my dad thinks.

Wren Willow

PAPER

Between the internet and cell phones, almost no one receives hand written cards any more. Which is an absolute travesty in my opinion. Because let's face it? Checking our mailbox is not the same when the only thing one receives is bills and flyers. I miss the days of finding an envelope with a card inside it. Sigh.

Then again, I miss the days when our phone lines were all party lines because hot damn it was easy to spy on your neighbours back then.

Ahem.

However, cards should never become a lost form of communication, especially naughty cards. Because those are always the funnest to receive. Like this one.

 Sweet Perversion

I love the cards from this shop too. I have a soft spot for cards that have a vintage-y look and these ones fit the bill perfectly.

The Beautiful Project

But for my all time favourite, ever, card store? You can't go wrong with the brilliant irreverence of this shop. An assortment of sugar and spice. Just like an old woman with baked goods. Heh.

 

 Lemons With a Pea by Robin Plemmons (who completely rocks by the way.)

MISCELLANEOUS

 Sometimes, when browsing the wonderlands of Etsy, you'll happen across a piece of bizarre goodness that you will just have to have. For no good reason. I couldn't think of which category to place this in, but I couldn't bear the idea of scrapping it off the list either because you know, oh my goodness, the AWESOME.

I am totally buying one of these. To wear to my husband's employers Christmas party. You know. To hide my own chin whiskers. If you can't beat 'em, may as well join 'em.

 The Monkey Cannon

Now go forth and get your Etsy on.

*Have a favourite Etsy shop not listed here but want to send it some love? List it in the comments. Big thanks to everyone who sent in links via twitter, email, FB and Google+. I love y'all.*

Please Excuse My Parenting

I have been involved with our local public schools for eleven years now. And that's not counting two years of private preschool my daughter had before entering her kindergarten year.

You know what eleven years of having children attend school does to a mother?

Nothing good I assure you. It's as though as my children are becoming more educated I'm becoming dumber. I think this has something to do with the many years of having my soul sucked out of me from all the homework assignments, report cards, school musicals, assemblies, parent teacher interviews and visits to the principal's office I've had to endure over the years.

No one tells you that by raising children you'll have to go to school all over again.

Just when I thought I was free from the damn place.

Ahem.

So when my son woke me up this morning by looking very contrite and slightly miserable I knew nothing good was going to come out of his mouth.

"Mom, I need you to write me a note."

Bleary eyed, I squinted up at him and sighed while debating over the merits of just ignoring him and putting a pillow over my head and playing dead until he went away. However, I've tried that tactic before and never found much success with it. My children are a lot of things, and persistent is right at the top of the list.

"What did you do this time?" Yawn.

"Well, besides the fact I was tossed out of class for kneeing a kid in the nuts during science class, I forgot my permission slip. And there is a field trip today."

I momentarily weighed which issue was more important and decided to go with the groin injury.

"Why did you knee a kid in the nuts? Are you a psychopath?"

"No Mom," he sighed heavily, like I was intellectually challenged. "He kneed me in the balls first. We were just horsing around. You know, boy fun. Anyways, I had the bad luck to return the favour just as the teacher walked into the room."

Boy fun now includes damaging each other's man bits. Here I thought boy fun was a good fashioned video game challenge or a slam-dunk competition. Obviously as a girl, I will never understand the minds of teenaged boys.

"Well, I've always told you if you are going to knee someone in the 'nads, you should be smart enough to do it when you won't get caught."

"Very funny Mom."

"Ya, I thought so," I muttered as I struggled to wake up.

"So I need that note."

"What?" I was still stuck on the kneeing someone in the groin constitutes as junior high fun.

"For the field trip today."

"What field trip? I know nothing about a field trip."

"We're going to the local athletic center to swim and stuff."

"Why am I just hearing about this now?"

"Because my permission slip has been stuffed in my locker for the last two weeks and I keep forgetting to bring it home. But don't worry. I just need a note and twenty bucks and I can still go."

At which point I considered hitting him with a pillow. But he'd probably just think I was having teenaged boy fun.

Bonehead.

So I wrote him a note. Because I just adore writing notes to my kid's teachers explaining to them why my kids are irresponsible.

After I wrote the note, Frac read it and handed it back and said, "I can't give this to my gym teacher. Can't you just give me permission and be normal about it?"

Um, no. It's like he's never met me.

His note, which I refused to rewrite because there had to be some sliver of punishment involved with this morning's transgressions read as follows:

Mr. (Name Redacted to protect the innocent),

Please allow my dopey, irresponsible son, Frac, to go on today's field trip to the athletic center even though he never brought home the permission slip or informed me of this field trip until this morning when I was still half asleep and too lazy to actually lecture him about his delinquent behaviour.

Further more please feel free to harass him appropriately, which may or may not include beating him. (However, on a legal note, I suggest sticking to beating him with wet noodles or licorice sticks, as they don't tend to leave a mark. I'd hate to see you get fired because of my irresponsible son.)

I'd beat him myself but he's grown freakishly tall and I can't reach that high any more without a step stool and he refuses to stand still long enough for me to engage in said activity.

If beating him is not an option, feel free to let the gym class use him as target practice in a rousing game of dodge ball. That would be a win win, as it may actually motivate him to move as he runs for his life. Exercise does a body good, as I'm sure you are aware, being a physical education teacher.

Thanks so much,

Tanis.

"Oh great. Another note from you that they'll pin up on the bulletin board in the staff room. Oh goodie."

I do live to serve.

In other news, when I haven't been busy writing notes to my teacher's kids this week, I've been writing over on my Babble blog, Hogwash from a Hoser.

I've got a post up about the inherent evils of snowpants which discusses eating the frozen carcasses of dogs and teens alike and talking about why I was a virgin until I was 20 years old. Oh ya. Over sharing at it's finest.

I also wrote about what the holidays look like to our family and it isn't always filled with candy canes and sugarplums.

And then there was the post about why all panties should just be banned.

In the meantime, look out for my annual Etsy gift guide coming soon. I'm hard at work on it right now. And by hard at work, I mean listening to Nickelback's new album and cleaning up the dog vomit on my kitchen floor.

The fun never stops I tell ya.

A Conversation

Every year, I like to set up our Christmas decorations before the first of December. And every year my husband whines about it whether he's home to do any of the decorating or not.

"Can't we just be normal people and set up the Christmas tree the weekend before Christmas?"

"By 'normal' you mean 'apathetic holiday Grinches', right? Because, no. We can't. I want our children to have the entire month of December to fawn over the Christmas tree, play with my Santa Village and generally annoy the crap out of me as they touch and break every nice holiday decoration I've lovingly curated or made with my own two hands. Because that is half the fun of the Christmas season."

"I'm pretty sure half the fun is ripping open the gifts and the other half is playing with the presents, Tanis."

"Bite me."

"The baby Jesuses in all seven of your Nativity scenes scattered everywhere do not approve of your language."

At which point I flipped him the bird. Which, for the record is not nearly as satisfying when you are talking to someone over the telephone and can't see said middle finger waggling in their direction.

"Speaking of Christmas, any idea what you want this year because I'm drawing a blank. And since you're still insisting that steak knives and that electric can opener I bought you a few years ago are not real Christmas gifts, I've got nothing. Unless you want a new air compressor. Because there is one on sale up here and it's totally awesome."

"I swear, if you buy me an air compressor for Christmas I'll cut you with those damn steak knives."

"It was just an idea. Sheesh."

"How about, I buy you the compressor and you buy me a new Le Creuset pot I've been wanting."

"You mean those cast iron pots that are worth more than three of my pay checks?"

"No, I mean those brilliantly coloured chip-resistant porcelain enameled cast iron pots of which I very much covet."

"Oh, you mean those ridiculously heavy pots you want for the sole purpose of saying you own one, only to get it and have it sit in the cupboard collecting dust from it's sad lack of use which will inevitably taunt me every time I'm home and see the pot you've not been using since you rarely ever cook."

"Yes that pot! That's the one I want!"

"I'll think about it. Although I'm pretty sure you'd at least use the air compressor."

"True."

"Is there anything else on your wish list I should know about? Since you're dreaming big dreams and all right now."

"Hmmm. Well, there is always the stuffed beaver I've been coveting."

"Snort. Please tell me that stuffed beaver is a euphemism for a sex thing. Because I'm totally on board with that."

"No you pervert. A. stuffed. beaver. You know, like taxidermed? For our living room. Because it would look totally dope in the corner by the fish tank."

"There is so many things wrong with that sentence. First off, I'm not buying you a dead stuffed beaver. And secondly, nobody says the word "Dope" as slang. Get out of the 90's T, and join me in the present."

"Fine. Don't buy me the stuffed beaver. I'll save my own money and buy it myself. And I'm totally going to put it on your side of the bed when I do finally get it."

"Uh huh. Anything else on your wish list?"

"Well, there was a two-headed stuffed duck my friend showed me on the internet. That was really awesome."

Pure awesome. In two, adorable fuzzy yellow heads.

"I'm not buying you any dead animals. Nor any live animals. I'm not even going to buy you any pretend animals. No animals. None. I'd rather buy you the damn pot you'll never use."

"And you thought you were the smart one in this relationship. Be sure to make sure my pot is in the Flame colour. So pretty."

"I hate when you do that."

"I know sweetie."

"I wish I had married someone normal."

"I know baby. But it could be worse. I could have wished for a complete wolf skin to wear on my head to go watch the new Twilight movie."

"What? Who does that??"

"My friend, Jenny the Bloggess."

"That's it. When I get home I'm confiscating your computer. No good ever comes from the internet."

"My stuffed beaver comes from the internet."

"I'm so sorry I ever started this conversation."

"I love you too baby. Check your email. I'll send you all the relevant links."

"Please don't make our kids weird Tanis. Promise me you won't talk to them. Like ever."

"Just you wait until you see their Christmas lists. You'll be wishing for my stuffed beaver let me tell you."

"I'm hanging up now because I think you've just scarred me for life."

And that, my friends, is the other half of the fun of the Christmas season. And I've still got the entire month of December ahead of me to torture him some more.

Ho. Ho. Ho.