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Archive for November, 2009

So here we are, Internet. The last day of NaBloPopMoFo. When I very apprehensively stuck my toe in the waters of everyday posting, I was almost certain I’d make it a week and a half, skip a few days and then write about how only suckers actually complete NaBloPoMo and how it’s all about conformity and writing for writing’s sake and how I couldn’t bear to put myself inside that box. Am in that box now, bitches! And it’s pretty comfortable. There is a couch, premier cable and a fridge full of fancy beer up in here. I like it! Unfortunately, I can’t stay- and mostly that reason is because this metaphor got really long and I’m having trouble staying focused. Also because posting everyday, while it’s been invaluable to me, is not a realistic goal for the month of December. AKA: The month where every nano-second is scheduled in some way,shape or form.

I was able to write about a lot of things I had been meaning to for a long time, and some things I had never meant to write about at all just sort of happened. It was a learning experience about what I am capable of and the times when my energy waned there was always pictures! glorious pictures!  Thanks to everyone who commented and said oh-so nice things about my little family and I. I so appreciate people taking time out of their day to read about what we are up to. Even if it is just to laugh at all the ways we tend to make asses out of our selves.

In the interest of moving on-Here is a preview of my December Shit-I-Have-A-Lot-To-Do List, so (HEAVEN FORBID) you don’t risk not being up to date on what is coming for us. Plus I need to make a to-do list and if I also make it a blog post? Two birds, One stone. Am stream-lining, people.

December 1st: Put Christmas decorations out. Utilize the brand new-i-ness of Rudolph and Frosty DVDs to distract children from tying one another up with strings of lights and/or brightly colored ribbon.

December 2nd: Clean some shit. Probably wipe down the light fixtures which all appear to be growing fur due to all the dust on them. Scrub floors. Or watch Bill scrub floors whilst telling him he’s not doing it right. Quit denying that Keaton is actually going to be two and work on his memory DVD already!

December 3rd: Chaperone Rowan’s preschool field trip to see Cinderella at the Children’s Theater. Feed her Draught of Well Behavedness beforehand so we don’t have another debacle like the tree farm trip last March. Wrap Keaton’s presents. Cry/blubber over the loss of his one-year-old-ness.

December 4th: Keaton is Two! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? I’m pretty sure I strictly forbid this somewhere in my parenting contract. Why doesn’t that boy ever listen to me? After everything I have done for him he just goes ahead and turns a whole year older. TWO? I mean really! Despite this disregard and blatant insubordination I will hug him and love him and thank God and/or whoever else runs this joint for giving me my healthy beautiful boy. To celebrate: Pick out and put up our tree, and maybe go to the Holidazzle parade if we’re feeling stupid/adventurous. Eat cake, sing Happy Birthday, open presents- the whole she-bang.

December 5th: Family party. Eat more cake. Sing more Happy Birthday. Open more presents. Collapse on couch with beer/wine/vodka/scotch/am not picky partiesarealotofwork.

December 6th: Be with my family. Remember my dad.

December 7th-10th: Lose 15 pounds.

December 11th: Fit into the red number I just bought and go to Bill’s formal holiday party. Drink a lot, probably.

December 12th: Wake up. Take Tylenol. Eat toast. Drink diet super chill. Go back to bed. Later: Go see my niece Ellie-Belle do fabulous gymnastic type things.

December 13th:Rowan’s Sunday School Christmas celebration. Watch her sing Christmas carols while probably holding her dress up so every one can see her Tinkerbell under-roos. Preschool pageants are the best.

December 14-23: Hey idiot! I hear there’s a holiday coming up! Perhaps you should get some shopping done. And maybe take your kids to see Santa. And make some cookies or ginger bread houses. And order/address/stamp/mail your holiday cards. And probably 400 other things I am forgetting/in denial about right now.

December 24th: Bill’s parents for brunch. 3:30, mass. 5:30, put in appearance at Bill’s extended family function. Come home, snuggle kids in cozy Christmas jamas, open a few presents, put out milk, cookies and carrots for Santa and his team and nestle the little sugarplums in for the night. Listen to Santa swear as he spends 2-3 hours assembling an over-sized doll house and train table. Eat the cookies. Give Bill the carrots. Collapse in heap of good cheer.

December 25th: SANTA CLAUSE! OMFG! Keaton will enjoy the box that the train set came in while his parents play with the actual train. Bill’s fabulous Christmas omelets and mimosas will be consumed. Spend the day with my side of the family in a haze of good food and over-stimulated children. Love every minute of it.

December 26th: NOTHING. AM DOING NOTHING THIS DAY. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME.

December 27th: Extended family Christmas party at my aunts.

December 28th: Dinner and darts with my ever-fabulous cousin and fellow ’80 baby, Erica, who will promise (in blood) to come back home from Seattle for good at some point in 2010 or she will be disowned by yours truly.

December 29th: Bill’s brother’s birthday. Dinner? maybe? who knows?

December 30th: Crap what’s everybody doing for New Year’s. Someone invite us over, please!

December 31st: I may be going out on a limb here but I’m guessing I will probably be hanging out with my fancy french friend, CHAMPANYA.

WHEW.

Hope everyone has a busy but productive December and that we all manage to find the joy and magic of the season, even through repeated assaults of that very terrible version of The Boss’ Santa Clause is Coming to Town.  I will of course try to maintain a regular posting schedule, so come see how bad I can butcher this to-do list!

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In true Me form, I waited to start Christmas shopping until today. You know! The day AFTER all the deals are done. I have a terrible gene (which I’m pretty sure came directly from my mother) that gives me a phobia of sales. I mean, why would I pay less for an item if I can get it for full price? If it’s on sale that must mean it’s junk. Me super smart. Anyway, I am working through this problem/neurosis as it is sure to drive us to the poor house. I just discovered the joys of Amazon.com so, you know, baby steps and all.

On Black Friday when all the crazies (and I say that with love, since one of those crazies happens to be my sister Jen) were up and out shopping at 5 am (still though. NUTCASE.) Bill and I thought it would be a good day to take the kids to the children’s museum. We haven’t been there since August so it was fun to see Keaton really delve into the exhibits for the first time and, as usual, Rowan runs around like she owns the joint.

Since this four-day weekend kind of killed me and I have yet to do the budget, plan Keaton’s birthday day and party or (oh yeah!) eat dinner I thought I’d take this opportunity to totally cop-out and leave you with my new favorite picture of always:

The men in my life. They are tigers and they are roaring.

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In true Me form, I waited to start Christmas shopping until today. You know! The day AFTER all the deals are done. I have a terrible gene (which I’m pretty sure came directly from my mother) that gives me a phobia of sales. I mean, why would I pay less for an item if I can get it for full price? If it’s on sale that must mean it’s junk. Me super smart. Anyway, I am working through this problem/neurosis as it is sure to drive us to the poor house. I just discovered the joys of Amazon.com so, you know, baby steps and all.

On Black Friday when all the crazies (and I say that with love, since one of those crazies happens to be my sister Jen) were up and out shopping at 5 am (still though. NUTCASE.) Bill and I thought it would be a good day to take the kids to the children’s museum. We haven’t been there since August so it was fun to see Keaton really delve into the exhibits for the first time and, as usual, Rowan runs around like she owns the joint.

Since this four-day weekend kind of killed me and I have yet to do the budget, plan Keaton’s birthday day and party or (oh yeah!) eat dinner I thought I’d take this opportunity to totally cop-out and leave you with my new favorite picture of always:

The men in my life. They are tigers and they are roaring.

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Today Bill and I spent nearly $300 getting our carpet cleaned for the first time in over four years, thanks to these lovely creatures:

Me? Spill? Keaton did it!

"You were supposed to catch that bowl of spaghetti in your mouth, Luna Mae."

We admit to nothing.

Well, except for that little trick where I scoot my butt across the floor. That's sort of my specialty.

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We had a wonderful Thanksgiving day yesterday, and now it’s time for me to brag about how much easier holidays are after you’re out of that soul-sucking baby stage. Don’t get me wrong! I am a huge sucker for the soul-sucking and cuteness of infants, but man, it is so much easier to navigate the holiday season when you don’t have to worry so much about who’s napping when and where or who you’re going to offend by whipping your knockers out to breastfeed. The alternative being (which I always went with) spending half the day stuck in a random side room with a baby attached to me, smelling all the wonderful food that was woefully out of reach.

The holidays have felt like a precarious juggling act these last four years, figuring out who is going to eat first and who is going to get plates ready for which kid and really WHY ARE WE EVEN BOTHERING because kids never eat at holiday functions no matter how much you try to upsell the dish. I don’t know how much time Bill and I have spent trying to get Rowan to eat one of our holiday favorites (other than cookies, I mean. For some reason we don’t have a problem getting her to try those??).

Bill:”Mmm! Rowan, have you taken a bite of your stuffing yet?”

Me: “Oh, yeah. Rowan it is SOOOO good”

Rowan: *looks unimpressed* *wiggles in her chair*

Bill: “I bet you will just love it and gobble it all up if you just try one bite.”

Me: “You better hurry, because it’s daddy’s favorite and he might just steal it right off your plate.”

Bill: “Mama’s right, I probably will…”

Rowan: *Turns plate so Bill can reach the stuffing* “Here you go dad. Eat up.”

And she continues eating the only item we can ever get down her at these functions, a buttered mountain roll. We’ve mostly made our peace with it, although I still don’t understand how anyone could pass up green bean casserole, I mean, WTF, kid?

As I was saying somewhere up there, this year was so much less stressful. We went to Bill’s aunt and uncle’s for the worlds best bloody mary and I am so mad I didn’t get a picture of what can only be described as a truly MAGNIFICENT drink but that is the power this thing has over me. I totally lose my head when it’s placed in front of me. His uncle makes his own mix and rims each glass with lime juice and salt and tops it off with skewers of cheese, pepper-jack sausage, mushroom, a jumbo shrimp and an olive. It is like a full meal placed aesthetically over alcohol, which HELLO, you can’t go wrong there.

We stayed there for roughly an hour and a half and then we headed over to my mom’s for the big dinner. Keaton took pity on us this year and napped over meal time so Bill and I were able to eat leisurely and help with the clean up. Well *I* helped with the clean-up. Bill mysteriously disappeared with my brother and brother-in-law for 45 minutes and came back smelling like a stanky cigar. (Oh I’m kidding. He totally asked my permission to go be a manly man who did man things. He usually always helps with the clean-up so I gave him a bye.)

After that we sat by the wood stove, drinking wine, catching up with everyone and in general being very lazy. During the course of the day Bill reminded me no less than 647 times how nice it was to be a little bit more free, less burdened and more able to enjoy ourselves. This is his not so subtle way of reminding me how Very and Extremely OK he is at stopping at two kids.

And it is nice. Beyond nice, to be able to sit down for more than 30 seconds at a pop and have a real conversation while your kids entertain themselves. It’s nice not to have to watch the clock to try and stay ahead of a feeding schedule or meltdown. I see where Bill is coming from, I really really do. Unfortunately I wasn’t joking earlier about my suckerly tendencies for wittle, teeny babies, so I plan to enjoy the crap out of these next few years, and see them as a well deserved break before we enter that soul-sucking juggle-fest that is the holidays with an infant again.

And I’m sure I’ll re-read this post when that time comes and future me will want to slap present me across the face with a fancy pair of leather gloves because WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! And then I’ll go tell myself to shut up, get me a frozen bag of peas for my cheek and go sniff our new baby’s head. That will make her remember why we are doing this. And if not it will at least give me a chance to make a break for it.

Clearly I did not get the memo as to which of the 47 cameras I was supposed to be looking at. Oh well. Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!

 

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For pajamas, my couch, parades and these three fabulous people…

Happy Thanksgiving!

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Upon seeing his sister's pigtails, Keaton demanded fair and equal hair treatment...

So, of course, I obliged. It's a matter of civil rights, people. Or something.

Plus, in keeping with the animal theme, the pigtails tied in nicely with the so-crappy-it's-awesome Wolf Shirt, don't you think?

Perhaps it's time to give him a regular ol' boy haircut...

Nah.

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