Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
I Should Win A Pottery Oscar
Just look at this plate we made! And, by made, I mean painted at one of those pottery places. It only took ten hours and seven hundred reminders to "stop glopping stuff on the brush and please, please, please stop painting outside the lines!" (Ethan to me, of course). Yes, while I should win a pottery kick-ass award for my amazing art skills, I do not think I deserve a parking one ...
... on my car outside of Borders. Can you feel that holiday spirit in the air? Yes, me too. Considering someone last month left a note on my car addressed to "Dr. As$h@le" and continued "Who the f---k do you think you are with your f---ing parking?!?", I will consider this most recent note a love letter to me noting a marked improvement in my driving skills. Life is all about perception.
On that note, a very Happy Holidays to all! May your dwindling days of 2010 be filled with cookies and snowmen!
XOXO,
J
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Q & A
At one point, I thought being "just a mom" would not be enough to keep my mind busy. I was wrong.
Questions I’ve fielded in the past hour:
1) "If the fire station catches on fire who puts it out?”
2) “What if someone speaks with a trach and they lose it?"
I suppose they could write.
“What if they cannot spell? Then what?"
3) "What color is air?"
4) And, my favorite of all time, “Is Rudolph’s red nose a genetic defect?”
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Body Double
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Jesus The Red-Nosed Reindeer
Thanks for all the Happy Holidays comments. I vow to find the spirit this weekend and put on my proverbial Santa hat. Below is one of my favorite memories from 2007 (!), when E was just a wee little sprout. Cheers to all for a festive December week. Now get off your computer and go enjoy some eggnog.
Ethan and I went to see Santa yesterday. It was quite the process; they had the child (meaning Mom) write a letter to Santa, then you go through the "naughty or nice" meter (which sent Ethan into a mild panic, "What if it says I am naughty! I broke a Christmas ornament last night but it was an accident! Tell Santa it was an accident! Ok?"), mail the letter to the North Pole through this refrigerated chute, then finally, there was Santa and his lap. This was a good Santa - all jolly and bowl full of jelly and what not. Some of the Mall Santas I have seen in the past look like they just slept in their El Camino and finished off a fifth of JD.
This was the first year that E was all "Yeah! I WILL sit on Santa's lap and tell him what I want!" and excited about it. This year he gets it: Perform = Presents. So, of course, the whole point of this elaborate get-up is to sell photos to parents. Parents, like me, who think nothing of whipping out the Visa to buy $80 worth of photos, a keychain, AND a CD! Deal.
Anyhow - the funny part of this whole experience (and there usually is one when my son is involved) is what E said while we waited in line. I should preface this story by qualifying that neither my husband or I are religious people. We both did the whole church, Sunday School thing growing up and have not yet quite figured out what to do with/for Ethan in terms of organized religion. We have discussed Heaven and God, but only in terms of vague spirituality and a comfort measure (as in "Taffy, the cat, is in Heaven and she watches over you") It seems harsh to tell your 4-yr old that the cat is really in the yard, decomposing, and that it is - curtains for kitty - even if that is what you believe. Alright - enough about dead cats...
SO - we are waiting in line - and Ethan asked me "Who are Santa's other reindeer besides Rudolph?" He starts to answer his own question and lists off all the B-list deer he can think of: "There is Blitzen ... and Donner ... and Dasher ... and Jesus ...."
Ethan and I went to see Santa yesterday. It was quite the process; they had the child (meaning Mom) write a letter to Santa, then you go through the "naughty or nice" meter (which sent Ethan into a mild panic, "What if it says I am naughty! I broke a Christmas ornament last night but it was an accident! Tell Santa it was an accident! Ok?"), mail the letter to the North Pole through this refrigerated chute, then finally, there was Santa and his lap. This was a good Santa - all jolly and bowl full of jelly and what not. Some of the Mall Santas I have seen in the past look like they just slept in their El Camino and finished off a fifth of JD.
This was the first year that E was all "Yeah! I WILL sit on Santa's lap and tell him what I want!" and excited about it. This year he gets it: Perform = Presents. So, of course, the whole point of this elaborate get-up is to sell photos to parents. Parents, like me, who think nothing of whipping out the Visa to buy $80 worth of photos, a keychain, AND a CD! Deal.
Anyhow - the funny part of this whole experience (and there usually is one when my son is involved) is what E said while we waited in line. I should preface this story by qualifying that neither my husband or I are religious people. We both did the whole church, Sunday School thing growing up and have not yet quite figured out what to do with/for Ethan in terms of organized religion. We have discussed Heaven and God, but only in terms of vague spirituality and a comfort measure (as in "Taffy, the cat, is in Heaven and she watches over you") It seems harsh to tell your 4-yr old that the cat is really in the yard, decomposing, and that it is - curtains for kitty - even if that is what you believe. Alright - enough about dead cats...
SO - we are waiting in line - and Ethan asked me "Who are Santa's other reindeer besides Rudolph?" He starts to answer his own question and lists off all the B-list deer he can think of: "There is Blitzen ... and Donner ... and Dasher ... and Jesus ...."
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Blue
This is Marblehead, MA. The big rock there over the ocean. It has a name. But I don't know it.
Despite a flight home where the attendants were instructed to "take their jump seats" after the cheery proclamation from the pilot that we were going to be "battling 160 miles per hour winds while heading South, so buckle up tight!", we did make it home in one piece. Ethan sobbed on the way home, WANNA GO BACK TO UNCLE C'S AND AUNT B'S! Meanwhile, I sobbed because the plane had just dipped at a 45-degree angle somewhere over New York and they had stopped passing out pretzels.
Air travel fun aside, it was lovely to see Northern family and I was pleased that they put up with me for multiple days in a row. I am a terrible, awful house guest. I take showers that use all the hot water, I have to have four cups of coffee in the morning before I am vaguely ready to even make eye contact with another human being, I will drink three cosmos in a row and then demand to play Uno, I require the thermostat set at 87.279 degrees, I am a germaphone of the Nth degree, I leave my shoes all over the house and then yell at people for moving them. I make up for it with my charm and wit. Or so I tell myself.
Now that we are home and unpacked, I've had a hard time finding that holiday spirit. The tree is still in the box, lights are still in the basement, and presents have yet to be purchased. We have put together Ethan's Christmas list, which to my dismay, makes no mention of a pony, but does prominently feature (items one through ten), an electric scooter. I've told him that Santa thinks he'll shoot his eye out, so maybe put some other options on the list this year, just in case, because those glass eyes are expensive, especially the light blue ones.
On a related note: "DRECK THE HWALLS WITH BROWS OF FROWRY! FA RA RA RA RA, RA RA RA RA!" Well, that certainly helped. A little more spirited now. Just a bit. Thanks, Ralphie.
Despite a flight home where the attendants were instructed to "take their jump seats" after the cheery proclamation from the pilot that we were going to be "battling 160 miles per hour winds while heading South, so buckle up tight!", we did make it home in one piece. Ethan sobbed on the way home, WANNA GO BACK TO UNCLE C'S AND AUNT B'S! Meanwhile, I sobbed because the plane had just dipped at a 45-degree angle somewhere over New York and they had stopped passing out pretzels.
Air travel fun aside, it was lovely to see Northern family and I was pleased that they put up with me for multiple days in a row. I am a terrible, awful house guest. I take showers that use all the hot water, I have to have four cups of coffee in the morning before I am vaguely ready to even make eye contact with another human being, I will drink three cosmos in a row and then demand to play Uno, I require the thermostat set at 87.279 degrees, I am a germaphone of the Nth degree, I leave my shoes all over the house and then yell at people for moving them. I make up for it with my charm and wit. Or so I tell myself.
Now that we are home and unpacked, I've had a hard time finding that holiday spirit. The tree is still in the box, lights are still in the basement, and presents have yet to be purchased. We have put together Ethan's Christmas list, which to my dismay, makes no mention of a pony, but does prominently feature (items one through ten), an electric scooter. I've told him that Santa thinks he'll shoot his eye out, so maybe put some other options on the list this year, just in case, because those glass eyes are expensive, especially the light blue ones.
On a related note: "DRECK THE HWALLS WITH BROWS OF FROWRY! FA RA RA RA RA, RA RA RA RA!" Well, that certainly helped. A little more spirited now. Just a bit. Thanks, Ralphie.
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