Sunday, December 27, 2009
E "No Mama, I'm just bored"
In a crowded, public bathroom "Mama, I can see your chonies! Giddyup chonies, giddyup!"
The morning after a particulary impressive fall from bed "I didn't fall out of bed, Mama. I fell out of the car because you forgot to close the door. But it's okay, we can still be friends."
Monday, December 21, 2009
So we finally settled on THE perfect gift. The one that was slightly age inappropriate but full of awesomeness and guaranteed to procure shrieks of delight Christmas morning. Today, E told us that he'd been too naughty and that Santa wasn't going to bring him anything. Now, I'm not one to waste a perfectly good scare tactic, but on the other hand the gifts had been bought and wrapped. So I explained that Santa was more interested in childrens' efforts, and that he still had three days to try really, really hard to behave and be a good listener. If he could do that, maybe Santa would reconsider. E thought about this for a little while and then decided that even if he tried to be good, Santa would only bring him *gift of awesomeness* but not *gift I returned for being overkill and unnecessary* and so what's the point of trying to do better tomorrow? So do we stick with our values and reinforce the kid's notion that he's too naughty, or buy the plastic crap so he knows that his efforts paid off?
Also, I kind of think the kid's a super snooper and already knows exactly what he's getting. He's been a little too "on" in a lot of his statements. If that's the case, he may in fact be a sociopath in the making.
*Update* E LOVED the age inappropriate skateboard, looked for the other gift for about 2 seconds, then moved on. I worried about that WAY too long. Overall, Christmas was a success. Even got to give the "It's the thought that counts" talk. Merry Christmas everyone! Pictures soon...
Monday, December 14, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
I grew up in a house that revered Christmas decorations. At one point, my mother had four different kinds of Christmas trees going. There was the "Angel Tree" which housed all the glass and angel ornaments and had twinkling white lights. The "Little Tree," a miniature tree complete with tiny ornaments. The "Cowboy Tree," a wrought-iron tree that held all the Southwest themed ornaments. And of course, the big tree. The big tree had all of our collected ornaments, and last time I was home a tiny statue of Mohammed Ali had replaced the star at the top. We're a little non-traditional (I think this year she's added a palm tree). In addition to the trees, there were electric poinsettas (which I still covet and hope to be gifted, hint hint), wall hangings, special dishes. The works. When I moved out, I tried to recreate the same feeling by cramming the biggest tree I've ever purchased into the smallest house I've ever lived in. C reminded me that we couldn't walk past it without snagging our clothes for most of December. Later, time and money fell short and I started making do. We had a trash bag full of generic ornaments (blue balls, which never struck me as funny until right this second) and more strings of lights than I care to admit to. But slowly we've started a respectable collection of our own. This year is the first that E has really gotten into the spirit of the holiday, and without the stress of school, I found myself getting excited about breaking open our small box. I'm always a little surprised that the box isn't bigger, I think because I remember my mom's collection and the hours it would take to decorate the tree(s). I'm working on it though, slowly but surely. It was so fun this year to show him each ornament and explain when we got it and why. He enjoyed finding the perfect place for them on the tree. And this year, this is the first year our tree is without blue balls.
I searched for this star for.ever. the first year C and I had a tree. It was the best one that 1) we could afford and 2) wasn't horrible. It's clear plastic with silver glitter. I promise it's not as tacky as it sounds. I love it, and even though there are much nicer stars out there I think we'll keep this one.
This is one of my favorites. It was a gift from my aunt the year C and I got married. The front says "Our Love Story" and then it opens to a picture from our wedding.
This is E's first ornament. That year, the week before Christmas, I freaked because I realized that we hadn't gotten him his obligatory "My First Christmas" ornament and now all the stores were sold out. Then on Christmas day we opened a gift from his uncle and alas, a Christmas miracle! The back says "2006" which was important to me because I knew eventually I wouldn't remember who's was who's. My mom's got 5 kids. I know how these things work.
I love photo ornaments. This one is of E's first visit to Santa, and the last time he looked anything less than terrified in the picture.
This one is easily one of my favorites. E was about a year and a half and his daycare put these together. Look at that face!
This yarn angel is one of the only ones I have from my mom's collection. I'm not sure how she ended up in my box, but I love her. There's also a Mrs. Claus that's made the same way.
It turns out we've got a pretty respectable collection of 49ers ornaments. At least we're finally in a place where we can display them proudly. And we've followed my mom's lead and hung a 9'ers ornament from the star.
Last year I got a little obsessed with bird ornaments. I'm not sure why. I like this one though, because last year there was a cardinal that lived in our backyard all through the winter. I also just learned that birds on a Christmas tree are supposed to be good luck.
And the newest addition, in honor of E's fascination with all things superhero. It took me two days to get this picture because E insisted on carrying it around everywhere, including sleeping with it. I see this becoming one of his own favorites, and hanging in a place of honor on his own tree someday.
It's so much fun to unearth these treasures and to slowly add to the collection. I bought a few more this year, including a Montessori-style Santa and Mrs. Claus. I'm still looking for the one that will define this year for us. I'm thinking maybe a car to symbolize the big move, or a palm tree for California. We'll see. There are other decorations that I want to share, so I'll be posting pictures every so often until Christmas. It's like virtual decorating.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Tical used to keep our home rodent free, and for that I was eternally grateful and willing to put up with her girth and quirks. However, I think she's officially reached the "I have to wash myself with a stick" size. Actually, she reached that a couple years ago. Ask our vet. Nothing like paying a couple hundred bucks to learn that your cat's crusty because she's too fat to wash her own butt. So yeah, she's now "Whoa, look at that cat!" fat, which makes her a decidedly less adept huntress. And now she's just obnoxious. Really, really obnoxious. And fat. And crusty. And loud. Did I mention loud? And sneaky.
This morning was particularly bad for Tical and I, who have at best an Odd Couple type relationship these days. See, Tical's fat. And as such, she NEEDS to eat. So the split second that she senses I may be nearing consciousness she feels that it's her duty to remind me that it's time to feed the f-ing cat. She will meow incessantly until there's food in her bowl. And if there's already food in her bowl because by some miracle of God the dog didn't eat it during the night, she still needs MORE food.
I tried to fight back. I really did. I thought "I'm the human in this relationship. I am the alpha female in this house. I will call the shots around here Cat!"So I ignored her. I tried locking her out of the bedroom. Shoot, I tried locking her out of the house. You know what that damn cat did? She figured out that if she woke up the baby, now kid, then I would have to wake up too. I have been bested by a fucking cat.
So now, we've settled into this lovely routine of waking up at the butt crack of dawn, the cat meowing away while I swear and use all the words E's not allowed to repeat. I was resigned to my fate and figured she's so fat, this can't last too many more years. But this morning? She added a new trick to her morning routine. Now she wants to be let outside after she's had her morning feast. Which was fine by me. Out you go! Except. Except that now she wants to go outside, decide it's too cold/dark/wet/breezy/outside and wants back in after less than five minutes. And I think I've already shown how persistent she can be. Plus she scratches at the door. One of us is going to cave soon, and I'm thinking she's got me beat. Fuck.