Happy New Year!

It's 4:15 PM on New Year's Eve, and I'm already in my PJs. How does that happen?

It's true, we have no plans for New Year's Eve. The reality is, I will probably be in bed hours before the ball drops. Last night I asked my husband how it felt to know that his parents would party harder than we would tonight. I can't be too hard on us though, as we've had a pretty big year.

Rewind to New Year's Eve 2007, and I was ready to rock and roll. We had planned to spend the night in, but with all kinds of yummy appetizers, a gigantic bottle of pinot grigio, and maybe some games. I haven't hit the bars on New Year's Eve since 1998, so this was just the kind of night I love. The only problem was, I was cranky and exhausted. After one glass of wine, I was done. I believe that as the clock struck 10, I was climbing into bed. By 10:30, my husband was watching Lord of the Rings on the living room couch, if you call level 10 snoring while scratching himself "watching", and you call the inside of his eyelids "Lord of the Rings".

Two days later, my anticlimactic NYE was explained by the two pink lines on the stick in my hand, and more definitively by the fancier stick that said "Pregnant". That giant bottle of pinot grigio taunted me from our refrigerator shelf until, as an act of mercy, my husband poured it out. More important than the wine, our little Princess Peach was coming.

Now she's here, and it's New Year's once more. Maybe next year my husband and I will be up to hosting or attending something a little more boisterous, but for now we'll settle for an easy night with the kids, and maybe some mimosas with our pancakes in the morning. Maybe I'll watch my favorite NYE show, the episode of Friends where Monica and Ross do The Routine. Oh, and you know I have a glass of pinot grigio on deck!

After all, it's midnight somewhere, even if it's only 8:30 in Vermont. Happy New Year!

Hunger Strike!

After almost four months of 24 hour snuggling, I have finally returned to "the real world", aka my full time job. It had to happen sooner or later, and I was lucky enough to have a fantastic holday season with my family, so I will certainly count my blessings there.

Monday morning was a blur of insanity as the whole family struggled to get out the door at 7:15. Unable to sleep all night, I came downstairs to find that my cat had registered his disapproval of our recent travel schedule all over my son's winter coat. Gross, and a lesson in why you should listen to your mother and hang up your coat. Now we had an emergency load of laundry to deal with on top of everything else. Our 7:15 departure time quickly turned into a 7:30 departure time, ensuring I would be late on my first day back. Perfect.

A three year old has an uncanny way of sensing when his parents are teetering on the verge of complete nervous collapse. In the midst of the rushing madness, periodic wails of "No! I want to do it myself!" filled the air. Coat (freshly washed) on, boots on, hat and gloves on, all with the excruciating sloooowwwwnnnesss of a pre-schooler. Finally ready to go, he collapsed into a puddle of tears as his father lifted him into his car seat rather than letting him climb in himself. Beside him, the baby was strapped peacefully into her own seat, with no idea what was in store for her.

The sweet lady in the infant room at the day care center surely thought I was a lunatic, arriving with an enormous bag of baby supplies, a 2 page list of likes and dislikes, and rambling on a mile a minute about the baby and her daily schedule. The baby grinned sweetly up at me from an unfamiliar bouncy chair as I tried to walk away without tears, a tough thing to do.

Work is work, and even though I made it in late (a huge pet peeve of mine), it was as though I'd never gone. The only difference from my normal workday was the presence of my cell phone on my desk, just begging me to call and check on the baby. After my insane mom routine, I was hesitant to call too early. Instead, I e-mailed my husband and made him call. The news: good nap, happy baby, but she wouldn't eat. Hmmm. We decided to give her a bit more time, and arranged for my husband to stop in and check her around noon.

I waited on pins and needles for his call. When I got it, my heart sank. "I have her, and we're going home. She just won't eat." I begged him to bring her to me at work, not wanting to think about how hungry she would be if she didn't nurse. Poor baby! Before they reached my office, he got her to drink a bottle, so they went home instead.

Today we started the whole routine again (sans cat poop, thank God!). Out the door, day care, work. Finally, the phone call telling us she just won't eat, again. This time, we decided my husband would try to feed her at school, giving her enough sustenance to last until normal pickup time. No good, She was happy and laughing, but completely without interest in the bottle. Home she went with Dad, where she ate just fine.

Right now, my little Ghandi is sitting on my lap, cooing away happily. Will she ever eat at day care? We just don't know. I am holding out hope that she will, but she is a stubborn little thing. She really is like Ghandi, with a peaceful smile and an iron will.

Tomorrow is another day.

Two Christmases, Part Two

Phew! My brother landed safely at midnight on Wednesday, just in time for a quick nap and a 3 hour car ride to our house in VT for the Christmas festivities. After 2 days of fun and celebration, I've established some new rules for next year's Christmas.

1. DON'T TELL THE KIDS THAT UNCLE MATT IS COMING UNTIL HE'S IN THE DRIVEWAY! The hubby and I did too good a job getting our son pumped up for Christmas, and the impending arrival of 2 special visitors: the fat guy in the power-red suit, and, more importantly, UNCLE MATT!! From literally the second he woke up on Christmas Eve to the second Grammy's car pulled into the driveway, the big question was "Is Uncle Matt here yet?" The inevitable series of "not yet", "no" and "almost!" led to a bit of crankiness that frazzled both parent's nerves, and dampened a bit of the Christmas spirit.

2. ONCE YOU TELL SANTA WHAT YOU WANT, YOU CAN'T CHANGE IT! For the last two months, when my son was asked what Santa would bring him, he would promptly and confidently reply "a monster truck!" When sitting on Santa's lap, blind from the multiple flash bulbs, he still squeaked out "Monster truck!" Mommy and Daddy were relieved that Santa was bringing something small enough to fit in our house, fun enough to keep him entertained until the rest of the tree could be opened, and not so crazy expensive that Santa would need to re-budget Christmas. Imagine my surprise when, the night before Christmas Eve, my son informed me that Santa would be bringing him a Hot Wheel like Oliver at school had. Huh? Fortunately, after some additional questioning, I learned that he did not mean a ride-around bike thing, but some of the 99 cent little cars. Specifically, a race car kind. Thank God Santa had already picked some up for his stocking.

3. SHOW GRAMMY THE DICTIONARY DEFINITION OF "SCALED DOWN". After last year's crazy, insane, over-the-top gift giving, my parents kept swearing that this year would be much more scaled down. Yeah right! Although, my dad pointed out that last year's gifts stuck out about a foot radius around the tree, while this year's managed to fit underneath. Well, thanks very much for your crazy generosity, and we'll work on the whole "less is more" thing for 2009.

4. THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS IS THE PERFECT TIME TO PICK UP A WII FIT! Who knew? When my brother told me there were no Wii Fits to be had in the Bay Area, and he planned to pick one up before he went home, I politely refrained from laughing in his face. After all, it's common knowledge that those things are unavailable anywhere. Imagine my surprise when he waltzed into the local GameStop, where he promptly found one. Imagine my continued surprise when my parents went back an hour later and picked one up for themselves. Apparently all of those crazed shoppers were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I just can't believe it's over already.

Pins and Needles

Every year, the news is filled with horror stories that travellers face as they try to make it home for their various holidays. In the past, I've watched the stories with sympathy, but also with the feeling that folks who are attempting some sort of cross-country travel must be nuts. After all, my own relatives are no more than 3 hours away by car, and while traffic and weather stink, there's no way my kids and I will end up huddled under a blanket by baggage claim.

Well, my pity has now turned to empathy, as I anxiously await word that my little brother has boarded his plane in San Francisco. I watch every snippet about the horrible weather delays with new butterflies in my stomach. I have picked up the phone 3 times to call him and tell him to leave plenty of time for check in, but I know he'll be grouchy if I wake him up. Instead, I call my dad with fresh updates about west coast weather conditions, and reminders for him to pass along to my brother when he calls.

We haven't seen my brother in almost a year. He has yet to meet our daughter. I am agonizing that something might keep him from our Christmas. I have plenty to do around the house, but I don't think I'll be able to relax until I know he's in the air. Then my worry will switch to concern about a safe landing.

To everyone out there in the same boat, I feel for you! Let's all keep our fingers crossed that everyone makes it safely.

Two Christmases, Part One

Marriage is more than just the joining of two individuals, it's the blending of multiple families and all their various traditions, for better or for worse. The holidays tend to test the "blending" aspect of any marriage, but in this respect, my husband and I are luckier than most. Rather than trying to split December 25 between our own little family, my parents, and his parents, we choose to celebrate two Christmases. I love that my kids are able to know the traditions of both sides of their family tree. My husband and I can each have Christmas the way we feel it "should" be, without feeling rushed or forced to compromise. I also enjoy seeing the holiday from a different perspective, with traditions that do not exactly mirror what I grew up with.

A short list of fun traditions from Christmas #1:

1. Christmas Eve dinner! My husband's family does a wonderful, traditional meal of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding on Christmas Eve. If you're like I was, and have no idea of what Yorkshire pudding is, don't be scared! It's a thin, eggy, breadlike substance that is tasty, and perfect for ensuring you don't miss a bit of the yummy au jus (mmmm, meat juice!).

2. Matching. The kids got new, identical jammies to wear (pre-washed by MIL!), my sister-in-law and I got coordinated slipper socks. There was even unintentional matching when, unbeknownst to each other, MIL and SIL got me almost identical gift sets from the Body Shop. Fortunately, you can never have too much yummy body wash.

3. Decorations. My mother-in-law has a bunch of artwork/decoration for the holiday made by my husband and his sister that she puts up every year. It's fun to compare the Santas made by my husband to those made by his older, and infinitely neater, sister.

4. Rounds. Every year my sister tallies everyone's individual gift count, and comes up with a plan to make sure the pacing of gift opening is fair for everyone (i.e. no one finishes too early, then has to sit and watch). Each "round" starts with my SIL handing out gifts to everyone, then opening in order of age, youngest to oldest. This year, rounds started at about 6 AM, and continued, off and on, until 4 PM, with lunch, naps, and snow removal breaks.

5. The Busy Construction Site. This is a toy that my husband used to play with- and love! My MIL found a new one for my son, and asked my husband to assemble it on Christmas Eve. When she brought it out, my husband was incredibly touched and excited. I think it brought back a lot of fun memories he looked forward to sharing with our son.

6. Gramma Hennie's Envelope. Every year, my husband's grandmother in Minnesota sends cards with money for each member of the family. This year, each card had an extra surprise, lots of memorabilia from his grandfather, who passed away when my husband was very young. It was neat to see and read more about him, as he is still dearly missed by his family. She also included some adorable pics of my husband and his sister when they were just little peanuts.

7. Gramma Cindy's Wine Punch. I mention this because it gave my SIL a Christmas morning surprise, as it was being stored in a regular (not see-through) OJ carton. I learned to give the OJ carton the sniff test before pouring, unless I wanted to receive a true wakeup.

All in all, it was a spectacular Christmas, unhurried and lots of fun. The crazy winter weather had us snowed in an extra day, so we had plenty of time to relax and enjoy each other. Now we're back in equally snowy Vermont, gearing up for Christmas #2, at home.

Is It Tomorrow Yet?

It is clearly one of those days. I've got to get the family ready for a 3 hour car trip, prepare a bag for my daughter's day care test run, and mentally get myself together for my first post-baby staff meeting at work. It's no wonder that I spent a full two minutes in the shower with the conditioner bottle in hand, trying to remember if I did or did not shampoo already.

I stepped out to find the baby crying downstairs, and the dog barking upstairs. Fortunately, I had prepped my clothes in advance. Unfortunately, I left them downstairs. Ran downstairs in my towel, only to find that instead of barking at a squirrel, or snow, my dog was barking at the propane truck in the driveway, and the man filling the tank outside my bathroom window. Of course!

Why oh why did the baby pick this morning to get up a full hour earlier than normal, in time to be a total crankmonster right before we need to leave? Why oh why did I have to pump right before my crankmonster decided she was hungry?

I really wish days like this came with a warning label.

Okay, Who Brought The Handcuffs?

Last weekend, we travelled back to NH for my family's annual Christmas gathering. My Grammy has 4 kids, including my dad, and all of those kids have 20 kids (including my brother and me), and all of those kids have 17 kids (so far!). It's a little bit chaotic, even without everyone attending, but my grandmother loves to have her family together.

Part of the tradition is a Yankee Swap for the adults. My family is...loud, to say the least, and the swap can get a bit rowdy. Popular gifts this year were a digital keychain frame, a copy of Dark Knight, and, as always, alcohol and scratch tickets. There was one gift under the tree that puzzled everyone: a box containing a kazoo, a harmonica, a rubber chicken, and a pair of handcuffs.

Of course, the immediate reaction was a lot of jokes (choking the chicken, yadda yadda yadda). Pretty funny, until my mom stuck my poor grandmother with the gift (it's definitely a take-no-prisoners kind of swap). Grammy turned the box over to the older great grandkids (who promptly started cuffing each other to various chairs and tables), and was left with no gift. Kind of a bummer.

Shortly after, speculation started. Who brought the handcuffs? Of course, all eyes turned to my jokester cousin Todd, who immediately denied involvement. No one stepped up to claim responsibility. Hmmm.

Not long after the swap, my three year old reached the peak of his sugared up, cracked out frenzy (gingerbread decorating had quickly degenerated into frosting and candy snarfing by the younger great-grandkids). Looking around at the little girls in their beautiful Christmas dresses screaming and tackling each other, my husband and I decided to take our leave. You know it's time to go when there's only one kid in the room NOT bouncing off the walls, and that's cause he's handcuffed to a chair.

After we left, the speculation about the handcuffs continued, which is understandable. What's not understandable is that my family decided that my husband and I have a "funky sense of humor", and determined that we brought the handcuffs. Huh? Now, we do have a funky sense of humor, but please! I can read a room!

After many vehement denials, and 2 days of mystery, my name was cleared when the oldest of the great grandkids stepped up and claimed responsibility. He's 11, and this year was his first time participating in the grown-up swap. Aha!

I am vindicated.

Happy Birthday!

I just sent an e-mail to my husband, reminding him of what we were doing 3 months ago today. It went a little something like this:

1:30 am: It's no secret that very pregnant ladies have a hard time sleeping, but it was not the usual aches and pains that woke me this time. After half an hour of timing my discomfort, I was convinced that we would be meeting our little girl soon. I woke up my husband, who's response could be summarized as "Cool. Snore." Not his fault, to be fair. The last time we went through this, my water broke on Tuesday, but the baby did not make it out until Thursday, so in his opinion, no reason to rush.

10:00 am: After spending a couple of hours at my office tying up loose ends (better than fielding phone calls between pushes), I tackled my backlog of laundry-folding while timing my contractions. I had an irritable conversation with my husband about when he should come home from work, and my father about when he and my mom should drive up to pick up my son. When will people ever learn not to disagree with a woman in labor?

12:50 pm: There's a lot of pressure on pregnant women to self-diagnose their labor. What is the level of your pain, a 3 or a 6 or a 9? Can you talk? Can you walk? And in the face of these questions, a question of our own, how much worse is this going to get?! Well, my husband finally convinced me to call the dr. Unfortunately, it was during the closed-for-business lunch hour, prompting me to leave a nasty message. No, I'm not proud, but can't one nurse eat at 1 pm so someone is available to talk to crazy pregnant ladies?

1:10 pm: I finally got through to the nurse practitioner who directed me to go to the hospital. Hooray!

2:15 pm: After a lot of running around, we arrived at the hospital. We checked in at information, and were instructed to head straight up to the L and D ward. I declined the wheelchair they offered, figuring the walk could only help.

2:45 pm: AAAAGH! Our hospital was remodeled after our son was born, and part of the remodel was to add a 1/4 mile hallway to connect the new and old buildings. Why did I refuse the wheelchair again? We finally got to L and D, where they whisked us to our huge private room. What excellent service!

3:45 pm: After an hour of monitoring, and an exam to check my progress, I was officially declared still in early labor, and was encouraged to "go home and relax". The perky young resident actually said "You know, often the body will contract and then stop, so you may not progress into active labor for a few days anyway!" Just the sort of encouraging news I like to hear! Rather than kill her, my husband and I decided to figure out what to do next. Home was NOT an option at that point, as my parents and 3 year old were there. Nothing says "relaxing" like my son bouncing all over me, and my mom asking if I'm okay every 5 minutes. Fortunately, my husband is brilliant, and called around to some local hotels to find us a room close to the hospital. Unfortunately, I had to walk down the hallway of death again.

4:30 pm: I was sitting in the car outside the cluster of hotels closest to the hospital as my husband (prince that he is) was touring rooms at several hotels to find the one that would be the most comfortable and relaxing for me. After a quick huddle with me, he booked us a suite in the Comfort Inn, with a kitchen and a big, big tub, perfect for me to labor in peace. By this time, my contractions were really getting painful, so it was an awkward walk through the lobby, but worth it when we got into our room.

4:55 pm: My husband ran out to get some supplies and snacks. I stretched out on the bed to watch Meet the Parents and POP! Yep, my water broke, right there in the Comfort Inn. Back to the hospital! The hotel gave us a refund :)

5:55 pm: They put me in the same room I'd just vacated, and which someone had just finished cleaning (sorry housekeeping!), and hooked me back up to all of the monitors. As my doctor had warned, my contractions were much closer together now, and I was really feeling them, unlike my first pregnancy, where I'd had the epidural early on. The nurse was incredible, and coached me through the contractions, telling me to "sink into" them. Sounds strange, but it really works! She asked me if I wanted to have an unmedicated birth, and I said "Hell no, get me the epidural!" They checked my cervix and I was at 4 cm, plenty of time to get an anesthesiologist.

6:30 pm: Still no anesthesiologist, and the contractions were getting longer and closer together. I was actually surprising myself, breathing through the contractions with the help of my husband and the nurse. Even though it wasn't as bad as I'd imagined, I was still looking forward to the drugs. Last time, I pushed for 3 hours, and did not want to do that again without a little relief.

6:45 pm: Still no drugs, but the nurse heard something in my breathing that made her call in my dr. Dr. Hansen came in to check me again, more to humor the nurse than anything else. Imagine everyone's shock when she announced "she's right there, let's go!" Of course, this is the moment when the anesthesiologist showed up, determined to ask her clipboard of questions instead of plunging a needle directly into my back. The nurse pushed her out of the way and told me there was no time, the baby was coming, and I had to push NOW!

7:05 pm: Our baby girl was born! My husband and I looked at each other and just laughed hysterically. Really?! That was it?! We were in a strange kind of shock at how quickly everything had gone, but she was perfect and she was here. Truly a miracle.

Happy birthday, little girl. I love you!

One More

My husband and I take turns tucking our son into bed at night, and like most parents, we have a bedtime routine. At 7 pm, it's time to wind down, get into jammies, and begin the process of bedtime. For consistency purposes, we've agreed to 2 books a night, followed by songs once he's tucked in and the lights are out. Our son gets to choose the books, and the parent gets to choose the songs. Pretty simple, and it works.

The down side of having a routine is that our little monkey knows exactly what's coming down the pike, and has begun his own routine of "peaceful resistance". His opening gambit is pretty straightforward, "Can I play for 5 more minutes?". If he's been a very good boy, the answer is yes, but most nights this request is shot down. Unphased by rejection, his next move is to head over to his enormous Matchbox car collection and begin to rifle through them, not playing, mind you! No, he's selecting a car to bring upstairs to bed. Of course, the selection process takes 5 minutes, but you can't risk making a wrong choice.

Once we are upstairs, he's off like a shot into his bedroom to do one of two things. 1. Dance and sing in front of the full length mirror (clothing optional) or 2. Dash into the tent we've erected in there and fasten the closures, giggling madly. Either way, we've added another 2 to 3 minutes to the pajama-and-potty process.

When book selection time comes, our boy is no fool! He bypasses most of the 12 page Golden Books in favor of the gigantic, 70 page Animal Atlas. When it's my night, we go through the pages and say which animal we're "thankful" for. We each pick one per page, and I will admit that on nights when I am especially tired I will "accidentally" turn a few pages at a time (I consider this a counter-resistance measure).

After being turned down for "one more" book, we'll move on to the songs. I like to sing the classics, like Rock-A-Bye Baby. My son always begs me to "sing it fast while you're tickling me!" No problem. When the songs are over, there's nothing left to do but say goodnight, and that's when he really steps up his game.

One more sip of water, one more song, one more trip to the potty. With every "one more", I feel myself getting more and more exasperated. Just when I think I'm going to blow, he'll melt my heart into a million pieces:

"Mommy, can I have one more hug?"

And with that, the war is over, and I vow to give him an extra 10 minutes the next time it's my turn tuck him in. I'm such a sucker!

Christmas in a Box

Every year, without fail, the arrival of Christmas is marked by an unlikely symbol. Once Thanksgiving has come and gone, a blue rubber tub comes out of hiding. I love this tub, this ordinary, unassuming, BULGING tub, because Christmas lives inside.

Pulling the lid off this bin is one of the most highly anticipated events of my year. All of our holiday movies are right on top, from Charlie Brown to Love, Actually to my VERY FAVORITE, a Very Brady Christmas. Beneath these are a layer of stockings, decorative ones to hang on the wall, and the ones for Santa to fill. My stocking was sewn by my mom in a fit of Christmas industry one year, and my dearly missed Grammy picked out and embroidered a stocking for my son for his first Christmas.

Below the stockings are the best layer, boxes and boxes of ornaments for our Christmas tree. The ornaments actually fall into a couple of categories. First are the green and gold balls and ribbons and pre-made bows, purchased for our very first "couple" Christmas tree in our first apartment together. Yes, they are all from the Martha Stewart collection, and perfectly coordinated, if slightly sterile.

Next are my ornaments from my childhood, which migrated from my parents' house the year we were married. Ceramic, wooden, plaster and glass cows in all shapes and sizes. I once made the mistake of saying cows were cute, and look where it got me. Truth be told, I love my cow ornaments, as they are mostly handmade and unique. My favorite is the wooden crescent moon with the pinwheel of cows to jump over it.

Mixed in with my cows are the oldest ornaments, passed on from my great aunt's collection. She was a kindergarten teacher for 35 years, and many of the ornaments were gifts from her former students. I love that we are able to hang them now, decades after they were received.

Finally, and best of all, are "our" ornaments. We have ornaments from the resort where we were married, little bride and groom bells we received when we were engaged, hand-painted ornaments for my son's first Christmas. Now we have ornaments made by my son's own two hands, which are the best of all. This year is our daughter's first Christmas, and I can't wait to add her to our Christmas memories.

Now the tree is done, white lights are up and bow on top. My son helped to put on all the ornaments (a few close calls with the breakable ones, but no casualties!). He prefers to put several ornaments on the same branch so they can "play together", but my anal-retentive soul might need to spread those out a bit during nap time. Now all that's left is to enjoy it!

The Tree!

Yesterday the four of us went out to search for the ultimate symbol of Christmas, the perfect tree! Yes, I know that if you get an artificial tree you always have a perfect tree, but after helping my parents to assemble their tree over Thanksgiving weekend, I realized it's easier to cut one down.

In our tiny Vermont town, there are 2 farmers that sell U-Cut trees. For the past 2 years, we've gone to the smaller farm. It's $10 cheaper, and the guy is a sweetheart who will chop the tree, drag it up the hill and wrap it for you. The only problem is that his trees are slightly...misshapen, I guess. I am incredibly particular about trees (you only get one shot per year to get it right!), and for the past 2 years we have spent close to two hours tramping around in the freezing cold, trying to find a tree that was full enough to satisfy me, but not so huge it wouldn't fit in the corner designated to hold it. Not an easy task, and both years my eyes were bigger than my square footage, so to speak. One year we had to step over the enormous branches to get to the downstairs bathroom.

This year, we decided to spring for the other U-Cut. We took no chances, having measured out the space and brought along a tape measure to prevent me from getting carried away. We hiked up the hill, my son desperately trying to get his hands on the saw, the baby bundled to the eyeballs, and me screaming "Watch the little ones!" every time my husband came close to one of the flagged saplings. In no time at all, the perfect tree stood before us. Great shape, full branches, a little bit tall, but a quick check with the tape measure showed it could work. In and out in less than a half an hour! Well worth the extra $10, if you ask me!

We set it up in it's designated corner...PERFECT! It may be our best tree ever.

God, I love Christmas!

"PopPop" Means "I Love You"

My husband and I are definitely movie/TV people. At one point in time, it was all the rage to claim ignorance of certain pop culture phenomenon because "I don't watch TV". This was usually said in a slightly superior tone meant to convey how busy and important the person was, and how insignificant the TV is. I don't hear this so much anymore, probably because with two young kids I have the perfect excuse to be inside and on my couch by 7 pm every night. Thank God I married a man who is just as much of a homebody as I am.

I was noticing recently that my husband and I have our own kind of "shorthand" that comes straight from the stuff we watch. TVs/movies define a lot of common reference points, and there are certain things that we say to each other that immediately put us both on the same page. This can provide an immediate smile, and when you are trying to be good parents to a 3 year old and an infant, laughter is definitely the best medicine. Like all things, our reference points will evolve and change, I'm sure. I figured I would make note of some of the things we currently say to each other, so we don't forget the things that never fail to crack us up (today, at least).

"Yeppers" "Yesh" "Absofruitly" "Dinkin flicka" and "Zoppity"
Source: The Office. Oh my God, do we love our Michael Scott! Really, any line from The Office will get a good laugh from us, but these are the quickest to sneak into conversation.

"That's what she said!"
Source: The Office, again. This one deserves it's own little line, because for me, there's nothing more satisfying than finding an appropriate place to put it in (HA! That's what she said!)

"Put it in your purse!"
Source: Uncle Frank from Home Alone. This one is all about line delivery, really, and is used when we are actually putting something in a bag.

"What kind of a f***ass f*** kind of a bumf*** town is this?!"
Source: Mystery, Alaska. This one has tapered off a bit since we now have a little "repeater" in the house. It's a great way to express your frustration in most any situation.

"The mere fact that you call making love PopPop tells me you're not ready."
Source: Arrested Development. This is one line of many that we've co-opted from this hilarious show. Honestly, the beauty of AD is that every episode has more funny lines than you can process in one sitting, so every time you watch it, there's something you've never noticed before.

"Master of karate and friendship for everyone!"
Source: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. We have been sporadically singing this song after seeing the episode. This is another example of a show that has so many funny lines, there are too many to quote here. However, when they come in musical form, it's much easier to get them stuck in your head.

"I'm stwong!"
Source: Wonder Pets. This is one of the newer lines to be added to our repertoire, thanks to our 3 year old's taste in TV. This is the one that makes me realize that my "secret language" with my husband is expanding to a "secret language" with our family. I love that, because this kind of "inside joke" is what helps to identify those people that share your experience, humor, life and love. It's the kind of thing that identifies you as family.

On that note, I would like to say "Rubber Chicken Man", Parcheesi, "I'm explaining to my drink why it's a soda", "But what does it mean in Chinese?!" There are only 3 people in the world who will get any of those things. If you are one of the three, I love you and I'll see you at Christmas! Hopefully, we'll add some more funnies to our repertoire.

An Old Fashioned Christmas

This year I'm going to have something I haven't had in at least 12 years: an old-fashioned Christmas. I have spent a huge hunk of my life working as a retail manager, a position that offers flexibility in spades...February through October. But from November to January, all bets are off, and as a store manager, I most often put my employees holidays ahead of my own. The last to leave on Christmas eve, I would drive the three hours to my parent's house, have Christmas day to bounce between my parents and my in-laws, and then get up early on boxing day to drive the three hours back to work.

Just over a year ago, I made the big leap into a new industry, and never looked back. And now, with my maternity leave set to run until December 28, I have nothing but time to spend with my kids and my husband, and our respective families. It's literally a Christmas I haven't had since my freshman year of college, and I can't wait!

My three year old is just starting to understand all the fun of Christmas. This will be the first year he "gets" Santa Claus, the first year he's more interested in the gifts, not just the box it came in. Last year, we had to stop opening gifts halfway through so he could take a nap (truth be told, this is more because my mom is a mad shopper and went WAY overboard than anything else), but this year something tells me there will be no stopping him! Christmas carols, cookies, counting down the days with an advent calendar, I am almost bursting at the thought of all the fun we'll have, uninterrupted by the stress that work, and the world, can bring.

Our little girl is far too young to have the same experience. For her, the highlights will be all the people fighting to coo over her, and make silly faces, as well as the colors and sounds of the holidays. Someday I hope that she and her brother have as much fun being partners in crime as my brother and I did. As antagonistic and evil as we could be to each other every other day of the year, Christmas brought us together. Tapping to each other through the wall, sneaking out to the tree in the middle of the night to inspect the packages bearing our names, shaking every box to determine what was inside. We had so much fun!

Our family is lucky enough to have 2 Christmas celebrations, one the weekend before with my husband's family, and then again on Christmas day with my family. I think both will be bittersweet, having recently lost my husband's grandfather, and with my brother home from California for only a few days. I count myself lucky to have the time to spend with both our families. I think this Christmas will really be special, and if I can just remember to get out the damn camera, I can have a little something to remember it by.