Bah Humbugger

What I’ve done already today because I’m insane:

-Started packing for a trip tomorrow
-4 loads of laundry
-Painted a huge spot repaired two years ago in the breakfast nook
-Hung 3 new framed pics, one of the Hubs xmas gifts
-Vacuumed living room
-Showered and finally shaved leg forest
-Baked a loaf of bread
-Loaded the dishwasher and ran

Left to do:
-Prep food for tonight
-Bathe and flea dog
-Bathe W
-Figure out what to wear tonight and tomorrow
-Finish packing
-Oil change car

You know what I’d like to be doing? Nothing. No wait, I’d rather be hanging with friends, drinking holiday cocktails, stuffing myself stupid with foodstuffs, kissing under the mistletoe, playing board games or charades, etc. Sigh.

W is so stoked about Santa coming tonight and we’ve used the bearded fable as a way to discipline him by saying he doesn’t want to be on Santa’s bad boys and girls list, get coal in his stocking (“What’s coal, mommy?), etc. After the holiday passes I’m wondering how I’m going to get the great results I’ve been getting for the last few months? I don’t think the threat of a baby new year, a cupid or the Easter bunny will have any affect on him. Guess I’ll go back to the flyswatter.

Happy holidays y’all.

Holi-Daze

Thanks to the unwavering desire of my son we start each and every day watching Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer. It used to be my all time favorite holiday show and now, well, let’s just say I’d love to have that little effer’ on my dinner table come Christmas eve, red nose and all. W’s seen it so many times now I can leave the sound almost all the way down. He’s pretty much memorized all of the dialogue. When the show came on several weeks back I looked forward to watching it with him and the moment when the not so scary abominable snow monster roared his menacing roar and poked his head out from behind the cardboard icebergs, scaring the beejeebus out of W. Now he just yells at him and tells him he’s not so scary without teeth. He sings the theme song, adlibbing all the way through while including decorations on our tree…”you could even say it glows like the star and the red car and the purple ball and the snow man…” Too much of what was once a good thing is now as bad as fruit cake. I guess I could erase the program from the DVR listings but I really don’t want to start my day by thinking of what cocktail goes best with French toast.

Back in November I bought several boxes of gingerbread houses to give to the ankle biters in the family to take home and put together. W and I talked at length about how we would decorate our first edible dwelling. We ooohed and ahhhed over the image of the one on the box and marveled at the detailing. There was even a video we could watch online to aid us in our construction. Much to my chagrin after much waiting and dreaming I opened the box to find that both of the roof pieces were broken. We were gung ho about the operation so we both agreed we’d forge ahead and mend our roof with the more than adequate amount of icing included. W watched me put up the walls of the sugary structure but that was about the extent of his participation. All he really wanted was to eat the smaller pieces laying about. I let him eat the snowman and soon after he was sitting on the couch watching a show as I hammered away at this fading holiday moment. He showed just about as much interested while (not) helping me decorate the tree a few weeks back. He sat his tiny butt on the sofa and periodically remarked, “Hey mommy, that’s beautiful!” or “Hey mommy, that’s so pretty!” Totally hands off, totally like his dad. So the gingerbread house was a bust as you can see.
















We’ve really gotten in to hibernation mode in the purple house. Ever since the first cold snap several weeks back it’s been hard to stay out from under many various blankets thrown here and there. When the sun goes down we all eyeball the stairs in anticipation of racing up them to the snuggly nest above. We don’t encourage W to sleep with us but his tiny furnace of a body is welcomed these chilly nights. Thank goodness we don’t have a fireplace or we’d me MIA all winter’s long.

The Long And Winding Road

It’s time I get back to the self indulgent writing exercise known as blogging. The original intent of profiling my fish bowl existence with W and the Hubs in the beginning was to keep from forgetting all of the good, bad and funny details as they whip by. At W’s ripe old age of 3, I’m finding there’s more fodder than ever before so it’s essential that the documentation continue. I want to have bragging rights when I can’t even remember my own name and have taken up residency at an assisted living compound for rock n roll widows. Question is will I remember the blog URL when I’m 80?

To briefly recap the summer, I reorganized the family unit, abandoned the Hubs and took a job in Marfa, TX, with toddler in tow. 5 months we were gone. It was glorious and challenging and beautiful and strange. I never did get W a nanny (hard to find in a town of 2,000) thus we spent TONS of quality time together. I did get him a lovely Australian Shepherd puppy that he named Ruby Tuesday, after the little cartoon Max & Ruby and the Rolling Stones tune. I needed an additional distraction for W and a new companion for me as well. As the months zoomed by I oversaw the installation of a well, an irrigation system, enough electric to power a small town, a septic system, and demolition of the home on the property. Never did I’d ever dream I’d learn about such things, a complete departure from event planning yet I found many similarities as well. Every day was an event, a chance to learn something new and it got my gerbil on a treadmill of a brain going and growing. W embraced his new surroundings and learned about tarantulas, rattlesnakes, tumbleweeds, yurts, constellations, and all sorts of life-sized construction equipment. He had 8 acres on which to roam and explore. He was never bored. Plus the community in Marfa is a true one in the sense of the word. Everyone rallies and plays together. We constantly cooked out together, ate together, met for drinks often and energized the local grapevine with gossip. In the end though, it was good to finally get off of the proverbial “island” and come home to the Hubs and our lovely home although someday I hope to return and work with those amazing folks again. Our days now are filled with getting re-acclimated, a Tuesday/Thursday school schedule, a Wednesday a.m. art class and playing catch up with the Hubs who left for 3.5 weeks about a week and a half after we returned home from our adventure.

I guess that just about catches us up, doesn’t it? Reach out and ask questions if I’ve missed anything.

Let’s tune in now to real time, where at this very moment W is peddling for his life on this…























A Christmas gift from Gogo and her awesome sig other. It’s called a Smart Cycle and I give it 5 stars. It’s great b/c he can dial it in himself without any parental assistance and he’s getting both physical and mental exercise. Anything that allows him the chance to be independent is cool with me especially since W is still suffering from a serious case of mommy-centricity and loathes being out of my orbit. Completely exhausting.

With time on my hands I have already updated my goals for 2009 list, which I will periodically profile as the New Year approaches and beyond. Writing about the lofty personal expectations will help keep me accountable. In 2008 I proved to myself that if I dream big and put my fears aside I am completely able to navigate through various self-imposed challenges and come out the other end in a much better state than I expected. I mean, that’s all easier said than done, right? I’m ready to do that again times 10 but in a way, I’m starting from scratch with no job at the moment and technically, the Hubs isn’t employed either. His new record doesn’t come out until the spring and who knows what will come of it (but I have high hopes since it TOTALLY RULES!). This a scary place in which to begin.

In the coming blog entries, I will highlight any money saving techniques we’re practicing, kid-friendly craft ideas and what’s on the menu around here. We love to cook and that’s something we’ll always burn our cash on.

So hello to all. It’s good to be back.

Holiday Spirited

Well hello there! Are you ready for Christmas? Got all your gifts bought, wrapped and stuffed under the tree or shipped off to family and friends? You do? Really? Yeah, well I’m screwed. I thought I had budgeted enough time the last few weeks to get everything done before heading off to see family but I’m just too pooped lately to take advantage of every minute not spent at work, doing an event or wrestling the tot to get this holiday thing under way. In those free moments, I just want to crawl under the covers and disappear. Now I’m taking my lunch breaks at Best Buy and Massage Envy and Toy Joy. Hooray for me.

The hubs and I had a crappy date night earlier in the week. We went to one of our favorite places to eat where we know the owner and like to kibbutz back and forth with him during a delicious feast but we ended up making total asses out of ourselves as we proceeded to drink too much hooch and argue. One minute I’m feeding him dessert and the next we’ve basically cleared the bar area where we were dining. Was totally easy after I yelled “DIVORCE!” in the middle of a sentence I was spatting at the Hubs. He was up for the challenge, too, I guess. He didn’t back off either. We’re so classy. I ended up storming out and the Hubs followed after paying the bill and asking the hostess, “Which way did she go (insert giant hiccup here)?” Nice. The owner didn’t charge us for any of the wine. Not sure why. I would’ve charged us double. Don’t think we’ll be going back there for a while. FYI - we were totally laughing about it all the next morning.

Over the holidays, I’ll try and get some posts up. Always much to tell during this time of the year.

Adios.

I Are Here

Hello guests and readers of my blah, blah, blah. Forgive me for my tardiness. I sometimes type away at a blog entry but refuse to post it until I have pics to back it up which is a bad idea because I sometimes can’t get to downloading those needed pics.

I know Thanksgiving is a forgone thought in everyone’s minds now and you’re probably caught in the headlights of the Christmas highway already but to recap…we had a stupendous turkey day with my brother-in-law and his fam. Not only did this mean we had to do zero traveling over the holiday but it also meant that the food was guaranteed to be divine. My BIL (brother-in-law) could be a chef, should be, in fact and the Hubs and I are constantly harassing him on many occasions with questions in the midst of culinary chaos at home. For the grand feast we contributed the Italian sausage dressing and green beans in brown butter with oregano and pine nuts and the BIL prepared the heritage turkey with Marsala gravy, mashed potatoes with walnut oil, Hudson's on the Bend corn pudding, and of course, cranberry sauce. There were also homemade biscuits and yeast rolls. This is my plate before complete consumption. Burp.














As of late, we’re still wrestling the tot at bedtime. Actually it’s way after bedtime when we finally get him to sleep. After all the months and months and months of easily putting him to bed, saying goodnight and, at worse, shedding a few remorseful tears before conking out we’ve gone to the darkest side of hell. The silver lining is that I have had to relinquish bedtime duties to the Hubs who now puts W to bed and hangs with him ‘til he drifts off. Totally works for me. I was sound asleep by 9:30 p.m. last night. This was after I took myself on a date to Asti, sat at the bar and read (see updated “What I’m Reading List” for details). I sank into a bowl of duck rigatoni, beet and endive salad and two juicy glasses of wine. Perfect evening.

Speaking of the Hubs, seems as though W is finally taking a shine to him. Yeah, so it’s only taken about 26 months and the Hubs IS his dad, I promise. He’s finally realizing that he's Disneyland on legs. “I wanna fie, I wanna fie!” he says as the Hubs picks him up and swings him through the air. “C’mon, daddie, c’mon daddie, c’mon daddie” he repeats as he heads to his room. “Daddie play guitar!” he yells while sitting behind his little drum kit just about every morning. And for your viewing pleasure here’s daddy and W jamming away now…

Arugula

Lordy. Where do I start? Let’s see…Britney Spears ran over another photographer’s foot? Amy Winehouse gets booed off stage? W kicks his paci addiction? Umm, yeah, let’s start with W. Way more compelling than Winehouse and Spears.

So W and I talked about a paci intervention for several days. I told him that intervention meant that the pacis go in the trash and he gets a big surprise in return and on a designated evening I presented him a toddler racetrack with all sorts of bells and whistles. His paci fell to the floor as his jaw dropped open. He gathered up the pacis I had collected and stuffed them in a paper bag. We both walked over to his trashcan and tossed them in. Simple. As. That. Sure, he mentions his long lost pacis on occasion and has been staying up in bed with me 'til about 10:30 p.m. but he also says, “Pacis in trash, pacis bye-bye.” I think the fact that we talked about paci rehab prior to paci disposal helped so it wasn’t a surprise to him that it was going to happen. Now it’s just a boy and his blankie and I couldn’t be happier.

Last weekend, our neighbors got their door kicked in and much stuff stolen. Curiously enough, we had just had a conversation with some other neighbors (they live next door to the ones that got robbed) about the abundance of break-ins in our cozy little ‘hood just the day before. After some research on our end, we found that our general area has been hit 80 times in the last month by thieves. Yeah, for real. They kick in your door, take your stuff and haul ass out. 80 times this has happened. Are we paranoid? You bet. We have since put in another deadbolt on our each of our exterior doors and installed a security system just this morning. Next up, a dog. One thing about situations like this is you really get to know who your neighbors are. We’re forming a small army. I would hate to mess with us now.

Y’all, next week is Thanksgiving. Now how did that happen?

And you know what’s better than chocolate? Boggy Creek arugula. I’m not kidding. Either on Saturday morning or Wednesday morning, get your buns in your car (or on your bike) and head over to the east side to get you some. If you haven’t been to this small farm, you have to indulge yourself. Take the kiddies, too, if you got’em. The produce is still warm from the sun and there are some free samples of different stuff to nibble. Lovely chicken coop and a tempting sand pile, too. It’s all I can do to keep from eating a whole pile of the veggies before I can get them in the fridge. Please go. It’s local. It’s fresh. It’s supportive.

How’s work, you ask? Crazy, nutso, insane. Remember that conference that we work on once a year while doing other events throughout the year? Well, last year we knocked out 80+ parties in 9 days and we’re already working on double the number of parties we were working on this time last year (cue Psycho shower scene music here). My Christmas list includes much wine and Valium.

Deep In The Belly

I sliced into this pumpkin and it shed a beam of light on my son like Skywalker's lightsaber.




















Naw. Just kidding.

See how he totally stays on task?




















Good job, W!

Little Jack White

So the "hammer, hammer, saw, saw" jelly candy bribery worked and I managed to get W in costume this morning. He just about jumped off the changing table with glee when I mentioned the sweet tooth opportunity. I had to pre-layer the shirts so in essence I was pulling only one shirt over his head and I had to pre-loop the belt so I could slip on the britches and velcro. He was almost aware of what I was making him do and started to protest but I was saved by the neighborhood street sweeper. The whole way to school he sang "Where is sweet sweeper, where is sweet sweeper, down the sweet, down the sweet..." to the tune of Farajaca.

Here are the little White Stripes. Getting them to stand together was like herding cats. Impossible.






































And this blue eyed fella is Z but the Hubs and I call him Bill Clinton because he's usually standing by the gate smiling up at you and you almost expect him to shake your hand every time he's there.

One White Stripe

The Hubs and I are simultaneously battling allergies in the worst way and having both of us suffer together isn’t the picture of “let’s cuddle in bed, share Kleenex and watch bad daytime TV as we drift in and out of sleep." Nope, it’s more like “I’m sicker than you so you see what W needs while I sip more of this hot toddy and channel surf." I usually never get allergies but something in the air has got me all twisted. It’s all I can do to keep from coughing up a lung on to my desk at work. My co-workers better love me for the personal sacrifices I make for them.

The other night in the middle of the night I awoke to a mysterious crunching sound. I listened harder in the direction of the open bedroom windows and though it was a squirrel enjoying a midnight snack but the chomping was too close. In the pitch I turned my head so both ears could dial up the sound and process from hence it sprung to wake me (some pretty fancy writing, huh?) and was convinced that the squirrel was in our room. We don’t have screens on the windows so it was a viable possibility. I looked in the direction of Hubs whose profile I could barely discern in the moonlight and sure enough, I could see his jaw working away. The “squirrel” was the Hubs chomping on cough drops like stolen Halloween candy. Took a lot of will power to not grab a pillow and gently place it over his munching head.

Tomorrow is Halloween and we are almost prepared for the ghosts and goblins to appear. W is going to be Jack White from the White Stripes while his best bud, CaCa, is going to be Meg. As we all know from the previous blog entry, W doesn't "do" costumes. Took FOREVER to find some red pants in his size with belt loops for his white belt. I did find him some britches but they are for girls…and they have silver sparkles in them. Not only is the white belt going to mentally scar the child but the girlie britches with sparkles may send him in a demonic fit. Thank goodness he’s only two and loves a certain kind of jelly candy that I have a secret stash of for bribery cases such as these. Yes, W gets candy after his oatmeal tomorrow morning.

Weekend Rewind

Friday I was feeling like H-E double L so after work, I faked happy, healthy mommyland with W and as soon as his tush was in the crib, I was curled up in bed reading this. Now earlier in the day, I had read about this book on this blog. Amazon.com had awesome reviews about it so I had to get the darn thing stat. As luck would have it, I found it on the shelf at Half Price Books that same day for $9 bones. Score! Now, like I had mentioned I was feeling pretty effing sick at the end of the day and had grand notions of getting some major Zs but when I cracked the spine of this little gem and launched into the first few pages, I was hooked. I am not a reader of the thriller or horror genre but this one had me by the gonads right off. I barreled through the first 15 chapters and, with tired eyes and midnight posted on the clock, I finally decided to turn out the light but was actually too spooked to fall asleep. Remember, the Hubs is still out of town. I clicked the light back on and read another 5. I finished it in broad daylight the next morning. Whew! What a ride! I can’t wait for the movie!

Saturday night, I took myself out for dinner and drinks. I told myself I looked great, picked myself up at 8 p.m. and told myself I was going to have a good time. Me, myself and I ate here where a dear old girlfriend of mine works. When she’s on the floor, I put myself on autopilot and let her do the wine choosing and plate ordering. She delivered wild greens, rabbit and duck to my little spot at the bar and paired them with varied grapes from around the globe. We were chatting away, talking about all sorts of personal things within earshot of everyone in the cozy space. During that time another girlfriend came in with her husband and another gentleman, both of them Brits. We all hunkered down together for some lovely conversation, or should I say, I struggled to understand what they were saying and did a lot of nodding. Turned out, the guy to my left was the road manager/sound dude for Joseph Arthur who was playing later that night. Yeay! After dinner, we all hiked on down to the venue and totally enjoyed the show. It’s been ages since I have flown by the seat of my pants like that and doing it solo was quite refreshing. Needless to say, I awoke in a little fog the next morning but when you've got a kiddo in your orbit, it’s always show time so I got my arse up and took him to school. That’s right, the Growing Spore had childcare on Mother’s Day. I had 5 glorious hours to do whatever the hell I wanted. Days prior I had designs on getting a manicure/pedicure, a massage, my truck cleaned and maybe even squeeze in a movie but instead went back home, took a 2-hour nap, had a crappy lunch at a non-descript Mexican joint and got some shopping therapy at my favorite store, Last Call. When I returned to get W, he was still napping, in the land of nod, 3 whole hours of nap. $35 worth of nap.

The Hubs returns tonight and he’ll be home for 3 whole days! After that he’ll be home for a week and a half. ‘Tis the life of the musical and parental.

Just Blogging Along

I just ordered myself a Mother’s Day gift from RedEnvelope.com. Oh yes, I did. I even wrote out the message on the card, too…”Happy Belated Mother’s Day! Love, the Hubs.” I’m sparing him the embarrassment of forgetting such a meaningful and honorable day. Besides, he’s going to be out of town. I’m also getting something I want, a lovely pair of earrings and a necklace to match. All under $61.00. Before shipping.

I took my wilted flower of a son to school today. I tried to ramp his enthusiasm by outdoing myself in the “front seat dancing while driving and singing about school” department. Other drivers think I’m off my rocker. It worked and the school hasn’t called yet to tell us to come get him. He is feeling much better which is a relief. It breaks my heart in a million pieces to see him weak with sickness. Makes it tough for the Hubs and I to get along in the midst as well. He’s got deadlines and work to do, I have an office to report to and it completely stresses us inside and out. It was finals week at area colleges so no last minute students-for-hire could be found. I wonder what other families do when faced with this? I'm looking forward to using the two months I’ll be off this summer to determine if my child is naturally this sick or if school is the culprit. Then we will be able to figure out a better plan of action…different school? Stay-at-home help? Stay-at-home mom? All I know is I really need the Hubs out there writing music and finding artists to sing them and not hanging around the house with a sick child. I’m ready for that ranch/beach house already.

The Hubs is off tomorrow for several days playing gigs so if you’re in Dallas, Lubbock or Los Alamos, New Mexico (huh?) then go see him/them. Also, if anyone is free Saturday night and would like to join me for dinner, I have a dateless date night scheduled. Although I don’t mind drinking alone…like I do…in the closet…several times a week.

Holiday Week In Review

I’m going to write this one in reverse. It’s easier to pry out the historical content in the crevasses of my holiday soaked brain that way.

Today, I went to the gym. Day one. The beginning of the reversal of all that is baby fat. I slogged through a 30-minute cardio workout of make believe snowshoeing in Snoqualmie Pass on the elliptical machine. I barely made it and was disappointed that I couldn’t do the intended 40 minutes but at least I was there getting the heart rate above 20 BPM. I had an hour to myself at home to shower, dress and eat breakfast before work and, folks, it was TOTAL BLISS. Earlier, the Hubs had left the house to take W to school so I was completely alone. Alone, as in my hot tea stayed hot ‘til the bottom of the cup, I was able to put on all pieces of clothing at once without staggering around the house in single items during infantile interruptions, and I even had time to make the bed so tonight, I get to turn down the covers like a lady instead of burrowing my way in like a badger. This will be a four times a week event and I feel like I have won the lottery…sorta.

Yesterday, I went to the outlet mall in San Marcos. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. The last time I was there, you could experience the whole retail raping in just a matter of hours. Then it was just a handful of shops but now it’s larger than several football fields and the loot is crap. And wasn’t I supposed to save some major dough on said crap? I also found that designers like Giorgio Armani would probably change their name if they saw the condition of their stores and the crap on the shelves. Surely this stuff was never on his drawing board or even part of a frustrated doodle he penned. Ugh. I had a list of shops to visit but after having to walk what seemed like miles and periodically move my car so it didn’t feel like I was hiking to Japan, I decided I’d had enough. Nobody should put themselves through that much retail H-E-double L. Never again.

New Years Eve. I stayed home while the Hubs played a gig. I tried to live vicariously through the gay duo that live in the townhouse behind us. They were throwing a little shindig. Every so often I’d peek out the window in hopes of spying some wild chandelier swinging in the buff but the whole thing was as boring as a Catholic mass. Buzz killers.

The always fun and painfully talented Small Stars opened for the legendary Joe Ely at Gruene Hall last Saturday. I enlisted Miss Jo to take care of W so I could partner up with my old college roomie and her fab husband for a night out of town for a few hours. Jen, the roomie, has kept her wonderfully sassy spirit despite being married for 10 years and raising a 4 and 5-year-old. She cusses like a sailor and drinks like a fish while maintaining a certain girlish poise and femininity. Oh, and she’s quite the Martha Stewart in the crafts department. Martha with a piping bag in one hand and a bottle of vino in the other.

We spent some of the holidays in Laredo with the mom-in-law. Thankfully she lives nowhere near El Chapo and his drug cartel. We stayed close to home and soaked up the extended fam. The Hubs and I ventured out briefly one day to get a coffee and go to the bookstore but when you ask someone where the bookstore is, they look at you suspiciously and tell you there is no bookstore. No, wait…there’s one at the mall. Evidently there’s not much reading going on in that border town and in her all knowing, blunt way, the mom-in-law confirmed it to be true.

Santa left some gifts for W under the tree and we got the whole scene of confusion and surprise on video. Santa knew the little sprout was wild about cars, trucks, and construction vehicles so now our house looks like a miniature impounding lot and it’s only a matter of time before one of us breaks our necks.

Speaking of W, he’s still growing too fast. He’s talking up a storm, understanding all we say and amazing us with his problem solving skills and when those fail, replacing them with some mad tantrums skilz. Thankfully, they usually only erupt when he’s trying to do something with a car or train or truck and we don’t have anything to do with it. Occasionally, a vehicle goes soaring through the air and we just juke and jive to avoid injury. On the super duper plus side, he’s totally in to giving major hugs and open-mouthed kisses all the time lately. He grips you like a sumo wrestler on the face or head and comes at you like a hungry animal, mouth agape. It’s the best milestone yet.

Well, that’s all I can remember for now. Seemed difficult trying to blog with so much family stuff going on but now that the routine is back, so am I.

Happy New Year all!

The Emperor Wears No Clothes

Willem’s been having issues with his clothes lately. First it was about the socks that he won’t allow to be on his person if I don’t have shoes strapped to his feet to keep them in place. Thank god for the staying power of Robeez shoes. Many times I spy the little sprite with the toe of one of them pinched between his chipmunk teeth tearing away like a leopard gnawing a carcass. As a result, we’ve had to retire the fire truck ones because he chewed a hole in the sole. Long sleeved t-shirts give him serious grief as he manages to get a hand slipped inside and can’t get all digits to return to view. He squawks and squeals while flapping his arm like a wounded bat. I try and make a game out of finding the missing hand but his fuse is usually already spent. Today I dressed him in overalls and you’d thought I had put a horse harness on him, yoke and all. He tugged and rolled and drug himself around the room by the straps like a baby mime removing himself from a bad stage performance. And forget hats. Unless it comes with a seatbelt sized strip of Velcro to hold it in place, it’s taking a flight across the room. Thankfully, it’s been pretty warm ‘cause this boy’s just about naked.

Here is his Highness redecorating his Christmas tree for like the hundreth time...

Bring On The Break

Everyone here at work is counting down the hours until tomorrow afternoon when we’re off for like ten or eleven consecutive days. Whoo-hoo! Last night, I was planning on making a couple of rum cakes to bring to the office but couldn’t for the life of me find the bundt pan and then I realized I still hadn’t purchase the rum yet. They call it a “rum cake” for a reason. Besides it takes an hour to bake and by the time I would've gotten W down for the night, had some soggy pizza with the Hubs and straightened up the joint for the cleaning lady, I would’ve been too tired to wait around for the thing to cook. “Hey, what’s that burning smell?”

We’re not going anywhere for the holidays except three hours south of here to see the mom-in-law for a couple of days. I’m stoked we’re not traveling too far away for once. It’s just not a good idea with a little one, if you can avoid it. Two years ago, before baby, we tried to go to Rome but the weather was bad in Chicago (?) so that screwed up everything for others and us . I burst into tears at the ticket counter. It couldn’t be helped. We were stewing for over an hour in line in anticipation of the success or failure of our efforts. It would’ve been my first trip to Europe. The tears helped though. We got an immediate full refund. We ended up taking a bus to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, and had a lovely time. Little did I know I was with child. Thankfully, there's no evidence that all that wine and tequila hurt the en utero Mexican bean pod.

Did I mention that W’s daycare is closed the ENTIRE TIME I’M OFF WORK for the holidays? “Damn you, daycare!” Don’t get me wrong, I love hanging with the spawn but I had dreams of pedicures, massages, after Christmas sales and long cocktail lunches with girlfriends during the work break. That is so someone else’s life. I did make a list of baby-mommas I need to see over the break so if you’re reading this and I know you and you have a kid near W’s age, I’m coming over. Better get that margarita machine warmed up!

It's Christmas Up In Here

Where did the year go? Seriously, someone tell me. Before baby, time was measured by the months passed since I had seen an old friend or how long ago that beach trip was or whether or not I had achieved a certain goal. Now it’s blatantly apparent in the form of a little boy who is growing much faster than I can sometimes comprehend. He simultaneously makes me feel old and young, both a gift and a bummer.

Did you happen to hear the deafening screeching sound in the air recently? That was my metabolism pulling off of the road of life and leaving me stranded with the sort of spare tire I don’t want. The Hubs suggested I make some time to exercise. Umm, hello? Time isn’t a paper mache project. I can’t just cut and paste it together. We’re talking about me here, the person that may have a problem with making the best use of her time because every nook and cranny of her life is just about filled with work, parenting, to dos and deadlines. I guess my New Year’s resolution should be to re-evaluate how I go through each day and make better use of every hour. Yeah. That sounds good.

I’m happy to report that this holiday pimp has some new hos. A few of us hit the Christmas tree farm yesterday with a little trepidation but everyone came away feeling the holiday bug biting them in the ass. We noshed on sweets and cheeses before make the journey east. Upon arriving, W was THRILLED to see a tractor pulling the hunters of pine around the farm and was more than eager to climb aboard the hayride and take a lap. At an agreed upon moment, we all yelled STOP and began our descent into the manmade forest. W waved to the tractor driver like she was a long lost friend never to be seen again. Everyone scattered in different directions and in the distance you could hear the squeals of a friend’s kiddos screaming “This one, daddy, this one!” The Hubs and I considered many trees but continued to dilute our choices by moving a little farther off and finding yet another prospect. We both eventually committed to a six footer but moved a little further on to survey a few more. When we came back to claim our tree, it had been cleanly cut away from the earth by who we soon discovered was one of our team. The Hubs was shocked and disappointed as the rest of us laughed and marveled at the popularity of the perfect spruce. Out of 11,000 trees, the one we liked was snatched up but it went to a good home.

The happy fam. It was gloriously cold, like it's supposed to be when you're talking about Santa and reindeer and stuff.
















The lumberjack hard at work on our giant chosen one.
















Now we all get involved. That tree was a monster!
















TJ and Ruby Jane, overseers of Project Tree Removal.
















W bidding a fond farewell to the tractor.

Christmas Pimp

I mentioned last year that I’m a holiday ho. This year it looks like I get to be a holiday pimp. Why, you ask? Because I’ve got the ultimate partner-in-crime to O-D on peppermint, twinkling lights and eggnog with…my son. Tears of joy! I struggle with getting the Hubs to take me and this time of year seriously, I encounter way too many Scrooges on the streets and I get fed up with my own half-assed attempts to “make the season bright” because the North Pole wind has been knocked out of my ho-hoing sails. Nevermore! I come from a very rich childhood history of Christmas cheer spreading. Many eves of yore were spent at my grandmothers’ with cousins, aunts and uncles buzzing about and drinking themselves silly. The photographer would show to take the family photo. We’d open the door to carolers and sit around the piano to sing our own favorites (I know, very Norman Rockwell). We'd plow through mountains of food, grandmother’s pies and pecan pralines. We’d tear in to gifts and then head out for midnight mass, when we could make it. In a drunken stupor, dad would play Santa in the wee hours of the morning and lay out a spread of toys turning the living room into Disneyland. It was outrageous! I want this for my son. I want all of the jingle bells and whistles to be a part of his memories. The pimping will begin this weekend.

Holiday Fever

W awoke with a subtle fever yesterday morning. He was warm all day but not quite warm enough to be sent home from school. His temp teetered on the edge of what is hot enough to call the ‘rents but never reached phoning status, the tipping point being 100.4 degrees. He didn’t eat any dinner (frown) and was out cold by 7 p.m. It worked out for us as we had my scientist-sis-in-law over for dinner and I got to spend uninterrupted time with her but in the back of my mind, I was fretting about the little one. Thankfully, he awoke this morning totally chill, mood and temperature wise. Unfortunately, since he crashed so early he decided to be up at 4:45 a. freakin’ m. He was bright eyed, bushy-tailed and ready to rock. I felt like I had been pummeled by rocks. Such is the roller coaster ride that is parenting.

We’re heading to a Christmas tree farm on Sunday with friends to choose and murder our own tree. Last year was our first year to go and the Hubs went kicking and screaming. Hopefully this year, since W is a bit older and more fun to do stuff with, Hubs will be eager to play Santa to last year’s Ebenezer. If he doesn’t make nice, Mrs. Claus is changing the locks on the doors and he can go live with the elves out back.

Gobbler Wobbler

We returned yesterday from visiting my side of the family for Thanksgiving/early Christmas which, due to divorce, marriages, and relocations, has been whittled down to only my mom, her sister and one brother. There’s enough energy in that household though to keep a city block lit with holiday lights. It was W’s first visit and it won’t be the last. He ran amok with a perpetual smile on his happy face as he played with the dog, rode in the wagon and pushed a basket full of toys cars around the house. I feel good knowing that come next June/July when the Hubs and I leave the little one for two weeks to vaca, he’ll be in the best of hands (this was a babysitter offer dream come true and it was all I could do to keep the Hubs from grabbing the phone and buying the plane tickets right then). Since I’m still playing catch up and my “To Do” list is as long as Santa’s naughty list, I’m going to make this short and instead post some pics of the growing sprout. It’s been a while.

Happy Holidays!


A few weeks back, W and I got to see this...
















This past weekend at a birthday party, he got to do this...

















W is ALWAYS on the phone.

































Getting his 2 servings of fruit...and 15 servings of sugar.

















People, I forgot to mention that IKEA opened this month. It's a big deal! See that little table and 2 chairs? $19.99. No joke.

















Baby Einstein poster child.

















That's his "I plead the Fifth" face.
















Here we are visiting W's uncle about to venture out to terrorize the neighborhood.
















Here we are with my brother/W's uncle/the youngest fire chief in the state of Texas. Yes'em. We are proud.
















And lastly, what I love about the composition of this pic is the fact that you can see the photographer/my mom/W's GoGo.

Scrooge Conversion

I share a holiday homestead with Ebenezer Scrooge but I'm working to convert his curmudgeonly ways. Hopefully I won't have to enlist the three ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future to do it. That could get ugly.

Ol' Eb drove Willem and I to the east side of Bastrop to the Loma Alta Christmas Tree Farm last Thursday. I had a feeling that the trip would be challenging but I was determined to share with him the experience of killing our own chosen sapling in a pine-scented forest of hundreds.


















As I'm ho-hoing away in the back seat with baby, Eb was looking for the landmarks for the turn. Needless to say, we ended up in Smithville and Eb was one pissed miser. He couldn't understand why we didn't just drive to the neighborhood grocery store and snag one of the dried up twigs out front instead of going on this extended hunt. After a bit of fussin' and fightin' we found the joint and bounced our way down the dirt road to the headquarters. We were greeted by a man who could easily play Ned Flanders in the made for TV movie and his Australian Shepherd, Barney. Barney had one bluish eye that Eb thought was sans vision. Faux Ned gave Eb a hand saw and sent us off into the forest. Since the hayride wasn't in commission, we stayed close to the road knowing full well that we'd have to schlep our tree of choice back to base camp. Surprisingly, Eb quickly embraced the hunt and followed baby and I into the manicured thicket. A sparrow hawk sat at the top of one particular tree that Eb claimed was "the one" because the bird was some sort of sign. I would've been game for it except that the tree was 10 feet tall and I was sure the strangely calm bird would rip our eyes out and steal the baby. We did finally manage to choose a bushy fella and, on my command, Eb begrudginly got on his knees and began to saw. About five minutes later, he was cursing from underneath the branches. Not wanting the fun to come to a screeching halt, I handed over the kiddo and made a go of it but damn thing was impossible to sever. I marched out into the road and summoned "Ned" and with little effort, he cut the tree from the ground. It was easy to imagine him with the muscle bound body of Flanders underneath his flannel and raincoat. After the dead bristles were violently shaken from the tree by a shaking machine and it was fed in to a really big mesh bag, we secured it to the top of the truck and took it home. I grinned to myself when Eb said that next year he wanted to gather up a group of friends to make the trip with us, pack some warm toddys and make a Saturday of it. One small step for wifey, one giant leap for Christmas's to come.


















P.S. Baby loves the tree!