Thursday, November 29, 2007

Posing for Christmas Cards



This is what happens when you try to do it yourself.

Stay with me. I promise that later on in this post, in an area that is NOT for the faint at heart, there are really cute pictures instead of me just blabbing on and on.

So yeah. I tried to get him to pose for a holiday card and this is what happened.

But then ... tonight ... while eating an angry-looking asparagus spear mixed into a delicious, low-fat stir-fry meal ...

I had a vision of The Perfect Holiday Card. Which you will get in the mail in a couple weeks.

Yes, that last sentence was a fragment.

Tonight, we went to the mall. And of course you know who was there. And since The Goose doesn't really know very much about HIM (I'm trying not to be Scrooge, but it's really hard to hold in all of my angst about the materialism, and monogrammed Christmas outfits for the whole family, and ridiculous fluffy red costumes, and fake mechanical elves and whatnot), I decided that tonight might be the night to introduce him to St. Nick. It's one of those "I'd-rather-he-hear-it-from-me" things.

So we walked over casually to the huge, fenced-in display, and I told him about how some children like to stand in line so that they can get the opportunity to sit in Santa's lap and tell him what they want for Christmas. And I said, "What do you want for Christmas?"

He said, "What month is it?"

I said, "Well, it's November still, but in a couple days it'll be December, and that's when Santa Claus comes."

Cringing.

Don't ask me WHY? I don't know WHY. I just ... it's just ... CONFESSION: I never believed in Santa Claus. We didn't have a chimney .... it wasn't a plausible scenario ... the Easter bunny is another story altogether ... but reindeer and a sleigh just didn't, um, fly with me. As a child or now.

Another fragment.

So he says, "He looks scary."

Relieved, I say, "OK ... let's just go to the indoor playground."

And we do.

And then, after only 4 minutes of playing, he comes over and starts putting on his boots.

"What are you doing?" I say.

"We needa go see Santa."

"OK," I say, like it's no big deal. Like there's not some little DEVIL on my shoulder saying, "You're giving in to popular culture ... you're perpetuating a ridiculous myth and using bribery to enhance good behavior ... you're--" and then the angel cuts in, "YOU'RE BEING NORMAL. IT IS A LOVELY FABLE THAT AMERICAN PARENTS PASS ON TO THEIR CHILDREN. ST. NICK IS A LONGSTANDING TRADITION AND HE'S GOING TO HEAR ABOUT IT ANYWAY ..."

So we go.

And we stand in line for the better part of half an hour. Then, with only two kids in front of us (one who actually didn't have on an obviously planned outfit), I'm staring at the price poster trying to figure out how to get outta there buying the LEAST expensive photo package, I hear, "hee hee hee."

I look down. And there he is standing with his pants around his ankles. That stinker dropped trou in the Santa Claus line. I saw the little boy behind me scurry behind his mom's leg and whisper, "LOOK!"

Trying to remain calm, I bent down, hugged him EVER. SO. GINGERLY. and said, "Pull up your pants or we will exit the line IMMEDIATELY and there will BE. NO. SANTA. CLAUS."

And then I felt my face burn BRIGHT RED. Which is CHRISTMASSY!

The next thing you know, it's our turn. So he saunters up to the big man and stares. Santa says, "Hi little man. What's your name? Whaddaya want for Christmas?"

"John. A jackhammer," he replies.

"Wha? A jack-in-the-box?"

"NO. A jackhammer. But not a big one. Just a little one. It's a tool, not a toy."

"Oh. A jackhammer? OK. Well, what ELSE do you want for Christmas?"

Cue Mama: Well! Let's take the picture now! Smile! Show us your teeth! Say CHEESE! Yay! All done!"

SNAP:

I want a jackhammer.

***************************************************

In other news ...

Brother & Little Bitty came over last night.

Buds

The Buds.

Griff & John pigging out

Little Bitty.

Little Bitty.

And then of course there was THANKSGIVING:

eating popcorn

playing games on Turkey day

Serious card game with my cousin's kids.

more serious cards.

And last ... to leave you with a smile ...

In our backyard, we have ...

Rope swing.

A ropeswing.

And there's nothing Bah-Humbug about that.


Thursday, November 15, 2007

Thursday Haikus


#1

Brian’s working hard.
The house is coming along.
Bronchitis no more!

home sweet home


#2
I have never been
This ready for Thanksgiving
Better yet Christmas.

Punching Holes in Boxes
#3
John likes to poke holes
Into leftover boxes
With a sharp tool thing.

two guys working with tools

#4
The living room is
Almost entirely complete
We love this new rug.
vacuum

Like Son

#5
Not too much has changed
He *(still) loves to eat broccoli
Like father like son.
Like Father

*(Does broccoli have two syllables or three?)

Thursday, November 08, 2007

"Mom, You're My Best Friend"

Kid (AFTER)
And I just thought that our first home was an important milestone. When he said that, I nearly fell outta the loft bed, which, by the way, is where I spend a lot of time these days.
The loft

And now for the announcement of the most important Goosebumps' event since 2004 ...

WE HAVE DSL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The office/stuff-still-in-boxes room
AND A DISHWASHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (which I've been discouraged from using due to the preciousness of water and the high cost of energy ... photo unavailable.)

AND A FOUNTAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The fountain
You'd think that I'd be overjoyed. And I was for the first few days. Until I realized that the previous owner of the house had a redheaded voodoo doll with labelled pins in it: (1) faulty gas pipes connecting to faulty gas oven bought at Sears resale shop; (2) Hidden dog poop in the backyard; (3) Impossible-to-remove wallpaper; (4) fountains that double as Potential Preschool Drowning Zones; etc.

Here are some before and after shots. Please note that we have no wall decor of yet. It's still in boxes with our underwear. BUT THE WINDOWS ARE DRESSED DADGUMMIT.

Kitchen:
Kitchen BEFORE
kitchen


The master bedroom:
Master Bed BEFORE
Master bed (AFTER)

The (only) Bathroom:
Bathroom BEFORE
Bathroom AFTER

View of dining from living:
View of Dining from Living (BEFORE)
View of dining from living (AFTER)

JEB (no BEFORE of this one):
JEB
Sacked out in his unmatched socks. For 3.5 hours he naps. What will I ever do when His Master Giveth Up the Siesta?

JEB's wall art by Amy
Wall art by Aunter Amer.

Working on his new loft bed
Working on the loft bed with a ratchet.

Unpacking.
Unpacking.

Cluttered den bookshelves
Helping Dad with the bookshelves where Mama stuck all the junk.

We don't have any pictures of the outside (except the fountain), but it's a red brick ranch with the brightest TEAL shutters you have ever seen.

But they're OUR teal shutters.

And starting next month, we have to pay for it, which I find to be absurd when viewed in addition to the bills. Highway Robbery.

In other news, we all have colds which we hope will not turn into pneumonia even though 2/3 of us have been exposed.

Wednesday as I was exiting JEB's school, his teacher was walking in with her red-faced, crying, excessively snotty two-year old. When I asked why he was crying, she casually replied, "He has pneumonia." And then, later that day, while I was at work stewing about it, the director of the school sends a mass email warning us about sending children to school with clear signs of communicable diseases. So of course I hit "reply." But God was taking care of me, because later that day when I thought, "Hmm ... maybe I should check my sent mail folder and read that email I sent, it was GONE." Apparently it mysteriously never left my computer, so I'm taking it as a sign to keep my mouth shut about the obscene hypocrisy.

And so when we all developed sore throats and stuffy noses today, I really had to bite my tongue. Brian seems to have developed the worst case. And likely his is exacerbated by the fact that he's too stubborn to buy a car and continues to bike everywhere. Not that I have any strong opinions on the matter.

Al Gore should not have won that Nobel prize. It should have gone to ME for putting up with this obstinate tree hugger with whom I live.

This will have to do for now, Frenchy.

O&U,
k