Finally, the big holiday is over and the mess is picked up and life is starting to take normal shape. This breather holiday, New Years Eve/Day is a nice refresher.
You’re supposed to sit and ponder about how next year you’ll do X, Y and Z to make life easier and live life better. Yet, at the same time a lot of us feel dread about our own birthdays and growing one year older. What I’ve learned in my 30s is that that extra year, no matter if I make a concentrated effort to make life better, makes my life more refined just by living it.
Maybe I’m kidding myself that I actually become a better person as I age, but I think it’s true. I’m more patient, thankful, cautious, and mature. What I look like is an older version of myself with less of the dewy newness of youth. It is too bad our society deems appearance and youthfulness so important. I suppose it’s just going after the unattainable. Eventually, everyone will be old.
I also get the idea why we as humans want to be parents. It’s refreshing and frightening to put someone else’s life as equal to your own (if not before it.) It’s all starting to make sense and some of my previous trappings and ideas of what I needed are starting to peel away. I’m accepting that the changes it takes to become the person you want to be often take years and take on a completely different shape than you ever dreamed about at 24.
These are all deep thoughts for next year, which have just been interrupted by my son drinking out of a dog dish like a dog. It’s also a big perk to be able to laugh at the world when you see it through the eyes of a toddler.
Still, drinking out of a dog dish is pretty disgusting. Maybe breaking him of germ-ridden habits may be one of next year’s goals.

Hope you continue to find the joy in the living things that make you happy in the New Year.

No one told me that Christmas with a toddler can be the most fun and the most stressful days of your life. Often times these emotions occur within minutes of each other.
On Christmas Eve I put Zach in his Christmas pajamas with Santas and Snowmen all over them. He pointed to each Santa on the pajamas within view and said “Santa.” When asked to say “Mama” he said “Dada.” So, every thing was normal.
Christmas morning we went downstairs and showed him is three new toys. His little head did a double take worthy of a cartoon special effect noise. He had a new scooter, a Thomas the Train tunnel and a (borrowed) vintage jumping horse toy. He rotated through all three about six times and by 9:45 a.m. was ready for a nap. The sensory overload would happen later.

Due to snow my sister-in-law, her husband and son were snowed in up at their mountain residence. She was even sick but insisted on finding a way down. With a two hour delay we opened presents, took a break to eat, and then opened more.
Let me tell you what opening presents with a 16-month old and a 18 month old is like: Have you ever seen the program “When Animals Attack?” That is a mere Disney movie by comparison.

Jack wanted on rip open every present. Zach bonded with every toy and refused to part with or share anything. There was grabbing, there was slapping, there was fighting and there were tears. There were also about five time outs to collect composure from constant stream of toys, paper and play. My son was a mad-man yelling “Me Me! Me Me!” like a frat boy setting fire to a sofa after he over-turns a police car.
The madness had started like wildfire and it would not stop until all presents were open.
Shortly after all presents were finally opened, my sister-in-law’s family left for their snowy trek back home. With the house still unkempt from the tornado I said to my mother-in-law “This is like Christmas on Crack.”
No one questioned my analogy.
It was Christmas with mini ravenous beasts and we were the ones throwing them raw meat. Gotta love Christmas consumerism!

My son has three fancy outfits for the holidays.

Three.

I only have one and I wore it already.

Because he’ll never see another holiday in any of these outfits and he’s only at daycare a half day today, I decided to get some use out of a sweater vest outfit today.

The shirt and pants went on just fine, but when I slipped the sweater vest over his head, you’d think I put a burning blanket on him. He started tugging the neckline and trying to pull it off, all the while verbally protesting.

I tried a different vest, thinking that one was too big. The same thing happened.

“He’s not going to wear it,” my husband said. “He thinks he looks like a geek.”

(For the record, I did manage to get it on him before I put on his coat. We’ll see if it stays on by pick up time.)

My office is a ghost town. I’m the only one right now at 3:00 p.m. on my side of the office. Technically, I have no supervisors present so its very tempting for me to sneak out early. In fact, its very hard to sit here and wait….

Ahhh, the long weekend that awaits tomorrow. We get out at noon and then its four days of relaxation and some part-time work at my favorite big box baby store. If I was planning things better I would have saved three days off so I wouldn’t have to be back until the new year…

I’ll have to bring a board game or something… and play with the only other remaining body in the office…the receptionist.

ROXBURY, Conn. (AP) - Karaoke can be scary, but threatening? A school custodian’s impromptu after-hours karaoke performance prompted a police response when a teacher thought she was being threatened over the loudspeaker.

State police say the teacher at Booth Free School barricaded herself inside a classroom Wednesday when she mistook someone singing a Guns N’ Roses song over the public address system for a threat.

She was working after hours and thought no one else was in the building. Then she heard someone say over the loudspeaker that she was going to die.

Six troopers and three police dogs showed up and found three teenagers, one of them a custodian at the school, who had been playing with the public address system.

Police say one of them sang “Welcome to the Jungle” into the microphone. The song contains the lyrics “You’re in the jungle baby; you’re gonna die.”

The teenagers were cuffed for about 15 minutes while police investigated. They didn’t realize anyone else was in the school at the time. No charges will be filed, said state police Sgt. Brian Ness.

My son is now saying “Santa” clear as a bell. He also says “Ho, Ho, Ho.” This sometimes sounds like how a chimp dressed as Santa might say it. It’s kind of an “Ooo, ooo, oooh.”

What he does not say, is Mama or Mommy unless the situation is deemed very dire. When asked to say, “Mama”, he smiles and says, “Dada.”

Of course the first time he did this we laughed, so he went ahead he made that joke a permanent part of the act. Even last week when the nurse asked him, “Where’s your mama?”

He said, “Dada.”

Earlier I taught him how to say “Heeeeey Baaaaby,” a la fifties-DJ style. He repeated it and thought it was fun. Now, to get him to say “Mama” I’m using a similar technique based on the song by the Black Eyed Peas.

“Heeeey MaaaaMaa!” I say.

He laughs and forgets about his joke to always repeat “Dada” to my “Mama”.

I’m hoping some day before he’s 13 he’ll address me as Mama or Mommy. I’d hate to miss that window for the “Hey Ma! I’m out of clean underwear,” stage. Then I plan on pretending I don’t hear him. Who is this “ma” woman you keep referring to? Why does she wash your underwear?

I know the daycare ladies make these for the kids, but I thought this was so cute. They sure know how to spread the cuteness and make me feel better about giving them a 1/3 of my paycheck each week.

 

I’m finally attempting to learn some basic HTML. It is suppose to be simple and easy to learn. IVillage has a program called ILearn. There is a short course on HTML in that section. So, since its slow, I’m going to give it a shot.

Baby steps…baby steps.

So, first of all Ferris Bueller Jr. wasn’t faking to skip daycare, he was diagnosed with pneumonia and an ear infection. Luckily, we took him in or it could have been worse. We were holed up most of the weekend.

The ice and snow are making for a long, cold winter. I shouldn’t be a wimp; I am from the frozen land of Minnesota. In the spirit of that, someone sent me this joke.

WINTER STATISTICS

98% OF AMERICANS SAY “OH SHIT” BEFORE GOING IN THE DITCH ON A SLIPPERY ROAD.

THE OTHER 2% ARE FROM MINNESOTA, AND THEY SAY, “HOLD MY BEER AND WATCH THIS.”

You laugh, but my dad has a cousin who lost part of his ear to frost bite while driving buzzed in the blizzard. Try and say that three times fast.