Overdone

Jingle Bells!Something smells! Toddler barfing all the way!

Hey! And happy holidays, loveys. Were yours as festive and positively overblown as were ours? We drove through the night from Beantown to Motown, awe yeah, all fourteen hours to Detroit about 10 days ago. Saw Lovey's family. Then headed to Cleveland to see my homeslices. Then we continued the marathon theme of pushing all reasonable limits on carb-loading and shopping and napping and playing the "Little People's" Christmas album until we made ourselves sick with it all. And then we drove back last night. Baby Girl basically marked the passing of every state line with a memorial vomit. Poor kid was upchucking her way back home, and while you are busy composing your comment on this blog about What Kind of Parent persists in driving home while her kid is ralphing all over the back seat -- let it be known. We would have stopped at a hotel room and made her do a kegstand of Pedialyte, but then none of us would have slept and we would be none the closer to home. Whereas by 6 a.m. we were snug in our barf-laden pajamas all nestled in our beds, visions of sugarplums dancing in our heads. HURRAH!

It's clear, though, that Baby Girl's projectile pukes were a sign that we had all royally overdone it this year. The visits, the cookies, the presents, the planning of my 15 year grade school reunion? Yeah, it's totally what the midwife ordered for a 5 month preggo mcbeggo with a toddler. Highly advisable.

So the only resolution Lovey Loverpants and I can devise is one of the following: 1.) Relocate to Somewhere Closer to Family 2.) Relocate Our Family Closer to Us 3.) Forget Our Family; they are a costly, geographically undesirable lot. Stay tuned for more in 2010 as to which course of action the Loverpants decides...

And in the meantime, enjoy the sights and sounds of Holidaze 2009!

Baby Girl having an awesome time with her granny at Java Jungle

About to clear the little ginger kid who was smart enough to stand at the end of the turbo-slide:

The gift box that smacks of clothing within: To open or not to open.... My auntie MJ and I admire the festive banquet table set by my gifted stepmum Grade School Reunion. Yes, my nametag does say: "Hello, my name is: Most Likely to Become a Supermodel"

Never Too Late

There may have been a time when another birthday paralyzed me with fear BUT I HAVEN'T SEEN A FABERGE EGG YET and I was plagued with jitters about all that I needed to accomplish WHAT IF I NEVER GET MY CHANCE TO BE ON 'THE PRICE IS RIGHT' before the next birthday. But not so much anymore.

I got a hub. I got a kid. I got a mortgage. I got student debt.

I could let all that hold me back.

But my friends are too amazing to let that happen.

Which is why I'm pleased to report that this past weekend has been ab fab, and that, HEY kiddies, it's never too late!

It's never too late to strap your kid onto your bike and get jiggy with it!

It's never too late to attend your first party at a home with a half-pipe and sit on the sidelines and yell GNARLY!! when the boarders wipe out.

It's never too late to try and convince your BFF Stephy not to move to Provi after all. (Her daughter Fabiola is indeed made of sugar cookie dough, just in case you were wondering if she was actually edible).

And finally, it's never too late to discover that the shirt you pulled out of the rag bag for the party was actually stained. Which you discover after you post pics of yourself on the interweb. Huzzah!

BFFs

I don't think we should be proud when we work a lot of hours. Not that a good work ethic isn't a point of pride, but I think we should be grateful for our opportunities, and take them as blessings from God. Oh, but now I do so love to complain. And I have, often, about the hamster wheel work-a-day schedule my husband has maintained for the last couple of years while I was finishing grad school. I found myself rattling off his m.o. like a radio announcer, "Three jobs! 70 hours! Often overnight! With crazy people!" I was always proud of him and the way he never complained, working so many hours with such a difficult population. But it was always clear to me how tempting it was to become self-satisfied with this life. As if there was some award at the end of the year for Most Nights a Therapist Has Been Paged In a Row. Oooh, I hope it's a cookie. That would make it all worth it.

This school year, I'm no longer a student, and Lovey Loverpants will no longer be working an insane number of hours with the insane (excluding the hours he has to coexist with me). He'll take a day off each week to spend with Baby Girl while I am prepping my lesson plans and grading papers. Once again, it's so easy to become prideful of this, to congratulate Loverpants for making such a sacrifice, for being such an honorable dad. But you know what? Daddy and Madi Day is a blessing. It's given to us in grace. I'm so thrilled for my family, so excited for more daddy/daughter facetime, and taking it all as a gift and not a given.

***

They're together so much, they've started to dress alike.

Cooking Class

::MELTS::