The Holidays Begin

We had family in and lots of things going on this last week. It was great fun, but I think we all know how I feel about being busy. It never ceases to amaze me that we, as a society, feel it is OK to put ourselves through the wringer for a little over a 1/12th of the year. We CHOOSE to do this. On the one hand, we have a month that could go by like any other--low stress, low expense, high sleepability since it's dark so much. On the other, we have a month of running around to everywhere to eat too much food, spending outrageous amounts of money on things people will, at best, use a few times before putting it in some closet or thrift store box, and our nightmares are filled with chilling renditions of Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You."

Though, personally, my dreams are always haunted with the Band Aid guilt ripper "Do They Know It's Christmas," which has ruined every holiday season for me since the first time I truly understood what the song was asking in the late 80s. Well, and then I started working retail, which extra-ruined it.

But enough of my curmudgeoning! This is Christmas, dammit, and I DO know it! So I'll just share some pictures and videos of the kids from the last week.

I'm not sure if this is a "wary" or "apprehensive" or "devious" look that she's sporting here, but I like how little cousin Paige seems to be falling gently from Norah's grasp. Norah spent the next several days carrying around and "caring" for one of her baby dolls, which she named Baby Paige. Oh, and Paige wasn't really slipping from Norah's grasp. That's what we in the business like to call an "optical illusion." Kind of like an Escher, only with suspended babies.

See? She's not really slipping closer to the floor, she's just fine. Illusion! And another thing, isn't it difficult to wrap the mind around the idea that Norah used to be this size? I mean, look at her meaty little hand. It's almost the size of Paige's head. And Norah is just a little over two years older. I think it's time for us to consider the very real possibility that she's a giant. Not like a frost giant or anything (come on, be realistic)--but possibly a hill giant.

The kids barely napped through the entire week. This made bedtime a little easier to abide by, but made the hours from lunch through bedtime an adventure filled with whining and crying and hurt feelings--kind of like a Harry Potter book without all of the good characters dying for no good reason.

We had a family meal at Stroud's (where they proudly wear shirts declaring that they "choke our own chickens"--so a classy joint. Libby worked there for a few months after we got married, if that tells you anything about the kind of people they will hire). Here's Gabe and Norah with their cousins Tanner and Sydney. All the girls we wearing pink tutus. Because you can't get away with doing something like that in public for very long and you might as well make the most of it while you can.

Sydney and Norah, posing in an appropriately cute way for a picture.

Tanner and Gabe posing in one of the creepiest ways possible for a picture.

Thanksgiving dinner. The kids are sitting at a bench, not a table. A small, wobbly bench that we scooted up to them after they sat down. Just how bad this idea was occurred to us not long after we took this picture when the contents of both of their plates spilled to the floor when Norah tried to stand up. Which they didn't mind because they are picky shits and didn't want to eat much of the wonderful food put in front of them anyway.

Gabe on Nana and Poppa's Big Wheel. This Big Wheel LOOKS awesome and tough. It makes noises and stuff, too. But it is even less drivable than most Big Wheels. The front wheel refuses to stay straight and requires more strength and coordination than anyone small enough to sit in the seat possesses. But Gabe did a few good pictures sitting behind the wheel. He looks like trouble, though the only trouble it's possible to get in with this thing comes in the form of the terrible crashes that happen whenever forward movement wrenches the wheel from the driver's grasp and jackknifes at top speeds.

I like this picture because it looks as if Gabe is preparing to give another driver the bird. If I haven't taught my kids road rage by the time they are old enough to own their own cars, then I've probably failed as a parent.

"Something Else," will be rocketing up the charts just as soon as I can figure out how to capitalize on my daughter's obvious singing talents. We will also invest in some sort of legit microphone so she doesn't have to sing into (and make out with) deer whistles on the fronts of cars.

There was also supposed to be a video of the kids decorating cookies last night, but I guess it was too big for Blogger to digest. Glad they've worked out the bugs that have been a nuisance since I started this blog almost three years ago. You'll have to either check Libby's facebook page or our youtube account if you want to see it. Stupid Blogger.