Happy Merry Joy and Peace

Merry Everything!!

We sent out a holiday card this year but I'm some kind of moron who can't get it to save any larger than this:

 Happy Everyone!!

Truly wishing you joy and peace and butterscotch schnapps in your eggnog and short visits with obnoxious relatives...

Way More Than You Ever Need to Know About Christmas and Me

Aaaand go. This is the first Christmas season in five years that I can call my very own. There will be no working at 2am on Christmas Eve. There will be no spending Christmas morning watching a family that isn't mine open presents that I chose and wrapped, whispering what they are in my boss's ear so he can take credit for them. This year I won't miss every fun holiday party and local festive event. I'm no longer Ebenezer Scrooge's personal Christmas elf. This year I get to have my very own Christmas. I'm sucking up every minute of it.

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I had a whole thing working here about the war between the decorating themes in our house, but it was boring and going nowhere. So I copied this list from Lora instead.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Oh wrapping paper.  I love to wrap presents.  When I was in college I had a stupid job at a department store in a suburban mall.  It was great because they would hire me back every time I was home from break.  They also had a gift wrap department.  Between shopping on my lunch breaks and the gift wrap department, I probably gave half my paycheck back to the store.  My gifts were the prettiest ones on Christmas morning though. I do appreciate a gift bag for things are too weird and awkward to wrap properly.  There is plenty of tissue paper and charmy, dangly things to add to the beauty of the bag.

2. Real tree or Artificial?  We always a real tree growing up and ideally that's what I like to have.  Our first Christmas together (before we were married), Frank came home from work one morning with a surprise real tree for my tiny apartment.  It was probably about 4ft tall and even at that height it brushed the ceiling.  The past few years we've had a fake tree or none at all.  This year our tree is fake and I have to admit, it's much easier and practical.  We're leaving for our big vacation on Christmas day this year anyway.  I want Bo to remember having a real tree though.  Maybe next year we'll leave the fake tree in the shed and get a real one.

3. When do you put up the tree? The tradition I grew up with was we put the tree up on Christmas Eve.  It evolved from my parents at first not being able to really afford a tree until the last minute when the tree guys were practically giving them away to not being organized enough to get a tree sooner than a few days before until it just became a tradition.  My mom would make snacks and appetizers.  We'd listen to Christmas music and act dumb while my dad fought with the tree.  Every year with the hammer and the platform and the yelling.  Every year hitting himself with the hammer at least once.  Once the tree was up my mom and older sister would string the lights.  Then we would all hang ornaments, my mom supervising to make sure they didn't end up all bunched up in one spot.  It was such fun to unwrap all the ornaments that we'd made or collected as we grew up.  That we'd forgotten about over the course of the year.  Our tree is already up.  My goal is to put it up by December 1st one year evenntually.

4. When do you take the tree down? This is the tricky part.  And another reason why a fake tree is probably best for us.  I'm not so good at taking the tree down.  In past years I've left that dry ass fire hazard up until February or March.  It's such a pain in the ass to take all the ornaments down and wrap them up and put them away.  I hate that part.  I'm really aiming for New Year's day this year.  January 2 at the latest.

5. Do you like eggnog? Eggnog is one of those things that I try every year in the hopes that I will like it.  It seems like something I would like.  It never works though.  I always hate it.  We got some lactose free eggnog for the tree decorating and I actually liked it.  First time ever. 

6. Favorite gift received as a child? Gosh.  It's hard to pick my favorite.  One year there was a Brook Shields head, the neck of which was set in a plastic star shaped tray.  The tray had a makeup palette in it and we could put makeup on Brooke's face or style her hair. They were called Glamour Heads.  That was a good present.  Then there was the year I got a CD Walkman.  I think I was in high school  That was awesome.  I wonder if they even make those anymore. Every year my dad would get a new board game and we would all sit around the dining room table after all the gifts were opened and play the game.  That was the best thing I got every year.

7. Do you have a nativity scene? I have a porcelain ornament on the tree that has just Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus.  Frank's mom probably gave it to us.  There's a house a few neighborhoods over that has a life sized nativity scene on the front lawn and a leg lamp in the front window.  Makes me laugh every time I drive by.

8. Hardest person to buy for? My boss.  I have to get him a present because he gets me lots of big deal presents every year and we have a close relationship that warrants gift giving.  He's a millionaire though.  What do you get the person who already literally has everything and if he doesn't, buys 10 of whatever it is?  I always end up getting him a book or something equally lame.  I think I have a good idea this year though. 

9. Easiest person to buy for? Frank.  He loves presents.  Although I suppose Bo is even easier.  Tonight I gave him a paper bag to play with and it was seriously BEST TOY EVER!

10. Worst Christmas gift ever received? I can't think of any terrible gifts I've received.  I'm so easy.  I love presents of any kind.  Everything makes me happy. 

11. Mail or e-mail Christmas card? I think I managed to send out cards one year, the first year we were married.  Since then not so much.  This year I've got photo cards ordered and will send them out.  Hopefully by New Year my boy's smiling face will be wishing you joy and happy holidays.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? I'm a sucker for the old movies.  White Christmas might be my most favorite.  Holiday Inn isn't technically a Christmas movie but I love that one too.  The old A Christmas Carol with Alistair Sims (Simm?) is fantastic and so is the newish one with Patrick Stewart.  Captain Picard makes a great Scrooge.  I also love the Grinch - cartoon, not Jim Carrey.  That guy is just creepy. And all the old nostalgia ones like Rudolf and Frosty.  I tried to watch the Miser Brothers' Christmas the other day.  Have you seen it?  That one is just weird.  Frank woke up from a nap on the couch in the middle of it and was totally confused.  I was watching George Bailey go through life as if he hadn't been born the other night and then had a dream that I'd killed myself.  No more Frank Capra for me for a while.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? I start shopping on behalf of my boss ( for his kids and friends and girlfriend and her kids and friends) in early November.  No matter how much I try to have him all done and sorted and ready, I'm inevitably putting the finishing touches on things right around the 24th.  I fit my own shopping in here and there. 

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Of course! But not anything I've ever given you.  I pick all of your presents out special.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Everything!  My mom makes traditional Spanish cookies called rosquillos de huevo (help me out with the spelling here Belen.  i know you're reading).  They're sort of like little doughnuts and they're glazed with a honey citrus stuff.  Mom only makes them at Christmastime because that's the tradition and because they're a ton of work.  I don't know how to make them.  I should probably learn.  They are my favorite thing to eat at Christmas.  

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree? I like little white lights that do not blink.  Frank likes colored lights that blink, the more seizure inducing the better.  He also likes tinsel garland and all manners of junk on the tree.  I like a tree that would look good in a department store.  He wins this year.  It seems more kid friendly anyway.  Maybe one year we'll get two trees; a family tree covered in junk and a beautiful, perfectly matched and styled tree for me.

17. Favorite Christmas song? It's so silly but I like all the ridiculous ones like, "I Wanna Hippopotomous for Christmas", and "I'm Gettin' Nuttin' for Christmas", and "Mele Kanikimaka".  I also love the standards.  Who doesn't love Nat King Cole singing about roasting chestnuts on an open fire.  Have you ever had roasted chestnuts?  Add those to the list of things I love to eat at Christmastime. My all time favorite might be "We Need a Little Christmas".  Bo loves to hear me sing that one.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? I went to California one year around Christmas but not specifically for Christmas.  I've been in Miami with my boss on Christmas day and New Year's eve and New Year's day. This year we're going on a big family trip, the three of us and Frank's mom.  I'm excited.  It should be interesting. 

19. Can you name Santa's reindeer? Did you know that Donner is Rudolf's dad?  I never noticed that in the show until this year.  Rudolf's family is the Donners and Donner is his dad.  Santa even calls him Donner.  Watch it again.  You'll see.

20. Do you have an Angel on top or a star? We have a really great, old fashioned star on top.  The silvery kind with lights in it?  Yeah.  Clark Griswold is jealous of my star.
 

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Definitley Christmas morning.  Frank has a hard time waiting to give presents and sometimes has to give me at least one.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? My crazy ass boss who I think believes I'm actually Santa.  Also traffic.  And the fact that it's dark at 4:30.  That has nothing to do with the holidays I know, but it's this time of year.  I just barely win my cage match against seasonal depression every year.  The holidays actually help keep me sane.  Well, the holidays combined with a vacation somewhere warm at some point between December and March. 

23. Ugliest Christmas Decoration ever invented? Inflatable lawn crap.  My neighbors have an inflatable nativity scene right next to an inflatable Santa roasting marshmallows with a couple reindeer.  Weird.

25. Which looks best theme trees or homey trees? My personal aesthetic is theme tree but I'm really looking forward to a tree covered with ornaments of popsicle sticks and cotton balls and popcorn strings we make ourselves.

26. Gingerbread or sugar cookies? I love love love gingerbread.  In man form or big hunks of the bread version.  Delicious.  Add that to my list of favorite Christmas foods too.

27. Do you like Fruitcake?  I really do.  I think it's delicious.  When someone asks you, who eats this stuff?  Now you know.  I can't be alone.  They make thousands and thousands a year.  What?  It's really good with coffee.

Happy Holidays Everyone!

He looks like a Who in Whoville, right?  Would be such a better picture if you couldn't see the charger for the dustbuster.  A dustbuster which I no longer have because I put it in the utility sink and then forgot about it and then ran the washer, which drains into the utility sink.  But I still have the charger.  I'm a few years away from my very own epidsode of Hoarders I think.

Stuffed

It was a super special Thanksgiving this year. All the babies were here! My big sister, who hadn't been home for Thanksgiving in 15 years, was here! With her husband and both of her kids! My brother and his wife and their baby were here from California! My baby sister and slightly wacky baby brother (plus girlfriend) were in from California too! (did I ever tell you that I hate California? I do. It steals my family.) All the babies are about the same age and it was the first time we had them all together.

All of us back together for a significant length of time can be tricky. We're SO HAPPY to see everyone and to be seen by everyone. We want to spend lots of time together. Normal family routines and obligations fall by the wayside. I want to hold their babies and they want to hold my baby and the spouses try desperately to keep up and participate and stay out of the way at the same time. I can't imagine what it must be like to be new to our family. Not that my inlaws are that new anymore. Even so, we're so clannish and exclusive. We have so many inside jokes that it's practically a different language. It can't be easy for Frank or my inlaws to sit at the same dining room table as everyone else and have absolutely no idea what's going on. It must be weird to see their wife/husband spoken to like a little brother or a big sister. Frank is an only child so I have no experience with it at all.

Family politics are sticky. There's a certain amount of regression to the roles we played as children; the boss, the knowitall, the brat, the wingnut, the mute, the loose cannon, the baby. Even though we're all adults now and our conversations are about real grownup stuff, eventually and inevitably, personalities clash and feelings get hurt. People feel slighted or left out or disrespected and we kind of all remember why we left home in the first place.

But not last Thursday. Last Thursday we all gathered at my mom's to eat and talk and take pictures. We tried to cram in memories and conversation and laughter in between cramming turkey and stuffing. We watched our kids sing and dance and create a new layer of memories in the story of our family. It was all over too soon. My big sister - my only older sibling - went back to Europe on Saturday. My my baby sister left Monday morning followed by my brother and his family on Tuesday. All too soon these people that my boy is just getting to know and recognize are gone. We're all back to the normal routines of the lives we've made for ourselves. It was nice to be 12 years old again for a while though.

Kitty

This cat. I think he's out of chances.

Kitty took a few swipes at Bo again recently, this time claws out. The boy was reaching blindly over the arm of the couch (from Frank's lap), just to see if he could do it. The cat pounced and swatted at Bo's hands and mercifully missed. He then jumped onto the couch where he tried to again scratch and claw at the baby. Frank locked him in the basement until Bo was safely in bed.

Something has to be done.

What can we do? None of our friends or family will adopt this cat. He's a psycho and they all know it. Even my sucker-for-anything-with-fur sister wants no part of this cat. I can't in good conscience offer him to strangers, knowing full well that he's unbalanced and will literally bite the hand that feeds him.

Bo is right on the cusp of crawling - we're talking days, if not hours - and while I can put covers in the electrical outlets and locks on my cabinets, I can't babyproof the cat. Or kitty-proof the baby. Anything on the floor to Kitty is fair game and I can't have him coming at Bo's face.

So what do we do? Be those people? Those people who abandon their pet when they have a baby? I'm not that girl. I'm the girl who gets all eye rolly and disdainful when I read the little descriptions on the cage at the shelter about why the animal was given up. Like, didn't you KNOW that was going to happen? Why didn't you PREPARE better? How can you just give your cat away? Why don't you try that book Or a clicker?

So now I direct all of these mean and judgey comments at myself. And I add new fun ones like, why am I so LAZY? How can I say I'm too TIRED to try the book now? Don't I LOVE my cat?

I'm horrified at the thought of taking this poor cat to a shelter. When he gets out of the house (he makes a break for it every time the door opens), he doesn't even leave the yard. We always find him waiting by the front or back door after 10 minutes of backyard adventure. I can't imagine how freaked out he'd be in a shelter somewhere, waiting for me to come back.

I don't know what to do. I mean, I know what has to be done, but I can't bring myself to do it.

It's Been a Long Time Coming

I don't really want to talk about it. I try my best not to think about it too much. There's no answer that doesn't suck and the whole thing makes my stomach hurt. So I avoid it as much as possible and just get on with my day. Until it rears up unexpectedly to slap me in the face and leave me holding back tears at my desk or behind the wheel or wherever I happen to be at that moment.

Most recently it was my dad. He was in my neighborhood and had some time between appointments. He called to see if I was home and could he stop by to see his grandson. When I told him I was at work and Bo was at his babysitter's, my dad's response was, "Oh, he has a babysitter now? I don't like that one bit. But you gotta do what you gotta do." To which I responded, "I don't like it either".

Thanks Dad. Because this is really a conversation I want to have out loud. Because I'm not already tortured every day that my baby boy is cared for by someone else as I sit at my stupid desk and order socks or remove salt from pretzel sticks. Because when I walk to the Fedex box and see babies crying and their nannies trying to console them I don't worry about my son and if he's crying and if his lady is consoling him. Because I don't want to scream with jealousy at the girls standing in the bakery discussing their latest playgroup gossip over their ridiculous strollers as I frantically fix myself a cup of coffee on my schlep to work. So thanks Dad, for bringing it to my attention in the middle of my awesome day.

My job has always sucked. My boss is a walking, talking cross between Michael Scott and Mr. Pitt. I do nothing remotely important or meaningful during my day and never have in the almost 5 years I've been here. The thing is, before Bo, I never cared. I was Jim Halpert to my boss's Michael Scott. Frank's own work schedule is always shifting so missing weekends was no big deal since he was usually at work too. The pay for putting up with the craziness made the 14 or 15 hour days (and 100+ hour weeks) totally worth it. There were also perks galore like shoes with red soles and a personal trainer. It was a good gig.

Now I'm working only part time. Fake. Part time by the standards of this job still means one 10+ hour day a week, really being firm about when I have to leave, and still leaving at least an hour later than planned. The upside is that it's not every day. The downside is no regular person would call the work schedule I'm keeping these days "part time". There aren't as many perks. There's a new girl keeping most of my old hours and now she gets all the extras.

I tell myself that I would go crazy staying home all day, every day with the boy - I tried to write as much in this space - but it wouldn't be true. The days I leave him with the sitter and go to work are so sad for me and I count the minutes until I can leave to get back to him. I'm having a terrible time trying to balance it all (like every other working mom out there I know). There are days where I feel pushed to the floor by the stress of trying to figure out a way to maintain everything.

We could most likely get by on Frank's salary but it would be hard. It would involve more sacrifice than we're willing to make. I don't want my husband working himself to death with overtime, missing his own time with our son so that I can stay home. And I like going to work. It feels good to put on nice clothes and leave the house. I like contributing to the family coffers. I also believe it's good for Bo to get the socialization of other people and other kids.

(I'm going in circles with this post. Can you tell I'm just trying to work my shit out by writing it down?)

It makes me angry and sad and bitter that I have to leave my son with someone else to do this. This nothing of a job. This glorified babysitting of a man old enough to be my son's grandfather; older than my own father by 7 years. This job that requires no specialized skills or abilities, only never ending patience and absolute devotion bordering on co-dependence.

I used to be a teacher. A really good teacher, I don't mind saying. I worked in a terrible school in an awful neighborhood on purpose. The conditions of the school were bad and the pay sucked. I made a difference every day just by showing up and I loved it.

So.

I had an interview a couple of weeks ago with my old school district. I'm going back in January.

It's a trade off to be sure. My work schedule will be five days a week instead of 3 or 4 (or 5, if I'm honest) but I'll be done every day by 4pm. Nobody will call me at home at 9pm because he can't figure out how to switch from cable to the dvd player (swear to God) or because he needs help in drafting a mean email to his ex-wife over how she mothers their children. My weekends will be my own. Bo will technically spend more time with the sitter but not really, since Frank's days off are during the week most of the time. It's going to be hard and thankless.

I can't wait.

Perspective

I'm not quite done beating myself up over allowing my son to fall on his head. In fact, the very next day walking down the front steps of our house with the boy in the carrier, I achieved the advanced move of stepping on the hem of my right pant leg with the heel of my left shoe. We have 12 front steps. Somehow I managed to not lose my grip on the carrier and sort of pitched myself sideways so I landed in the ivy, one ass cheek slamming hard onto the step but the baby landing right side up.

That was an awesome start to the day.

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A couple weeks ago my mom and I were talking about winter coats for Bo and I mentioned something about the one piece snowsuit deals and she said do NOT get one of those things because it's her experience that babies hate those things.

Her experience.

One day my mom decided to take us to the playground near my grandparents' house for the afternoon. She liked to take us for walks during the day, to get out of the house and do something. The playground was within walking distance but not close. It was probably a 10 minute walk for an adult alone. There were four of us at the time, ages 4,3,2, and 1 (roughly) so it was probably more like a 30 minute walk.

When we got to the playground my mom turned us loose to play while she wrestled my brother (the one year old) out of the stroller. He was pissed and thrashy because he hated his one piece snowsuit. In the time it took her to take her eyes off of us and wrangle him, my younger sister, Maria (the two year old) fell off her swing and broke her arm.

It was about 1981 or so. Mom was 25 years old. She didn't speak any English (neither did my older sister or myself). There were no cell phones. Still, she didn't panic or freak out. She got my brother back into the stroller, turned her scarf into a sling for Maria's arm, and walked all four of us back to my grandparents' house where she could call my dad at work and my grandfather could take her and Maria to the hospital.

I have no memory of the event at all. I vaguely remember Maria's arm being in a cast but barely.

I'm 32 years old. I have one kid. I speak the language. I have a cell phone and a driver's license and a car. Still, I think I would melt into a puddle of panic faced with that situation. I certainly don't think I would have the presence of mind to fashion a sling out of my scarf.

My lesson? Kids get hurt and it's not the end of the world.

No snowsuits for Bo.

And maybe one baby is enough for me.

FAIL

It's not my intention to let this blog languish for weeks at a time. I was talking to Lora the other day (it was more than 2 weeks ago but in the freaky fastforward wormhole that sucked me in the day Bo was born, that was like yesterday) about how this blog sucks. Her response was that it doesn't so much suck as it's just nonexistent. So true. It's not that I don't have anything to talk about or think about or work through. I just sort of suck at life these days.

Speaking of sucking at life...

You know that expression we like to use about how people should be required to obtain a license to have kids? I solemnly swear to never, ever say that again. Because if it were true and I passed the test in the first place (which is no guarantee. My stupid driving test took 3 tries. And I was 23 years old.), my license would have been revoked already, multiple times. Because I suck. I also promise to never again snark about the ridiculously unecessary warnings all over every baby item ever produced, as I am apparently their target audience. That audience being, of course, morons.

Last weekish, I was in the kitchen with the baby, trying to clean out the refrigerator. He was in the bumbo seat because he MUST! BE! UPRIGHT! at all times. In being upright though, he must be no more than 2 feet from my face. So I had him in the bumbo, in one of our kitchen chairs. The chairs are those high, bar stool style ones for sitting at a counter. Or a bar. They do have backs, they're not actual stools. Anyway, he was in one of those chairs and I had him pulled close to me, within (what I thought was)arm's reach. Except notsomuch.

In the minute it took to turn my head and shove something down the garbage disposal, that boy fidgeted and wriggled himself right off the edge of the chair, head first, onto the floor. Onto the ceramic tile kitchen floor. Head first.

Then I had to be the idiot mom at the pediatrician's office (at 8pm bless them) explaining that I had my baby rigged precariously and let him fall off of a chair. I could not believe I was actually uttering the words "I just turned around for a minute". GAH. I wanted to roll my eyes at myself.

He was fine. The doctor isn't sure he even hit his head at all.

It's becoming scarily clear though, that could be the first of many trips we'll be making to the doctor's office/emergency room with this boy. He spends most of his day launching himself head first at things he wants or at nothing in particular. When he's not trying to bash his skull, he's attempting to escape from whatever I've tried to use as confinement. He makes the exersaucer move across the floor with all his vigorous thrashing about, he's figured out how to use his foot as leverage to get out of the bumbo seat (that thing is so retired by the way), and more than once he's rolled clear out of our laps. I'm not saying it's ok to drop your baby, but I understand how it could happen.