As you may remember, December has not historically been a most wonderful time of the year for me. I don’t love the hurry hurry hurry of December. I don’t love that we have more parties in December than the whole of the other months put together.
But this December has been different. There have been a few rough days– there were two days last week when it took two hours and lots of threats to get Bo to nap, [while Tucker cried by himself in his crib and Mary Bullock begged relentlessly for one more Arthur] and I thought my head was going to spin out of control and go rolling down the street.
But other than those days, I’ve tried hard to not do things I didn’t want to do or that I felt would be more pain than pleasure. I’ve tried to embrace the mess. I’ve tried to let my babies help, even when I could do it faster and with less headache myself. I’ve let them eat more cookies than I am even ok admitting. Yesterday I put two cookies each for them in baggies on our way out the door and called it lunch because the cookies contained oatmeal.
I’ve eaten more cookies than I’m even ok admitting. We’ll be dealing with that in January.
But perspective has certainly not been in short supply. Any glance at CNN, which I have tried really hard to avoid, smacks me in the face with how short and uncertain life really is.
It also occurs to me that Mary Bullock is now at an age where she will remember some of this Christmas.
I really hope she doesn’t remember the day my head nearly exploded.
I hope I forget it, too.
But I hope she remembers this:
and I hope she remembers our first gingerbread house looking like this:
and not like this:
One can hope, right?
Tucker is getting chubby! I love this baby. I especially love that he is going to bed earlier now. I do not love the gunk in his neck rolls. P.U.! Can anyone tell me how to prevent this?
We skipped having breakfast with Santa last weekend to finish decorating the Christmas tree. This was by far one of the best decisions we’ve made in a while. MB barely noticed, Bo was spared another one of these indignities
and we got to decorate the tree together while no one was tired and cranky. Every now and then Lee and I get it right, and this was definitely right for us this year.
We did not skip the two other parties we had last Saturday, and I’m so glad. Otherwise, I never would have recognized Mary Bullock’s undeniable resemblance to Shad Khan.
Tucker: MAMA. WHO IS THIS MAN? WHY IS HE HOLDING ME?
Bo has started saying poor Tuck Tuck whenever Tucker cries. Of course, Bo is often the one making him cry. Weird.
Last one- my little man. I remember thinking just a month ago that time was passing so slowly. And now of course, it seems to have flown. He is now by far my easiest child. He eats what I tell him to eat, he doesn’t throw tantrums, he doesn’t run away when I’m trying to dress him. My big kids need to take some lessons!
When Lee and I decided to stick it out for a few more years in this house, which we have clearly outgrown, one of the few downsides was that there could be no birthday parties in our house. No no no. With the study turned into our bedroom, there was just no way that could happen.
Looking back, I can see where actually saying those words out loud was only guaranteeing that one day a birthday party that was intended to be outside would, in fact, take place inside our tiny tiny house.
With mud and chocolate cupcakes as far as the eye could see.
But there was a train, and what little storm ever stopped a train?
Bo was excited in theory.
Such is the life of a two year old. He loves trains except when he doesn’t.
Good thing there were cupcakes!
So if Bo’s third year is anything like his birthday party, it will be both stormy and sweet. Here’s hoping it’s heavy on the sweet!