Wii Love Santa

That Santa sure knows how to make us happy. We suspect he hails from the slightly more southern north pole, Seattle, and has a bunch of other kids I'm related to. . . wherever he comes from his generous Christmas gift has kept all of us entertained and occupied, sometimes even together! I am by far the worst in the family. Bennett has already schooled me in tennis and bowling. He even knocked out his heavyweight dad in boxing. Stephen's had fun rocking out with the Guitar Hero we borrowed from Liz, and both boys love the Cars Race-o-rama along with Kendra and Joseph's Legos Star Wars.

B opening his new Cars Wii game

Hooked on Santa

Bennett has been begging me to write a wish "list" for Santa. Apparently the Santa letters he wrote at school weren't good enough because he's been persistent with his requests. I softened my "too busy" Grinch's heart this morning--it IS Christmas Eve after all--and sat next to him while he wrote and stamped the list/letter above.

The whole sound-it-out spelling is just about the most adorable thing ever. Can you tell he's starting to experiment with punctuation? His commas look a little like backward C's and his "Batman car 'slash-dash' plane" takes a little figuring out. The budding speller ran out of gas with gar(bage) truck and proclaimed his arm too tired to continue. Fine by me. I had no idea he wanted some of this stuff! I'm afraid he will not be opening a box with a dog in it tomorrow or probably any Christmas in the near future. . .

Equal Opportunity Spectators

We had a chance to support the Stanford women's and men's basketball teams on back-to-back nights, and since we are all about equality in our family we supported both. The boys tagged along for the women's game the first night, their first college basketball game of any kind, and although our free seats were a little high for my liking... they didn't know any better and loved it all. The band had Eli captivated. The dancing tree cracked him up. Bennett was more taken by the concessions possibilities and the scoreboard, since he loves tracking game scores with his daddy at home. He also seemed into the action of the game, aware that he was seeing live what he's usually watching at home on a television. They also loved meeting the Stanford football team before the game with famed running back Toby Gerhart as a definite highlight.


Stephen and I went alone to the men's game the next night with much better seats, thanks to Aunt Kathy's Oklahoma State connections, and definitely enjoyed the game more fully without the muchkins. I forgot how much I like watching basketball. I also forgot how much watching basketball makes me want to get out and play basketball. It's been so many years I don't even want to count, but something about the excitement and energy and tension of a live game makes me feel like hardly any time has passed, as if I could just jump out there and win the game for them. Ridiculous, I know. It's no wonder all those old people sitting around us fork out the big bucks for season tickets. Feeling young and invincible seems pretty worth it.

Holiday Roadkill

Forget Grandma, I feel like I'VE been run over by a reindeer these days.

Why does all the early December fun and magic turn into mid-December stress and fatigue?

My house is a wreck,
my calendar insane,
my sleep minimal,
my to-do list completely overwhelming,
my patience thin,
my temper strong,
my husband exhausted,
my boys sassy,
my baby grouchy,
my shows stacked a mile high,
my book sadly neglected,
and
my toenail polish so chipped it's embarrassing to look at my feet.


Oh well, at least my whining is still intact.

Somebody's Three

I, the mother too caught up in Christmas to properly celebrate her kid's third birthday, vow to throw him a bona fide birthday party next year.

I feel like I made this same promise last year, but now that I'm promising publicly maybe I'll actually follow through for Eli's fourth birthday. I feel bad that he watches his older brother have huge birthday festivities every October, talks about his own birthday every day for a month, and then gets the shaft because his family is too busy being busy in December. Why do I get the feeling he'll be telling his therapist this same story someday?

So there wasn't a party. But there was a cake. His first ever, I might add. I busted out the ole homemade cake and frosting recipes, along with my super rusty 9-inch round cake pans (parchment paper to the rescue). I even put some blue crystal sprinkles on top, which I bought at the store after hearing Eli tell someone he wanted "sparkles" on his cake. Thankfully I had exactly three candles left in the candle box since I forgot to pick those up, and while the frosting was a little on the runny side I don't think Eli minded.

There were also a few presents. I love new toys. The first few days are always the toy honeymoon when the boys play happily, actually sharing with each other because they're so excited to have new stuff, and they even forget about the TV for a little while. Miracle of miracles!

There was also a big package that arrived at the house with Eli's name on it. Very exciting indeed. Guess what was inside of it? The very firetruck Mr. Eli had been wanting for almost a year now. The one with the doors that open. The one with a fireman to go inside. The one that is tougher and louder and all around better than the one his older brother got from Santa last Christmas. You scored big, Granddad Jory and Connie.

And of course there were In-N-Out burgers for lunch.

Next year, however, there WILL be a party. A real one.

"Mommy, my hands are freezing!"

Stephen had to work late last night, so I decided to head for the hills and chase the newly-fallen, mountain snow. I mean, how often is the white stuff within driving distance of my little Bay area home? I didn't have an exact destination in mind, just up, up, up until we hit the snow, so there was a bit of meandering until we hit Highway 9. Bennett was getting concerned after a half-hour of driving and no visible snow yet. "Do you know where you're going, Mommy?" and "Where's the snow?" kept coming from the back seat. I sometimes forget that a mom like me can really stress out a kid like Bennett. He is a lot like Stephen in his need for planning and structure and predictability, which is why I usually save spontaneous outings like "Let's go chase the snow, kids!" for when Daddy's not home.

When we finally did reach the snow, however, all of B's stress melted right away as he caught his first glimpses. "I see it, Mommy, I see it!" I may as well have been five years old myself, though, the way I couldn't stop smiling at the blanketed trees and little white piles on the sides of the road. Seeing all that beautiful winter scenery was food for my snow-starved soul--apparently absence has made my heart grow fonder (especially when I think of how I used to complain about it when I lived in UT). As we approached the top, Benito kept asking to get out and see it, so we pulled over and frolicked midst the snow-capped trees and gorgeous views of the lighted valley below. Eli was fast asleep in the van with content Millie by his side, so it was just B and I throwing snowballs at each other. This cute couple gave Bennett their miniature snowman and laughed at his shock over how cold his hands were from touching the snow. First-timer through and through.

Baffled

Remember how I told you that child #2 was having issues going #2 in public bathrooms? Well, apparently we wished or prayed a little too hard for him to overcome that one because now we can't get him to stop doing it! Lest you think I'm exagerrating, let me give you a brief run-down of how many bathrooms the kid "dooked it out in" over the course of one day:

Monday night -- drugstore
Monday night -- home
Tuesday morning -- home
Tuesday morning -- Bennett's classroom
Tuesday morning -- home
Tuesday morning -- mall
Tuesday afternoon-- park (twice)
Tuesday afternoon -- home
Tuesday night -- Costco
Tuesday night -- home

Does this seem a little unnatural to anyone else? How does one little body produce that much stuff? And where he used to insist that I come into the stall with him, now he "wants privacy, Mommy" and gives me the stiff arm every time I try and help (although I have peeked to make sure he's doing what he really says he's doing in there and not faking it). Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about any of this. It's soooooooo much better than what I was dealing with before. I'm just baffled by what brought on the sudden and dramatic change, not to mention how he's pulling this off physically. Maybe he really is the man of steel. . . complete with a robotic bodily fluid rationing system.