in review

book of the year: The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath

accessory of the year: the ring Leslie bought for me, picture not forthcoming.

quote of the year: "Not today, mom. Not today." -William

Child of the Year: Ivy, for always being happy to see me.

Husband of the year: Christofer. (although in fairness, the competition was thin, Christofer being the only husband I have.)( I am confident, though, he would have come out on top either way.)

achievement of the year: my achievements are either hard to quantify or non-existent. Teaching Michael to read, maybe? keeping William alive? we'll go with that one.

best piece of advice received from a friend this year: "shut up. no, for reals, shut up."

TV show of the year: So You Think You Can Dance, and (once again) 30 Rock

discovery of the year: costco churros

best thing Michael has said to me all year: "that's a big bum." "...what did you say?" "behind you. that bum is big."

blog post of the year from this very blog: I think we can all agree.


number of blog posts this year: 220
number of good blog posts this year: 110
number of times I've given up and quit this blog: 4
number of times I've given up on giving up because I can't quit you: 4
number of times I've used that joke this year even though it's so 2005: 3
number of times I've tried to end this particular post: 6
number of times I've succeeded so far: 0
number of times I'm going to spank my kids right now for throwing play-dough around the house: 6 million




happy new year.

we wish you a Merry Christmas...

what is Christmas with no snow?

holly jolly

even though I frequently take pictures of the every day lunacy that goes on around here, I am somewhat notorious for forgetting to take my camera to actual photo opportunities.
such as the first time my kids sat on Santa's lap.
just a random example.
(they practically danced through the line, they were so excited.)

thanks for the pictures, Melissa!

confession

sometimes Chris and I wake Ivy up in the middle of the night just to play with her.

delivery

"please, mom?" Michael begs. "Please?" He's four years old. He wants to deliver treats to the neighbors without help.

"....okay," I agree. "But! you have to wear a coat."

"Yes! YAY! okay! YAY!"

"And! you HAVE to stay with William, and hold his hand tight while you cross the street. okay?"

"YES! I WILL! LET'S GO!"

"WAIT. William. You must follow Michael, and hold his hand in the street. Will you do that?"

"OKAY! YES! WE GOING, MOM!"

I watch from the window.

such good boys I have.

late afternoon light

frozen

I am so cold.

after bedtime

after bedtime last night, William managed to:

• find the thinning shears and cut a giant hole in his pajama pants
• dig out my mascara and paint his face and our bed
• throw q-tips all over the bathroom
• fill up the bathtub with water, jump in it
• break our toilet

Please keep in mind when reading that list, this was not the result of just one sneaking-out-of-bed incident. These were all individual sneaking-out-of-bed incidents, separated by repeated replacement and severe beatings.

ha! just kidding about the beatings.
lucky for him he's so damn cute.

sick day

I was going to write about how tired I am of everyone being sick,
but some mornings it's nice to wake up and have an excuse to cuddle up on the couch with a show (or your computer).
we're very cozy right now.

letters dictated to me yesterday

Dear Santa Claus,

Please can you bring me an action Luke Skywalker. And maybe a Darth Vader for my brother. Please bring a golden jewel for my mom and dad. I'm being a very good boy so you can come.

Love,
Michael





Dear Santa Claus,


Please give me a Darth Vader. I think maybe two Darth Vaders. And three Darth Vaders maybe? yes. I being a good boy.



Love,
William



(in case you were wondering, I have no idea why Michael thinks Santa should bring Chris and me a "golden jewel." When I asked him he said, "Because you're being really nice, Mama!"
so there you go.)

Darth Vader eating a turkey and avacado sandwich

"William," I asked, "why aren't you speaking quietly?"

"Because I Darth Vader," he replied, "and Darth Vader's a Bad Guy."






































valid point.

delicious

Listen. I have been shopping at Costco for a year and a half now, and all I want to know is, WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME ABOUT THE CHURROS?

obeying

this morning was one of those mornings, so when Michael ignored my request to go upstairs and get dressed for the third time I gave him my best mom face and was like, "Dude. You have ONE MORE CHANCE TO LISTEN. And then, if your clothes, your shirt and your pants, are not ON YOUR BODY, I am going to beat you."

Just kidding. I didn't threaten to beat him. I threatened to confiscate his lightsaber, which apparently is more horrible than a threatened beating. he almost flew into a rage. then he looked at my face again, thought better of it, and sighed in exasperation, because, geez. MOMS, you know? so annoying.

"OhhhKAAAAAAYYYYyyyyy," he said, and stomped upstairs. I was surprised to find a preteen in my house, but whatever. At least he went upstairs to get dressed.

In a few mintues he called down to me. "Hey MOOOoooom. I got DRESSssssed." I found the jocularity in his voice suspicious. A second later, my suspicions were confirmed, and honestly, my first inclination was to be even more angry because it had been one of those mornings. Then I thought, "Hey, wait. that actually is pretty funny."

and I laughed.

holiday spirit

Today Chris and I took the kids up to Festival of Trees, one of my favorite holiday traditions. Have you been? You should go. It is magical. The trees are incredible. The gingerbread houses are inspired. The fudge is divine. (so are the scones and cinnamon rolls.) (I try everything, so I know.) I want to be rich and bid on the play houses.

I wish I hadn't forgotten my camera so I could show you pictures. But I did, so I can't.

sorry.

Festival of Trees, aside from displaying some pretty spectacular creations, raises money for Primary Children's Medical Center, which is a really remarkable facility. A lot of the trees are donated in honor of Primary Children's past patients, some who survived, some who didn't.

I cry every year.
in a good way.

so just go. you won't be sorry.

This is Ivy.

this is Ivy thinking about breaking the rules:



this is Ivy acting as her own lookout:



This is Ivy pulling an ornament off the Christmas tree:


This is Ivy being excited by her success:



this is Ivy realizing her mom is staring right at her:

oh.