'Tis the Season....

...for the HO-HO-HOUSE TOUR!!!



...to send happy wishes to friends. Thanks Jen, for sending a card that co-ordinates so well with our silver tinsel trees! I love it when a plan comes together.

....to count down the days with anxiety, or impatient glee. Depending of course, on which side of the generation gap you fall.

....for sweet little elves to march in parades.

....and whisper secrets to Santa.



....for sugarplum fairies to welcome you in. I'm loving this addition to my favourite wreath. Genius? Why yes I am!

....to cut down big-ass lopsided trees and dress them up like a drag queen.

...for new stockings, hung by the fire. And just so you know, I'm much better with puffy fabric glitter than I am with MS Paint!

...for jolly old elves. My dad made this one for me for Christmas last year, and from now 'til forever it will be my favourite ornament. You know you love it too.

for pinecones and disco balls and candy-canes.

I love me some disco glitter. What do you want? I was born in 1975....

...for secret workshop projects. Bad asked Santa for a train table for Christmas, but Hubs and I had a few reservations. They're generally ridiculously priced and only sturdy enough to withstand average children. While we will encourage Bad not to jump and dance on it, we do try to live in the real world. Also, we were worried about Santa getting it stuck in the chimney. So Hubs built a tank of a table, and I painstakingly painted the storybook topography that no one will ever see under all the trains. Then I rearranged all the furniture in the living room so there will be somewhere to put this on Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas everyone, I hope that wherever you are, it's filled with Christmas cheer. Here's last year's post if you want still more...and don't forget to check out all the other stops on this year's tour.

Family Portrait

The Scene: Bad, muttering to himself, while drawing intently at the kitchen table. Me, face in the neck of my shirt, trying not to laugh out loud.

"Hmm...there's Grandma...what does she need? Yes! Hair! (ed. note - in real life the rest of us have hair too.) Hmm...there's Sally (ed. note - that's our dog) what does she need? Booger holes! Yes! Sally always needs booger holes!"





Booger holes indeed. We've all got them, we all need them. And I think it's a pretty good drawing from a boy who only just turned 3. Biased? You bet.

Captain Nudie-butt

That's what the Princess has started calling Bad - and she's chasing him around the house trying to dress him by force. I'm afraid to intervene.

Ring Ring!

Phonecall 1

Hubs: Hello?

Me: I can't find the ground turkey! I think I'm losing my mind!

Hubs: What? (At least he didn't need to ask who was calling)

Me: I thought I took it out of the fridge, but I can't find it!

Hubs: Did you look IN the fridge?

Me: Yes!

Hubs: There's a lot of crap in there....did you look behind the crap?

Me: Yes! I took almost everything out!

Hubs: Did you look in the freezer?

Me: Yes! I thought maybe you put it there...

Hubs: Did you maybe put it in a cupboard or something, when you were looking for something else?

Me: I've looked in all of them! It's not there! It's not on the counter or the table, or in your office....it's disappeared!

Hubs: Well, there's not much I can do from here. We'll find it tomorrow when it starts to stink.

Phonecall 2

Hubs: Hello?

Me: Bad had it. He was taking it for a ride in his dumptruck.

Is it me?

I just got off the phone with Hubs and he's feeling all pissy because I mentioned that Bad went to the Princess's school wearing her tights under his shorts. I thought it was funny, Hubs patently did not. He intimated that I let the boy get away with murder, and when I didn't respond he came out with the "maybe it's my fault for not being involved enough". Whatever. Bad's 2. He wanted to wear shorts. I wanted him to be warm. I said he could wear tights under his shorts, and although I was joking he thought it was a great idea and put some on. I didn't care - and I needed the laugh. So....am I an overly permissive parent? Scarring the boy's psyche for life? Or, heaven forbid, could I possibly be in the right?

Farewell, sweet smile.

She's always been self-conscious about the gap in her teeth, but I loved it, and am I ever going to miss my baby's smile.

Then again, this big girl has a pretty cute grin...and I'm really looking forward to getting to know her.

And then light shone down from the heavens and the angels sang....

So. That last post was a wee bit negative, wasn't it? (Thanks everybody for your supportive and encouraging words!) I wasn't a happy camper, and I let that mood follow me around for a long time. This week, however, I had an allelujah moment. Bad's been on the waiting list for a speech assessment since his 2nd birthday (11 months ago!) and on Monday the clinic called me. They'd had a cancellation for Thursday, and did we want the appointment? YES we did. On Thursday morning I used all my evil mommy powers to trick Bad into wearing matching, season appropriate clothing. (Gotta make a good impression!) We dropped the Princess off at school and headed off to the speech 'doctor'. (Boy loves doctors, go figure.) While we were sitting in their toy-filled wonderland of a waiting room, I spied the following title on their bookshelves:






The title caught my eye, because when I try to explain Bad to people, I always say "his spirit is just too big for his little body to control." And the subtitle on the book? A Guide for Parents Whose Child Is More Intense, Sensitive, Perceptive, Persistent, and Energetic - MORE. That's what Bad is! He's MORE. I plucked it down and started reading, and wow. I managed to read the introduction, and skim through some of the chapters before being called into our appointment, and just that little bit has helped me reframe his behaviour and deal with him more effectively. I am going out to buy a copy today.

And his appointment? He's got a lateral lisp and some articulation issues, but he scored in the 98th percentile for his language skills. The speech pathologist couldn't believe how well he did (the test she used is for 3-6 year olds). He's going to start articulation therapy next week, and as were leaving she said, "Karen (the therapist he'll be working with) is just going to eat him up." I've always known he was awesome, but I'll admit that the preschool incident really shook me up, and having a stranger recognize his charm and potential really helped me shake off the blues. I'm should be back to my regularly scheduled crazy in no time.