Saturday, November 27, 2010

harried holidays

I love the holiday season. The lights, the food, the music, the family. The food. From the middle of November until the beginning of January there is just so much joy to be had. 

Unless you're anywhere near a mall or store. Then it's nothing but hurry up and wait. 

Yes, everyone is trying extra hard to be extra nice but when all I need is a gallon of milk and some desperately needed Diet Mt. Dew, the last thing I want is to stand for half an hour in line while the woman in front of me buys presents for every single member of her family. "Running to the store" any time from now until Christmas will involve a prepared game plan. Which entrance to park at. Which aisle to hit up first and which to avoid like the plague. A detailed list so I'm not wandering around the store searching. In and out. That's it. If only it were that simple. 

At least for me it will be. A few years ago I chose to ban any gratuitous brick and mortar shopping. Unless something is specifically in-store only, the extent of my shopping is done online. The internet super highway is much less crowded than the real highway. And most importantly, my sanity is worth more than the cost of shipping. 

So until the last Christmas song is played I will be avoiding any unnecessary frustration. If milk is needed, well, that's what Jason is for.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

12 months OR 1 whole year

Dear Penny Poop,

You did it! You made it through a whole year of life without any major mishaps, injuries or critical threats of life. And since I'm such a klutz, that makes me so proud.

The day after your birthday I turned to your daddy and asked him who this little girl was tearing through the living room at full speed. What happened to our mushy slobber-filled baby and when did she get so tall? And smart? I'm already noticing how you've stopped looking like an infant and instead are getting your toddler face. You're all gopher teeth and smiles and love bites and slobbers.

The first few months of your life were some of the hardest I've ever had to face. Emotionally and physically. Days without more than a few hours of sleep combined with the wrong combination of medications left me feeling like you were going to be awake forever. FOR-EV-ER. But then you began sleeping through the night and a light could be seen at the end of the tunnel. Then not just a light, but flowers and music and jig-dancing leprechauns.

This past year with you in our lives has been the most wonderful I've ever know. And I know I'll say it next year, too, but it'll be true then as it is now. You fit perfectly into our lives and make us a family. I love you.












Love,
Mama