Family

  • Happiness and cheer

    Well here it is, multiple days after Christmas. I guess I better take the time to recall all the Christmas memories before I forget them all. Especially considering that I can’t even make a trip to the HEB anymore without forgetting at least two things that are WRITTEN DOWN on my grocery list. I used to be able to remember all sorts of things, but have reached a point where the only thing I can recall with total clarity are the words to just about every Beyonce song. Which is a handy life skill.

    Caroline spent the night with Mimi and Bops on the eve of Christmas Eve with her cousin Sarah. I knew things hadn’t gone that well when Bops showed up at my house with both girls by 8:15 the next morning. Word on the street is that they were all hyped up on the Christmas excitement, woke up around 3:30 a.m. and never really went back to sleep. I think they should consider themselves lucky that Bops didn’t just come to a rolling stop in front of my house as he kicked them out of the car. Not that he would do that. He’s a grandfather and grandparents tolerate things that parents don’t because they have the luxury of dropping kids back off at their house the next morning and going home to take a nap.

    The girls helped me roll out the dough for the fourteen pans of cinnamon rolls I was making and by helped I mean that they punched their fingers in the dough and forced me to have to roll it all out multiple times while I wondered if these are the kinds of conditions Mrs. Baird had to work under.

    Later on in the day it was time to head to church for the Christmas Eve service. Before we left the house I wanted to take some pictures of Caroline in front of the tree. This is what I got.

    Bless her heart. It’s like she’s never seen a camera.

    After church we went to Mimi and Bops’ house to eat tamales and open presents with my sister and her family. At that point I was able to get a few more candid shots of Caroline that more accurately depict her Christmas Eve countenance.

    We ate tamales and then Caroline read The Christmas Story to us before we opened our presents.

    My nephew Luke was busy being a muppet and had on white knee socks and black dress shoes. I could have sopped him up with a biscuit.

    After we opened presents, we cranked up Caroline’s new iDog from Mimi and Bops and just enjoyed being together and playing a little Scrabble Flash until we realized she and Sarah had been up since 3:30 a.m. and might be about to head south on us.

    We headed home so Caroline could put out milk and cookies for Santa and get in bed.

    And then Santa Claus began the daunting task of trying to figure out how to hook up the Wii. Santa is a little frightened by all modern technology, particularly cables that have to go in the back of televisions and possess the potential to possibly screw up all the recorded programming on the DVR. Not to mention that Santa had to perform feats of strength to move the T.V. out of the armoire so his elf could help run all the cords through the back. It’s all fun and games until a television crashes to the ground and ruins Christmas.

    Fortunately, Santa managed just fine and in the scheme of all the past “some assembly required” Christmases, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was much easier and required far less wine than the Polly Pocket Shopping Mall Roller Coaster Debacle of 2008.

    Caroline woke up Christmas morning and was so impressed that Santa not only brought the Wii, but that he took the time to set the whole thing up. She and her daddy immediately began to play.

    While an antelope watched his tree by night.

    Yes. He’s still here.

    There were cinnamon rolls and breakfast casserole to be eaten and more presents to be opened.

    And then Bops couldn’t resist the call of the Wii, so he and Caroline took each other on in a round of boxing.

    I wish I were kidding when I tell you that not only did he do the whole deep-breathing boxer thing with every punch, but he went full on Rocky Balboa and lifted both arms as he danced around in victory after defeating his seven-year-old granddaughter.

    It was a precious moment.

    After that we got dressed and headed over to P’s mom’s house to have Christmas with his family and apparently that’s the point when I completely forgot to pull my camera out and take a few pictures. There were more presents and food and family.

    Later in the afternoon we finally got back home. I could have laid down on the couch and slept for about six or seven years, but we hadn’t busted out the Just Dance 2 yet. And my need to dance triumphed over my need for sleep.

    Caroline put it in the Wii and picked “Call Me” by Blondie. Ten minutes later I had stripped off my sweater, taken off my boots, put my hair in a ponytail and was dancing like a woman possessed. Or obsessed. Unfortunately, my moves seem to be too much for the Wii. It doesn’t understand me or my rhythmic sensibilities.

    And so ultimately this will be the Christmas I’ll remember as the one where my child learned to talk trash to her mother.

    Good times.

  • The days before Christmas

    Well, it’s the night after Christmas and I’m sitting here on my couch with a few tears in my eyes because I just watched last year’s season finale of Friday Night Lights for the forty-second time and I never grow tired of watching Landry kick the game-winning field goal. I realize that’s probably a random thing to watch on the night after Christmas, but I’m officially over the Christmas movies and it seemed like a good choice.

    I also seem to have a piece of glitter near my eye that I keep seeing in my peripheral vision and it’s driving me a little bit crazy. Alas, it’s the price you pay when you have a fondness for the ribbons with all the glitter.

    So I’m going to go out on a limb and say that, other than Santa’s poor judgement in bringing Caroline some Aqua Sand, this may have been my favorite Christmas. I’m also going to say that after engaging in more Just Dance battles on the Wii than I can count, I better keep my day job. Not that I really have a day job. I choose to believe that what I lack in actual dance ability, I more than make up for in enthusiasm.

    I feel like I failed to recount a lot of things we did during the days leading up to Christmas and now I need to record them for posterity. Feel free to move on to something on the internet that’s more interesting. I hear there’s a site called You Tube that has all sorts of videos and something called Google that let’s you search for all manner of information.

    The Sunday before Christmas, Caroline and I drove down to the ranch to meet P. She spent some time with a little princess.

    And the next morning she went hunting with her daddy and she shot a turkey.

    I regret to inform you that its tailfeathers are currently in a Ziploc bag in my freezer. I’m not sure what’s going to happen to them, but I’m praying they don’t end up as some sort of wall decoration.

    We drove home later that day because we had big plans to go to the Riverwalk with Mimi and Bops, my sister and my niece to eat dinner at the Rainforest Cafe, home of the overpriced souvenir cup and occasional indoor thunderstorm.

    Please note that Caroline wore her jeggings. With a denim jacket. I don’t really recommend wearing them both at the same time, but she hasn’t heeded my clothing advice since she learned the word NO.

    Later in the week we made sugar cookies while wearing our jammies.

    My kitchen will never be the same again. I just have to resign myself to the fact that I’ll end up with festive sprinkles on the bottom of my feet anytime I walk through there until sometime around 2015.

    I had a great girls’ night out with my Birthday Club group on Wednesday night. There is no photographic evidence of this. You’ll just have to believe it happened.

    And then on Thursday, Caroline and I went over to Gulley’s to exchange Christmas presents with the boys. Look what Gulley bought Caroline.

    In Gulley’s defense, I told her to buy the Snuggie because Caroline begs me for one every time she sees them at HEB. I just wanted to clear that up because otherwise Gulley would call me and worry that the people on the internet will think she is totally lame for buying a seven year old a Snuggie.

    But I will have you know that when Caroline opened it up, she yelled, “FINALLY! FINALLY!!! FINALLY I HAVE MY VERY OWN SNUGGIE!!!!”

    And at that point I thought I should just take back the rest of her Christmas presents and save myself some cash because her joy was complete. A snuggie. A zebra print snuggie. Who says $15 can’t buy happiness?

    I think the kids all liked their gifts. Or maybe they were just all hyped up on sugar cookies and Dr. Pepper.

    I feel like I’ve already used too many words and I haven’t even gotten to Christmas Eve. Plus it feels like the Arctic Circle in my living room right now and I need to go get in bed. Or find Caroline’s new snuggie.

    I’ll continue the story of our Christmas tomorrow. I’m sure at least two of you will find it fascinating.

    _____________________________________

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  • Jumping the Christmas shark

    I thought I’d go into excruciating detail about how we spent the rest of our Thanksgiving weekend, but I can hardly remember. I think it was Saturday before I regained consciousness from my whipped cream hangover and all I really know is that we watched a tremendous amount of college football. Between all the close games and the amount of butter contained in most holiday casseroles, I can only imagine that it proved to be a banner weekend for cardiologists all across the United States.

    About noon on Friday, P decided that he was going to head down to the ranch to spend the night. I asked him if he had any interest in getting the Christmas decorations down from the attic for me before he left. And so he did. Even though it’s his personal belief that the last weekend of November is too early to decorate for Christmas. In fact, he told me that I jump the shark on Christmas decorating every year. I think what he was trying to say is that I jump the gun on decorating. Jumping the shark would imply that I might pay the neighborhood children to perform a living nativity in our front yard every night from now until Christmas.

    Which now that I think about it, PURE AWESOME.

    So maybe I’m inclined to jump the gun AND the shark.

    After P left, Caroline and I began to go through all the decorations. Everything appeared to be accounted for except for my MERRY AND BRIGHT sign. And I’m trying not to take that as a sign of things to come. I plan to enjoy the Christmas season with my MERRY AND BRIGHT firmly intact.

    I managed to get most of the inside decorated and even made a quick run to Michaels in the midst of Black Friday madness to look for turquoise ribbon. It totally paid off because I found the perfect ribbon for 70% off. I also bought a wreath hanger that’s too small for our front door and some pink glitter ribbon that called to me from the aisles.

    (I don’t know why I think you care about any of this. The ribbon! It’s fascinating!)

    (Their frames were also 60% off and I nearly bought two black ones and then I didn’t because it’s Christmas and I felt guilty buying things for myself and now I regret that I didn’t just buy them. Why do I overthink everything?)

    Caroline and I took a brief break from all the football and Christmas decorating to go see Tangled in 3-D Saturday afternoon. We both absolutely loved it. And then we ate Mexican food with Mimi and Bops because leftover turkey was dead to me and I hadn’t had Mexican in over six days. Well, unless you count that A.J. and I met at Cafe Salsita for breakfast earlier that morning. But that’s breakfast and it’s different from dinner. And now I’m just stating the obvious.

    Night is different from day. The moon is different from the sun. Brad Pitt before Angelina Jolie is different than Brad Pitt after Angelina Jolie.

    Sunday morning we went to church and then I attempted to take a Christmas card picture of Caroline. The verdict is still out on that whole process, but I’ll keep you posted. Then the time came to go get our Christmas tree.

    Mimi and Bops always do the tree thing with us. We all meet at the lot, load both trees up in P’s truck and then take their tree back to their house before we head home and attempt to get our tree to stand up straight. This process is met with varying success each year. It’s the whole getting the tree to stand up straight that has been the cause of marital stress in years past. Apparently one of us has a hard time knowing what a straight tree looks like.

    I’ll go ahead and admit that I am that person.

    Me: “OH! That’s it! Just like that! PERFECT!!”

    P: “Ok. It’s all tightened down.”

    Me: “Well, now I think it may need to go a little bit more to the left. Or maybe it’s the right.”

    And this scenario tends to cause a bit of frustration.

    But this year we got smart and realized the advantages of child labor.

    Oh sure. She tried to complain that she was too tired to help after we made her carry the tree in on her back, but what’s the point of having kids if not to get the benefits of free labor?

    Just wait until we make her hang the outdoor lights later this week while we threaten that Santa won’t come if the house isn’t properly illuminated.

    Speaking of proper illumination, after we secured the tree in an upright position, I began to wrap the whole thing in lights before we hung any ornaments. Last year I read somewhere, probably Sadomasochist Monthly, that it’s better to string the lights vertically on the tree instead of wrapping them around the tree. True to form, I have no recollection of why this is supposed to be better but yet I did it anyway because some person in some article I can’t remember said it was the best way to do it.

    And I have to disagree with that unknown person in the unknown article because now I appear to be short by at least two strands of lights. Caroline and P tried to convince me that it doesn’t matter because it’s just the back part of the tree and no one will notice.

    But how am I going to jump the shark this Christmas if I don’t have a tree with a maximum display of wattage?

  • A Thanksgiving day in the life

    Here is a brief rundown of how I spent Thanksgiving, complete with a timeline.

    8:45 a.m. – Praise the Lord. Caroline just woke up and is happy to curl up next to me and watch some hideous movie about Barbie leaving for Paris after a break up with Ken and trying to save her Aunt Micheline’s fashion line.

    At least that’s what my sub-conscious absorbed as I drifted back to sleep until I remembered I had to finish cooking some side dishes.

    (On a sidenote: I cannot say the words “side dishes” without thinking about an old episode of South Park where one of the characters is served a plate of waffles and he says, “Am I to understand there will be no side dishes?”)

    (I don’t know why I think that’s so funny.)

    9:27 a.m. – Get out of bed. Put broccoli-rice casserole in the oven.

    9:31 a.m. – Make whipped cream. Possibly lick both beaters clean and eat another enormous spoonful before I hide it from myself in the back of the refrigerator.

    9:42 a.m. – Start thinking about the whipped cream again. Might have pulled it back out and eaten another spoonful.

    9:51 a.m. – Roast butternut squash because Caroline has been obsessed with all the squash varieties and begged me to make some.

    10:16 a.m. – Worry that maybe the whipped cream isn’t sweet enough. Take another taste just to make sure. It’s all about whipped cream quality.

    10:20 a.m. – Realize I have made a strategic cheese error with the broccoli-rice casserole and it has more of a soup-like consistency. Cook more rice in an effort to compensate for the superfluous cheese.

    10:32 a.m. – Look at all the Black Friday specials on the internet and realize that bargains aren’t important enough to get me out the door at 4 a.m.

    10:57 a.m. – Cut up brussels sprouts to make Bobby Flay’s pomegranate brussels sprouts recipe.

    11:06 a.m. – Begin to get the seeds out of the pomegranate.

    11:08 a.m. – Man, these pomegranate seeds are juicy little suckers.

    11:11 a.m. – Change my shirt so I could let my other shirt soak in stain remover in hopes of removing the pomegranate juice.

    11:22 a.m. – Pull the brussels sprouts out of the oven. P walks in and asks if someone has left a dirty diaper in our kitchen.

    Clearly he is not a fan of the sprout.

    11:30 a.m. – Realize we needed to be at Mimi and Bops’ house in thirty minutes. Tell Caroline to go get dressed.

    11:32 a.m. – Put on makeup, curl my hair even though it doesn’t stand a fighting chance against the 112 % humidity.

    11:46 a.m. – Walk in Caroline’s room to find her walking back and forth through her beaded curtain. While wearing her pajamas.

    11:47 a.m. – I think I blacked out.

    11:48 a.m. – Yell, “WE NEED TO GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD!”

    11:52 a.m. – Walk back in the kitchen to finish the butternut squash puree. Caroline comes in to taste it and declares she is not a fan. It would have been nice to know that at 9:51 a.m.

    12:16 p.m. – Arrive at Mimi and Bops’ house. Immediately regret that I wore a jacket and my tall boots. The 80 degree weather is not cooperating with my sartorial selections.

    12:35 p.m. – My sister and I jump around like idiots trying to get our children to smile for a picture that Mimi and Bops can use for their Christmas card.

    12:38 p.m. – Realize the smiles only get more fake and the eleven month old only gets more whiny as the minutes tick by.

    12:39 p.m. – Decide that surely we had something that could pass as a Christmas card photo.

    12:45 p.m. – Ate lunch until we were all sick.

    1:00 p.m. – Decide we all had room for dessert.

    1:30 p.m. – I think I blacked out.

    4:45 p.m. – I rally as a cold front begins to blow through town. Hallelujah.

    6:00 p.m. – Realize it is time to get my game face on.

    6:10 p.m. – Shower, put on flannel pajama bottoms and lucky A&M shirt. Heat up leftovers in spite of all our earlier claims that we’d never eat again.

    6:55 p.m. – Begin to hyperventilate and talk very loudly.

    7:00 p.m. – GAMETIME.

    7:10 p.m. – Watch the game and begin to text furiously with various friends in between throwing decorative pillows and trying not to say words that aren’t Sunday School friendly.

    8:15 p.m. – Aggies finally score a touchdown. I’d like to think that the fact I punched my couch repeatedly as Cyrus Gray ran down the field helped tremendously.

    8:16 p.m. – Sophie texts me and tells me she and Sister are cheering for the Aggies and even willing to get out the vacuum if needed, which always works when her Bulldogs play. I shed a tear at the display of devotion.

    9:06 p.m. – CYRUS GRAY!!!! LOVE HIM!!!!!

    9:20 p.m. – FUMBLE!!!! OH NO!!! THE SKY IS FALLING!!!! Maybe it will help if I eat some chocolate pudding.

    9:28 p.m. – These announcers are on my last nerve. They all are in the midst of a bromance with the t.u. quarterback and Mac Brown.

    9:32 p.m. – VON MILLER!!!!! LOVE HIM!!!!! Gulley texts me and says if she ever has another son, she’s going to name him Von.

    10:08 p.m. – I am now texting things like “I’m SICK. I FEEL SICK” and “TERRIBLE CALL! THAT WAS A TERRIBLE CALL!” Sophie texts me and says she has just walked into her kitchen. I know this is her solution when a situation looks dire.

    10:14 p.m. – WE HAVE TO GET A THIRD DOWN. WE HAVE TO GET A THIRD DOWN. I FEEL SICK. MY HEART CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE.

    10:17 p.m. – Tannenhill fumbles. I am dead. I die. WAIT! HE GOT IT BACK. HE FELL ON THE BALL! I WILL LIVE TO SEE ANOTHER DAY.

    10:25 p.m. – We punt the ball, the last five seconds tick off the clock and I begin to breathe normally for the first time in the last three and a half hours. GIG ‘EM AGGIES!

    10:27 p.m. – Resist urge to write, “Dear Longhorns, Good luck in your bowl game. Oh, that’s right. You’re not going to a bowl game.” on my Facebook wall. Because I’m trying to be the bigger person.

    10:32 p.m. – Decide to eat a celebratory helping of chocolate pudding with extra whipped cream.

    10:40 p.m. – Bops calls me to confirm that the Aggies won the game before he watches it. He has learned that he can’t handle the stress or time commitment of watching his favorite teams play unless he knows for sure that they win. So he records them on the DVR and watches the game after he knows the outcome. Unless they lose. Then he deletes the game and saves himself the stress.

    The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

    10:45 p.m. – Going to bed. I have worn myself flat out.

    10:56 p.m. – Say a prayer of gratitude for all my blessings. My family, my friends, cold weather, the Aggie win, and another year filled with so much more good than bad. And for y’all.

    Hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

    GIG ‘EM AGGIES!!!!!

    (I promise I won’t use this many exclamation points again. Until our bowl game.)

  • Cousins

    On Sunday afternoon we met my sister and her family over at Mimi and Bops’ house to do a little swimming and Caroline held her cousin, Luke, for a long time after he woke up from his nap.

    I may be a little biased, but this is almost too much cute for one picture.

    I think they like each other a lot.

    Although Luke really needs to learn how to relax a little bit.

  • An Easter sonnet

    After four Easter Egg hunts and stuffing over eight dozen plastic eggs with candy, I don’t care if I never see another brightly colored, plastic egg for the rest of my life. However, I just spent ten minutes opening up all of Caroline’s eggs in search of a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup, not to be confused with a Reeses egg. It’s a controversial topic to bring up, but I find the holiday version of the Reeses don’t compare to the regular version. There’s something awry with the peanut butter to chocolate ratio. Feel free to tell me I’m wrong, but I know I’m not.

    We had a great Easter weekend even though I’m pretty sure that I never quit moving until 5:00 p.m. yesterday afternoon when P took one look at me and told me to go take a nap. So I did. For two hours. When I woke up I had no idea where I was or what was going on. Which isn’t that much different from most mornings but was a little disconcerting at 7:00 p.m. on a Sunday night. He’d already gotten Caroline in the bath and fed her dinner. That’s why I keep him around even though he tears paper towels in half and leaves the unused half on the kitchen counter for days and is also incapable of throwing away a Band-Aid wrapper. A fed and bathed child covers a multitude of Band-Aid wrappers.

    Friday was actually a pretty relaxing day. P took Caroline to the ranch with him and I went over to Gulley’s house to work on a little project. She made homemade chicken salad for us to eat for lunch and even used all white meat just for me because she understands my issues with dark meat. We spent the day catching up and listening to Will voice his concerns that the Easter Bunny might get tired from all that hopping because it’s a long way to hop from Africa to Texas. The whole discussion just confirms my theory that the Easter Bunny is a hard sell because the whole idea of a giant rabbit is difficult to swallow. I mean, is it an actual bunny with floppy ears or is it a person dressed in a bunny costume because, if so, that’s kind of creepy.

    The Cheetah Girls had a game on Saturday morning and Caroline scored her first goal of the season. We played the team from last season with the coach who wears track pants and blows a whistle so I was a little intimidated, but we held our own. And I think it goes without saying that we had the best snacks.

    After the game I asked Caroline if she was tired and she said, “I was so tired but I wanted to beat that other team so I just kept running.” Ladies and Gentlemen, I think we have ourselves a fierce competitor.

    We left the soccer fields and went to eat lunch at P’s mom’s house with the rest of his family. The cousins all hunted eggs and ran around the backyard smashing cascarones on various heads. No one was safe. Not even Gigi.

    (Yes, I’m currently experimenting with about three different photo apps on my iPhone. Why do you ask?)

    Eventually we headed back to our house because I had to cook and clean to get ready for Easter brunch the next day. Fortunately I have a cute assistant who is fascinated by our new Shark vacuum that replaced our sad Hoover after it confronted one too many Polly Pocket accessories and an assortment of hair clips.

    On a totally unrelated note, the Shark vacuum works much better when it’s actually assembled properly. I put it together completely backwards (I have a gift.) and couldn’t figure out what all the fuss was about because it didn’t seem easy to use AT ALL and barely got my rugs clean. After P intervened and perhaps mocked my assembly skills a little bit, it works like a dream. In fact, I’m saddened to realize how dirty my rugs were before the Shark came along.

    Anyway, I cracked approximately sixty-two eggs to go in various breakfast casseroles and spent a sweet forever trying to find enough room in the fridge to store them overnight. We have a fridge in the back house that I’d normally use but it is currently filled with about 600 pounds of the antelope that P killed last week and EWW.

    By the time I finished cooking and cleaning, it was time to shower and get ready to attend a friend’s wedding that evening. Are you exhausted yet because I kind of want to lay down and take another nap just thinking about it. The wedding was beautiful and I cried a little bit because I’ve known the bride since she was thirteen and where does the time go?

    Later on, I met P and Caroline at another friend’s house and we dyed Easter eggs and also the tips of our fingers just in time for Sunday morning.

    Exhausted, we all dropped into bed and slept peacefully knowing a large rabbit/person in a rabbit costume was going to break into our house in the middle of the night to drop off some plastic eggs and a few treats. And, sure enough, the next morning there were eggs and treats aplenty.

    Fortunately, the only thing missing was sufficient lighting to take a decent photograph of all the precious memories.

    The Easter Bunny brought us another chicken that poops bubblegum this year because he thinks those are hilarious.

    And he also made a strategic error by hiding one of the plastic eggs in the chandelier. I was getting dressed for church when P came in the bathroom and told me he smelled something burning. What kind of moron forgets about a plastic egg hidden in a light fixture and then turns it on? The same kind of moron that finds pooping chickens to be hysterical.

    (Sidenote: I would guess that the smell of burning plastic filled with Reeses Peanut Butter Cups will be one of the smells in hell.)

    Finally, we all managed to get dressed and get out the door to church even though we were running late and I only had time to snap one quick picture.

    Shortly after this photo was taken, two things happened:

    1. I twisted my ankle walking down the driveway and said a decidedly un-Easter like word when I did it.

    2. Caroline decided those cute sandals hurt her feet and they were dead to her. They now fall under the category of $19.99 I’ll never see again. She wore plastic Gap flip-flops to church instead. Classy.

    However, we did have time to take more pictures once we got home from church even though the humidity had taken a toll on our hair by then. Well, except for P. A monsoon couldn’t take a toll on his hair.

    (The sandals made a reappearance for the pictures because CUTE trumps pain.)

    Then we hunted more eggs because everyone knows the sixth time is the charm.

    And my nephew Luke wore madras pants that made me so happy.

    And then Caroline spent the rest of the afternoon sorting her candy and negotiating how many pieces she could eat.

    So, yeah, it was a good Easter.

    And now I’d like to sleep for five days. Thank you for your cooperation.