Things Are Not Always What They Seem

Here's a picture.



Doesn't that look lovely and peaceful? A father cuddling his child. Awwwww.

Here's what was really happening.

Christmas: A Time for Memories

Ours are maybe a little more skewed than others. (Does anybody remember that line from As Good As It Gets? Jack Nicholson says, "Some of us have good stories, with picnics and boats and noodle salad. Just nobody in this car." That line makes me laugh out loud just thinking about it.)

Paul reminded me this morning to turn off the ringer on the phone in the bedroom, in case Kooky Cousin calls again for the holidays. (If you didn't catch the story the first time, check it out here. It takes a few minutes to read, but it's worth it.)

Last week, we reminisced about the bullpen (a shellacked pile of cow poo with a pen holder in it) from the paternal family white elephant exchange - it went to another family who will undoubtedly enjoy it just as much, but we have fond memories.

Paul's maternal grandmother would have been 103 today. She died in 2001, and he still misses her. He's not the only one, I know. She was a lovely woman. She was always kind (and always feeding people, I hear), but if she thought you were a little too whiny about whatever pseudo-tragedy you'd just experienced, she'd say, "Well, I hope that's the worst thing that ever happens to you."

Two years ago, Paul and I fled the jurisdiction and spent Christmas in West Virginia, and had a Japanese Christmas Eve dinner with a serviceman and his fiance (the four of us were alone in a hibachi joint). They were getting married two days later, and he was shipping out in a week. I can't remember his name, but I hope he is safe.

A couple of years before that, I offered to have the family Christmas at my house and cook the turkey. First time for both. Things were going really well until the oven caught on fire.

If you're a little stressed about all the family celebrations and driving and schedules and all the pressure to be SO INSANELY CHEERY ALL THE TIME, remember that anything that isn't an outright tragedy will probably be hilarious later.

Merry Christmas!

What's In Your Stocking?

I know this isn't really the intended use for Levi's present from Grandma, but I couldn't resist!

Caption Contest

You tell me ... what should the caption be?

Should a Baby's Reach Exceed His Grasp?

Levi's newest little adventure has been textures. If he's sitting up in Paul's arms, he'll reach out and feel his sleeve carefully. Or the surface of the Boppy pillow (it's denim-covered). Or whatever he can reach, really.

My personal favorite is his discovery of Paul's beard. He reaches up and pats and rubs Paul's chin with one hand, and his expressions are so funny - I'd love to know what he's thinking.



He doesn't have a great grabbing motion yet, but he has managed to knock the wipe container off the changing table a few times, so I think we'll need to be on our guard pretty soon.

I'm having so much fun with his discoveries and his new little skills ... but I'm sad when things fall by the wayside. (He doesn't get tightly swaddled up to sleep anymore, for instance. And it was so cute.) All of life is a mixed bag, I guess.

In knitting news, I am about 60% done with a moebius scarf, and I'm looking forward to getting it off the needles to see exactly how it looks. It's so scrunched up on circulars that it's hard to tell what the finished product will look like. Hope to post "done" pictures soon.