The Christmas Wrap-up Post

I'm shocked at how quickly the holiday season came and went, especially given that I've been awake the entire time.

We didn't go anywhere, and this is the first Christmas I can remember in a long time that wasn't accompanied by some underlying stress.  Probably because I have a couple of built-in excuses for not getting things done, and nobody questions the legitimacy of the excuse when I use it.  And it works for everything.  ("Oh.  You didn't get me a gift."  "No, sorry, I have babies.  Two of them.  Two.  At the same time."  "Ohhhhhh, okay."  or "You're looking kinda greasy.  When was the last time you took a shower?"  "I have twins.  That's two babies."  "Ohhhh.") 

Clearly, I've been slacking on the blogging front, but that doesn't mean there wasn't anything going on.  From Christmas-tree shopping at Roar's school with my parents to our Christmas dinner of linguine with clam sauce, there was lots of goodness.  Here's what I hope to always remember:

Zachary picked out the Christmas tree again this year.  He went from tree to tree, proclaiming, "I don't love it" until he found the one that he loved.  And it was beautiful.

[Husband, where are those iPhone pictures you promised me???]

The day before my parents were heading back home to Iowa, we decorated the tree.  Parta taught the boys how to properly put up Christmas lights, and Parti showed Zachary the best places to hang ornaments.  This year was the first year in our relationship that my husband did not complain about our lack of seizure-inducing multi-colored blinking lights.  Peace on Earth indeed.







One night, we got the little ones fed, bathed, and pajamied, then we all piled into the car to look at Christmas lights.  We played Christmas music, stopped by a drive through to get ice cream, and hit up the tackiest lights our area had to offer.  Because of the mafia tint on our back windows, Zachary was having trouble seeing, so he requested that we roll down his window despite some light rain.  We rolled down Roar's as well, because he didn't want us to.  Ice cream, tacky lights, Christmas music, talking, laughing, listening to Zachary's appreciative "ooooh, pretty!!", and general family togetherness for over an hour -- this is my second favorite memory of this holiday season.

On Christmas Eve Day, big beautiful snowflakes began to fall, despite the fact that snow had not been in the forecast as of the night before.  "It's a Christmas miracle!" Zachary tells Parti and Parta on the phone.



I put up the stockings and exclaimed, "Oh !$^@$" as it finally dawns on me that our family is huge.  Seriously, it took me this long. 

(No, we do not have a mantel, and yes, that makes me sad.  Also, I realize I didn't get around to putting everyone's pictures in the stocking holders.  But I have twins.  Two babies.  Two.  At the same time.)

We went to church on Christmas Eve at a respectable hour.  Everyone looked adorable.  Especially me.  I looked like an adorable supermodel.


There were presents, lots of presents:

 








Then there were VERY SPECIAL (and a little bit ridonculous) presents.  We had Parti, Parta, Nonna, and Pop on Skype to watch the unveiling of these ones.  (Roar was so confused by the presence of his present that he did not have a you-tube worthy response.  It was like, "Huhhhh?")









Roar drove a car for the first time ever.  He's terrible, and for some reason, watching him give my husband whiplash when he hit the brake made my heart gush.  It was also one moment that brought home the saying, "With babies, the days are long, but the years are short."  Roar went from this:


to this, in the blink of an eye.



But the best memory this year?  A couple of people we had been waiting for all of our lives were able to join us. 


Merry Christmas, everyone!

Obsessed

I admit it:  I am obsessed.  Ever since I committed to improving my photography skills, I've been spending almost all of my free time learning things I can do to become a better photographer.  It's crept into my day job, where I'll be writing a judicial opinion, and I'll stop mid-sentence to see if I can figure out how to solve my focusing problems.  I see the irony in that.  I do.

I've stopped blogging about the really important things -- the things I need to document, such as the many things that happened while my parents were here (that's coming tomorrow, I hope) -- and spending that time watching online tutorials about Photoshop.

I've taken so many pictures of my children that Zachary runs away screaming "Noooo!  I'm running away from mommy!" when he sees me holding a camera now.  No joke.


The babies, however, are not yet annoyed, so they bear the brunt of this obsession.  And Roar too, now that I think of it, because he's been acting as my production assistant.


But it's so fun to see how I'm progressing.  In fact, I couldn't wait until closer to the holidays to show you Samantha and Conor's Christmas photos.  Want to see?  Too bad if you don't -- you've read this far, and I'm going to suck you into this too.

My silly Samantha:


My sweet Conor:


What do you think?

How to make a teenage boy smile for photos: A tutorial

In response to Candice's question, I thought I'd prepare a tutorial on how to make a teenager smile.  Here's what I've learned in the last couple of years:

(1) Do not interrupt feeding time.  Or video game time.  Or feeding time.  Or sleeping.  I realize that leaves only a small window of opportunity, so watch and wait.  Be patient.  And then pounce.

(2) Offer money.  Or a car.  Or food.

(3) "Say 'cheese'" is so passe.  I have great luck with boys aged 2 through 35 by suggesting "say 'poop'" or "say 'fart.'"  The following picture is courtesy of, "say 'boobie'!"


(4)  Have a snack ready to offer in case you have to adjust your camera settings or if you dare move him. Now act quickly, dammit!!

I'm not going to suggest that it's easy, but it can be done.  I'm living proof.

Merry Christmas to meeeeeeeeeee!

Omigosh omigosh omigosh.

I finished my first photography class, and to celebrate, the Husband gave me an awesome early Christmas present:  A new lens for my camera!

I am swooning over here.  Swooning, I say!  Behold my favorite models:



Still much to learn, and tons of fancy equipment that I'm coveting, but man oh man, I am so happy right now.

(Thanks so much to Laura for teaching me how to get around Blogger's photo storage limits!  Hugs!)

This post is not for you, okay?

It's not that I'm against you reading it, I just don't think you're going to want to.  How do I know?  Because it's about Thanksgiving, and you're, like, so over Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving is so last week.  I know this.  But the Husband and I went to ATLANTIC CITY, baby, and I didn't have time to post this earlier.  And I can't just not post it, because some day my aging brain is going to ask, "Hey, what year did I drop the eggs?"  And I can just pull this up and say, "2012 - now that was a bad year for the eggs."

So here it is, the post you haven't been waiting for:  The Thanksgiving Highlight Post.  Here's what I might want to remember someday, accompanied by only some of the pictures I wanted to include (Blogger wouldn't let me include the rest or now sub out the food pictures for people pictures--sonofaB!  Whatev.):

Patrick, Cheryl, Mark, and Chas meet their new niece and nephew for the first time and carry them around.  A lot.  (Having my own hands free to do whatever?  Priceless.) 

Unsolicited, 6-year-old Nicholas informs me that I make the best cookies in the world.  “HA!!!!” I yell to my sisters-in-law, who both claim to make The Best Cookies in the World.  This is the best Thanksgiving ever.

That Nicholas is an angel.

Cheryl makes Conor laugh by singing him children's songs.  Chas makes Conor laugh by suggesting that she'll take him to see dancing girls.  Samantha, on the other hand, is not terribly amused by the suggestion of untoward behavior, but smiles politely because that's how she was raised.

Roar accompanied Uncle Patrick, Aunt Cheryl, and Mina on a trip to DC.  It was so windy that Aunt Cheryl worried aloud that Mina might literally get blown away.  Roar scoops up his cousin, and carries her the rest of the time.  Awww.

Zachary, beaming, sits on the couch with Mina and Nicholas, and yells to me, “I’m playing with my cousins!”  Every chance he gets, he tells me that he's doing something with "his cousins."  Having them around is so novel and so much fun for him.  

I royally f-up in the cooking of hard-boiled eggs:  shells will not come off without pulling off a giant chunk of egg white.  Chas spends an hour peeling off the shells, and once she’s done, I drop the eggs on the floor.  I yell at the dog and save them from being eaten.  (He’s hurt, but I make it up to him later by dropping a half a block of cheese on the floor.)  The eggs are washed and salvaged, but nothing can fix that kind of ugly.

Jack is not happy about being told to look happy for pictures.  He gets over it.

The Husband is not happy that the picture of “The White Team” doesn’t contain all members of The White Team and refuses to smile for pictures.  I yell at him.  He yells back.  We get over it.

ScowlyPants, Cheryl, Roar, Megan, Chas

Parti and Cheryl take the kids to the park, leaving the house quiet, and the kitchen empty for some time.  Awe-some.

Standing a safe distance away, we watch with cameras and video cameras at the ready for the turkey to explode or otherwise create a scene that will net us a significant sum of money on America’s Funniest Home videos.  To our dismay, the turkey cooperates. 

Parta reluctantly makes a ceremonial first cut of the turkey, but it was done with great flair.

Nicholas (aka The Informer) tells the Husband, “Your son is downloading how to buy me a Justin Beeber Barbie.  You better do something about it.”

Zachary wants to go outside to play, but his little cousins are busy playing "with technology."  So cousin Megan drops what she's doing and volunteers to take him outside.  She plays with him on his slide, making my son so very happy.  Awww.

Uncle Patrick rotisseries a chicken on the grill.  It tries to escape and has to be tied down.

Mark demands marshmallows in his yams.  I comply, but require him to buy the marshmallows.  He gets the giant kind, and I declare that he has ruined Thanksgiving.

I walked outside to find all of the children, including the two teenagers, drawing on our driveway with sidewalk chalk.

Parti, Parta, Zachary, Mina, Cheryl, Roar, and I play a game of Apples to Apples.  Even though Zachary is playing on his own team, he comes in second place.

The kids spend a good couple of hours in the back yard setting up a series of games for the adults to play.  Mom gets angry that we do not indulge the kids by playing before dinner; Mark gets mad at mom for getting mad.  They get over it.

The morning after Thanksgiving, 6-year old Mina tells me how tired she was the night before.  I suggest that it’s because she ran around a lot the day before and because she ate turkey.  Did she know that turkey could make you tired, I ask.  “Yes,” she says.  “It’s the tryptophan.” 

The Midwesterners Cometh!

Guess who came to visit?

Those people I grew up with:

Some random people we picked up along the way (a.k.a. "The White Team"):

Cousins,

 cousins,

cousins:

In short, the whole gang.

Despite the shortage of beds and bathrooms, despite the little bit of drama, despite the meltdowns, it was so, so nice to be together again.

Now we're getting somewhere...

For a long time now, there have been things I've wanted to do for myself, but hadn't.  Some were simple things like "read more," or run, or, um, take a shower.  I was too busy, too tired, too pregnant, too poor, too scared, too blah blah blah to do anything but keep them silly little interests that I would think about indulging if I was wealthier, had more time, got skinnier, grew some huevos, and if there wasn't a rerun of How I Met Your Mother on tv that I hadn't seen more than five times.

Then things happened:  I spoke to an old friend -- a father of young, twin girls -- who is living with ALS; my cousin passed away from cancer; two weeks later my husband's uncle passed away from cancer; and I read your blogs, blogs of women who are living their lives and not making excuses.

In the wake of that, how dare I not pick up a book, or pick up my feet (or take a shower, for that matter)? 

It might not sound like much, but here are some of the things I want to do.

(1) Read more.  I used to devour books.  Nothing too cerebral (although, I do love a good book on reaching financial goals), but not young adult lit either.  Bonus points if it makes me laugh.  I picked up Mindy Kaling's book last week and was ripping through it, feeling almost...relief?..to be able to consume words that are not connected to a legal brief.  But now I don't want to finish it because I have nothing lined up to read after it.  So help me!  What have you read lately that you've loved, that you couldn't put down?

(2) Exercise.  Dieting is only getting me so far.  As fascinating as post-partum belly jiggle is -- and trust me, it's fascinating -- I wouldn't be sad if I had to focus on something else.  I ran once, a couple days ago, and my body reminded me that I'm old.  But I'm going to do it again, if for no other reason than because I can.  I've also talked Roar and the Husband into joining me for a Warrior Dash next year.  I know it's not for a while, but I've never been able to run, and I basically have been sitting on my butt for the last year and a half. Now I have an excuse to train.

(3) Improve my photography.  Here's where it's getting really fun (okay, yes, the reading is fun, but this is really, really fun).  I signed up for a photography class.  It's been two weeks, and I've already gotten so much out of it.  My favorite thing so far?  Being able to take indoor shots at night without the flash.  Lookie!

I find Samantha's thumb sucking to be adorable and frightening; frightening because I only quit sucking my thumb recently, like, last year or something.  So sometimes I tell her to stop.  She doesn't listen.

Zachary's absolute love of salads is super awesome, except when he steals mine like he's doing here.

Really, this boy loves him some salad.

"Is there more?"  Seriously, he wanted to know.

Yeah, I don't even know what to say.

So there is some of it.  And there's more!  But I'm taking baby steps.  I don't know exactly where I'm going to go, but I do know that I'm not going to stand still anymore.

A totally cohesive post on sleeping and global warming

To the non-multiple-having guy with the put-your-twins-in-the-same-room-at-night-because-they-don't-wake-each-other-up advice:

You, sir, are a liar.  A big, fat, ass of a liar.

And if any of you moms of multiples gave me the same advice, I can't even look at you right now. 

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Alright, I'm over it.  No, wait, I'm not.  Okay, yes I am.  Let's look at children.

I'm not going to express any views on global warming on this blog, but if you believe it's a real phenomenon, here's the silver lining: It's No-Jacket November!

And if you don't believe in global warming, you can enjoy No-Jacket November guilt free.  Sweet.