Happy to be moving toward the new year...

...although technically, Christmas season only just started :) So, I'm finally back. I enjoyed my time off a ton. Henry is home with Mike this week, and I'm totally jealous. I wish I were home squeezing my munchkin right now. My precious cutie pie! Of course, right now, I have no idea what he is doing, but whatever it is, I'm certain that it's driving Mike absolutely crazy, and it's also likely to be peppered with 20 questions fired off at a speed of 1 per 1.1 seconds.

Before I move into the Christmas rundown (get a cup of tea, settle in...) I'll start with the adorable Hank gem of the week.

Henry, sitting on potty: "Mommy, can I have a baby in my home?"

I mean seriously, how can you resist that? That's exactly what he said. So cutely phrased! Makes me want to go home and get pregnant right this instant. This plan would also have the added benefit of me being able to leave work.

"Oh sweetheart, I don't know. It depends on if God gives us another baby. You could ask him for one if you like."

*furrowed brows* "But Mommy, how can God hear me?"

*conversation about God and prayer ensues*

"Oh. Ok. So...'God, could I have a baby?'"

*3 seconds elapse*

"Mommy...where's the baby?"

I love this interpretation. Sort of like, you know, we could go select a baby kit at the grocery store, get her home, add water, and voila! Instant baby :) If only it actually worked this way. If the kit came with a nanny to do nighttime feedings, I'd have 10 more kids.

So, Christmas. Where to start, where to start...It was ok. But as I anticipated, the holiday itself was pretty stressful. I actually enjoyed the weekend following Christmas better (feast of the Holy Family!).

Things kicked off Wednesday evening when I had dinner with my parents, my sister Shauna'h, and brother-in-law, Brad. The new puppy, Roscoe, came to visit as well. In a totally expected development, we all fell head over heels in love with Roscoe and he cavorted at my house and played with Henry for many hours over the course of many days.

His face was kissed for hours, and his very fur carressed by every member of the family endlessly. He was a *very* good boy. No furniture eating or pee pee on the floor. He did try to nip at the dining room area rug a few times, but hey, nobody's perfect.

So anyway, back to Wednesday. As I waited for everyone to arrive, I worked on a few dishes for the Christmas Eve bash. I could tell that my serenity was a charade and deep down I was tense when I panicked after finding pretzel rods in my cupboard. You see, I was making a dessert with a ground pretzel crust, and I had asked Mike to purchase pretzel *sticks*. I suppose in all fairness the rods do look a bit like sticks. As in, real tree sticks, that is. But anyway, I had to grind the rods up with my heels and the whole time Hank was clamoring for my attention. Due to my distracted state, I mistakenly added some ingredients to the wrong bowl and I panicked again. You see a theme developing here?

I was making an Asian salad, and I got that into the fridge. I moved back to my pretzel crust dish and realized that I needed 2 boxes of jello mix and I only had 1. Curses! More panic. This would require a trip to the convenience store, which I was certain would not be a fun time. I was able to stop and grab a box on my way to dinner, and the dessert was completed Christmas Eve morning.

Which was when the fun truly began. I was wound tighter than usual and tornadoing through the house like wildfire. Finally, we had everything ready and were dressed for Mass. My parents and Shauna'h/Brad were enroute to go to Mass with us, bearing meatballs in a crock pot. As we await their arrival, I receive a text message from Shauna'h:

"Running late. Meatball disaster."

This doesn't sound good. When they arrive, I receive a cell phone call from my mom who is IN THE DRIVEWAY:

"Meet me at the side door with a roll of paper towel." Oh Lord. I do as I'm instructed and a mysterious cleanup process gets underway in my parents' Honda Pilot. Shauna'h brings some stuff in, and finally the crock pot makes an appearance. I do some more cleanup, and my mom tornadoes in (see where I get it from?) and rushes into my downstairs bathroom. As I clean, she's talking to me, as she brushes her teeth. She just came from her house, so I'm not certain why (1) she didn't brush her teeth there, and (2) why she carries a toothbrush and toothpaste in her purse, but I ask no questions. I learned these important lessons fairly early on in my life. We rush out the door and hurry to Mass.

From that point on, there were no disasters, but everything was extremely chaotic. We made it through Mass, squeezed into 2 pews, but the church we went to was huge, and the collection and communion took a REALLY long time, so by time we got back to my house, I was all wound up to tornado again. I did my thing, getting a few last minute items into the oven to warm, and people started arriving. Everything went very well. That being said, by time the evening was over, the following transpired:

(1) I drank too much wine

(2) Mike was sick with a nasty cold/flu thing

(3) Hank was fall-down on his face exhausted. He actually asked if he could go take a nap. My poor pumpkin.

(4) End of the evening stress caused Mike, Brad, Shauna'h and I to have a shot of Jagermeister together in the kitchen. People, I drank JAGERMEISTER. That's the indication of a true stressed out Catholic Librarian.

By the time everyone had filtered out, it was after 10 pm, and I was desperate to get my poor Henry to bed. In my haste, I actually forgot to leave out cookies and milk for Santa (worst mother of the year award nominee) and to sprinkle reindeer food out onto the front walk. When Henry noticed the next morning, horrified, the lies just slipped off my tongue like butter:

"Oh don't worry Honey! Daddy and I put some out, and he must have eaten every bite!!"

But at any rate, when we went to bed, Mike was coughing and I had a headache. During the night, I woke up with a full blown hangover. That's pretty tough to do considering I was only drinking boxed Franzia White Merlot. Oh right, the Jagermeister. Sigh.

I had to actually get up for some ibuprofen and go lay on the couch for fear of waking Mike, I was so miserable. Suffice it to say that I'll be a little bit more careful with my Franzia next time.

Anyway, Henry came down in the morning, and I still felt pretty crummy. Poor Mike was really sick, and after Hank opened his presents, I sent Mike up to rest. Hank and I watched the papal Mass for a bit, and apparently the pope was also having a challenging Christmas Eve :) I was worried that we were going to have to leave Mike behind, but after his nap, he rallied. We proceeded to my parents' house, where we mashed into their living room to open gifts. My mom also keeps her house headed well above 70 degrees, so it was a tad steamy in there. It was nice visiting with everyone, but I was anxious to head back home and have some more breathing space.

After the actual holidays, things improved. We went out for a nice lunch on Saturday, and I had my parents and sisters over to watch football yesterday. I spent lots of time kissing Roscoe's snout and cuddling him lovingly. This week we're headed to central Florida to visit Mike's parents and have a Christmas with them. Lots of family togetherness...

I'll go easier on the wine this time.

Feeling perkier

My post yesterday must have been therapeutic, because I awoke this morning feeling refreshed and excited about Christmas Eve. After I ate breakfast, I tornadoed through the house a bit, emptying out the votive holders for fresh candles and changing the dining room tablecloth, but I cut myself off pretty quickly.

Tonight, Henry and I are going to be preparing two dishes that need to set and chill overnight, and my sister Shauna'h may come over with Roscoe, the new puppy. I told her that so long as he didn't eat my furniture, we'd be thrilled to have him. I don't mind fur for a few hours and the threat of pee pee on the rug - I do have a child after all, I'm very used to that. She assured me that he doesn't chew, and is potty trained, so a fun time should be had by all.

I amped up my holiday playlist so that the kitchen can feature festive music, which I always find soothing. Mike did the grocery shopping for me yesterday, which was a huge help. Of course, this means that I had to surrender control of the list and what actually got bought to him, but I had to deal. He only left off one item, poppy seeds, which he deemed "ridiculously expensive," so I guess my party bread bowl is going to have to do without those. No biggie.

I'm feeling better about the whole thing than I have in months, which is a very, very good sign. I'm not sure if I'll be blogging til I'm back at work on Monday; maybe I will, maybe I won't. But in either event, a very merry and blessed Christmas to all of you!!! Rejoice in the newborn King :)

Readying for Christmas Eve...

Christmas Eve is approaching, and this year Mike and I are hosting. Naturally, this event causes no small amount of anxiety on my part. Some people like to host. They're good at hosting. I'm not one of those people. Well, I suppose that I'm not *bad* at it, but I definitely don't thrive in doing it.

I'm Martha. You know, the one that was in the kitchen, spouting vicious obscenities while covered in flour and cleaning the kitchen, as her sister Mary lounges angelically at Jesus' feet? I just can't help it - having all those people in my house makes me incredibly nervous. And see, already? I make it sound like random marauders are going to invade my house at approximately 6 pm on Thursday. These are my FAMILY members. Yet it still drives me to drink.

Based on years past, I can predict how events will transpire:

The evening before and the morning of Christmas Eve, I will drive Mike crazy as I fritter around the house and clean, straighten, and bake with the sublety of a tornado.

We will go to the Christmas Eve Vigil Mass. Hank will drive us a bit crazy, and we'll come home tense and cranky. Then I will open the box (yes, BOX) of wine and commence to drink it. I will drink just enough so that I'm loosened up and (somewhat; it's tough to break through a steel wall with a hammer and chisel) more laid back for when everyone arrives. I will put my last minute things in the oven and set the food out. I will sip more wine.

As people begin to arrive, I will begin to sweat. I will get caught up in a flurry of getting drinks for everyone, putting coats upstairs in the master bedroom (and NOT the more visible downstairs guest room, which I want to use for seating space. It's not going to be easy shoe horning 20 people into my house), taking things out of the oven and likely burning myself, and attempting to prevent Hank from depositing the contents of his toy box in the middle of the living room floor and making it appear as though a bomb went off in there. I will lose all of these battles. I will sip more wine.

In the midst of all this, my well-intentioned mother will arrive to help me, and inevitably she will dump 10 shopping bags full of things I don't need onto my kitchen floor. I will have to deal with placing aforementioned items out of the way as people step over me to access the drinks. My mom will ask me lots and lots of questions, a child may vomit, and my anxiety level will peak. I may move on to scotch.

Everyone will eat, and I will remain nervously fluttering about the kitchen. By time I stick a cube of cheese onto my plate, all guests will be done eating and want dessert and presents. The clean-up process will begin, during which time a dozen women will try to squeeze into my kitchen and wash dishes. Present opening chaos will begin in the other room. By the time all dishes are washed and presents opened, will I be tired? Nope. I will be strung out on adrenaline waiting for everybody to leave so that I can attack the floors with a broom and vacuum cleaner and dust the coffee table.

I am, in a word, insane.

All the news this week about Brittany Murphy passing away from a heart attack at 32 years old has got me to thinking. I need to chill out. One day (hopefully in the far distant future) I will no longer be here. And at that point, am I going to care that my house is clean and exactly the way I want it, finally? Or am I going to cherish the memory of a Christmas with my family esconsed in my wonderful home? With my uncle, healed from cancer and physically and spiritually thriving? With the knowledge that his daughter, my cousin, is also thriving and healed from a bout with cancer, expecting her second beautiful child? With both of my mom's parents still here and celebrating with us, married for the past 61 years?

I have a lot to be thankful for. I'm not quite 35 years old, and I have a loving family and supportive group of friends, an adoring husband, a beautiful child, a warm home, a faith that I love, a career that I enjoy, and hobbies that I cherish. A person really can't ask for any more than that in life. And at Christmas, we are called to look upon our lives and appreciate how they all reflect the Saviour. So, I'm going to try to do that.

My Living Faith passage for the 4th Sunday of Advent has an appropriate reflection:

"For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled. Luke 1:44-45

I am struck by the vulnerability in the story of Mary's visit to Elizabeth. Mary, traveling alone to the hill country; by Elizabeth, having a baby in her old age; by Mary, pregnant and unmarried in a culture where she could be stoned to death.

Perhaps I notice vulnerability because there seems such precariousness in the human family at this time. In these days near Christmas, when there is so much traveling to the homes of loved ones, I pray that we can greet each other like Mary and Elizabeth in trust and gratitude even in our vulnerability. May we remind each other: Blessed are we who believe that what was spoken to us by the Lord would be fulfilled - God is with us! May our spirits leap for joy."

On Thursday, I will be vulnerable. But I pray that I can focus on the proper things and appreciate and cherish good fellowship, as Mary and Elizabeth did during their pregnancies. I always loved that accounting - even the mother of our Lord needed to seek out her cousin to lift her spirits during a difficult and confusing time. At Christmas and always, I pray that I strive to see the Lord's face.

Back from the abyss

So, yesterday was T day - the day of my Tooth Extraction. I've been dreading it for some time. I make it sound all dramatic, but actually I only had the upper left wisdom tooth taken out. The lower left was taken out years ago, when I was a teenager, and the other two are very much still in tact and kickin'. But as you know, I loathe going to the dentist.

Prior to yesterday even happening, I was already in a vulnerable mood. Wednesday afternoon was the big office holiday party, and I gotta be honest - I hate going to those. I'm an introvert. Situations that require me to enter an existing social situation and try to integrate myself make me break out into a cold sweat.

And here's the situation that inevitably unfolds: I wander in and look around. Conversation circles have been formed. I fill a plate of food that I don't even want to kill some time and try to spot the circle that looks least imposing to enter. Then comes the nefarious Attempt to Enter the Preexisting Conversation Circle. This is particularly uncomfortable. You try to catch the eye of a person that you know, wait for the right moment to insert your body into the circle, and start laughing at a story you didn't even hear. You're now in the circle, but you're not certain if you've been officially accepted yet. You shift uncomfortably with your plate and take a bite of a dipped veggie waiting for someone to acknowledge you. Once someone talks to you, you're golden. You are now a member of the circle and can hang there until a better one forms, when you then have to Extract Self From the Conversation Circle. This can also be dicey, especially if you're in a circle with a known talker that keeps making lots of eye contact. It's always best to avoid their circles entirely if at all possible. Of course, sometimes they enter your circle and you have no choice. That always happens at least once per office holiday party.

So, I endured that, and then had the evening reference shift. This decidedly put a damper on the amount of beer I could consume at the office holiday party. No biggie. The beer room was a rowdy place in which several of my co-workers appeared tipsy and were playing beer pong, something that I never wish to see again. I avoided the beer room after one small sampling of Christmas lager. So, reference shift, and then I met my college girlfriends out for a late snack and some gossip. By time I got home, I was exhausted.

And what was waiting for me? A big fat packet from the school district informing us of the upcoming kidnergarten registration and orientation for MY BABY. My baby!! My baby who just months ago was sleeping snug in his infant sack and peeing through our sheets every night. Well, ok, that wasn't months ago, that was 4 years ago, but still!! My baby!! It seems like just yesterday that he was a babe in arms, with those skinny little newborn limbs, nursing away. *sniffle* The whole thing made me very emotional. I tore myself away from the packet and told Mike that I needed to immediately get pregnant. He patted me and told me that everything would be ok.

And what did I have to look forward to? Right, a tooth extraction. I got up yesterday morning and dragged myself to the office as if I were being marched to the gallows. Actually, it wasn't all that bad. My dentist is very soothing and efficient. The numbing process was by far the worst part, and then she had the tooth out within 5 minutes. I pitifully made my way home, where I encountered something that is totally unprecedented. The house to myself.

Mike was at school delivering his last lab report and Hank was at preschool. I immediately made a beeline for the tv, turned on the Golden Girls, took out my crocheting, and sighed in bliss. I finished two ongoing Christmas projects - a scarf for my grandmother and a pair of socks (good ones this time!) for my mother-in-law. I watched 3 episodes of the Golden Girls and a schmaltzy Christmas movie on the Hallmark Channel entitled Mr. St. Nick. I took a walk in the snow (with Mike, who was home to study) ate soup and generally lounged. I made some bread and dip to take to my bellydance holiday hafla today. Later, Mike and I watched Christmas in Connecticut on TCM while I knitted. It was like the best day ever. After the dental visit, that is.