Tag Archives: christmas

When Santa Came to Town

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The Target toy sales magazine came in the mail in either late October or early November. Whenever it was, that day Sophia was being particularly annoying vying for my undivided attention. I gave her the sales magazine, “Here circle all the things you want Santa to bring you and then we’ll cut them out and paste them on paper.”

“Santa?”

“Yes, at Christmas Santa delivers toys to all the kids, so make a list so he knows what you want.”

“Oh, ok!”

She of course circled damn near everything in the magazine. Some of the toys she picked out were a little young for her. Once we cut everything out and pasted it on a one-sheet “list”, it took up both sides of the paper, but one toy she seemed to want over all the others. The “tiger toy” she called it. It was actually a Samurai castle. I was excited that for once I might be buying something she wants and not just things I’d like her to have, but I wasn’t sure I should get it for her since called it a “tiger toy”. I feared she would be disappointed in it. I told Kurt about it and he was overjoyed she had picked that out, “That’s my girl!”

Sophia's list for Santa

The Samurai Castle (aka tiger toy) is the one at the top.

A few weeks passed and a pile of her school projects covered her Santa list on the counter. “Can Santa bring me a tiger toy?” She asked unexpectedly one day.

I was puzzled for a moment about what she was referring to, “Tiger toy?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, he might get you one honey. I don’t know. It’s up to Santa.” We don’t use Santa as a threat for good behavior. I’m sure she’d give the four year-old equivalent of, “Santa can go fuck himself” if we demanded she eats so much as a strawberry or she won’t get toys. We just want to keep Santa all fun and magical.

There were a few other instances of her asking if Santa was going to bring her the tiger toy, and then finally the week before Christmas I told her, “We’re going to a Christmas party and Santa is going to be there. Why don’t you take your list and you can show him what you want.” Oh she was excited! I was curious if she would actually tell Santa what she wanted. I knew, just knew she would never sit on his lap.

Historically the visit to Santa hasn’t gone so well. After the first Christmas, we never pushed the issue. We simply went to the Christmas party and gave her the opportunity to sit quietly clinging to me and observe other human children in their unnatural sugar high Christmas environment. This year Sophia surprised the hell out of me. I know she has changed A LOT, to which I give more credit to her preschool than to natural maturity, but I didn’t expect this. When Santa arrived, Sophia came to me asking for her list. I gave it to her and she sat in front of Santa with all the other children. A few kids went up one at a time to sit on Santa’s lap and then it was her turn. I believe all it took was for Kurt to let her know it was her turn and she went right up, holding out her list and got right on Santa’s lap. Santa, his wife, and everyone else that know Sophia were equally shocked.

“Erica, Sophia is up. Do you have your camera?”

“I know. Yes.”

“Take pictures!”

“I am! I am!”

For me with was as monumental as the first man on the moon or first black president of the United States. This was big and I was fighting big tears. I’m so glad my camera has auto focus. I’m just sayin’.

Santa asked Sophia what she wanted for Christmas and she pointed to her list. “Oh you want a Samurai castle?”

Sophia pointing out the tiger toy to Santa

“No, tiger toy! That one.” She said pointing again. Santa has no excuses for getting things mixed up. My kid brings pictures. I can’t wait till she’s older and she brings a spreadsheet, still including pictures, and adding inventory availability, sale dates, and cost. You know, just to save Santa a few bucks to add to the next year’s gift price total.

Santa giving her a gift bag

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New Green House

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We took possession of our new house at the end of October but because we wanted to replace the flooring prior to moving in we continued to live in the old house until the Monday after Christmas. Yep, we waited until after the baby was born and after opening a bunch of Christmas presents. Part of packing up the house included taking down a Christmas tree. It’s like we enjoy causing ourselves more work and pain.

I worried a lot about Sophia and the transition to a new house. Kurt and I talked about what we would do if she had a hard time sleeping in her new room. He suggested letting her sleep with us, but I didn’t want to start on that slippery slope. We never really came to a solid consensus. I guess it’s a good thing there was no need.

We brought Sophia with us every time we went to the new house to do things like tear up the old carpet and clean the bathrooms of the house that stood vacant for about a year. We kept a few toys for her at the new house and she quickly became comfortable enough there that Kurt and I could be upstairs working while she played downstairs. We told her often that this would be our new house and showed her which room would be hers. At first we planned on hers being the smaller of the two kid’s rooms so that a spare bed could be set up in the nursery. When Kurt showed her the small room she looked in the other room and said, “No, this one,” pointing at the larger one. We revised our plans since even the smallest room could easily accommodate a crib and queen sized bed. We planned that the big room would be hers in two years anyway. The first-born always gets the bigger room.

On Sunday December 26th we had a couple friends come over and help us pack the entire house up before the movers came on Monday morning. We explained to her that we would be taking all of our things, everything, to the new house. Sophia was fine with all the packing until was bedtime and she saw that someone had snuck in and packed her stuff while she played in the living room. You could see the shock on her face. The part that really upset her was that her bed was taken apart and she had to sleep on her mattress on the floor. “No take apart! Fix it bed,” she cried.

The movers showed up bright and early and Little Miss Meltdown didn’t want to get dressed. I knew seeing strangers take our stuff and put it in a vehicle that wasn’t ours would be tough for Sophia so we packed up the kids as quickly as possible and I sat in the new house with them for the few hours it took the guys to load. It went fast and I think once Sophia saw our things arrive and placed in the new house she relaxed. Kurt put her bed together first. The first night went without a hitch.

I still use the same grocery store that I did while living at the old house and a couple weeks ago I went shopping with Sophia. On the way home I took a route that lead us right past the entrance of the old neighborhood and from the back seat I heard, “No old house! New Green House!”

New Green House

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Supper Daddy Fix it All

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My mother gave Sophia a cooking set for Christmas. It was meant for ages eight and over (stated on the box) because of the porcelain tea set that it came with. Usually Sophia is very careful with things so I didn’t think the intended age thing would be a factor. I was wrong. She broke a dish. I heard it slam on the floor and then immediately after, “Momma broken. Momma broken. Momma broken.” I told her to put it on the counter and daddy would fix it when he got home…eerr after he finds the super glue.

pink porcelain plate

The next day, she was at the kitchen table playing with some silly bands she got in her gift bag at one of the many birthdays we attended. She stretched one of them it to the limit and it broke. I was nearby doing dishes and watched her get up and place it on the counter next to the still broken plate, “Daddy fix it.” She’s so stinkin’ cute.

yellow tweety silly band

I’m wondering if these breaks have to do with her strong curiosity for what is inside things. She’ll often hand me plastic toys that are molded into just one piece, but of different colors, and ask me to take it apart. She simply won’t give up asking no matter how many times I tell her, “Honey that’s just one piece. It’s not supposed to come apart.”

Yesterday her curiosity made me fear that daddy will soon have to become a lot more handy that merely a super glue wielding expert. For our new house, instead of a unit with the freezer on the bottom, we picked out a side-by-side refrigerator. For the first time Sophia can reach her own things, so she has started opening it on her own to retrieve or put her cup of milk away. It made me nervous when I saw her watching the door very intently as she closed it slowing and mentally making note of the point at which it seems to close on it’s own.

I know what you’re thinking, and I’m certain she wasn’t trying to see if the light goes off or not. I’m pretty sure that mystery has been solved for her. Months ago she discovered the button the car door hits as it closes which turns off the dome light. It’s part of her get-in-the-car routine to press that button several times before getting in. I think she presses it several extra times if it’s raining just so it annoys me more. Stinker.

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Evil Knievel Child

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Last night Sophia was on her way to giving me a heart attack. She still likes to ride the rocking horse that her Auntie Vicky gave her for Christmas last year. Only now not only does she try to rock standing up but also without holding on to the handles. She was also rocking on it so hard (while actually hanging on) that she nearly tipped backwards. Maybe I’ll rethink my stance on bicycle helmets.

Evil Knievel Child

November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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Travel with all the trimmings, hold the Christmas

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We were supposed to spend two weeks in the Midwest, one week with Kurt’s family in Michigan and one week with friends in Wisconsin. We got up on the 21st at 6am and checked the fight. All systems were go, so we left for the airport at 8 after checking again that all systems were still a go. We arrived at the airport after a little trouble finding a parking lot with a vacancy at 10. We checked the board and all things were still on time for us. The line for Norwest airline wrapped around the inside of the airport. Its length equivalent to six football fields end to end and our flight was due to take off in two and a half hours. We figured there was NO WAY we would make it through that line in that time. I waited in that line while Kurt checked around for an alternative check in.

We checked in at curbside within thirty minutes and were on our on our way through security. We made it to the gate and then onto the plane. We sat in the plane, and we sat and sat and sat some more. Sophia was fabulous through it all but after a while she, along with a couple other toddlers needed to walk up and down the isle of the plane. They told us we were fifth in line to be de-iced and then later announced that we had been moved up to third in line. We sat for two hours INSIDE the plane at the gate. Finally, they said that it would be quite a bit longer so if we wanted to we could leave our things behind and get off the plane to stretch our legs.

Twenty minutes later Alaska and Horizon airlines made an announcement that there would be NO flights out for the day and ten minutes after that our flight with Northwest was also canceled. I had to go back in the plane to get our carry-ons and then we had to go down to baggage claim to get our checked bags. They were telling people in the airport, “If you’re from Seattle GO HOME!” How rude! It took about an hour before we got our bags and then we headed home. We had to stop on the way to get dinner because there wasn’t any food at home. After all we weren’t planning on being there for two weeks. We arrived home about 8pm. We tried calling the airline for new tickets but halfway through the computerized call it would say that the phone lines were overloaded or some such and disconnect us. I tried again the next morning at 6am. It was the same thing. I finally got through after about two hours. There were no flights out for that day or the next, not even the day after that. I drilled the Northwest airlines operator asking for ANY fight out with ANY airline and even suggested other airports from which to fly out. There were absolutely NO fights until the 26th unless we wanted to quickly drive 1,957 miles to San Diego from Seattle area to catch a flight on the 23nd. Shit, fuck damn it all!

We had even missed a Christmas party the day before just so we could pack and be well rested for travel with a toddler. We actually tried to make it to the party but it took half an hour just to make it to the freeway from our house and then another half an hour to make it 14 miles out of a 54 mile trip, so we decided it would be best to turn around and go home to finish packing for our early morning flight that almost was.

The surface streets were horrible because Seattle area doesn’t believe in using salt for “environmental reasons” and the few plows they have only cover the freeways. The plows are fucking retarded here. They have a road safe rubber edge so that the snow is simply packed down to ice instead of actually removed from the road. Anywhere used to the snow would have had this shit cleared within hours. Not Seattle, no. They want to save the fucking turtles (stupid bumps in the road that let you know you’re in an actual lane because painted lines aren’t enough for Seattleites).

It’s true that salt will rust bridges and cars. It also gets into streams, but I can imagine that for the week or so out of the any given year in which Seattle actually gets snow that it would cause tremendous damage compared to all the damage done to car tires and shocks from the snowy road ruts or all the mangled metal accidents due to sliding on compacted snow. I won’t even mention the coolant, oil, and fuel that might spill into streams from these cars. Ok, maybe a brief mention. Is salting the roads really *that* bad. I don’t fuckin’ think so.

I wish we could have made it to the Christmas party so Sophia could see Santa just like last year. :P

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Holiday Cheese and Corn

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We returned from our holiday jaunt to the Midwest on Saturday night and for the first time in two weeks, I checked our mail today. I had no idea postal workers were so crafty at filling every fuckin’ inch of a tiny mailbox. If there were any room, I may have been inclined to leave them a gift. It’s the thought that counts, right? Now you know how silly it sounds. Maybe next time you’ll pay attention to the stop mail notice.

In the middle of our mail pile, I picked out a card nearly torn completely open from all the cramming of mail that came after it. The card was from my very pregnant friend and in it; she asked what she probably believed to be a rhetorical question. She should know by now that there is no such thing as a rhetorical question with me.

If a snowman sticks his tongue out to catch snow, does that make him a cannibal?

Only if the snowman actually ingests the snow, and the same goes for you when cheese or corn are involved you cannibal! *toothy grin* Oh the humanity!

I hope everyone had Merry Holidays and a Happy Festivus.

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Baby Squeezins: Diaper of the Month

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They’re all stinky these days and since she’s on solid food, there haven’t been any poopy blowouts. Sophia is actually eating a greater variety of foods too so it’s not as if we can identify the offending food which created the turd. Therefore it’s getting more difficult to pick the perfect poo for the prestigious monthly display, but not to worry. We can’t let you down for Christmas. Lat year’s December baby squeezins’ was a little disappointing. Sure, it was a blowout but it was tiny. This year we wanted something more spectacular, something to which it would be worth adding another title. Yes, this year this poo not only satisfies the criteria of Baby Squeezins Diaper of the Month but another much more coveted title. It is now my distinct pleasure in wishing you all a Merrier Christmas than ours at the moment and presenting this month’s pick. Taken on the 20th of December with my Nikon D60 for your high-resolution pleasure, I now present to you the lumpy Baby Squeezins Diaper of the Month and the Baby Grand Yule Log. I strongly advise against burning this one in the fire though.

The Yule Log

This Christmas loaf has been approved by Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo!

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Freedom From Religion Foundation Holiday Greeting

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I’m all for free speech and am glad that this group was allowed to display their thoughts, however if their goal is to enlighten people about their cause they should really think about the words they chose. Telling people that their god(s) don’t exist and that religion hardens hearts and enslaves minds doesn’t exactly warm them up to the ideas held by the Freedom From Religion Foundation. It’s about as effective as the door-to-door religions trying to explain their take on the bible to someone that isn’t receptive to it. It’s just annoying as hell. If the beliefs held by a person are strong enough, no sign or lecture will convince them otherwise, so why bother. Seriously!

The message is clearly anti-religion, yet The Freedom From Religion Foundation’s sign makes a case for those that consider atheism a religion itself.

Religion
–noun
1. a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, esp. when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.
2. a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sects: the Christian religion; the Buddhist religion.
3. the body of persons adhering to a particular set of beliefs and practices: a world council of religions.
4. the life or state of a monk, nun, etc.: to enter religion.
5. the practice of religious beliefs; ritual observance of faith.
6. something one believes in and follows devotedly; a point or matter of ethics or conscience: to make a religion of fighting prejudice.
7. religions, Archaic. religious rites.
8. Archaic. strict faithfulness; devotion: a religion to one’s vow.
—Idiom
9. get religion, Informal.
a. to acquire a deep conviction of the validity of religious beliefs and practices.
b. to resolve to mend one’s errant ways: The company got religion and stopped making dangerous products.

American Psychological Association (APA):
religion. (n.d.). Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Retrieved December 02, 2008, from Dictionary.com website: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/religion
Chicago Manual Style (CMS):
religion. Dictionary.com. Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Random House, Inc. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/religion (accessed: December 02, 2008).
Modern Language Association (MLA):
“religion.” Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Random House, Inc. 02 Dec. 2008. .
Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers (IEEE):
Dictionary.com, “religion,” in Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Source location: Random House, Inc. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/religion. Available: http://dictionary.reference.com. Accessed: December 02, 2008.

So, say hello kettle, and stop calling the pot black.

Lets take a look that the displays of this year and the past. A Christmas tree, a nativity scene, a menorah, and a sign that reads, “At this season of the winter solstice, may reason prevail. There are no gods, no devils, no angels, no heaven or hell. There is only our natural world. Religion is but myth and superstition that hardens hearts and enslaves minds.”

The first three are symbols don’t say very much about the set of beliefs behind them. If someone existed, that had never ever heard of Christianity and they saw the tree or the nativity they really wouldn’t learn any more about it and the same for the menorah if they knew nothing of Judaism. They probably wouldn’t know that those things represent anything more than the objects they are. I realize that atheists don’t have a universally recognized symbol to call their own, and having one would require herding cats for further organization. Also having a symbol adds to the list of similarities of being their own religion, but the atheist sign posted in Washington State’s capitol is very much like the school bully telling the little kids that Santa doesn’t exist coupled with the close-minded and demeaning similarities to messages the Freedom From Religion Foundation condemns from other religions. Practice what you preach people, and good job posting ninety percent (give or take) of the world’s population as second-class citizens with their hardened hearts and enslaved minds; it really takes balls to further alienate the majority. It’s no wonder when Christians read, “separation of church and state” many see it as an attack on religion. Way to help the cause.

By the way, I know it’s merely semantics, but religion is very real. It’s the gods behind religion that an atheist questions. For next year’s sign may I suggest it read, “Token symbol to represent the atheist voice”.

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Flaming party steps bruiser froggy kicks

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I know it looks like I just strung a bunch of unrelated words together to form a title for this post, but they’re related. Trust me. This is how our week has gone from Thursday to today. Pull up a chair. This could take a while. I’ll pour you some tea, or coffee. Do you take sugar? I wasn’t offering that kind of sugar, quit humping my leg.

So it turns out that Sophia didn’t have chickenpox, at least not a full-blown pox break out. I didn’t take her to the doctor or anything. She didn’t have a fever, but she was very sleepy the day I discovered the red dots. I’m sure those weren’t bug bites. I think it was just a couple marks resulting from the pox shot. The three little round dots that I saw (one on her left thigh and two in the diaper area) disappeared within three or four days. All three were red and perfectly round, but none bubbled up like a blister.

Thursday was my mom’s SIXTIETH birthday. We went up to my parent’s house after Kurt got home from work and my dad took us all out for “hibachi-style” Japanese food. I had sushi. Because Mojo talking about spider rolls during the third presidential debate on smarmoofus’ blog made me want some. Actually, I always want sushi.

The last time I went to a hibachi-style restaurant was twenty-five years ago in Hawaii. I was seven. *cringe* Please don’t do the math unless you’re older than I am.

The chef put on a show as usual with this type of place. It was fun to watch, but even more fun was to see Sophia’s reactions to it all. She sat quietly eating the piece of bread I gave her while the chef tossed knives around and tapped the salt shaker each time he used it, but then he added flames, tall flames that gave off a lot of heat. Sophia was wide-eyed and kept looking at me as if to make sure all was ok. The fire went down and the chef went back to tossing an egg into his hat and dicing, mixing, and frying things. Sophia was fine until the second time flames were introduced. That time she freaked out and cried.

Friday we went to a friend’s party and test how late we could visit before the baby turned into a pumpkin. We brought her pack-n-play with us hoping that she might sleep in it. She did sleep at the Misfits Christmas Party of other friends’ nine months ago, or was it a Packers’ party? Either way it didn’t work out this time. We had to leave around eight.

Saturday we visited with our neighbor on their back patio and their dog lured Sophia into walking again. She took three steps towards their little old Lhasa Apso. A little later, she took six steps towards their glider bench. This was the third time I’ve seen her walk and the second for Kurt.

Monday, yes I know I skipped Sunday nothing worth mentioning happened on Sunday, I went to Costco and bought a light winter jacket for when we go to Michigan/Wisconsin for Christmas/New Years. The smallest I could find was 2T. I figured that was close enough and she’ll grow into it anyway. I don’t plan to have her outside a whole lot. I just want her warm going from the car to the house and such. At home, I put it on her. It’s freakin’ HUGE. I told Kurt when he got home and he asked if I took pictures. No. He put it on her again to see for him self, and then called me to see her standing there in the huge jacket. The length of it is down to her knees and the ends of the sleeves are inches past her hands. I popped my head around the kitchen wall to see her start to loose her balance. Instead of bending her knees the way she normally would she bent at the waist, but her feet slipped at the same time and she landed on the hardwood floor right on her forehead. She SHRIEKED and cried. Kurt tried to comfort her, but I had to take her. It took a good five minutes for her to stop crying. After she seemed to calm down, I handed her to Kurt so I could continue cooking, but she started up again. She blamed Kurt for her falling down!

Poor Kurtie felt like shit and apologized profusely to our toddler. She didn’t care. She holds a grudge! I had to put her in her not-a-highchair (booster seat) in the kitchen doorway, and give her Cheerios. Kurt left her alone, but after a few minutes pulled up a chair beside her and asked if he could sit next to her. She kept eating Cheerios. I think that was a snub. She’s one tough cookie! A couple episodes of M*A*S*H and they were buds again.

Today was swimming class and for the first time since the swim session she took at six months, she didn’t curl up in a ball like a little sea otter. She actually kicked in the water. She kicks like a frog. It’s freakin’ cute!

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