Children Were Here: Christmas in Review in Photo

-
There's too much to say. One thing these photos won't portray is how I broke down in tears on Christmas Eve and cried into Sayler's beautiful quilt.  I blubbered uncontrollably. My eyes were puffy as I allowed my first world problems to overcome me coupled with the anxiety of last-minute planning for a party of 24. My emotions ran high with the sorrow of knowing I had to go to Costco on Christmas Eve. My angst and worry was at code red thanks to a small dose of a family feud that I not-so-secretly hope befalls most families during major holidays. But, alas, all of my weeping and feeling sorry for myself was made better by an extraordinary Christmas Day.

Some photos of a great day/night:

In photo: Me tripping out that my 11 year old nephew is this tall. Seriously. Tripping. Me. Out.

All my mom's grand kids and 2 great-grand kids. That's 15 walking messes!

My nieces, Monique and Ariel. They were a huge help to the set-up and clean-up efforts = on Santa's "Good" list. 

Sayler loves her cousin, Cambria (my niece), and only almost-smothered her with affection once. 

Does anyone need a panda this large?  Cheyanne loves pandas.

The kids thought so and gave that over-sized panda a good mauling.

The kind of stuff my mom gives as a gift to her 21 year old grandson (my nephew, Bret). Well played, Cory. Well played. 

Let's talk toys.  Is it just me or are these "pajama" dolls dressed in lingerie? What happened to sensible cotton, footed p-jams that don't accentuate thighs and breasts?

Highlights: Too many... But Ariel's amazing home-made Mac N' Cheese that I will be working off for the next 3 months; The spoiling of all my nieces and nephews and hearing them laugh; and mom's joy at receiving her gifts were among the best moments.

Oh... And having family members who "agreed" to take bags of trash home because I can't fit it all in my bins.  I'm sort of bossy.

Another successful Christmas. Another blog post to further procrastinate the sticky floors and chocolate handprints that need a scrubbing throughout this house. All this evidence that suggests: Children Were Here. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Dear Bobby"

-
Image
"Dear Bobby, I love you. I always look forward to when my husband leaves for work, and you sneak into bed with me. Sometimes, you will wake me up, but usually, you just lie there next to me waiting for my eyes to open." Bobby. You are a cat. But you are the cat of all cats. Unliked some others whose names I will not mention.... you like being a cat. You are my original Obi Kenobi... But you don't like your name and insist I call you "Bobby" or "Bob". You are my predator. You can catch anything- including a rabbit almost twice your size. I remember the time you brought a baby possum into our home. I had just awakened and sleepily headed to use the bathroom when, peering from inside the toilet, was a little possum begging to be released. You cheeky bastard, Bobby. That poor possum. I scolded you and you just turned the other whisker, as if to say "look lady... I am a cat, that's how I do...." The other cats beg for forgiveness when ...
Read More

The Good Dancer: A Dating Story

-
Image
I once dated a really good dancer. That wasn't his only strength. In truth, he was one of thee absolute best dudes I ever made out with.  He was super funny, smart and we clicked right away. But what struck me as odd was that, for the first time before and since, his good dancing skills didn't turn me off.  (For some reason, a man with too much swagger on the floor has always confused and frightened me a little.)  Oh, and I also don't like when they are so involved in their dancing that they forget you are on the floor with them.  Oh, and when they A. crowd you or B. use you as a prop.  Oh, and when they sing along to songs by female artists.  If you know all the lyrics to "I'm a Slave for You", that's both impressive and embarrassing. (I really did have strange deal-breakers with men...) So here was the first guy who I enjoyed dancing with that was actually a really good dancer.  He didn't crowd.  He didn't sweat profusely.  H...
Read More

Degree

-
Image
It was on Friday night. We laughed a lot, perhaps made delirious by the sweet smell of men that were familiar-yet-elusive and desirable. It could have been the wine,  it could have been the great company of old friends and conversations and shared opinions with other women. I disagreed with Ariel more than once, though... "Too sweet" or.... "smells like a jelly bean...." The ones I couldn't put down were the ones that smelled like a man's deodorant, hidden among 75+ samples that scattered in baskets around the coffee table. There we sat around a table full of scents as we sampled the fragrances from a friend's Scentsy collection, eager to fill out our order forms for the smells that would soon promise to envelop our homes. I opted for the "Iced Pine" option, which always reminds me of the home I have not yet lived in and lingered around the fragrances that smelled of citrus and orange peels.  The idea of the smell of "Orange...
Read More