Merry Christmas!

Steve and I were able to sleep in until 7am on Christmas morning, I couldn't believe it. That's probably the last time that will happen for many years, so I hope we savored it. Luke didn't quite get that it was Christmas morning until he got to the top of the stairs and saw his gifts. Santa delivered a shake 'n go race car set, per Luke's request. I was hoping to film his reaction with the video camera, but all I got was a blur of boy streaking by me, shouting, "this is so cool!"

Andy could really care less about Christmas, he's still playing with the same toys he did on Monday. Once we extracted Luke from the race car set, we loaded everybody up and went to Spanaway for Christmas, part II. Christmas day photographs are a bit of a challenge for me, but here's a decent one without anyone's backside facing the camera. Grandma and Papa gave Andy a wooden tool box/workbench but I think he was most captivated by the bright shiny bow.

I hate to toot my own horn here, but it's my blog, so here we go. I made my parents a scrapbook of some of the fun events we've all enjoyed since they retired here in Washington. Lets just say it was a big hit.

I can't remember the last time we celebrated Christmas with Grammie Edna. I know she isn't always thrilled to be here, but we are glad to have her. I think she had a good time and handled the chaos pretty well. We gave her the annual calendar with the grandchildren and great-grandchildren featured on every page.

Steve was pretty stoked to receive some kind of fancy remote control flying contraption from my parents. Hopefully the weather will improve and he can take it outside soon.

You Know You Are a Mama When...

...you step out of the shower and find a 3 year old constructing a "big, big, big" tower in your bathroom at 6:45am. Older and wiser women in my life tell me these are the best years because they are little, still want to talk to me (even if I am in the shower) and I usually know where they are at night. I am trying to savor the preschool years, really. But 27 consecutive mornings of seeing Luke long before I see the sun come up is getting a wee bit tiresome. Couldn't our bonding moments begin after it's light outside?

I'm just sayin', is all.

Trauma 'n Drama

It was a brother-to-brother collision this morning. Andy's face met the Pergo at a very high rate of speed. Bleeding. Lots and lots of bleeding. Now, I am an educated woman in the field of first aid and injury response. When other people's children bleed I think it is way cool.

It's a whole different story when it's my own.

Andy was screaming like crazy and did I mention there was a lot of blood?

I handed him to Steve and raced to the phone. My first call was to a mother of 3 boys who also happens to work as a dental hygenist. I knew she could be the voice of reason, since I was freaking out. She gave me the scoop: firm pressure and apply ice. By the way, mouth injuries heal very quickly.

Andy stopped screaming, pushed the ice away, chugged a bottle and he was good to go.

Things Are Looking Up

In the midst of my pity party yesterday, something went "thump" on my front porch. The dog and I raced to see what was the matter. And what to my wondering eyes did appear?
A tower of treats that just makes me cheer!
I am a girl raised on mail-order shopping. Catalogs are to be dog-eared, drooled over, perused many times in search of the perfect gift for friends and family scattered hither and yon. Lucky for me, I married a man who shares my fettish, er, affection for catalogs, particularly the Harry and David catalog that arrives approximately 17 times in our mailbox each December.
We never dreamed someone would bestow upon us a Tower of Treats. Oh, we've been blessed with Harry and David pears almost every year. Occasionally a box of chocolates comes our way. But this is a whole 'nother realm. I have exercised much restraint in not devouring the whole container of moose munch all by myself. It is, after all, from Steve's work and he should have equal opportunity to consume mass quantities of empty calories.

Thrilling Thursday

It's been a rough week here in suburbia. The dog continues to be super high maintenance with his paw injury...can't get wet, can't lick it, has to wear a lampshade collar to obstruct the licking, needs anxiety medication because he can't tolerate the collar, blah, blah, blah.
I told him to stop licking for the 17th time this morning and Luke says, "that's what dogs do, mom."
Astute observation, I guess.
Luke's preschool teacher decided a few weeks ago that she just couldn't hack it anymore and handed in her resignation. But she promised to stay until a replacement was found. I don't know all the messy details, but she developed a mysterious illness that prevented her from honoring that commitment. Three year olds don't understand the concept of a substitute teacher. They were mortified to hear of their teacher's departure and even more aggravated by the ever-changing substitute. At last, the replacement arrived yesterday. I couldn't stand to watch, so I didn't stick around. There were more than enough moms hovering in this tiny little shoebox of a classroom, making sure she didn't mess up. Everyone came out alive, so I guess it was a great first day.
To top off our week, Luke woke up at 4:30 this morning and yelled until I came into his room. He said he didn't feel good. I was extremely sympathetic, gave him some medicine and told him not to call me until it was light outside. Well, by 7:30 he was awake again and whimpering in pain. I'm so glad I cancelled our plans for the day, because by 10am he was vomiting all over the floor. I tried to introduce the concept of using a bucket, but he didn't quite make it. It's hard to explain what vomiting is to a 3 year old.
I must say, although I don't have much good news (nor any snazzy pictures), I am so grateful we ripped up our carpet and installed the pergo. Cleaning up a mess such as that was a snap. There you have it, our thrilling Thursday in a nutshell.