Celebrating

My birthday is nestled in between Christmas and New Years, right in the midst of the most wonderful time of year.  When I was little, I used to be upset that my birthday was "the last one of the year."  My Dad used to tell me that it was ok to be the last birthday of the year, because the year I was born, I was his favorite little tax break.  I never understood this until I actually had kids and now I think that he was totally right, and that I was legitimately a fiscally genius baby for coming a week early.  But, as the years have gone by, I really have grown to like my birthday. 

I still live in my hometown and most of my friends still "come home" to visit their families, so by default, they are home for my birthday, which is always fantastic.  There are always good holiday movies playing around my birthday.  It's always cold out, which means that I get to dress in layers and wear scoop neck sweaters.  I am a perfume junkie, so getting to spray liberally on my birthday makes me very happy.

Celebrating birthdays is always fun, whether you make a big deal, or a small deal, whether you guzzle a bottle of wine or just nurse a Shirley Temple.  This year, I wanted a low key day, I'm saving up my energy for my next milestone birthday; I'm going to have a blow out bash.  For real.  But low key definitely didn't mean without fun.

My father and sister both texted me around 3 am, which kind of begs the question, "What the hell were you doing up?"  And I got lots of love from other family members, friends and acquaintances.

My favorite part of my birthday (now) is getting cards (when I was little it was the ice cream cake, but not the whole ice cream cake: specifically the black crunchy pieces separating the chocolate and vanilla ice cream).  I've got a quirky sense of humor, so I appreciate when people make an effort to pick out the perfect card for me.  By the way, speaking of cards, I have said for the longest time that there are no quality humor cards around.  I have even mused about starting my own greeting card company/line to meet the demand of what I feel is an untapped market. 

Nothing says appropriate family portrait like your hands around your Mom's neck?

Jim's card



Snoopy?!  Seriously, this kid is awesome.



He even did the stray pen marks by himself.

 Besides the cards here are some other things I enjoyed about my birthday:

• Getting to sleep in and by that I mean, not having to get up for work.  Thanks to Jim who took care of Wubbles!
• Buying myself some birthday gifts.  Highlights include: make up (I'm thinking 2011 needs to be the year of the "smokey eye"), make up brushes and silver ballet flats from Target.
• My parents' getting me a sewing machine.  When I asked Jim what he wanted me to make he requested a sweater vest.  It shall be done.
• Dancing with Wubbles after dinner.
• Trying to make a birthday mix cd for myself... I'm still working on it.

On an unrelated but too incredibly cute not to document note, we gave Wub his first Oreo cookie today and the results were awesome!  He looked like a pirate.  We snapped like 20 pictures of him walking around the house going, "COOK!  COOK!," which is his word for cookie.  Something else that is good to know, water will take Oreo cookie stains out of furniture.

Lesson learned: black and white cookies and a light blue couch are kind of frienimies.

What do cookie pirates think about?  I'm not sure, but it must be very serious.

Until next time, have a safe and Happy New Year!

Reading is a beautiful, beautiful thing

Reading books is not one of my hobbies.  However, reading magazines, the news highlights, blogs and gossip are some of my favorite past times.  (I'm also a thoughtful and practical reader.  Sometimes, in the middle of the night when I'm awake and want to watch Chelsea Handler or some infomercial for the 10th time, if I'm feeling nice, I will mute the TV and just read the closed captioning so I won't wake anyone up.  I don't do it often, but I feel that the few times that I have done it make up for those times that I can't hear the TV so I have to turn it up.) 


My son, however, loves to read or rather, be read to.  (Although, I am secretly obsessed with the infomercial for my baby can read, so maybe if we had gotten that, he would be reading to us.)  I'm pretty sure he gets this from my Dad who is perpetually reading a book, or perusing a newspaper or reading to my niece.  He is someone who loves to read.  (Once, while we were in an elevator leaving the pediatrician's office, a woman who was in there with us, blurted out, "You're the reader walker."  I stared at her.  I'm the what?  So she said, "You live in my neighborhood and I always see you going on walks while you read a book."  Then it dawned on me, she was talking about my Dad who was standing next to me.  Even the people in our neighborhood have nicknamed him based on his love of books that's how much he loves to read.)  Wubbles loves to come running over, book in hand and raise it to your face.  This is clearly his universal language for, "read me this book, please."

Jim and Wubbles reading

Jim and Cullen read every night.  Cullen crawls into Jim's lap and they decide what they're going to read.  Tonight, Jim asked Cullen which book he wanted to read (there were only 2 choices) and he emphatically picked Ten in Bed.  However, as Jim started off, I could see Cullen nervously looking at the losing book that had been tossed on the ground.  As Jim continued to read, it became obvious that Cullen had made the wrong choice, he wanted the Birthday Surprise book.  So he climbed off Jim's lap and picked up the book and gestured with it in Jim's face.  It was so cute and also reminded me of something I would have done.  Made a decision and then panicked half way through that the other book was probably better and I should have picked that one.

Wubbles likes to help turn the pages

Watching moments like this reminds me what good books are written about; thousands of little stories and memories about hobbies and activities that weave the fabric of someones childhood.  So, while I may not enjoy reading books authored by other people, I love to read the book that is being written in my very own living room.

Until tomorrow, goodbye.

Winter wonderland tumbles

Yesterday, we had what will probably be the last snowfall of the year.  It's bittersweet really, because while I enjoy snow, I hate the ice that comes afterwards.  But since it was Wubbles' first time really being old enough to enjoy it, we decided to take him out.  Not surprisingly, it lasted all of 30 seconds, which I think is a respectable adventure for a 1 year old. 

Immediately, Wubbles was taken aback by the blustering winds and cold.  He blinked and turned away from the wind, but as soon as I put him down, he took off running all over the driveway.  It was so cute to watch as he curiously bent down to scrape some of the snow off of the driveway and feel it. 

I manned the camera as Jim tried to direct him so he didn't stumble into a snow drift or get swept away in a gust of wind.  (Ok, I know I'm being over dramatic, but it was seriously windy here yesterday and today.  Such a little guy could have easily been a block away before you knew it!)  But the party was over when he accidentally stumbled and snow got all over his hands.  It was such a crucial moment in his experience.  The fascination had worn off and he realized that snow, while pretty, does have its downsides.  Think shoveling at 9 o'clock at night and walking outside with wet hair.  All in all though, I think he had an awesome time running around crunching on the freshly fallen powder.

Snowflakes falling all around.



After the tumble.



I'm looking forward to next year when we will bundle him up in his snow suit, scarf and mittens and go sledding as a family across our front yard (which by the way is completely level.  There is no way that he's even coming close to a hill!).  Then we will all come in and strip off our wet, snowy clothes in the garage and knock the snow out of our boots.  Jim and I will make each other hot chocolate and we will spoon feed it to Cullen.  Of course mine shall have extra whipped cream!  So, here's to the next snow storm and everything chocolately and snowy and good that comes out of not being able to get the cars out of the garage.

Tree update: tomorrow, Jim is going to take her down.  She did well; she gave us some nice pictures and added some warmth to the house.  She will be missed, not so much for her charm or grace but for her character.

Until tomorrow, goodbye.

Doing the domestic

Jim is the cook in the family, he studies shows like Top Chef and Iron Chef America with determination and excitement.  When I was pregnant with Cullen, he literally always had at least 2 dozen chocolate chip cookies baked and stored away for me.  He knew that I had a serious cookie snack schedule, 2:00 pm and 9:00 pm.  If he showed up cookieless, there would have been hell to pay.  We have talked about his love of cooking before and he tells me that when I walk into the kitchen it gives him anxiety.  I can't blame him.  My style of cooking is way less free spirited than his.  I like to clean as I go and he's a do the dishes tomorrow type guy.  It's funny, because I do like to cook, but it has to be simple things.  The most elaborate I get is chicken pot pie.  It's delicious, but a little labor intensive, so I don't make it all that often.  One of the other reasons I don't make it all that often is because Jim commandeered the recipe and now makes it on his own.

Occasionally though, I do step it up and make some delicious things.  Desserts are kind of my forte.  Cherry cool whip pie: delicious.  Peanut butter pie: tastes like peanut butter Kohr Brothers at the Jersey shore.  I recently got recipes for some no bake cookies.  Next year, I really want to have a "cookie exchange."  (Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure cookie exchanges should also be called: middle aged woman parties where people get drunk on cheap wine.  I really, really want to go to one of these parties!)  So today, in honor of all the hard work that my husband has done and will be doing shoveling us out for the next two days, I made him peanut butter and m&m rice krispie treats.  He says they're delicious and I kind of believe him, because they smell fantastic.

Next up on my list to make: Chocolate Peanut Butter Crispy Balls (the recipe sounds awesome, but we need to work on the name).  And after that: Knock You Naked Brownies (enough said). 

It's not often that I cook, so when I do, I really enjoy it.  Hopefully, Jim will grow more comfortable having me in the kitchen.  But if not, that's ok too, because a husband that cooks is really one in a million.

Until tomorrow, goodbye.

Merry Christmas

Our gifts have been opened, our bellies are full and now we're off to bed.  Merry Christmas to you and yours wherever you may be. 

Wubbles opening his gifts

Christmas Traditions

When I was little, my parents were dedicated to bringing us to visit family over the holidays.  Both of their parents and extended family lived about 2 hours away; which meant that my brother, sister and I never spent Christmas Eve or Christmas morning at our own house.  My senior year of high school, I told my parents that I wanted to be home Christmas morning and they finally agreed that we didn't have to travel and I was thrilled.

Being home on Christmas morning is so apple pie Americana.  It makes you feel like unabashedly bursting out into Jingle Bells and Joy to the World all at the same time.  It makes you feel like slamming some eggnog and telling stories of Christmas' yore.

But the absolute best thing about being home is that gradually the things that you do that morning become traditions.  At my Polish grandparent's house, we had a traditional Polish meal on Christmas Eve.  I appreciate (now) the effort that it took to prepare, but the meal sucked.  The best thing to eat was the fish sticks, which were only added when I was a teenager.  Lima beans, cabbage and fish balls are not my idea of sustenance.  But it was tradition, so we shut up and ate it.  Once we started celebrating Christmas at our house, we ended the traditional Polish meal and we now enjoy sitting down to a meal of Pf Chang's and my house.  Oh, how I love this.  It makes the holidays have so much meaning when people gather at your house to celebrate, it means that the memories will be made where you live and the tradition will continue.

Jim's Christmas Eve nap

I want my family's traditions to develop organically, but I'm not above crafting some too.  For example, Jim had the right idea.  Earlier he got out our "downstairs comforter" and curled up on the couch while Wubbles slept.  That's an awesome tradition.  A Christmas Eve nap.  I want Wubbles to nap for years and years to come!  Honestly though, I want him to grow up not knowing how to celebrate Christmas any other way than the way we do it.  I want him to say, "Mom, it's time for my Christmas Eve nap!"  Or, "Dad's taking his Christmas Eve nap again."  My hope is that he enjoys everything that Jim and I are going to try to make Christmas become: a time to celebrate our family and be generous with our love.

The tree is leaning a little bit more today.  Hopefully she doesn't give up before tomorrow.

Until tomorrow, goodbye.

My favorite Christmas card

I love getting Christmas cards; if they have a "newsletter" I love them even more.  When I was little, the newsletter was the thing to do and for some reason, people have gotten away from this and are now just doing photocards instead.  Which to me is boring, but I must admit that I did the same thing 2 years in a row.  I do enjoy seeing snapshots of people's children and pets; however, the newsletters are where it's at.

Recently, someone told me how she probably wasn't going to be able to get her Christmas cards out on time, but that she really didn't care.  But she seemed like she did.  So, I sympathized with her and said that I made it a priority to get ours done early, because if I didn't, they never would have went out.  She went on to say, that she really could have done them in June, because I guess nothing has changed since then.  As we continued to chat, she revealed that she was a newsletter writer and I was so surprised by this that I started gushing about my love for newsletters.  I told her how I was fascinated by what people felt was noteworthy and how I appreciated when people didn't just include the Mensa notations.  I love to read honest newsletters.  My family was one of the few families that I believed had a pretty objective letter.  We would include the typical highlights, but we also made sure to keep people posted about the more lighthearted stuff, like my Dad's speeding ticket count and when we took the wrong dog home from the kennel (it's a long story).  But her candor trumps mine.  She told me how the year her and her husband split up, she went into to all of the details of how she found out he had been having an affair for 2 years and was in love with someone else.  These are the types of letters I live for!  Don't get me wrong, I don't like reading about other people's pain or dysfunction that causes serious turmoil; however, if someone is brave enough and strong enough to put it all out there for others to read, I'm all for it.  So that's why next year, I am going to make it my goal to come up with a newsletter, an honest one. 

So, in honor of Christmas card senders everywhere, I want to share with you my favorite Christmas card so far.  When I saw it, I melted.  It's Wubbles' Christmas card from school.  I absolutely love handmade decorations, every one carries so much more meaning than a perfectly crafted store bought version.  I especially love the snowman, it's his footprint!  Enjoy...



Tree update: she's still standing.  Fingers crossed that she makes it until Christmas morning. 

Until tomorrow, goodbye.

How to Have Fun

The other day, I was looking at the binding of one of my favorite magazines and saw that one of the featured articles was called, "How to Have Fun."  Really?  I have glanced over that same magazine about 100 times and it never struck me how odd or sad that article may be. 

How to Have Fun?  Aren't there are like a million ways to have fun?  My definition of "fun" has certainly changed over the years and I feel like I could rattle off at least 100 different ways, ideas, things, places, people, items, songs, etc. that all made me have fun or contributed to it.  And that got me to thinking about how Cullen has fun. 

Cullen's toy chest

It's fascinating to watch him play.  It's so innocent and elementary in a "breath of fresh air" way.  He's not into TV shows or gadgets, games or trucks.  Occasionally, he will raid his toy chest and have everything strewn about, only to still be unsatisfied and clamoring for more toys.  What really interests me though, is when he is occupied for several minutes with the same thing, because I know he truly is playing with it because he enjoys it. 

The types of things he plays with over and over are those "things around the house" items that Jim and I see as clutter, but he simply sees them as his favorite toys.  We never recycle any of his diaper or wipe boxes, he does it for us.  He has turned them into cars, storage bins, book cases, stools, etc., etc., etc.  Cullen will take his diapers out of the box just to flip it over and push it around and cry out with frustration as it gets stuck on the carpet, or he steers it into the pack and play.  Just recently, he started playing more with actual toys.  While I am happy to see him using the presents and tokens that Jim and I, and others have gotten him, nothing warms my heart more than to see him overwhelmed with excitment when I hand him the finished wrapping paper roll.  It makes me so happy to see him try and squeeze the gianormous cardboard sword through the doorway, or hear him laugh when he slaps it on the floor.

And so, in my opinion, Cullen's definition of fun is what that article should be based on.  Taking something bound for a corner or the trash and bringing it to life with a smile and a little childish innocence.

Until tomorrow, goodbye.

You're Invited to Cullen's Wedding

This summer, while we were at the Jersey Shore, I looked at my son and was surprisingly gripped by fear.  A real sense of sadness came over me that while I truly love my life, he may not want to be like me and live like me.  I expressed to Jim how concerned I was that, 'One day, he may not live near us, or want to call us or when he does, he may secretly dread it...'  Jim assured me that I needed to take a breather and that he would call and would most likely want to stay within a few hours drive from us; but it still nags me to this day.

Cullen at the Jersey Shore

This morning, I was watching My Big Friggin' Wedding on VH1 and I laughed out loud when I watched the one mother of the groom shouting at herself in the mirror that, 'All she had in life now was her dog and that her son had left her because he had gotten married.'  (I honestly don't know why I have the propensity to watch reality TV; other people's lives just fascinate me.)  Now, I know that I'm not that bad, but it made me think about the Jersey Shore this summer and how the fear of not being a part of Cullen's life in the future was so overwhelming.

Earlier this year, my Dad and I were at a wedding and he made a comment about how the groom could be Cullen in 25 years and I snapped back that, "25 is way too young to get married."  And then I thought, "Hello, Mrs. Pot: you were 25 when you got married!"  And it makes me wonder how my parents felt.  Did my Mom have a pseudo meltdown at the Jersey Shore wondering if I was going to live nearby?  Or did my Dad go to a wedding 25 years ago and witness the father of the bride screaming at himself in the bathroom mirror that, 'His baby was gone?'  Probably not.

It's not that I'm insecure or that I wouldn't be happy if Cullen lived anywhere other than within a 10 mile radius of me; it's just that I want him to stay close.  Que the Rolling Stones, "You Can't Always Get What You Want."  So, for now, I have resigned myself to just focus on him being 1.  On his wedding being 24 years away.  And for him to maybe not always want to call, but knowing that he will, in spite of there not always being all that much to say.

Until tomorrow, goodbye.

Would Mike Holmes approve?

Yesterday, Jim, Wubbles and I decorated our first gingerbread house together.  I would love to say it was magical and that our creation is breathtaking, but it's not.  And that's ok with me.


Our gingerbread house

When I bought the kit (the finest kit at any supermarket around), I was thinking, we can gather around by the fireside and take turns delicately placing our gumdrops with love and care.  But reality set in when Cullen managed to slip out of his highchair and was magnetically pulled towards the barely dry iced walls of the little starter gingerbread house.  While we managed to keep him occupied with the box for a little while, we had to hustle to just get the peppermint wreath adorned above the door.  And despite the fact that our showpiece will not be winning the $10,000 giant check, I love it.  It reminds me a lot of our own home, colorful but more attention could have been paid to the details. 

I'm sure Mike Holmes' first comment would probably have something to do with the chimney laying in the background that never made it onto the house and how the contractors didn't know what they were doing.  My answer to him would be, I agree, but at least it's not snowing in the master bedroom suite.

Until tomorrow, goodbye.

Mommy's day in

Some people love to be out and about, not me.  I love the comfort of my house, the freedom to wear tacky pajamas all day long and the comfort of knowing that on cold, snowy winter days I can just sit back and watch it fall and cover our patio furniture (which we have yet to put away...).

I especially love staying in during the Christmas season for a few reasons:





Wubbles' Christmas stocking


• All three of our stockings are hung and we got the perfect stocking stuffer for Wubbles, his first toothbrush and little snack boxes of Animal Crackers.  Very non-sequitur, but it's what Christmas is all about.
• There are holiday themed TV episodes and cooking shows get top priority over plastic surgery documentaries.  I have been watching reruns of Top Chef All Stars thinking how much I would love to go out to dinner with Dale and Casey and drink way too much and then drag them dancing, full well knowing we will embarrass ourselves.  
• I love that despite what I thought and what everyone told me that Wubbles hasn't even attempted to touch the Christmas tree.  It's like he has this incredible willpower to just ignore it.  I love him for that.
• Wubbles' 1st Santa Pictures are scattered on our dining room table, waiting to be included in the Christmas cards that we will give people with their gifts.  The pictures are extra special since we didn't take any last year, because the medical community basically convinced Jim and I that every single mall Santa in the tri-state area had a big red bag full of swine flu.
• I can listen to Christmas music anytime I want.  In fact, I just turned some on.  Christmas Canon is one of those awesome songs to have as background music.
• Our front door is decked with a simple, but classic Christmas wreath.  And I know it's not a competition (even though I made it into one), but we were the first ones on the block to put one up.  Bam!  Thanks, Giant.
• The smells of Christmas are the best.  Hands down.  Wet pavement smell doesn't have anything on cinnamon apples and pumpkin pie.

It makes me happy and content to just be here, in my house, with Christmas and the love of my boys all around.  It also brings a smile to my face that the tree is still upright.  She's a strong old girl.

Until tomorrow or the next day, goodbye.

  

Our Christmas tree's dirty little secret

Wubbles and Jim

To think that I could write a blog is ridiculous; but then again so am I and so is my family.  I didn't marry my high school sweetheart or even my college boyfriend, I married Jim.  He's an honest guy who works hard to "keep me happy."  We met on Eharmony and got married in 2008.  Our son, Cullen, who we affectionately call Wubbles was born in 2009.
I know that it's boring to talk about how different we are, so I will just say that we actually aren't all that different... now.  But Jim is from a "measure twice, cut once" family and I, well, I'm not.  I come from a, "Only mulch the front of your flower beds because your neighbors can't see behind the bushes," family.  From a, "Sure, I'll fix your bike chain.  Go grab me that ax!" family.  And while it may have caused some problems in the beginning, Jim now sees things my way. 

And that's why our Christmas tree has a dirty little secret.  It started out all well and good, the family piled in the SUV to get our Christmas tree, the bitter cold and chattering teeth, the quick decision on a reasonably priced Christmas tradition.  Things started to unravel when we got her home.  The base didn't fit.  So my very patient husband inquired if we had a saw and when I laughed at him, he pulled out a knife and started whittling away the old fashioned way.  It actually didn't take that long and the branch that needed to be hacked off was hastily tossed to the side, but for some reason, cutting that branch meant she was now off balance.  So he huffed and he puffed and he got her centered in the base and she stood.  Leaning as all hell, but she was up and I was happy.  And then she started to lean some more, but we ignored her.  And she leaned more and more and we hoped she "wouldn't f-ing fall down."  (Literally.  We got an ornament this year that included a card that you can write a hope on and this was one of ours.)  But alas, she couldn't hold up anymore and slowly and surprisingly quietly she gave way.  Jim was standing in her path, so he was able to catch her before she really went down hard.  And I'm very sure we should have gotten out some sort of tools or googled something like, "how to fix a leaning Christmas tree," but we didn't.  We took the easiest, laziest way out possible.  While I steadied the old girl, Jim went and got some dumbbells, 26 lbs worth to be exact.  He gingerly placed them under the old girl's skirt and around her fupa and she held.  And she's still holding... for now.

I will keep you posted on her progress and the goings on of my family and I.

Until tomorrow, goodbye.