Christmas Threw Up In My House

or "What Cheap-Ass Toy Company Doesn't Include Batteries?"

First of all...we had a great Christmas. Really glad Uncle Matt got to come back. Very thankful for the generosity of all our family. Of course we overindulged in delicious food and I have spent lengthy hours in my pajamas (currently still in them today). It doesn't get much better than that.

Highlights:

Not to brag, but we came home with a large, light-up gnome blow mold from the Cousin's Christmas gift exchange. Do I feel bad that we stole it from the family members that drove all the way from North Carolina to be there? Yes. Do I feel bad enough to give it up? No way!

Scott was one of the Santas for our PTA's "Santa Rings" program and visited four or five different families in their homes. (Possibly the skinniest Santa ever.) He had a blast and spent the rest of Christmas yelling "Ho! Ho! Ho!" at our kids to which Zoe always replied..."VERY FUNNY DADDY!"

Scott also decided to try his hand at my family's traditional German cookie recipe - lebkuchen. This recipe includes, but is not limited to, a pound of lard and a pound of brown sugar, sorghum, wine, whiskey (my grandma wrote "generous" in the notes next to the whiskey), and NINE CUPS of flour. He apparently did not hear my grandma tell him he would need to mix it by hand. This yielded over 10 dozen cookies and Scott's ability to put on a gun show with his arms (Ha! that last part I totally cracked myself up on.)

My quest for a "girl" skateboard was denied unless I wanted to spend over $100 or buy some dorky Disney Princess piece of crap (no offense to those who bought the pieces of crap). And yes, I was even out on Christmas Eve day looking.

For the third year in a row, I had a massive housekeeping fail. It is my dream to one year be able to leave for my parents on Christmas Eve knowing I will come back to clean house with made beds, an empty sink, and no towels on the bathroom floor. Maybe next year.

Morgan sings Deck the Halls and somehow always comes up with a line something along, "While we sing of Yuletide peril." I hear ya, sista!

Uncles John and Charlie didn't manage to break anything while attempting to fly Ben and Gabe's new RC helicopters (you know, the kind you see in the middle of the mall) inside Mom's dining room with wine glass obstacle course.

My Grandma FORGOT MY FAMILY. She passed out her annual cards/money to everyone but Scott, Anna, Morgan and Zoe. Maybe we should visit more. (Instead she handed me a wad of cash, which I promptly shoved in my bra, just like she taught me.)

Every year someone resorts to yelling at Gramy in order for her to hear. Unfortunately, she usually doesn't understand the yelling either. Probably her hearing aide doesn't pick up tones of frustration. This year it was Scott, while Justin and I stifled our laughter at the snack table.

"Do you hear that? It's a funny squeaking sound."
"You couldn't hear a dump truck drive through a nitroglycerin plant."

I made a blanket for Scott out of his pre-triathlete sweaters. (I journalled that odyssey, so look forward to the blog post.) And I sent his Ironman bib off to be made into coasters (thank you, etsy). He was not surprised by either of them. I suck at discretion. To be fair, though. I wrapped one of my own presents from him.

New additions to Zoe's orphanage...pooping baby (naturally), feeding/changing station, new clothes for Bitty Baby (including matching pjs for her), croc baby (notice the purple footwear), Criblife twins (princess and punk rock), winter Dora, crib/horse stroller with baby.