I have been running around like crazy this week, finishing shopping and mailing packages and work has been unbelievably insane. So very few photos and stuff to note. Here’s a quick recap:
Monday night we had the Funcks over for dinner and some gingerbread-decorating time. Pete was so happy to see his buddies, and I got free labor to decorate that dumb gingerbread house, so everyone was in a good mood that night 🙂
Tuesday Pete was sick. He was up most of the night before coughing, and had a fever and said his stomach hurt. I made a little bed for him on the couch and played cartoons for him nonstop so I could attempt to get some work done (major deadlines that day). It kinda worked. I would just like to point out now, that it blows my mind that two introverted people could have such a nonstop chatterbox social butterfly when they have a kid. For serious. So anyway, he chattered in the background pretty much nonstop. I won’t lie, I wore my headphones part of the time. I don’t think he even noticed.
Wednesday it was back to preschool and work for us. I was able to get all the packages put together and off in the mail (8 in total, I actually had to take them to the post office in shifts because of how much I could carry, no lie). After the fact I noticed that the cat toys we bought for my parents’ Momo were still in the Christmas tree, where we oh-so-cleverly hid them from Pete’s grasp. Lovely. So we’ll just have to give those to my parents when we see them in January.
I also had my work cookie exchange. Pete claimed the chocolate mint snowflakes to be ALL HIS and pretty much yeah, he gets one a night (and I suspect he’s sneaked a few more in the meantime) and the box is pretty much empty. Apparently I need to get that recipe.
Saturday was full of more shopping and OMG. It’s happened again, I am at that point in the holiday where I am officially tired of shopping. Crowds are way worse in Madison than I’m used to in KC and Lawrence, too. Yesterday I ran up to the Target near our house, finally found parking, braved the crowds, finally got all my items, stood in one of the insanely long lines, and realized when I was 3 from the front of the line that: I forgot my wallet at home. TRUE STORY. So I hid my cart in a random aisle, said a prayer, and flew back home. By the time I got back the store my cart was still there with all items still comfy in my cart, so I can’t compain. Too much. Damn holidays.
Sunday we headed out to Hilldale to visit Santa. He was taking a break when we got there, so we wandered around and looked at all the finished gingerbread houses they were making a few weeks ago when we were there.
I’ve been working out over lunch hour with my coworkers, one of them is hardcore and sees a personal trainer weekly and has been creating some Insanity and CrossFit-based workouts for us. It’s NUTS. I’ve been trying to eat better as well, and am happy to report that my snacking self control is a million times better, thanks to the motivation of my now much leaner legs/waist/butt and sweet muscle tone. Except for the roof of that alien gingerbread house, I won’t lie I wanted to EAT ALL THE KRACKLE BARS. Oh man, I love me a good Krackle bar. I swear I could not stop staring at them, drooling.
Also please tell me that’s supposed to be Hanukkah Harry on the roof above. Please.
Last time we took Pete up to this mall, Santa was there and it was lovely and there was no line, but he seemed pretty freaked out, so we just kept walking. Today we decided to write him a letter before leaving the house. They have a twee little Santa mailbox next to the Santa station and we figured if he got scared, we could just drop the letter in the box and leave and call it good. Pete’s letter, as noted from what he told me: “Dear Santa: My name is Peter Ray Doots [side note: yes, my son still thinks his last name is ‘Doots’]. I want a green choo choo, a blue choo choo, and Avengers. That’s it. I love you. You need to chew with your mouth closed. The end. Peter”. The “chew with your mouth closed” comes from Pete seeing Santa on TV eating with his mouth open, and it thoroughly grossed him out. He’s already told me all about it, days ago, and apparently it made quite the impression because it also made it into The Letter.
We stood in line, we peeked at Santa when we got close enough to get a glimpse. Very few criers in front of us, so he seemed to be cool with the whole thing. Our Santa has Wilford Brimley glasses. Be jealous.
When it came his turn I was a little concerned he was going to turn around and flee, but he marched right up and took his place on Santa’s lap. FINALLY. Haven’t had a normal Santa photo since he was a wee baby and didn’t know the difference between Santa and a brick wall.
Here is where it got horrifying, though. Santa insisted on reading the letter. THE LETTER ABOUT CHEWING. Omg. I turned beet red while poor Santa wrestled with the well-sealed envelope and loudly read Pete’s letter IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. He pretty much got to the part about chewing with his mouth open, made a weird face, and stopped reading. Mortifying. So anyway, they quickly finished their chat and Pete got some goodies and then we stood there awkwardly while he insisted on shoving his Letter of Shame in the Santa mailbox. It took him awhile. Kill me now. All future Santa letters will be censored.
That sums it up, folks. We’re busy getting ready for the holiday; we’re staying here alone this year, the trip to Kansas is just way too hard and we’ve declined Wisconsin relatives’ offers to have us over. I think it will be nice to just stay home, not get on the highway but hang out in our PJs half the day and relax and frankly, I’m sure I won’t be the best of company because I’ll probably be weepy because I will be missing everyone back home. So at any rate, we’re going to make a nice big meal ourselves, Scott has already ordered the pork belly for this porchetta recipe and we’re finalizing the sides this week as well so we can go on an epic grocery shopping spree.
I feel like I can’t really wrap things up without mentioning the school massacre this week. I don’t know a soul who doesn’t feel deeply impacted by that tragedy. Friday night Pete was tired and klutzy and kinda fell, whacking his head on his dresser. When his face screwed up and the tears started, I didn’t go to him but instead I flinched and turned away. Because I didn’t see him but the face of those poor terrified babies in their horrific last moments. I can only pray that everything was over quickly, that none of them suffered for long.
Several friends have taken to Twitter and Facebook and their blogs, railing on about the lax security in our schools, about gun control and the state of mental health care and how it’s all the media’s fault. If I saw that Morgan Freeman hoax come up in my feed one more time, I thought I was going to tear my hair out. Everyone raging, everyone arguing. And I’m so tired of it, honestly. This was a terrible tragedy due to all the wrong things falling into place. Yes we need a lot of changes in this country, but with this tragedy I think they are finally going to happen. Arguing with your loved ones on your social media of choice is not going to change anything. So instead, I try to focus the heroes of the day, and remember the lives lost, and continue to tell my boy on a regular basis that he is good and should always DO good. I know he doesn’t get it now, but one day it should sink in. That’s my hope.
Also I would like to mention that I now have a nasty cold that also includes a queasy stomach. Thank you, Pete, for getting me sick for the 817th time this season.