Bye November!
Buh bye you terrible month. You brought me pain and frustration and stress and I don't like you. Go now, go be with your own kind. Git! Shoo!
Hi there December. You are looking great! I am so ready to get it on with you. I'll put on a little Marvin Gaye and light the fire and prep the fondue. Come join me on this bearskin rug.
So yesterday was actually incredible. We really need this weekend as a family and yesterday was just as close to Hallmark perfection as Tori Spelling in a film about Santa...starring William Shatner. True story. And I was having a spectacular hair day. In the morning I did the laundry, cleaned a little and then decided to make cookies. I usually don't involve the Kid because I get twitchy with lack of perfection (I've improved). So the Kid comes over, sees what I am doing, yells "COOKIES!" and then pulls over the footstool and grabs the rolling pin. Jerk shoos me out of the way and gets to rolling. I can respect that. Seeing him so incredibly happy and doing a new task that I have never seen him do before had me crying like Tori Spelling in a film about Santa....starring William Shatner. I was blown away.
After he rolled for about 20 minutes, I decided to put him on frosting duty. He was incredible and diligent and well, I cried again. Then he spent about an hour going between rolling and frosting. He was so immensely full of himself. I can respect that, too. I had visions of a brand - Matthew Stewart.. I'll change his name legally next week because that won't confuse him at.all.
We spent the next few hours playing and then headed to the Christmas market at Karlsplatz. We brought him up to the pen where a sheep was sitting and the Kid looked at it, then looked at me and said "nein" and then he walked away. "I wasn't offering to buy it for you!" I yelled after him.
We headed to the playground beside the market and the Kid ran around in utter delight and the Husband and I took turns buying gluehwein. I mean, this is civilized. Playground, happy kid, warm wine, happy parents. Oh Europe, don't you every change. We headed back home. The Kid walked a good 15 minutes grasping my hand while babbling about the architecture or maybe birds, but it didn't matter because it was once again so damn Melissa Joan Hart discovering the true meaning of Christmas.
We headed home. The Kid inspected his cookies. They are terrible and it isn't his fault. I bought the ready to roll cinnamononon cookie dough and if you don't cook it at the exact temperature and when Mercury is in retrograde, they turn into weapons of mass destruction. I realized by the third cookie that I was just licking off the cream cheese frosting.
We put the Kid to bed. I made spicy chicken pizza and then the Husband and I decorated our faux white tree. Now, this is the first year ever that the Husband and I haven't fought while decorating the tree. I guess after the week we have had, something like ornament placing seems pretty trivial. It was a therapeutic moment and maybe, just maybe, a sign that we are in this together.
Then I went to the closet to grab something and a plastic heavy snowglobe fell on my foot and made it bleed and I cried and I cried in pain. And I shook my fist at the heavens and said "DAMN YOU NOVEMBER!" I hobbled back to the living room and showed my husband my foot, hoping for a little sympathy... he looked at me sweetly and said "Try not to get blood on the sheets when we head to bed"
Oh, you are a dead man, my friend.
Happy December 1st!!!!
Hi there December. You are looking great! I am so ready to get it on with you. I'll put on a little Marvin Gaye and light the fire and prep the fondue. Come join me on this bearskin rug.
So yesterday was actually incredible. We really need this weekend as a family and yesterday was just as close to Hallmark perfection as Tori Spelling in a film about Santa...starring William Shatner. True story. And I was having a spectacular hair day. In the morning I did the laundry, cleaned a little and then decided to make cookies. I usually don't involve the Kid because I get twitchy with lack of perfection (I've improved). So the Kid comes over, sees what I am doing, yells "COOKIES!" and then pulls over the footstool and grabs the rolling pin. Jerk shoos me out of the way and gets to rolling. I can respect that. Seeing him so incredibly happy and doing a new task that I have never seen him do before had me crying like Tori Spelling in a film about Santa....starring William Shatner. I was blown away.
After he rolled for about 20 minutes, I decided to put him on frosting duty. He was incredible and diligent and well, I cried again. Then he spent about an hour going between rolling and frosting. He was so immensely full of himself. I can respect that, too. I had visions of a brand - Matthew Stewart.. I'll change his name legally next week because that won't confuse him at.all.
We spent the next few hours playing and then headed to the Christmas market at Karlsplatz. We brought him up to the pen where a sheep was sitting and the Kid looked at it, then looked at me and said "nein" and then he walked away. "I wasn't offering to buy it for you!" I yelled after him.
We headed to the playground beside the market and the Kid ran around in utter delight and the Husband and I took turns buying gluehwein. I mean, this is civilized. Playground, happy kid, warm wine, happy parents. Oh Europe, don't you every change. We headed back home. The Kid walked a good 15 minutes grasping my hand while babbling about the architecture or maybe birds, but it didn't matter because it was once again so damn Melissa Joan Hart discovering the true meaning of Christmas.
We headed home. The Kid inspected his cookies. They are terrible and it isn't his fault. I bought the ready to roll cinnamononon cookie dough and if you don't cook it at the exact temperature and when Mercury is in retrograde, they turn into weapons of mass destruction. I realized by the third cookie that I was just licking off the cream cheese frosting.
We put the Kid to bed. I made spicy chicken pizza and then the Husband and I decorated our faux white tree. Now, this is the first year ever that the Husband and I haven't fought while decorating the tree. I guess after the week we have had, something like ornament placing seems pretty trivial. It was a therapeutic moment and maybe, just maybe, a sign that we are in this together.
Then I went to the closet to grab something and a plastic heavy snowglobe fell on my foot and made it bleed and I cried and I cried in pain. And I shook my fist at the heavens and said "DAMN YOU NOVEMBER!" I hobbled back to the living room and showed my husband my foot, hoping for a little sympathy... he looked at me sweetly and said "Try not to get blood on the sheets when we head to bed"
Oh, you are a dead man, my friend.
Happy December 1st!!!!
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