Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing—Benjamin Franklin


Goodbye Bink

We decided the other day that it was about time to do away with the binky. Not that we think Little is too old or that a pacifier is a terrible thing or anything; it just seemed like it was time. He doesn't really need it anymore and the only time he ever wants it is nap time, so... out with the binky. 
I thought this was going to be a horrid process of weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of what few teeth we have. As it turns out, no. It is not. I put him to bed last night sans binky and he did his usual thing--a few moments of whining that turns to growling that turns to half hearted grunting that turns to sleep. Not a peep about the absent binky. That has been the trend all day today as well. In fact for his afternoon nap he laughed himself to sleep. Fantastic. I have a sneaking suspicion that I have the best baby in the world.
Also, speaking of said adorable little man... 

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This is how he spent the ride to the temple and then back. Sheesh! He's cute. 

 We also discovered this little gem on our way back from the temple. This is what we're doing to Vera next year for Christmas.  
Oh, and I chopped off my hair. This isn't the best picture of it, but you get the idea. It's amazing how much faster you can get ready for the day when you have half the hair. 

Granny Godiva

Granny Godiva in the marble
This just in: Lady Godiva is officially my 38th great-grandmother. Amazing. I am so so pleased. Apparently I still have distant relatives living in the castle (very very very distant, but relatives all the same). I think I should go drop in on them, after all... we're family.
My mother told me I'm not allowed to go running around naked in public, but it's ok because Bryce volunteered to do it by proxy. Granny Godiva would be so                                                                  pleased. 

Greeks and Germ Warfare

I had hoped to have more time to work on my writing this year. In fact, that was one of my big goals. I'm not going to lie... at this point it doesn't look terribly promising. So far this year we've had a lovely cold that turned into the croup, some sort of a stomach bug, and currently what may or may not be roseola, not to mention having been in a state of teething constantly. Poor Little can't catch a break. I end up shaking my fist of fury at nothing in particular quite regularly these days so that these silly bugs will lay off for a while at least. Not surprisingly, it has done no good thus far. (For the record, we are on the mend now and miraculously only have some residual sniffles from the aforementioned croup cold and are waiting to see if the roseola rash shows up or another illness comes our way, but other than that we've come out with lungs intact, significantly more tired, but relatively unscathed.)

Anyway... as a result of the lack of time (which I don't see improving anytime soon even without every germ in the world in attack mode) I've come to the conclusion that I want my stories to write themselves. How is it that you can have the contents of an entire book in your head, but not seem able to get it onto paper? It seems a bit messed up. Maybe part of my problem is that I want to read my books more than I want to write them. I mean, I love writing, but sometimes I wish my books would spring forth out of my forehead fully formed Athena style.

Items of import

Two things. One: I never gave the Christmas update. I just skipped right to New Years Day. Two: Little bites and Bryce is funny.
So without further Ado... Christmas. 
It was a blast. Little loved it. We ended up doing our Christmas on Christmas Eve because we were headed to my sister's house to share the festivities and we didn't want to drag along our gifts. We were surprised that Little didn't like the wrapping paper more, but he did love all of his gifts. My mom gave him a Fisher Price Farm house and from the second it opened to when we left for my sister's house he was mooing as a result of the cow that came with the farm. The other big hit was a pooping squirrel that Mama Lowder gave us (which was pretty much the funniest thing anyone could have done knowing our history). After every gift was opened and he'd played with it for a minute, Little would come over and give me a hug and kiss as if to say, "Thanks, Mom!" I loved that part the most. He is such a tender hearted little dude and I get the benefit of it for the most part.

After our "Christmas" we headed to my sister Mikie's house and shared a great couple of days with them. There was some great snow and good times were had by all. We had our traditional stuff-yourself-until-you-aren't-sure-you'll-be-able-to-eat-ever-again Christmas breakfast. We played games and watched movies and vegged. Just how Christmas should be. I think Little was the only one who managed to get dressed and that was out of necessity because he soiled his pants. 
Some of the best faces of Christmas: 






Oddly enough, most of our favorite gifts to each other came after Christmas. We came back with the need for a bird feeder (because Mikie has one and it is amazing how many birds we saw), so we went and got one the day we got back and are now the bird capitol of the world. I literally jumped around and squealed like a little girl when I saw them all flocked around. So much joy. We have at least 7 different kinds of birds who have become regulars (not the least of which are 3 cardinals and their wives who are arguably my favorite), so we sit with our bird book at the sliding glass door all day and watch. Little sits with his head plastered against the door and periodically turns around to flail his arms at me in excitement and make sure I'm seeing it too. The birds are all over the ground most of the time and they are getting used to us being around so it gives him a lot to look at. He sometimes gets a little too excited though and slams his head and hands against the door, frightening the birds, and then turns to me crying as if to say, "Make them come back!" There are also a few cats that have started frequenting our place and they are so fascinating for Little that I can't quite find it in me to shoo them away. They have yet to have a successful hunt though, so I suppose it's ok. 

The other thing we got (on impulse for $5 in the 50%-off-attempting-to-get-rid-of-Christmas aisle at CVS) was this little gem: 
Gourmet Trends Perfect Pancake Puff
I almost wish I were kidding when I tell you how much I love it. We made mini pigs in a blanket and I was yet again literally jumping for joy. I mean, can it get much better than little baby pancake puffs? I highly doubt it. It's not just pancakes of course. You can make cream puffs, and corn bread, and what nots, but still.... Baby pancake puffs.... Seriously. Amazing. We have great plans my little Perfect Puff and I. 
Also... With all of Little's teeth coming in, it has unfortunately brought out the cannibal in him. Whenever he wants something or just happens to see some available flesh he gives it a good chomp, not maliciously or anything, just a good hard chomp. I am less than enthusiastic about this as he seems to bite me more than Bryce. 
It's been nice having Bryce home over the break. Little is going to be heartbroken when he has to go back to classes. He weeps and wails every time Bryce leaves (or even gets in the shower) as is. I may get all the hugs and kisses, but he is definitely a Daddy's boy. 
As an aside: Bryce is pretty much the funniest human being on the planet. The other day I was trying to convince him to pick up something to eat because he was hungry and he responds: "Being hungry never killed anyone." Ummm... actually.... We were laughing about that for quite a while. The other funny Bryce moment was when Bryce had a bit of mysterious glitter on his face. His explanation? "I must have been hanging out with Anne Frank again." (I look at him curiously until he realizes his mistake) "Oh! I mean Lisa Frank. More unicorns and rainbows, less Nazis." 
So the conclusion to this way too long blog post is that Christmas was a blast, pancake puffs are the best, and we're all rainbows. 

Where the lame things are

Our New Year's Eve celebration this year was singularly anticlimactic. As it happens, New Year's is one of those holidays that loses almost all of its fun/importance when you have a baby. We decided that we were way too tired to stay up until midnight, so we elected our new year to start at 8:00 (Little has had the croup so we're all a little sleep deprived and crazy--not that that is abnormal). When 7:30 rolled around we were all too ready for bed, so we almost didn't even make it to our remodeled new year moment. All of our substitutions were borderline geriatric: instead of midnight it was 8:00, instead of party dress we were in PJs, instead of booze (or even sparkling cider) it was rootbeer floats, instead partying hardy it was a rousing game of scrabble, instead of banging pots and pans we were coughing and snoring. All told, we are now lame. And the sad thing is that we don't really care all that much. 
However, much more exciting than us is the fact that there is a statue of a polar bear near campus and some clever, clever person dressed him up for New Years. Hooray! for people who are more clever than us (and more exciting). 

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