And so the debate begins.

Since the first trip Kenny and I took together, we have talked about going to Mexico to get married. We have been to Playa del Carmen three times in the past three years. We have also gone to the other side, staying in Nuevo Vallarta. We like both sides for different reasons, but it was Playa that we focused on for a wedding. So it was the plan for a long while, until I started to really think it out.

It started to seem impossible. We would be travelling with two young kids. How would I get my dress there unharmed? Would the girls have to stay in our room the night we got married? How many people would really come? All these little doubts popped up, so I started considering a wedding here.

We have a location in mind, as Kenny's stepmom's friend own a plantation nearby. But? Are we the plantation type? Do we really want a traditional wedding? I know Kenny really doesn't, so he would just be doing it for me (which, if you know Kenny, he would do without so much as a complaint and with a smile on his face).

The thing is, as everyone has so graciously pointed out, I have already had a wedding (even though it wasn't at all what I had imagined growing up, just what was necessary at the time). He hasn't. I feel like I should give him what he wants despite the doubts I have, even though I desperately want to get the wedding thing right this time.

At this point, the JP is looking mighty nice.

Of course, I said "Yes."

Apparently, I screw up a lot of plans. First, I refused to go out to dinner. Then, I made Kenny go with me to an appointment at Texas Children's. I wouldn't leave the house. I wouldn't go take a bath. For days, I was very uncooperative. On Christmas Eve, after days of messing with Kenny's plans, I decided to put together a desk for the kids. Kenny tried to talk me out of it, but I just had to. I wanted to do it in the living room. Kenny practically pushed me into the bedroom, telling me what a bad idea it would be to put it together in the living room. "The kids could wake up and catch you." Logical enough.

Halfway through the project, Kenny wanders off to make a burrito. Honestly, I didn't question him. I like putting things together. He could go eat his burrito for all I cared. I was almost finished with the last screw on the desk when Kenny insisted I come help him with some presents in the living room. Really? I just put a desk together by myself, and you can't shove a present under the tree? I laughed, and went to see what exactly he needed help with.

What I found was this...

And inside the cupcake box (from my absolute favorite cupcake shop, none-the-less) was this...

Twenty minutes later.

Kenny's mom is coming over to watch the girls for a bit. It was supposed to be for us to get the last little bit of shopping done, but we are totally taking advantage and going out to dinner. I figure it is deserved, as we just found out about two hours ago that Emmi needs two more surgeries in the immediate future. Merry fucking Christmas to me. Anyway, I am going out to eat, and therefor not cooking dinner for my children.

Pizza night.

I looked up the number for Pizza Hut, and asked Kenny to call it. I am notorious for avoiding placing phone calls. He pointed out the little "Order Here" button, and told me to order online. Cool. Right up my alley. Twenty minutes later, I was still clicking buttons and filling out blanks. Yes, I am sure I want cheese on both sides of my pizza. Yes, I want sauce on there, too. Not light on the sauce. Just regular. My mother's maiden name. My dog's birthday. I got all the way down to the username and password.

"Kenny, what do you want for a username and password," I yelled across the room.

"You are still ordering that pizza?" He looks at me like I am crazy.

Uh. Yes. This was his idea. Before I could finish typing in my password, my security question, and promise my first born child Kenny called, placed the order, and was sitting happily on the couch.

I am still trying to come up with a good username.

Coal in her stocking.

I think next year for Christmas, I am getting my kids nothing they have asked for and everything they didn't ask for. Jill is so confident that she is getting that Nintendo DS she wanted that she has been telling everyone that is what she got for Christmas. When they ask how she knows, she simply says, "Because I asked for it."

Little brat.

Next year, I am getting her a Spiderman doll. Or coal.

At least Emmi will be surprised. This Christmas thing really has her stumped.

"It's my Happy Birthday?" No, Emmi. No, it is not.

"I get present?" Uh. Yes. Santa? Chimney? Sack of toys? Any of this ringing a bell?

A look of understanding will finally cross her face at which point she will make antlers out of her hands, and shout, "REINDEER," upon hearing the words "Santa" and "bell" used in the same sentence.

Tis the season.

Even though I washed my arms up passed my elbows, used two full containers of Mr. Clean wipes (yes, Tiff, the Febreeze ones...be jealous), and diligently washed every article of clothing or blanket that every sick person in our house touched, I still managed to catch the stomach bug that Jill, Kenny, and Emmi passed around. That, of course, meant I spent the last week before the girls were out of school with someone home sick or myself puking. All that planning ahead, and I ended up shopping on the Sunday before Christmas still recovering, barely able to stand up. I am finally done Christmas shopping, though. The parties are behind us. The making of nine thousand gifts and all of the other Christmas related hoop-la done. I can finally settle in and enjoy the season.

You know, all three days that are left.

I do this every year. I over schedule, over plan, and overwhelm myself so completely that I don't even think to enjoy Christmas until Christmas is over. This is why I like Halloween. No pressure. I actually thought I had it all under control this year after I got a little out of control with the present shopping. I made a spreadsheet for the gift list this year. I noted stores and dollar amounts, and carefully calculated who would get what. But then there were the teacher gifts (handmade aprons for all SEVEN teachers).

Two of the seven aprons

And holiday parties (reindeer t-shirts and gift bags and a gingerbread house and such).



Emmi and I making her reindeer shirt at her class party.

But I am done. And now I am going to slow down, read some Christmas stories to my kids, look at Christmas lights in Preston Wood, and sip hot cocoa (when I start eating again!). You know, after that test Emmi has at Texas Children's on Tuesday and all of the present wrapping I still have to do.....

Snowday

Dear Snow,

Look, it is great that you decided to grace Houston with your presence this year, even if you didn't stick to the ground. We all feel all nice and Christmas-y now. But, dude. Some warning next time.

See three days ago, my kids wore shorts to school. The high temperature was 78. And it was muggy. The *BAM* we wake up, and it is 30 degrees outside. I took one look at the clouds, and proclaimed, "Those there clouds look like snow clouds," in my best Texas accent. Or maybe I should say, East Texas accent. Like I know what snow clouds look like. I was joking. It was just freakin' cold. Then, I kid you not, three minutes later it started snowing, and all hell broke loose.

The kids came bouncing off the school bus. All except Jill. She looked at the others like they were crazy. Snow? This shit wasn't snow. She'll take their asses to Kansas with her for Christmas for some real snow. But snow it was, and it was good enough for those poor snow deprived kids. For hours they screamed, caught snowflakes on their tongues, used their mittens for the only time this year, and otherwise neglected their homework. Perhaps, next time, show up on a Saturday.

Aside from that, I do have to thank you, Snow. It was really fun to watch Emmi enjoy her first snow. Even if it only lasted for an hour and never stuck to the ground.

Sincerely,
The really cold lady who lives in Texas so she doesn't have to deal with cold weather

Dickens on the Strand

If you take your kids to a festival with a sword swallowing act, be prepared that they will spend the next few days attempting their own reenactment of said act.

Again, I have been slacking in the blogging. It's just that if I blogged right now it would go kind of like this.

I am overwhelmed. I have too much to do. My kid has too much surgery. Boohoo. Whine, whine. It's not fair. (This is where I stomp my feet.)

I am not subjecting you to that. So I choose not to blog. I will come back one day. Or randomly. Or maybe finish the fifty something posts I have started in the past few weeks that I never post.

On another note, while I have not been blogging, I have been sitting back, observing. Some people are really sad. Really. I don't mean like need a hug, sad. I mean pathetic, sad. Really? Your life is so miserable that you make time to berate someone else. That you seek it out. I mean, I know that I tend to get into it with people. That my mouth gets away from me. That I know I should shut up sometimes. But I don't go looking for confrontation. It just shows your insecurities. And that really isn't pretty.

And....welcome back ALLIE!!!! I'd link to you, but I thought I'd ask you first. I'll get around to calling you sometime today. Oh hell, we all know me. Today means this month.