The Week That Time Forgot
The holidays have been properly celebrated at JT Headquarters, Internet, and someone I know freaking SCORED.
Sadie would like you to know that the red string on that Fisher Price phone is her favorite new toy. Yes, THE STRING. In other news, 100% of these toys play music/have flashing lights/say weird things in creepy, sing-song voices. My house is not where you want to be dropping acid in 2010, is what I am trying to say.
Now we are firmly entrenched in the year’s laziest, most pointless-to-be-at-work-because-no-one-is-doing-shit week: the seven days between Christmas and New Year’s. I never really know what to do with myself during this week. The gifts are all opened, the cookie supply is dwindling, there aren’t any more carols on the radio…but wait! The holidays aren’t over yet! But you have to let a few more days pass before you can get all festive and pop open that champagne.
$4.99 Andre pink champagne was my drink of choice for two whole years in college, and if I may be entirely honest, it still tastes way better to me than the expensive stuff. I KNOW. I am guessing this is not what they mean by “champagne taste?”
I totally plan to enjoy the ASS out of some champagne this year, as I am not currently gestating or nursing she-who-was-previously-gestating. I know I’ve mentioned the whole weaning thing here before, but – without going into too many boring details – it seems my rack didn’t fully get the message until last week sometime. So now – REALLY, this time! – things are totally over. Done. The credits are rolling. The factory has shut its doors. The chairs are on the tables.
You don’t have to go home, but you can’t nurse here.
So, hey! Did you know that when you wean, you might experience some pretty significant hormonal fluctuations reminiscent of postpartum depression? And that it will remind you of that first week after childbirth when you wanted to set yourself on fire at the thought of your precious little baby growing up? And that you’ll be completely unprepared to handle the surprisingly strong urges to lash out and be a TOTAL BITCH at the drop of a hat?
Ever since Brad gently suggested that maybe the flames shooting from my eyeballs were a result of the adjustment to weaning, I’ve come to the realization that he is most likely right. For me, pregnancy was a surprisingly mellow time, hormone-wise. I felt pretty calm and well-balanced (save for a few incidents of Pregnancy Weeping). And the mellow seemed to continue postpartum, except that recently I’ve been obsessed with lamenting the swift passage of time (“I was afraid she would grow up too fast and SHE IS!”), and also – how you say? – being a MASSIVE OVER-REACTIVE IRRATIONAL BITCH-ASS WHORE.
I feel much better now that I seem to have found a culprit for my asstastic moodiness, but man. It just never stops with this baby-havin’ stuff, does it? Because in addition to sobbing over how Sadie is practically celebrating her Sweet Sixteen and applying to college, I find myself being slightly (or not-so-slightly) jealous of pregnant ladies. And I KNOW that shit ain’t hormonal. That’s just how I’m gonna roll from now on.
This is not to say you can expect to soon see pictures of positive pregnancy tests around these parts (OH GOD NO), but dammit if these babies don’t have a way of making you nostalgic as hell.
Alright. Enough talk of womanly things. Let us move on to the Holiday Recap!
Our whirlwind, 3-day trip to WV was…well, whirlwind-ish. Hectic, fun, and happily (mostly) drama-free. Delicious dinners, cookies, and stuffed tigers were eaten:
Bows were placed on heads:
Cats were not let out of bags:
And dishwasher doors were tested:
You know – all the usual holiday stuff.
I was lucky enough to receive lots of gifts that fell into the FUCKING AWESOME category:
And then, last night, a Christmas miracle occurred:
You’re looking at an OBAMA LAVA LAMP, my friends, that was given to us by FoST and husband. Admittedly, yes, this was a gag gift, but COME ON. Have you ever seen something so off-the-charts fucking AWESOME? I mean, the fanfare! The (almost certainly stolen) photo! THE LAVA. It’s almost too much to bear. Brad is going to take this amazing little fire hazard to his office, but not until we have a chance to show it off at the holiday gathering we’re hosting this weekend, because I CANNOT WAIT to see my Obama-dissin’ mother’s reaction when she lays her eyes on this most glorious lamp.
Oh, I mock because I love. To mock.
And now, because you have been a good little Internet all year round, I give you: BABY FEET IN DRESS SHOES WITH CHUBBY LEGS IN TIGHTS
And the two most adorable cousins I’ve ever seen, in a photo that only took TWO HUNDRED TAKES to capture*:
*In case you’re curious, the other 199 shots looked like this:
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.