The Connecting Theme? SNOW

Snow fort. (Thanks, Daddy!)

Snow shoes. (Thanks, Grandma!)

Snow sheep.

Snow dogs.

Holy hell, there is a LOT of snow out there, y'all.  And more in the forecast.  Hello, winter.  You came in with a vengeance this year.

A Little Story of Christmas Spirit

As you all know, we just drove a long, long way.  There were many stops along the way for potty visits and coffee and diaper changes and nursing and . . . well, stops.  For stuff.

At one of those stops, at a gas station somewhere in Pennsylvania, I left my wallet on top of the car after a trip inside the station with Cubby to buy him some milk.  When I got back to the car, Charlie was crying and Cubby wanted his milk and I was strapping him in and I just . . . left my wallet on top of the car.  But I did not know this until a stranger named Bridie called my sister's cell phone to say she and her husband had found it in the middle of an intersection and picked it up.

Then she offered to mail it to me.  I told her to use whatever cash was in it to pay for the postage, and then take the rest of it and buy herself a bottle of wine or something for being such a good Samaritan.  She must have gone to the post office on Christmas Eve to mail it, because it arrived at Blackrock the day after Christmas.  All the cash and cards were still in it.

If that is not a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.

So, to Bridie in Pennsylvania:  Thank you for returning my wallet to me and, in the process, reminding us all that some faith in the goodness of our fellow humans is justified.  Sometimes we need that reminder.

The Glorious Day of My Birth

Remind me next year that on December 27, I do not want to celebrate my 34th birthday by driving eight hours in a car with two screaming children.

Well, only one screamed.  The other talked non-stop.  There was also blowing snow and an ice-covered windshield.

But!  We made it home eventually, and the MiL made us pasta with pesto for dinner.  Plus a chocolate pound cake for my birthday.  The first load of what will be many, many loads of laundry is even now spinning about in the washing machine.  That sound, more than any other, announces to all that I am home.

Coming home is a pretty good way to celebrate a birthday after all.

Merry Christmas, My Lovelies

Have a happy day wherever you are and whatever you're doing.  I hope it involves cookies.

It's 5 A.M.

And I am totally ready to go.  To Virginia, that is.  Glory be.

It never ceases to amaze me that I manage to go from nothing ready to go to everything ready to go in just a couple of hours.  Getting all the shit together that four people need for five days--including a baby, which is an exercise in over-packing if ever there was one--is no joke.

I started packing bags at six o'clock last night.  I loaded the car* in the dark and snow.  I finished loading it at 4:30 this morning.

Everyone is still asleep.  I've taken a shower.  I'm drinking my coffee and feeling much calmer than I did twelve hours ago.  Now I just have to get children loaded up after they awake and we'll be on our way.

At which point I think all calmness will have gone out the car window, but whatever.  Bring on the road trip.  I'm ready.

P.S.  To the worried anonymous who asked in a no-doubt incredulous tone if we were really giving our toddler a real saw?  Yes.  It is a real saw.  And he can really cut wood with it.  Perhaps Cubby is not your average toddler (in fact, I'm SURE he's not average), but there is no doubt that boy is fully capable of handling real tools.  He's probably just disappointed it wasn't a power saw like Daddy's.

* We're taking my Subaru, which is all-wheel drive and has snow tires.  A.'s Roadmaster is pretty good in the snow (he tested it by driving into the Small City during a straight-up snowstorm yesterday to get sheep food), but it doesn't have snow tires and it's still on probation.  Buying an old used car means the expectation that something will need to be fixed on it within the first month.  And we don't want that something to be a radiator hose that leaves us stranded in the snow in the Endless Mountains of Pennsylvania with two small kids. So. Subaru it is!

I Will Forego the Obvious Title

Which would be, of course, "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas."

A woodchuck Christmas, that is, featuring dead animal head coverings.

There was already an inch or so of snow on the ground when we got up this morning, and so of course Cubby wanted to go outside.  He requested his coonskin cap specifically.  He has so far refused it every time I've suggested it, so I guess he just thought it was only for "real winter."

Or something.  I don't pretend to know how his convoluted toddler mind works.

We're starting the celebrations today, with gift exchanges and dinner with A.'s family before we leave tomorrow for my sister's house in Virginia for five days.  I have not packed a damn thing.  It's going to be a really fun evening, I can already tell.

But as soon as Cubby awakes from his nap, he gets to open his gift from us.  Which is a real toolbox with real tools.  Including a small saw.  I anticipate some excitement.  Also a lot of reminders that these tools are outside tools.

It'll be fun anyway, though.  And then tomorrow . . . road trip.  With two small children.  In the snow.  Cross your fingers for us.

The Mack Daddy

A. got a new car.  And by "new," I mean 1996.  And by "car," I mean . . .

Oh yes, he did.

That right there is a Buick Roadmaster Estate Wagon.  It can haul as much as a truck, because it's HUUUGE. 

Cubby approves.  Mia is still investigating.

When A. said he was going to look at a Roadmaster, I was all, "What?"  And he was all, "You know, those enormous wood-paneled station wagons."  And I was all, "Hey, could a car scream 'family man' more than that one?"  And he was all, "No way.  It's pimpin'."

He was right.  But it does scream "Mack Daddy," don't you think?

Room for the kids?  Sure! Even our behemoths.

Two fists up and a gummy grin from Charlie.

I don't know why, but my favorite part of this thing is that it has the third backseat that faces backwards.  Not that A. will ever use that seat, since it will probably be permanently folded down to make way for bags of mortar or pieces of wood or whatever.  But I'm gonna ride in that backwards seat at least one time.

It also has a sunroof.  And an enormous trailer hitch.  And a V-8 engine.  Plus, obviously, room for the children, AND a back area big enough for a grown man to sleep in, should that be necessary. It is, in summary, A.'s dream machine.

It's nice to make a dream come true sometimes.  Even if it's only the acquisition of a wood-paneled station wagon.