Poor Baby

I'll say one thing about Mikey: he's a valiant little fellow. All through out the night, despite the 103 degree fever and nonstop vomiting, he held on to his role as family leader with tenacious dignity.

At 2:00 in the morning, when it looked like he was going to be sick again:

"No, daddy. No bowl. I'm am done with this fro-up. I don't want it."

At 3:30 in the morning, attempting to give him a suppository to bring down his fever (103!) since he couldn't even keep down sips of water:

"No, mama. No medicine in my bottom. I don't need it and I feel much better."

At 4:30 in the morning, when Mikey decided he needed his space:

"Thank you Mama, but go sleep in your bed now."

His refusal to relinquish his post as supreme ruler carried on through the day, as well.

At 1:30 in the afternoon, as a happy and vocal Nicholas discovered the nuances of a bucket:

"I'm not sick, mama. I can play with Nicholas."

At 1:35 in the afternoon still laying on the couch, after I told him "no" and he realized maybe he didn't feel so great after all:

"Nicholas, please be quiet. I need my rest."

Even when sick he manages to make us chuckle. He still doesn't realize that he missed his first ever Christmas Pageant today. The whole "no concept of time" thing really is coming in handy. I think I'll respond as my friend, Kara, suggested if he asks about it:

"Your pageant is coming, Mikey! Only 12 more months!"

Turns out two other little girls in his class were up all night with the same thing, so as selfish as it sounds, at least I'm not Mikey isn't the only one crushed about missing the performance.

Bah. The performance was probably lame, anyway. All that really matters is that he is healthy.

No More French Fries

Mikey seems to have met a rogue plate of French fries. We went Christmas shopping and had lunch out without incident, but less than 6 hours later he either has the stomach flu or food poisoning. Can you get food poisoning from French fries? One slip cover, two pajamas, two sets of sheets, and three bowl cleans later and all we know for sure is that processed food doesn't digest well.

...

Uh, oh. Make that three pajamas, three sets of sheets, and four bowl cleans later.

I'll resume my posting schedule when things settle down. Literally and figuratively.

About Those Christmas Cards

I finished them last night, shortly after 2:00 am, and was at the post office today by 9:00 am ready to mail them and a Christmas present for The Mr.'s sister in Florida. Whew! Just under the wire. What can I say? That's how I roll: fast and dangerous. "Take Chances" is my middle name.

Now, if you would care to step back into reality with me, I'd like to share something special that occurred while I was working on the previously mentioned Christmas cards. I started to really enjoy myself. As a creative writer, I had a blast thinking of different ways to incorporate the phrase "milk and cookies" in each of the Christmas cards.

"Hope your holidays are filled with all the good stuff--like milk and cookies."

"Wishing you a warm holiday season filled with peace, joy, and plenty of milk and cookies."

"We hope you Christmas is as sweet as milk and cookies with someone you love."

And so on. (Of course, I also signed off with all our names)

I not only enjoyed myself immensely playing with words, I started to really pay attention to whom I was sending cards. Hand writing something personal in each card allowed me to take stock of how many insincere cards I send every year. There were a few people where I picked up my pen and thought, "So-and-so?! But he's an ass and I hate his wife! Why the heck does he get a card?" At least 10 people were trimmed from the list, and it felt really good. If they didn't inspire me to write, they didn't get a card. I think this is a good rule to go by in the future, as well. I mean, really, why wouldn't you want to surround yourself exclusively by people who inspire you? I found the whole process very cathartic, even though I was tired and it was the dead-ass of night.

I think somewhere along the way I forgot what Christmas cards are really about. It's an opportunity to extend a warm wish to someone you care about during what is supposed to be one of the most benevolent times of the year. It's not about the best card, or the best picture. In my zeal to have both, I lost the spirit of Christmas. I'm so glad I found it this year, even if it meant having to lose those cursed cards.

Favorite Moment

This one's pretty easy.

Buh-bye, Color Resistant Gray Hair. You've been evicted.

My hair before (3 weeks after professionally applied, 100% gray coverage)

My hair today. Lightened ever so slightly. Highlights applied, but they didn't take very well (stupid hair).

The plan (since my hair isn't going to magically start accepting color anytime soon) is to gradually lighten my hair (via color and highlights) until I am a medium brown (level 6 for you pros out there). I am currently dark brown (level 3) and while going so light makes me nervous, I have a better chance of hiding the gray with light hair and therefore can hopefully get away with color appointments spread 5-6 weeks apart. Otherwise, according to the very fabulous Toni, I'll have to color my hair every 2-3 weeks. Um, in that case, lighter it is!

Dear Guy in Black Lexus Talking on the Phone,

Screw you.

I’m the mother of the infant you almost ran over today in the parking lot. The mother who threw herself on top of the stroller as you came tearing into a parking space from the wrong direction while talking on your cell phone. The mother who picked herself up in disbelief and stared, mouth agape, at the purring engine no more than 18 inches from her baby. The mother who didn’t say a word as you slithered out of the parking space and waved an untroubled apology with one hand while you continued to talk on your phone with other. Remember me, now?

Good. Now saddle up, cowboy. You and I are going for a ride.

First of all, I think I read in Etiquette by Emily Post that when you almost commit vehicular manslaughter you should get out of the car and formally apologize to your victim(s). I’m pretty sure it’s in the same chapter as “Always Taste Everything Your Host Prepares for You” and “Don’t Date Your Sister.” Hey, I’m easy! I don’t even need a card. To be honest, just getting out of your car and exclaiming, “Holy cow, I am so sorry!” would have been enough. TIP: A simple gesture of kindness and concern for human life can do much to smooth the ruffled feathers. What can I say? It’s the little things.

Sure, apologizing to someone you almost killed can be awkward, you know, with the whole acknowledging responsibility thing. But, please, indulge me. If you don’t have the guts to own up to your egregious mistake and apologize, at least have the decency to put down that $300 phone and pretend my son’s life is more important than the shallow conversation that had your attention so decidedly transfixed. Tell Mary Sue you’ll have to get back to her on the intricacies of her crunchy California Roll order (hold the rice) because you almost killed a mother and child and you think that putting down the phone might convey a smidge of remorse.

You see, Black Lexus Guy, I talk on the phone while I drive more than I should. I should wear an ear piece, but I lost it over a year ago. Even worse, I haven’t made the time to buy a new one. I, too, have entered parking spaces from the opposite direction, especially in busy malls during lunch hour. Spaces are few and far between, and if you take the time to turn around and approach from the correct direction you will, most likely, lose the parking space. I am human, and I imagine I will continue to make mistakes in the future—even the easily avoidable ones. But I can not ever, ever, imagine almost hitting a child with my car without throwing myself at the mercy of the terrified parent. I believe this how you and I are different. Me = human. You = schmuck. Next time you nearly plow into an innocent victim, try being more human and less of a schmuck.

One last thing, Black Lexus Guy: nice glasses. They looked as expensive as your cell phone. You carry all the trappings of success, and you are, what, maybe 27 years old? I can only assume from your Lexus, iPhone, and Gucci sunglasses that you are making up for a minuscule member, if you catch my drift. Good luck with that.

Sincerely,
Jules

My Twinkle-Kids

I may have lost my Christmas cards, but at least my kids looked pretty darn cute. And really, appearances are all that matter. Kidding.

I'd been lusting over the shirts at Twinkle Kids for some time, and when I saw the cookies and milk twin-set I had to email them and ask if they would let me buy them in different sizes. They did! Check out my little fellows on their website. Scroll down to the bottom of the page. I just want to gobble them up!

OK. Shameless mom bragging moment over.

The Cursed Christmas Cards

I'm pretty sure my Christmas cards are trying to kill me.

Three years ago I bought blank Christmas photo cards for Mikey's first Christmas. I had every intention of sending our inaugural family picture to everyone unfortunate enough to cross my path during the last 32 years. I spent hours picking out the perfect coordinating outfits (wouldn't want to look too matchy!) and scheduled our portrait appointment with glee. I even had the brilliant idea of including our two beagles, Buddy and Buster. These were going to be the best pictures ever!

Hmmm.

We arrived at the 8:00 am appointment on time and were positioned on a stage about 3 feet off the ground. The rest is a horrifying blur. Another family brought their mastiff for pictures and the beast wouldn't stop barking. Buddy and Buster took that as open invitation to slobber, yelp, and fart uncontrollably. When that didn't stop the barking, they attempted to crash through the make-shift walls separating them from Cujo. The Mr., in charge of reigning in the now-hysterical dogs, started to show cracks in his veneer. "Did you take the picture? Take the picture...now! No, wait. Now!" His face was slick with perspiration and his eyes wide and frenzied. I was losing him fast, but I had my own problems. Mikey was doing the slither maneuver to get off my lap, but since we were 3 feet off the ground I wasn't giving him any wiggle room. I tried entertaining him by bouncing him on my knee, which worked out great until he figured out how to bounce himself. I could not get. him. to. stop. There we were: The Mr. sweating buckets, the dogs squirming and farting, Mikey bouncing, and me still trying to get my picture, damn it.

Photographer: "OK. Everybody ready?"
The Mr.: "Take the picture...now! No, wait. Now!"
Jules: "Maybe if you just start taking pictures..."
Photographer: "Can you get the baby to stop bouncing?"
The Mr.: "Can you take the picture?"
Jules: "I'm trying to but he won't stop!"
The Mr.: Buddy! Buster! Sit! Stay! Freaking dogs--"
Jules: "Maybe if you just start taking pictures we can catch him after a bounce?"
Photographer: "Daddy needs to smile!"
The Mr.: "OK, let's go!"
Jules: "Seriously, you need to smile. Just think of something funny!"
The Mr.: "The dogs are going crazy!"
Photographer: "Uh, oh! Where's your smile, Daddy?"
The Mr.: "Oh. My. God."
Jules: "Ow ow ow ow. Mikey-has-my-hair! Mikey-has-my-hair! Mikey-has-my-hair!"
Photographer: "Are we ready? Everybody say cheese!"
Jules: "Cheeeeeeese."
The Mr.: "Cheeeeeeese."

Twenty minutes later I'm looking at the most horrifying family pictures I have ever seen. The Mr.'s smile looked more like bared teeth, Mikey was in mid-bounce, Buddy was looking up, Buster was looking left, and I looked like something living under a bridge. And that was the best of the bunch!

Two days later I was at Sam's Club with a picture of Mikey I took on the lawn ten minutes prior.

Jules: "Can I get 75 of these in G-12 'Pine Cone Christmas'?"
Clerk: "That will be $32.75 and they'll be ready in an hour. Next."

When I got home I told The Mr., "We'll use the cards next year."

The next year we finally got decent family pictures, but I didn't realize I had to use the studio's photo cards. Foiled again! Last year I was 8 months pregnant and felt the picture would be missing something if The Mr. wasn't holding a harpoon, so we opted for a picture of Mikey on a simple Shutterfly card. Yet again, the cards win.

This year was supposed to be different. I found the cursed Christmas cards while cleaning out one of the closets and decided to schedule an appointment for our first family picture with Nico as part of the clan. I also purchased the most adorable shirts for Mikey and Nico and started writing rough drafts for the inside of the card. The day of the appointment came and the pictures actually came out well. They came in ahead of schedule so I picked them up and put them in a safe spot at home. On Friday I went to the closet to grab the box of cards and take them to the printer. Except they weren't there.

I opened the drawers. I pulled open the doors. I looked under the beds and in each of the closets. I searched the car and checked the studio in the backyard. In a final fit of desperation I started moving furniture. They. Were. Gone.

See?! My cards are trying to kill me.

Over the last four days, I checked every possible online and brick-and-mortar vendor in search of an alternative that didn't leave us without money for Christmas. I finally found a reasonably priced set of photo cards at my local Hallmark. They are so lame. Not only are they completely ordinary, I already know people are going to think we are cheap bastards when they see our professional picture in a Hallmark photo card. The pictures cost 3 times what the cards did! I can hear them now, "Whoa. Check out the Kendalls. Couldn't spring for the in-studio photo cards, eh?" Ouch.

I know I'm going to find those cards. Most likely the day after I put the stupid Hallmark ones in the mail. These cards are evil like that. Well, I have news for them. The second I find them they're going in the fireplace. And I'm wearing a crucifix and holding a bottle of Holy Water while I do it.