And a Partridge in an Ock-U-Pus Tree

Baby's first Christmas has been smashing. Overwhelming in every sense of the word, but spectacular. This year may not mean anything to him other than he doesn't go wanting for attention for a second, but to me it activates a whole new set of traditions, a chance to shape what his memories will be when he's an adult. I may go into further detail about the whos and whats in a later entry (including some pictures for once), but today I'm sipping my second cup of coffee in my stretchy pants, savoring the quiet while the little mister (who is eight months old today) naps and the house settles down in the midst of a blizzard. Right this minute there is no place I'd rather be. Mike had to go back to Boston yesterday to work so it's a bummer that he's not here, but hopefully the weather will allow for his safe return to us this afternoon. He's really the only thing missing. Here's what's not missing: food. Thank heavens whatever afflicted me last week seemed to be relegated to 24 hours because there were so many delicacies awaiting me, and still many I have yet to hit up for seconds. One hasn't lived, in my opinion, until the concept of "breakfast dessert" becomes the norm.

I have to say that taking the week off between holidays was one of my better ideas. Now I must get back to the luxurious loungefest. I hope everyone everywhere is safe and warm and happy.

Airing of Grievances

The month of December is conspiring against me. This is usually my favorite time of year, but I keep getting kicked in the head. Or stomach, this time, as it were. I had to leave work yesterday with a mysterious vomiting illness. I'm back on my feet today, I have to be because I have tons to do before I take my vacation, but man what inconvenient timing. Baby boy is also in the throes of his first cold. He's a trooper, smiling right through it, but I feel bad for him and his labored breathing. Mike, meanwhile, has been the magical elf taking care of us both and getting done all the errands in the world. He deserves a great big bottle of bourbon in his stocking this year, I tell you what.

After today, I'm off until after New Year's and I get to go hang out with my favorite people all the livelong day. I'm so excited, and so happy, that it cancels out the misery of the past few weeks.

And now, for my all-time favorite Christmas tune: "Pretty Paper," as sung by Willie Nelson. It's one of the saddest holiday songs, but I love it so.



And I love you so. All of you! Happy Festivus today, and have a fun and joyful week doing whatever it is you do. I'll catch you on the other side.

Christmas Queen

I don't have time for a real entry, but I felt the need to pop by with my pick for the song of the day. I'm cheating here, because I can't just pick one selection. Today I'm going with the entire A Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack by the Vince Guaraldi Trio. A single note from this jazzy, iconic, often melancholy composition is transporting. It's so intertwined with nostalgia and my memories of the holiday, hearing any one of these songs makes it instant Christmas.You know it, we all know it. But here's a taste anyway.

From the Bottom of My Heart

I couldn't wait for it to snow, and I'm still super psyched to look outside and see the pretty sparkly coating of white stuff that arrived yesterday, just in time for winter to begin. But once again I must marvel at the onset of collective amnesia that strikes the state of Massachusetts on the first snow of each year. It's impressive, really, how a half inch of precipitation manages to rankle die-hard New Englanders and stretch my evening commute from 20 minutes to an hour. Snow, people. It's in our bones. How does this happen every farklng year? Oh well, the initial mania is overwith and done, at least.

So I've decided once and for all to release my feelings about HR's sleeping habits into the universe. Yep, he probably should be sleeping through the night as he approaches the eight (!!) month mark. Nope, he's not. But he's my baby and he's got his own thing going on and I have to respect that and not weigh myself down further by imposing expectations. So last night, I just let go. And after a midnight feeding, he slept straight through until morning. Coincidence? Well, probably. But I'll work on keeping my mindset with this one: Just. Let. Go. We'll have good nights and bad nights, and I'll hold up my end of the bargain by being consistent with bedtime habits. But I can't be disappointed when he doesn't hold up his. Really who makes a bargain with an infant anyway, right? They're notorious welshers (is that a racist term somehow?). The point is, which you already knew but I have to keep reaffirming for my own sanity: we're gonna make it. If a few nighttime wake ups are the worst thing we're dealing with right now, we should consider ourselves extremely lucky.

I realize I only have three more days (including this one) to write about holiday music, and there are so many little gems I haven't shared. I won't write in detail about all the ones I especially like, there just isn't time. But I'll name check, in no particular order, some of my seasonal favorites. The secular ones like "Silver Bells" and "Let it Snow" and "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" and "The Merriest." I also like the traditional religious ones like "Joy to the World" and "Hark the Herald Angels Sing," and hymns like "Go Tell It On the Mountain." Handel's "Messiah" gives me chills every time.

But today what I really want to talk about is the music I can't stand, beginning with the season's chief offender: "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." This is not cute. It purports to be clever, but instead it's patronizing and--hello!--creepy as fuck. I get it, I get that the mother isn't actually committing adultery because it's really daddy in the Santa Claus suit. But the kid in the song doesn't know that, and, HA HA isn't it funny that my mother's getting biz with Santa? I mean, I can see how that would be a wicked bargaining chip for a savvy, cynical child, plus if you're that type of kid who wouldn't want Santa as a potential step-parent? But I think we're meant to infer that the little spy is an innocent. So the question is, what degree of naivete would allow for a child to see their mother kissing someone who isn't their other parent and think it's just delightful? None. That degree of innocence in a child is a fallacy, and that kid would be traumatized. So I guess the thing to take away from this is that I don't like this song sort of a little bit?

Also: Boney M.'s "Mary's Boy Child/Oh My Lord" - you know the one I'm talking about. The only way it could be more annoying is if the Black Eyed Peas covered it or something. Finally, Mariah Carey get out of my face. I don't mind her as a person, I think she's actually sort of a riot. And I appreciate her singing talent. But really at Christmas she needs to back off.

Ah, that felt good.

I'll wrap up with a song I actually really like, even though it's admittedly annoying: Jose Feliciano's "Feliz Navidad." I read somewhere that Sr. Feliciano was the first person who sung the National Anthem at a sporting event and dared to mess with the arrangement, something that stopped his career in its tracks. While I am no fan of what's happened to the "Star Spangled Banner" since he opened the door, I feel like he was a scapegoat. Consider this my way of avenging the writer of the awesome Chico and the Man theme song.


Bonus points for the Charo cover in the Pee Wee's Playhouse Christmas Special.

Bells Are Ringing Out On Christmas Day

HR has reached defcon 5 stage clinginess. His days of happily independent playing have waned for now, he wants to be held by one of us most of the time. It does sound like this is normal at this juncture in development. But add in the poor monkey's teething discomfort (worst. night. ever. on Saturday), and we're a pretty exhausted lot in our house. I keep telling myself, though, that there will come a time where he won't want anything to do with snuggling me so I'll give him every snuggle he desires. And when we go home for the holiday, there will be so many people to lavish him with attention, it'll be a nice break for Mike and me. Still and all, this is a sterling time to be alive.

It'll be three years come January since my grandfather passed away and today for some reason I am missing him more keenly than I have in a long time. Maybe because of the holidays, maybe just because. I missed him before he was even gone, he was just that special. Love you, Pup.

Anyway. I am floored beyond floored that Christmas is in five days, and I'm pre-emptively fighting the depression of it being over. I never said I wasn't ridiculous. And I'm ridiculously excited for a big chunk of time off from work and time with my family. All right, time to make the doughnuts. I'll leave you now with a gorgeous holiday rave-up by someone who could probably commiserate with anyone's dental woes.

Claus... is that German?

Random subject time!

First, let's talk about breakfast. I've always been a breakfast eater, I'm starving in the morning. Lately I especially love oatmeal for breakfast. A huge, hot bowl with the kitchen sink thrown in, that's-a what I'm talking about. However Mike went grocery shopping the other morning and was unable to resist the pull of Cap'n Crunch with Crunchberries in its throwback packaging. And so we feasted upon the crunchberries, and lo, they were good. Not as an every day thing, mind you, but as a treat, it was a super delicious breakfast and not disappointing as nostalgia-prompted food purchases often turn out to be.

Second: my brother's band is playing in town tonight. I won't be there as they are going on after my bedtime, but Mike will represent for our family. If you are in the area and want to go, they could surely use the cheering section. Also, in my very unbiased opinion they are exceptionally talented.

Thirdly: it occurred to me, now that Mike's half of the family is taken care of for the holidays, that I still have Xmas shopping to do. Yeah, I'm pretty awesome at life. Luckily Mike's always looking for errands to fill up the day so he and HR will have plenty to do next week. It's been years since my immediate family exchanged gifts because we usually save up our dough and go on vacation together, but 2011 brings two big weddings. I'm petitioning that once again we all save our dough and put it toward those. I can't stop anyone from buying presents for the baby, nor would I want to, but we adults mostly have what we need and in this crunch-crunch time, I think we can go another year without stressing over buying things.

Fourth: usually we go to Portsmouth NH, one of our favorite little cities, with some friends for an overnight extravaganza at this time of year. We're not going this year, but I'm missing it dearly. So, next - it's on, come hell or high water. Y'all hear me?

Fifth: I just found out that MTV is remaking Skins. I have nothing good to say about that.

And finally, I actually heard this (a heavily censored version of it, anyway) on the radio this morning and it reminded me, I love Sarah Silverman.



Don't be dicks, and have a great weekend!

The World's Smallest Turkey

Last night I did some long-overdue yoga. I hope to do some more tomorrow. It's really not the same when you're in your living room trying to follow a TV instructor and keeping half an ear open for the baby monitor, but it's something from which I can benefit even if the conditions are less than ideal. It's the same with writing. You can't wait around for things to be just right, you just have to do it. I'll get back to classes again someday. Someday I might just fulfill my dream of becoming a certified instructor. Until then, Exercise TV and Yoga Downloads it is. And squeezing in 15 minutes and a half hour here and there on the novel will have to do.

Oh, and there's the title of my life story, Making the Most of It: The Musical! (Of course it'll be a fucking musical.)

Anyway, work still beckons, and my teacup ain't refillng itself. So I'll leave you with a saucy treat of a tune. This week my carol choices have taken on a decidedly 80s theme. But anyway, to me, it's not Christmas until I hear this.
 

Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts

Hallelu- hallelu- hallelujah, the root canal is done! And though it is a freaky thing to contemplate going on in one's own mouth, it was nothin', after everything else. I don't think I've ever been numb up to my eyeballs before, but hey, whatever they have to do to live up to their promise that it will be a painless procedure. According to the endodontist I had one hell of an infection up in there. I'm not sure how it started or how long it had been raging but once again it's been proven that pain is useful - who knows what might have happened if I hadn't been hurting so bad. Lessons learned and all that jazz. And that's the very end of this subject, hopefully forever and ever.

There's so much going on it the world. So much wonderful-ness. And I look forward to writing about it when I don't have so much work to do. This is my busiest time of year at work, it will rage on through January, but it's also my favorite time of year because it means that people are giving. Approximately 200 bizarre and annoying things go on every day as well, but they are easier to swallow when the mail carrier drops in with a giant stack of mail for me.

Mike contributed today's selection for song-of-the-day. I must say that it is so fantastic that it defies description. Just click on over. You have our guarantee it's four minutes of your life you'll hand over with pleasure.

Thank You Mr. Fleming

Thanks so much everyone for your sympathy and for indulging me in my whining. I didn't think I was a wimp, but it turns out I've just never had to deal with real pain. I have a seriously renewed respect for people who live with it all the time. And once again I must marvel at chemistry. The antibiotics kicked in somewhere around Friday night and changed me into a new person. I actually got to chew again! After Thursday I only needed a couple of advil to sleep, and by yesterday afternoon the misery was but a memory.

Of course I still have to have the root canal in a couple of hours, but regardless the quality of the past few days was drastically improved. And none too soon, too, because like that, my baby is a boy. Oh my stars- these moments - I'm telling you, I would die if something so stupid as a toothache meant they were overshadowed. The latest, which happened boom-boom-boom: he figured out how to get water out of the sippy cup, and can't seem to get enough. He's sort of (ack!) crawling, which is incredible but nothing and no one is safe now. And when you sit him up with his toys, he just plays and plays like a human person. Lately getting a poop out has become a mighty struggle for him, and it's hilarious to observe the process, even though it makes you feel so bad for the little guy. Last night he slept a 9 hour chunk, then back down for 2 after feeding. Who is this child and what have you done with HR?

Of course that's only one night. Tonight I'm sure will be a whole different ballgame. And even it it is, it doesn't change that for Mike and me he is the joy of all time. Raising him is still the most work we've ever done in our lives, and I know we've only just started, but I can't think of anything more worth it. I'm in love with his sweet and vulnerable profile, his fat gorgeous baby legs, the way he makes little "mmm" sounds when he eats and the way his little hand sort of clutches at me while he's nursing. I could cry, constantly, but tears of gratitude and wonder. Ah, hormonal ecstasia. (Note to self: read this when he's a teenager.)

Anyway, baby's first Chanukah celebration with Dada's family was amazing. He met his confoundingly tiny (next to him) and lovable new cousin, was obsessed with the giant golden doodle, and was happily passed around to every family member to be spoiled. It was a blast, and I know next year will be even better. Now of course I can't wait until Christmas.

So I leave you now with a new-old addition to the Christmas Carol canon. I'd never heard this before one of my FB friends posted it today, but I not-so-secretly adore Billy Squier and decided I must co-opt it immediately. It lacks the balls-out insanity of, say, the "Rock Me Tonight" video, but it's the holidays, people.


And I do love you, Christmas or no.

Please to Put a Penny In the Old Man's Hat

So I'm going in for a root canal on Monday. I'm not nervous, I just want this overwith. I have to say it didn't give me a great feeling when I opened my mouth yesterday and the dentist was like, "DUDE."  Apparently it's rare for me to be swollen in the location I am, and as much as I am. Considering I had just seen her on Monday and she wasn't at all concerned then, I have no regrets that we're planning on quitting this practice as soon as this treatment is wrapped up. She seemed relieved that I was already on antibiotics, and now suddenly everyone's tripping over themselves to prescribe me narcotics. I was a bit concerned about the effect on nursing, but I only take one before I go to bed, and Mike takes over night waking/bottle feeding duty with the baby so I don't think I'm doing him any harm. And goddamn what a difference. Last night was the first time I've gotten a reasonable amount of sleep in forever. If Mike ever leaves me I might marry hydrocodone. I guess I can see why people could get hooked, but for me it doesn't give me any kind of special feeling, it's just really effective in making the pain go away when nothing else will. Aside from childbirth, which is its own separate and incomparable experience (and is at least productive), this is the most pain I've ever had and for the longest duration. Feeling normal, assuming I get to that before dropping dead from septic shock, is going to be the best Christmas present EVAH.

If there's any upside, it's that I lost a fair bit of weight. But I'd happily have gained some if I could have skipped the misery of the past week. I can't wait to get fixed up so I can begin Project: Christmas Goose.


This is just to say, I do believe your intrepid blogger's gonna make it. Have a great weekend, lovely lovely loves.

With His Olive Oil Voice...

Most important business of the day: Happy Birthday to the Bella, the Queen Bee, the woman who gave me my life and entertains me on a daily basis. I don't know if she actually reads this thing, but most of you who do know her in real life so please join me in celebrating her transition into a very youthful 56. Love you, Ma.

Yes, I'm going back to the dentist today. No, I don't want to talk about it. I'm working from home tomorrow so I'll probably write in here just for closure (assuming there's closure. Please let there be closure). As an aside, the phrase "a trip to the dentist" always makes me think of Veronica Mars. Damn I miss that show.

Other than that, things are chugging along. I heard "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" on the radio this morning, which is one of the best songs ever written so I'm sure that means something positive. I'm looking forward to celebrating belated Chanukah with Mike's family this weekend and snuggling our niece for the first time. And I will eat latkes even if I have to stick them in a blender.

And, because it really is around these parts:


I guess this skates the "roofie ballad" line, but that Dean Martin was so damn charming.

I Can't Complain (But Sometimes I Still Do)

The ongoing saga, quickly because I'm sick to death of it: I'm seeing my doctor today. She'll probably send me back to the dentist (I now have swelling on my palate - that can't be good) but if nothing else she can probably hook me up with some strong meds to help me sleep. Last night I was prepared to go to sleep at 9 - I put the baby to bed, took a lot of advil and slapped on some orajel so I was fairly comfortable. And of course, because Mike was called into work at the last minute, HR decided to have the fussiest night he's had since he was a newborn. He was up every hour. Mike took some turns when he got home, but sometimes nothing but nursing would do to get him back down. We've suspected he's been teething for a long, long time, but I think it's finally happening this time. Or not. Who knows with babies, since they have the same symptoms for everything. I'm in a very good position to have empathy for my poor buddy, anyway.

One thing that's getting me down almost as much as the pain and fatigue: I have zero interest in food. Chewing and swallowing are misery, and subsequently nothing looks appetizing. So I'm subsisting on yogurt and fruit smoothies or whatever to get nutrients. It's mad boring. I thought about a hot toddy last night, but even booze didn't excite me. What is this world coming to?

So I raise my water glass and say: may we solve this health mystery once and for all so we can fix it and I can resume my life of gross consumption. Or, short of that, that we have a better night tonight. Because we can't have a worse one than last night, can we? Come on fate, come and get me.

No matter what I'll write about something else tomorrow. Anything else. I'm done with this.

As for my song of the day, it requires a little explanation. With very few exceptions, I do not care for a capella groups. Not at all. No sir. They make me hive-y. But my love for Toto's "Africa" trumps all. So though this has a high lame quotient, along with some weird racial humor, it pleases me anyway.

Lagniappe

Toothaches are lifewreckers. Not to mention blog-wreckers. Seriously, how boring is it to read about this? Not to mention how I really, really hate writing about ailments. But right now constant pain is about the only thing I've got going on. OK, that's a big fat lie, I still have an amazingly awesome life. But do you see the power of pain, that it makes me unable to appreciate that?

I understand that my traumatized ligaments are going to take a little time to heal with this method we're trying. And ibuprofen pretty much gets me through the day. But at night. Oh, children the nighttime is when it hits bad, and nothing can touch it. Subsequently I get even less sleep than I had been and I'm not getting a lot to eat and Mama's starting to get a mite ORN'RY. If tonight's as bad as last night, I'll call the dentist again tomorrow and beg for something strong just to get me some sleep. I think it's only fair to my family (St. Mike) who are by all means doing their part to make my life as easy as possible (including baby who is sleeping about as well as he ever has). I'm historically bad at drugs and I have reservations about how it might affect my nursing, but desperate times call for prescriptions. Isn't that the saying?

There are many happy things going on in the world, and one of the the happiest for me is that I'm taking off the week between Christmas and New Year's like I've always wanted to so we can spend a big chunk of time in my hometown. Maybe in the wee head-pounding hours it will help me to visualize a white Christmas in Maine, just like the ones I used to know. Speaking of:



I LOVE this version. Did you know that Ben E. King was in the Drifters? Now you do. Merry Christmas.

Gratuitous Quint Reference #1000

Nothing like a toothache to ruin a weekend. ARRGH. It's a shame, because there was so much good there, with friends time and Mike-and-me time and lovely baby time (including some decent sleeping on his part - I cut out the night light and I think it's made a difference) but my grill was giving me the horrors whole time so it put a damper on my enjoyment. O Woe and Damnation! A quick trip to the dentist this morning revealed that my problems might be solved by a little adjustment to my permanent crown and, DUH, a night guard. So I'm one of those guys now. If it takes care of my ouchness, I'm all for it.

Work is off the hook of course so I don't have time for more just now but I will link what is probably my favorite religious carol. When I go in for the Christ-in-Christmas songs, the more bombastic the better, and this one really delivers the bomb. There are a ton of great versions, but when it comes to Christmas, you've gotta go with Mr. Nat King Cole.

Mom's Cooking Chicken and Collard Greens

Night #1 of Chanukah was pretty low-key. Baby was overtired and underwhelmed and just sort of stared at the candles while I fed him squash, then put him to bed. He got really screamy when we were getting ready to read stories and Mike brought in his present. He's sensitive about his bedtime routine, I think he thinks that the night is just HR and Mama time. What a funny little monkey.

About our future as a family, Mike and I plan to continue to celebrate all the holidays as we've been doing. HR will be neither baptized nor bar mitzvahed, and I know that there are many difficult and complicated conversations in our future, but the idea is that we'll be as honest as possible. I don't want to keep him from pursuing any kind of interest in religion, but I don't feel right foisting anything on him beyond our family traditions for obvious reasons. I don't think we have to worry about going down that road for years yet, but it's good to have a plan in mind, however vague.

I've made a holiday wish list just for me, as in, presents to myself from myself. So far it's only got two items, but the smaller the list, the more likely I am to make it happen. It begins with re-incorporating yoga in my life, for real. I'm missing it like crazy. I'm also bone tired much of the time, but I know that making the effort to establish a practice will eventually take care of that. I also want to work on rediscovering my sense of adventure in terms of fashion. For better or worse (or harem pants) I was such a daredevil in that respect when I was younger. My favorite outfit when I was a junior in high school was a white button-down shirt, jeans, a necktie (which my dad had to tie for me, every time) and my most comfy patent-leather oxfords with ribbon ties. I thought I was the bees knees when I dressed up like that, especially since I hadn't even seen Annie Hall yet. I also had an affinity for hats, which invited semi-unflattering comparison to Blossom (it was the early 1990s, what can you do?). In retrospect I was probably silly looking, but I didn't care, and it's something about me back then that I really liked. I think the old girl's got a statement or two left in her, we'll see.

I've got a lot on my plate today so it's time to dive in. But first:


Thanks to my culture-twin Kev for reminding me to bump this to the top of the list. Run DMC owns! And RIP, Jay. (Un)interestingly enough, Hollis was a name I considered for HR before Mike shot it down, and I definitely got the idea from this classic.

Happy Thursday, y'all. Happy life!

Like Strawberries in the Summertime

Happy Chanukah to my Hebrews and Shebrews out there! How is it Chanukah already? How is it December, even? This is all good stuff mind you, but I feel steamrolled by the passage of time. If my mind were a blender, it would be set on frappe. Mmm, frappe.

Right. So. I'm going through a phase where I don't want to write things anymore, just post videos. It'll be over soon. But in the meantime, this is what's happening.

Remember how awesome this was?



RUSSELL! (I called him as winner from the auditions). Also, LEGACY!  And... Kevin? I don't remember him at all. Anyway, it still gives me chills. I'm probably divorced now. But whatever, it was worth it.

I've been feeling nostalgia for my teenage years lately. Maybe I'll write more about that tomorrow, or maybe I'll kiss my baby and drink a glass of bourbon and not feel like I'm too fat and remember how rad it is to be an adult. In any case, this one goes out to my from-growing-up people-- you know who you are (hint: one of you is now sporting a fetching mohawk).



Finally, the song of the day. I'm not going to post a Chanukah song because there are no good ones. I mean, I guess Sandler's is pretty good and I do have an inexplicably enduring love for him, but I'd rather promote this lovely song which is not really a holiday song at all. Just a secular thing of beauty that makes me think of the holidays.



Happy candle-lighting to those who do, I'm looking forward to celebrating another first with HR Pufnstuf. His first Chanukah present: socks. That's traditional, right?