I am scared of lots of things.  Snakes.  Rodents.  Horror movies.  Death metal bands.

I realize that I'm a chicken.

I am not scared of Santa.  But I do have the requisite "terrified of Santa" picture in the family photo archives. I am not organized enough to have it scanned to include, but stay tuned.  I'll dig it up before the new year.  It's a gem.

The other day, Jack was scared of Santa.  He thought this crazy deal that I had dragged him to was less than awesome.  We waited in line.  Why was Momma making him wait in line?

To sit on the lap of a stranger?  Oh, hell no.  Commence whining, screaming, wailing, and clinging to the Momma like we were super glued together.  Sigh.  

Because I am in charge of what I post here, I only post good pictures.  Not works of art, but I keep it flattering.  It's editorial privilege or common sense or something.

But in the name of honesty, I will share with you a picture that is less than good.  Honestly, this is the best we came up with.

Several disclaimers:

-- I did NOT want to be in this picture.

-- Jack would not let go of me.

-- We had waited over an hour in line.  (Don't ask.)

-- I had become irrationally committed to getting a PICTURE WITH SANTA, DAMMIT.

-- Therefore, I was forced to be in the picture.

Okay, enough already.  Here.

Wishing you a mediocre/scary/less than enthusiastic Christmas?  There were so many caption options that I just left it open.

Here's hoping your day has a fair amount of enthusiasm.

Talk soon,
Heather

lollipops

On Halloween, Jack ate a blue lollipop and turned his face a ghastly shade of boo-berry.

He doesn't forget a thing, this kid.  

He has started asking for lollipops for breakfast.

"Jack, we don't have lollipops for breakfast."

He asks for lollipops after school.

"Jack, we're about to eat dinner.  You can have a lollipop for dessert."

The other night, I promised him that he could have a lollipop of he ate a good amount of his dinner, which happened to be at a local tavern type of place near us that we probably won't return to.  (Despite the fact that they have truffle fries and you can get fried eggs on lots of things, it was not the decadent culinary escape we had hoped.)

Well, it wasn't to us, anyway.  As negotiated, Jack ate enough of his dinner that he was allowed to have a lollipop.

Currently, the enjoyment of a lollipop involves three very important stages.

Stage 1:  Pose for the picture.

Stage 2:  Contemplate the lollipop.

Stage 3:  We've waited long enough!  Go go go!

On the way to the car after, we had this conversation:

"Jack, did you have fun at dinner?"

"Yup."

"What was your favorite part?"

"Um, my lollipop."

"I'm sure it was.  Pretty good, huh?"

"Yup."

[End scene.]

Hope you can contemplate something delicious today.

Talk soon,
Heather

everybody poops, you know

And thanks to the superb guidance of his teachers, Miss T and Miss D, Jack now does so in the potty.  As of yesterday. 

(If you think this is TMI, you're right.  But if you think this is TMI, you're not a parent.  Because poop makes the world go round, people.)

They were so excited that they gave him not one, but two, prizes from the Prize Box.

And then took this picture, which is worth at least a million words.

Hoping this moment of levity raised your spirits today.  If not, a lizard and a box of temporary tattoos might do the trick.

Talk soon,
Heather

faith

Hoping for faith and light today.

Talk soon,
Heather

early Christmas, part three

Three is my max for multiple-part posts, in case you were wondering.  

(I mean, how many posts can she squeeze out of one weekend?)

The answer is a super lot, but I limit myself to three.  Promise.

So, my father in law is an excellent cook.  (Durel the Elder.  That sounds so Lord of the Rings, doesn't it?  In real life, we call him PapaDu.)  For Christmas this year, PapaDu made Gruyere popovers.  Behold.

I took a picture through the glass of the oven door, my love of bread and cheese is so deep.  They were awesome.

PapaDu also let Jack help him open presents.  Jack wore the requisite bow on his head, originated by my family. (The Irish Clan Davies, of the wine drinking, potato eating, and bow wearing.)

Also, Jack made it clear that he would like to be a pirate when he grows up.  Or now.  Whichever.

I hope your chosen career path also involves a boat and snazzy head wear.

Talk soon,
Heather

my heart

I'm not sure if I read this quote or made it up.

To have a child is to know what it feels like to have your heart walking around outside of your body.

Regardless, it's true.  And it's the first thing that came to mind when I saw this picture.

*  *  *

Jack's Aunt Kristin gave him a flashlight when we saw her recently in Louisiana.  It has become His Favorite Thing Ever.  The other night, he shone the flashlight up through the banister of the stairs, which is currently wrapped with evergreen garland.  

When he saw the resulting shadow, he got super excited.  

"Momma! It's a shadow!  I made a shadow!"

I came to look and appreciate it.  

"Yes, Jack!  That is awesome!"

"Momma, it's for Peter Pan!"

OK.  Hold the phone.  My heart literally burst into one thousand pieces.  Where he got this, I have no idea.  But I knew just what he meant.  He meant this:

This kid.  He has the heart of a poet.  I'm not even kidding.

Hope your day has some unexpected poetry in it.

Talk soon,
Heather

early Christmas, part two

I was bragging recently that I grew up in a place with four distinct seasons.

In Texas, you see, that's at least noteworthy, if not something to brag about.

Last weekend, during our early Christmas, our little family took a walk.  It was awesome.  It was warm.

From time to time, I miss things.  Like, oh, wearing wool sweaters.  The smell in the air that happens right before it snows.  Cashmere scarves.  Making snow angels.  (And/or watching the fog roll in over the Golden Gate Bridge.  Because if you're watching fog in San Francisco, there are no snow angels.  It's all a series of trade-offs.)

But then, it's almost Christmas and I'm wearing flip flops.  And Jack is finding rock treasures on our walk and having so much fun.

And then I don't mind at all.  Trade off, shmade off.

Hope you don't mind stuff today.

Talk soon,
Heather

early Christmas, part one

We celebrated Christmas last weekend.  On purpose.  Early.

No, it's not because I get so DIALED UP to give out presents that I just forced the issue.  Nope.  

In fact, it was because Dustin and Geri are about to move back to Houston from Austin (sniff sniff) and we needed to get together before they were lost in paper and boxes, or better yet, playing caravan with the moving truck.

(Yes, I am aware that Houston is very close to Austin and is not, in fact, on the moon.)

But anyway, we told Jack that it was Christmas and he thought that was GREAT.

It looked like Christmas, after all.

It tasted like Christmas, even.  I had made cookies for the occasion.  Chocolate cookies with peppermint patties inside, to be specific.  I found the recipe on Two Peas and Their Pod.  Deeelish.

And so, sure enough, it was Christmas.

The first order of business on Saturday was Jack's stocking.  I'm not sure why, other than that between Durel, his mom, and I, we really couldn't wait to start giving Jack presents.  And the stocking seems, well, innocent enough to start with.  

Inside, young sir found a new pair of boots and a brand new slinky.  It is important to wear one's pajamas when trying on new boots.  And it is best to wear one's newest boots when examining a new slinky.

I'm not good at math, but it worked something like this:  Slinky = joy.

Well, let me clarify.  Slinky = joy for Jack, and for us watching him.  But if I show you the full picture that I took here, you might spy some family members who were a little less enthused about it all.

I mean, Lucy got over it because she was soon in Pupperoni heaven.  (She has a stocking, too.)  And Bunny is never set aside for long, so he was happy soon enough.  (Though he had pirate goodies to reckon with, as well.  More on that later.)

So, you know, a good time was had by all.

Hope everyone is happy where you are today.

Talk soon,
Heather

you said you had plural trees, right?

I did say that.

In the future, I envision Jack having a little Christmas tree in his room.  For now though, I don't think he's quite ready for that.  So, in the mean time, we have a second tree by our back door.

It's thematic.  It represents two of our favorite things.  Food and the New Orleans Saints.

In New Orleans, you eat a lot of good food.

In our house, we eat a lot of good food.

In our house, we watch a lot of football.  (I use the term "we" loosely.  I have mastered the ability to block out the sounds of football while being thoroughly engrossed in the latest issue of Us Weekly or madly pinning things on Pinterest.)

So, it makes perfect sense.  See?

Hope you have lots of the things you love today.

Talk soon,
Heather

boys and trees

We don't mess around at our house.  We put our Christmas trees (plural) up more than a week ago.  They are artificial, so we don't have to worry about them drying out and becoming dangerous.  And, quite frankly, Christmas trees are high on my list of favorite things.

Luckily for me, my boys also like their trees.  And their lights.

It's very serious business to put them on the tree, you know.  They must be evenly distributed.

That doesn't mean you shouldn't have fun while you work!

 That also doesn't mean that you can't take a break and stick a light or two *almost* in your eye.

And when you're done, you should stand back and admire your handiwork.  And feel the spirit of the season!

I love my guys.  I love our trees.  And I love Christmas.

Hope you're feeling it today, too.

Talk soon,
Heather

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas

Except it's still hovering between 70 and 80 degrees here in Austin.

I love Austin and I love 80 degree weather, don't get me wrong.

But it's December.

And, believe it or not, I went to college here:

Bates College, Lewiston Maine

Meaning:  To me, December is supposed to be cold.  Scarf weather.  Frostbite weather, even.

And yet, I wear flip flops on the daily.

Unfazed by his mother's meteorological struggle, Jack is working on his toilet paper roll reindeer decoration.

Kid's got the holiday spirit, alright.

Hope you get to paint something today.

Talk soon,
Heather