Oh boy!  Baby joy!

Back in July, when I called my high school BFF and told her that I was expecting a second little munchkin, one of the first things she asked me was whether I wanted a baby shower.  You see, I’m not a particularly fussy girl and I don’t love to be the center of attention… and showers for second-time moms are done, but not as commonly as showers for first-time moms.  As a second-time mom, you probably don’t need a truckload of baby gear and you’re seasoned enough that you don’t need the advice of experienced moms about things like poopy diapers and 3:00 a.m. feedings.  I know this, and I knew I didn’t need much stuff for this kid… but I confessed that I did want a small shower – a sprinkle, really – because that was something I missed out on last time.  When Peanut was born two months early, she happened to show up ten days before the baby shower my mom and BFF were planning.  All festivities were cancelled and I spent that day (like every other day for the first seven weeks of her life) in the NICU.  So yes, I told BFF, I’d like a sprinkle if it can be done.

“You’re not getting a sprinkle,” she said in reply.  “You’re getting a torrential downpour.”

We talked about the best time to have a sprinkle.  I suggested Christmas week, since I was reasonably sure I could commit to still being pregnant, and we were planning to be in town anyway.  And it was a done deal.  BFF and my mom put their heads together and came up with just the very party I’d hoped for – a sweet, simple gathering of the ladies I love the most, all there to celebrate our new little buddy-to-be.

Before the sprinkle started, my mom picked up a dozen blue balloons.  Peanut immediately claimed them all as her own.  (Unfortunately for her, she was going to have to share with the two other littles that attended the party – BFF’s three-year-old daughter, and another friend’s fifteen-month-old son.  Hey, with a little brother on the way, she had to learn sharing sometime…)

Peanut was delighted to have another opportunity to wear her “style shoes.”  And she picked out the dress herself!  Good taste, right?  She must have gotten her fashion sense from somewhere else, because goodness knows I don’t have any.

The shower was, as I said, very simple – no games, no silliness, no smelling anything in diapers or wrapping toilet paper around my midsection thankyouverymuch – we just enjoyed each other’s company, had a yummy catered lunch (complete with cupcakes delivered by BFF’s husband) and chatted.  Perfect!  Peanut logged quality time in any available lap.  Here she is, above, conning my friend A into reading to her from a set of “Frozen” board books she got for Christmas.  (Peanut has patented what we call the “lap-back-up,” in which she motors in reverse, book in hand, into the nearest free lap.)  We think she has some kind of radar for mom laps in particular, because she immediately identified A (who has the fifteen-month-old mentioned above) as a good candidate for snuggles and reading.  A was a good sport about it.

Peanut got extra lucky, because her aunts were there!  Auntie Em and Aunt Grace both came from long distances away to celebrate their new nephew-to-be, and Peanut was delighted to have her favorite babysitters there. (We were only missing Aunt Danielle.)  Auntie Em and Aunt Grace both were victims of the lap-back-up, too.

After lunch and cupcakes, I opened gifts.  Like I said, we really didn’t need much – or anything – but my family and friends wanted to make sure that the new little guy was plenty spoiled anyway!  He got lots of boy clothes (including a superhero cape and a mini professor outfit), and plenty of books and toys – including a set of trucks that I hope he shares, because I want to play with them too.

And this awesome sweater, which I wish came in my size!

It was just a perfect day.  Getting the celebration I missed out on last time meant so much to me – after missing out on the experience with Peanut because of her surprise early arrival, I was so unbelievably grateful to be able to smile and celebrate this time around.  Thanks, Mom and BFF, for a perfect baby shower!

Merry  day after Christmas to all my friends who celebrated yesterday (and may still be celebrating)!  And happy Friday to my friends who were not celebrating this week.  I’m sure that your Feedly overfloweth with sweet and sentimental Christmas messages, and I wish all of that stuff for you, of course.  But rather than toss in a Bible verse or Christmas carol lyric of my own this year, I thought I’d get a little sillier and talk about the phenomenon I think of as Christmas Quibbles.  You know what I mean. I’m not talking about the quibbling that happens at Christmas dinner when Grandpa and Uncle Bootsie just can’t help getting into politics… or when Aunt Tilda slurps the last of the eggnog and you know she don’t need it amirite?  I’m talking about the quibbling that takes place in every merged household, starting at Thanksgiving (or even before) when we all insist that our childhood holiday traditions are the traditions that must survive in the new home.  If you’re married or living with your significant other, odds are you’ve drawn battle lines… and hey, I hear even roommates can get into it.  We’re not immune in my household, and while for us the war is pretty much over, we certainly got into some spirited debates in our first few married Christmases.  Here are the fronts where the Christmas Quibbles war has been fought in my house:

The Real Deal, or Go Faux?

Battle status: concluded
Victory: me

I’m not sure there is any Christmas Quibble more ardently fought than the question of whether to buy a new real tree each year, or pull out a faux every holiday season.  Hubby grew up with a real tree, but my family has been firmly in the faux camp for almost as long as I can remember.  We had a real tree my first few Christmases, but I would get so upset to see it lying out on the street at the end of the Christmas celebrations, and I was still very young when my parents bought their faux tree.  I always thought they did it to shut me up (what can I say, I had some big emotions over seeing that poor dead tree) but now that I’m an adult with a home of my own I think they may have had other reasons, too.  It’s awfully nice to not have to water the tree or vacuum up needles every ding-dong day.  Plus, you can leave the tree out longer and extend the season.  I’ve since heard that you have to keep a faux tree at least seven years for it to be a more environmentally friendly option than a real tree, and we’ve got a few years to go on ours before we hit that point, but my parents have had the same tree for decades, so I’d say their Christmas greenery is pretty darn green.  Hubby and I argued over the real-or-faux question a few times early in our marriage, and I pointed out the environmental, money, and work factors, but I ultimately prevailed with my ironclad argument that it would break my heeeeeeeeeeeart to see the tree lying in the streeeeeeeeeet.

Christmas Lights: A Heavy Question

Battle status: temporary ceasefire
Victory: me (for now)

Another area where hubby and I differ: the twinkle lights.  His family has always used (and still uses to this day) colored lights.  My parents go for white lights.  Once again, we each prefer our own family’s approach to the light question.  This isn’t a reasoned debate where I can point out all the conveniences of white lights over multi-colored.  It’s a deeply ingrained preference on both sides that simply cannot be argued away.  Hubby likes the look of multi-colored lights.  It reminds him of his childhood and he finds it more festive.  I like white lights.  It’s a cleaner look that allows the ornaments and greenery to shine and while I can certainly appreciate that the muti-colored approach is popular, it’s just not for me.  It’s just not.  And I will never change my mind on this point. Our current tree is pre-strung with white lights, and we’re hoping to keep the tree a long time, so you’d think the debate was settled.  I have considered the battle over for years… but lately hubby seems inclined to reopen hostilities.  Just the other day I heard him telling Peanut, “When Daddy was a little boy we had colored lights on our tree, sooooooooooo pretty.”  (That’s fighting dirty, by the way – trying to convert the two-year-old to your side.)  He may have underestimated just how entrenched I am in my position, and just how not afraid to pull circuit breakers I might turn out to be.

To Josh or Not To Josh

Battle Status: ongoing
Victory: too soon to tell

Please tell me that someone else argues with their significant other over Christmas music.  Please.  This is the one area where the battle still rages in my house, because it’s not like a CD is a big investment that we plan to keep for years.  Here’s the situation: I love Josh Groban.  I would listen to him sing names out of a phone book.  Hubby, for some reason, can’t stand him.  (He hates most of my CDs, which he derisively calls “college music,” whatever that means.)  So we argue about this every year when the time comes to put on Christmas music.  Hubby will whip out his phone, with the Christmas Traditional station loaded on Pandora.  I will wave my copy of Josh’s “Noel” over my head like a crazy lady. And apparently the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  When we hosted our tree-trimming party this year, hubby and his dad engaged in some of the most spirited and creative Josh-bashing I have ever heard.  I tuned into the conversation just in time to hear one of them say, with heavy scorn, “And he obviously never sang treble in an Episcopal choir.”  LOLwut?  (By the way, hubby, I’m pretty sure the lead “singer” of Rammstein also never sang treble in an Episcopal choir.  Just a hunch.)  It’s worth noting that my sister-in-law Emma, who did sing in an Episcopal choir for many years, is firmly pro-Josh.  It probably helps that he’s nice to look at. Anyway, I thought I had hit on the perfect strategy: limit the Christmas music options to Josh, Sarah McLachlan or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  But Christmas Traditional Pandora was a big blow to my battle plans.  (The joke’s on hubby though… maybe… the other day I heard Josh on Christmas Traditional Pandora.  Check.  Mate.)  Anyway, we’ve ultimately landed in a stalemate.  I agitate for Josh constantly, and hubby occasionally relents.  The rest of the time, I listen to Josh in my car.  I get my daily Josh fix during the season, and hubby mostly avoids him.  Meanwhile, I am eagerly trying to recruit Peanut to the pro-Josh camp.  (That’s right.  I can fight dirty, too.)

I know you have Christmas Quibbles in your house, too, so spill.  Where are the battle lines drawn in your family?

Happy (boo-lated) Halloween!  In the spirit of catching up and documenting our family fun in this little online diary, I’ve got plenty of pictures of our Halloween festivities (such as they were) to share.  We currently have six feet of snow on the ground, so it’s hard for me to believe that these pictures were snapped only a few weeks ago…  But that’s a story for another day.  In the meantime, our Halloween fun!

We started off the holiday with a trip to the pumpkin patch.  Once again, we decided to visit a small family farm instead of the giant pumpkin colossus.  No regrets there – the family farm was still crawling with kids and alive with activity.  Now that Peanut is two, she needed a ticket of her own to enter – but that ticket bought her a pumpkin of her own and two pony rides (she only took one – more on that below).

First things first, we headed for the barns to say hello to the animals.  Last year, Peanut started to cry at the first sight of an animal.  This year, she was still a bit hesitant, but a little more interested in the furry folk.

Still clung to Daddy in the barn, though.

After the barn, we hit the general store.  (Blurry picture alert – sorry!)

The store was packed full of lots of goodies – delicious looking apples, buttered popcorn, and pretty gourds among them – but we were there for one purpose…

DONUTS!  Last year I was doing a Whole30 over Halloween, so I didn’t get to partake, and I haven’t forgotten the amazing sugary scent since.  This year I was determined to get a donut of my own… or at least one to share with Peanut.  Plus, it was the between-breakfast-and-lunch witching hour in which pregnancy hunger hits hard.  I made a beeline for the donuts.

We each got a donut and Peanut nibbled off of our treats.  I don’t know if I was just really hungry or if this donut really was the most delicious thing ever made, but… oh, my word.  It was amazing.  Warm, soft, and sugary.  I wanted a second one, but I managed to restrain myself.  After donuts we headed over to the pony rides.  No pictures of the pony ride, because Peanut whimpered, went boneless, and generally acted like she was being tortured the entire time she was on the (gentle, sweet) pony.  What terrible parents we are, making her take a pony ride!  (In our defense, we thought she’d love it, and once she was on she had to complete the loop.)  The pony ride did make a big impression, though, because she’s been talking about it ever since.  Almost every day, she tells us “You ride a pony yesterday!”  (“You” is Peanut for “I” or “me,” and yesterday is anytime in the past.  Toddler-speak.)

After the pony torture, we hopped in a tractor-pulled wagon for a ride around the property.  Peanut was still pretty clingy, but interested in the other kids.

I attempted to take a selfie with Peanut, but this was the best I could do.  Blurry, she’s looking away from the camera, and I’m rocking hubby’s jacket (it zips over Nugget, no shame ladies).

Our destination:

Pumpkins!  Peanut immediately found a broken, rotted pumpkin and attempted to claim it as her own.  We took it away, and Peanut cried for the lost love of her life.  Mean parents.

Once the rotten pumpkin tantrum was over, Peanut got into the spirit of looking around for the perfect family pumpkins.

The bigger, the better.

There were sooooooo many choices!  Hundreds of pumpkins in the field, and we were entitled to take three home with us.  Clearly, important decisions had to be made.

We pretty much succeeded in our goal of finding pumpkins that were reasonably round and not too dirty.

The following Friday, we attended a trick-or-treating party at Buffalo-Niagara Heritage Village.  I didn’t get a single picture and the event was a total bust.  We arrived late, which meant that the Stroller Strides group we planned to walk with had already been released to collect their candy, and we were on our own without our friends. Even so, we tried to make it a fun night for Peanut – but she hated it.  She was terrified of everything – the dark, the houses, the actors dressed up in period costume, even some of the other kids.  She refused to hold her candy bag and clung to me whimpering the entire night.  Poor little scaredy-cat!  Maybe next year, she’ll have more fun.

Halloween itself was a week after the party debacle.  We live in a rural area at the end of a long driveway, and we didn’t get home until 6:00 that day, so we totally struck out on trick-or-treaters.  Womp, womp.  Fortunately, we weren’t expecting many kids, so we didn’t buy too much candy.  Meanwhile, we decided that Peanut was still too little to go door-to-door (next year, for sure) but she did get the chance to trick-or-treat twice with her school (they did parties on Thursday and Friday to make sure that none of the part-time kids were left out) and on Friday at Daddy’s office.  She was the only kid to show up to the office, so she was showered with donuts and candy… but our funny little girl was more interested in playing with the keyboard, calculator, and paper at a secretarial workstation.

And if you’re wondering what she dressed as, this year Peanut was…

An Afghan princess!  Sorry, that’s the only picture I took.  Peanut’s godmother, Aunt R, bought her this beautiful dress, pants and head scarf in Kabul during her year spent as a civilian aid worker in Afghanistan.  I was pregnant with Peanut at the time, so R presented me with the outfit when Peanut was born.  Back then it seemed like she’d never grow into it, but she did just in time to wear a truly unique Halloween costume this year!  (Glad I didn’t wait any longer to try it on her – it was actually a bit small.)  The costume might actually have been too unique: most people assumed she was Red Riding Hood and I got a lot of strange looks when I explained, “She’s not Red Riding Hood, she’s an Afghan princess, that’s a head scarf and anyway it’s pink.”  But she also got a lot of compliments – her preschool teachers and directors loved the outfit and were mightily impressed when I told them it was a genuine Afghan dress.  I doubt we’ll be able to come up with something quite as cool next year, but we were pretty pleased with this year’s costume!

And there we have it – Halloween, three weeks late!  We did our best to make it fun for Peanut, but she was frightened of pretty much everything this year.  Hoping to make Thanksgiving a little more fun for her…