Merry Christmas!

Santa Claus is Comin' to Town!

It's Christmas Eve.

I can't believe it.

In addition to adjusting to our new baby news, we've been going a hundred miles an hour around here. Poor Patrick is getting ready right now to go to a meeting for work that is two hours away! On Christmas Eve! His schedule has been crazy, but we're both thankful that he still has a job and that because of all the insanely long hours he's been putting in, he should get his full bonus in the new year. This will come in handy with a third bottom to diaper!

It's Jack's third Christmas, though he was just a month old the first time around. And it's PJ's first. It's so exciting being a parent at Christmas. The sleeplessness and butterflies in your stomach that started fading in your teenage years begin to come back as you anticipate the excitement your child will feel coming downstairs on Christmas morning and seeing the gifts under the tree. I love it.

Of course setting that scene means lots of preparation on the part of the parents Mommy. Buying gifts, wrapping, planning Christmas breakfast...it can get a little stressful. I had one friend growing up whose parents didn't even put up the tree until the kids were in bed Christmas Eve night. While the thought of the kids coming down to see the tree and all the gifts is dreamy, I can't even imagine all the work that went into pulling that off each year. I think that feat alone is what had my friend believing in Santa way past the usual pre-teen years.

And that brings me to a topic for discussion.

Do you tell your kids about Santa?

It's a little hard to escape the jolly old elf this time of year, but I always vowed not to tell my children that Santa was the one bringing their presents, if only to avoid the inevitable revelation of the truth. I've had an experience revealing this truth to someone and the trauma of it was horrible.

Shall I tell that story? Okay, I will.

I think I'd figured out that my parents were actually Santa pretty early on. We didn't have a chimney, Santa's writing was exactly the same as my Mom's, and I never got that pony I always wanted. Santa wouldn't be that practical. He drives reindeer, for goodness sakes!

Anyway, I told my Mom, at about six years old that I knew she was the one who did the presents. She reluctantly conceded. She told me, though, that lots of younger kids still believed in Santa, so I shouldn't ruin the surprise for them. I understood.

I was in on the secret now, though, and it felt pretty special to know something they didn't.

So one year, my Mom's friend came for a visit at Christmastime. She had a daughter who was my age, some who were younger and some who were older. I can remember playing in the basement with the girls and the topic of Santa came up. Well, knowing that the younger ones still probably believed in Santa, I did a little wink-wink nudge-nudge with one of the older girls, eager to let her know that I was hip to the secret myself. She looked at me quizzically and, thinking she was just acting, I told her that I knew that it was really our parents who gave us gifts.

The crying that ensued was unlike anything I'd ever seen.

She went running to her mother telling her what I'd said and asking if it was true. My Mom was giving me the hairy eyeball the whole time, upset that I'd spilled the beans. It was awful.

So I decided that I didn't want my children to suffer a similar fate.

But, breaking my own vow, I did tell Jack about Santa this year. There's just something so fun about seeing the look on a child's face when you tell him that you have to leave cookies out for Santa and some carrots for Rudolph so they can have a snack when they come to bring his presents. It's precious.

I'm not sorry I did it. I don't think I'll keep it going for too long, but it is fun watching them get excited about Santa and Christmas.

How do you handle the Santa issue?

I hope everyone has a blessed Christmas and a very happy, healthy New Year!

Sinking in

So, a few days later and things are just starting to sink in.

Three kids in three years.

Jack will be three months shy of three years old when T3 comes. It's daunting, but I think we're up for the challenge. My guys are so sweet and easy-going. I'm thinking that they'll be good playmates for each other while I'm taking care of a newborn.

Anyway, we really are excited about another baby. Let's face it, I'm not getting any younger and Patrick and I both wanted a big (ish) family. (Big is relative, I guess...right, Duggars? Patrick's one of eight. Jon and Kate? No thank you. I have my limits. For some reason, four always seemed right to me.)

What's strange is that I didn't really have any symptoms other than running to the bathroom every five minutes. I was as surprised as you to see that big pink "+". With PJ, I knew I was pregnant at least a week before I got a positive test. My boobs The ladies were just so sore. I guess every pregnancy is different, although fatigue and my first-trimester aversion to coffee have already kicked in.

These two things do not play well together.

By dinner, I need toothpicks to prop open my eyelids.

So there you have it. We're having another baby and we both feel blessed beyond belief.

(How's that for alliteration?)

A pleasant surprise

Splish splash!

Perhaps out of a desire to keep him little as long as I can, or perhaps out of fear that Jack might knock him over, I've kept PJ in the baby bath seat way longer than I apparently needed to.

Recently, I've started sitting him in the tub with Jack and letting the two of them play together.


Holy cow, it's cute!


PJ is completely enamored with his big brother, and Jack loves to make PJ laugh, so it's a match made in heaven.


The other day, I finally broke out the camera and took a few pictures of the two of them having fun in the tub.

This is PJ's version of a hug. Don't worry - he didn't go face-down in the water:

I just love the look on his face in this one as he's kicking his feet and making the water splash:

Have a good week!

Together

I took Jack for a little walk around the neighborhood after dinner tonight to look at the Christmas lights.

As we walked around the corner, he stopped and stared straight up.

"Yook at all dose yights in the ky!" he said, amazed.

I looked up.

It was a clear night, the sky full of stars.

Then it hit me: he had never seen the stars before. We don't usually take walks in the dark, and even if we did an after-dinner walk in the warmer weather, it's still light outside. I loved seeing him see them for the first time. He turned all around with his head back, taking it all in.

After a few seconds, he started walking again.

"We're walking!" he said.

"Yup, we're walking, buddy."

"We're walking....toGEther!" he clarified.

"I like walking together with you, Jack."

"Yup," he said.

Those 15 minutes just made my week.

My guys

I'm a guy's girl.

The girl who always felt more comfortable hanging out with the guys than with the girls.

I never really had a lot of girl friends. Girls didn't really like me - maybe because I didn't play silly games. I'm a straight shooter. Always have been.

It's no secret that I was really excited to find out that our second baby was a boy. I was a little afraid of having a girl. Afraid she'd like playing pretty princess or putting on makeup and I wouldn't know what to do with her.

(Truth be told, I'm 35 and I'm still not really sure how to put on my own makeup.)

I've never been a girly girl. I'd rather be outside catching bugs or tadpoles or kicking a soccer ball around.

That said, I am really having fun with my two little boys. There's just something about their kisses and cuddles that melts my heart.

Check out these cuties:

Happy Friday!

A few Christmas polls

Patrick and I are both big fans of eggnog, but I have heard rumors that there are people who can't stand the stuff. While I think this is unfathomable - akin to disliking air, or water - I would like to know whether the rumors are true.


Now, fruitcake is another story. I wouldn't touch the stuff with a 39 1/2 -foot pole. Patrick, on the other hand, loves it.


Vote on the right: where do you stand on these two Christmassy concoctions?

I'm it!

I've been tagged by Leighann to give some info about my hubby and me:

Husband's Name: Patrick

How Long Married: Three years and 1 month

Dated How Long: Before we got engaged? 3 months.

Taller: HIM. I am 5'8", he is 6'6" (Have I mentioned how much I love tall?)

Who Can Sing the Best: He'd say him, but I say me. (He has a few pitch issues.)

Smarter: He'd say him, but I say me. (He has a few math issues.)

Laundry: Both of us.

Paying Bills: I pay the bills...he makes the money.

Who Sleeps on the Right side of the Bed: He does. He likes to sleep closer to the door, so if we're in a hotel or at a house where the door is on the other side, he'll sleep there. He's protective like that, and neither of us really minds either way.

Mows the Lawn: He does. He does an awesome job taking care of our little yard.

Cooks Dinner: I do.

First to Admit Their Wrong: We both are pretty good at it. (And at being wrong.)

Who Kissed First: He kissed me. We were on a winter hike in the snow and the timing was perfect, except that I started sinking into the snow and falling down.

Who Wears the Pants: When push comes to shove (and it doesn't often), he does.

I tag Jessica.

A Chri-meh tchree!

Patrick and I put the tree up last night while the boys were in bed, and watching Jack and PJ see it for the first time was just priceless.

Of course, Jack saw it last year too, but he was just a year old and doesn't really remember it at all. He's so excited about Christmas this year, so that means that I'm going to be the one who's too excited to sleep on Christmas Eve...something that hasn't happened since I was a kid.

It's fun being a parent at Christmas, isn't it?

Fortunately, Aunt Devon suggested we might want to catch the moment this morning on video, so that's just what we did.

Here's the question of the day: do you have a star or an angel (or something else) at the top of your Christmas tree?

We have an angel.

Enjoy!