It's Story Time: Little Miss Selective Hearing

My Dad

My dad had a heart attack on Saturday. Luckily, my sister and mother were on the scene and rushed him to the ER immediately after realizing what was happening. Because of their fast thinking and action, they saved my dad's life.

And because they got to the hospital so quickly, there was little to no permanent damage to his heart. He's already home and feeling good.

But it was damn scary.

And it made me realize how much I take my dad for granted. So, this is for you, Dad.

Handing me the church program and a pen so I can scribble quietly, using a hymn book as a hard surface.
Catching me as Gypsy bucked me off her silver back.
Building a treehouse and letting me paint it sea foam green.
Reading The Tall Book of Nursery Rhymes.
Sledding in the summer.
Walking on a nearly flooded road, looking back at Mom, sitting on the hood of our white Pontiac.
Catching white, bloated catfish from the river in Granite Falls.
Blaring Harry Belafonte so loudly, I could hear it two blocks away on my purple unicorn bike.
Letting me have all the change in his pocket for candy. So much change, I can't hold it all.
Making me believe in magic.
Letting me hide in the carpet displays at the lumber yard.
Apologizing for teasing me about a boy.
Digging rivers and channels in the gravel driveway to drain the puddles after the snow melted.
Letting us roller skate in the basement.
Driving to Crazy Horse and getting pissed that it was a rip-off.
Reading the Chronicles of Narnia.
Showing me how to hit a bank shot nearly every time.
Taking us to the used book store in Cross Lake on rainy days.
Breakfast for dinner.
My piano being delivered.
Playing Super Mario Brothers.
My black and white checkered bedroom walls.
Driving an hour to school and work there and an hour back; AM there, FM back.
Bazooka Joe bubblegum.
Sitting with me in the lobby of my dorm.
Taking Ryan shopping to buy dress clothes for our wedding.
Trusting me to draw for the Wood Mill printed materials.
Having to leave the room when we gave him the scrapbooks that held all of our photos since forever.
Telling me to never kiss ass.
Building a crib for my daughter.
Telling me to sleep while he watched Norah. Listening to him talk to her while I'm laying in bed.
Telling his coworkers about my book. Being proud of me.
Taking Norah and me to the farmer's market.
Driving to the mill in Annandale.
Reading Norah stories on Halloween.
Looking right at me in the hospital, and me knowing he was going to be okay.

It's Story Time: On the Night You Were Born

New Year's Eve: Toddlers vs. Drunks

Both overestimate their Wii skills.

Both lose the ability to share with friends.

Both are blissfully unaware.

Both release inexplicable emotional outbursts.

Both are not ready to go home.

Both pass out around 9:30.

Christmas Recap

Hello, all! I've been on vacation. Now I'm back to the grind, which means I can relax a tad. At least enjoy some quiet in between hearing my own voice repeatedly (I create software training tutorials.)

Anyway. Here are some Christmas highlights.

Norah's Christmas Concert
Mind-blowingly adorable.

Mongo
We had to take down the beautiful tree, and put up the ugly fiber optic tree we've had since college, which was a hand-me-down from Ryan's mom. Apparently Mongo eats glass light bulbs. And while he made Ugly Tree more ugly and misshapen, due to his climbing and biting, he only knocked it down four or five times. We bought cheap-o shatter-proof ornaments and didn't put any sentimental ones up at all. Which was a smart move, being that he'd systematically take down each bulb, carry it in his mouth by the string, and hide it somewhere in the house, only to eat the metal thingy on top of it that holds the string to hang it up. He's got an iron stomach, so it seems, and possibly is not long for this world.

Presents
Norah got a mountain of gifts from my family. When she saw all the wrapped gifts piled up for her, she literally started shaking. She screamed, "They're all mine!"

MIL Bingo
I did not get blackout, nor did I even get bingo. It was a pretty nice holiday, and now I feel like a douchebag for expecting the worst. I have been putting in more of an effort to mend our relationship as of late, and I think it's really been beneficial. So, hooray for family peace! Boo for funny blog fodder.

Christmas Bummer
My aunt has joined us for Christmas every year since I can remember and couldn't this year. She was missed.

Christmas Loser
We didn't have any weird or horrible gifts. Not a one! A Christmas miracle. But I'll take this opportunity to revisit some losers of the past: Ryan's soap-on-a-rope. A box of used travel magazines. A giant picture of cats. Ah, good times.

Christmas Winner
The most-played-with award goes to Frontier Logs, Menard's (our Midwestern home improvement center) answer to Lincoln Logs. We actually bought another set so Norah could create a vacation ranch for her Zhu Zhu pets.

It's Story Time: The Little Drummer Boy

"Ohhh, thanks for the gift. Thanks. Worst gift ever."

Twas the Week Before Christmas

Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the flat
not a creature was stirring, except for the frickin' cat.

The stockings weren't hung, because boxes weren't marked,
and "I can't find them," I occasionally barked

at Ryan as he dug through the closet without care,
throwing Halloween knickknacks here and then there.

We came up with a candle and a string of purple lights
purchased by my colorblind husband on a solo-shopping night.

Stock photo eerily similar to Mongo

Then we put up Tree 2 with apathy and glum,
as the lightbulbs on Tree 1 proved too tempting for some.

And while the cheap ornaments were getting some batting and chewing,
we ignored it and listed what still needed doing.

Shopping and baking and mailing and wrapping.
Cleaning and laundry and organizing and napping.

Fixing the light that was broke in the yard.
Avoiding Mall Santa so Norah won't be scarred.

And when we finally nestled all snug in our bed,
with visions of road rage in parking lots dancing in our heads,

Little Norah started singing, through the monitor we heard.
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, she sang out each word.

And before we could groan that she wasn't asleep
we smiled and hoped this Christmas memory would keep.