Christmas
The pictures are downloaded and the ornaments are packed away, so Christmas 2012 is officially over. This was the first time we have traveled with both kids, and it went as well as we could have hoped, but was nonetheless as tiring as we expected (thanks mostly to flu season).
Any time you fly, there are always those people flying with kids. Karl and I both try to avoid being those people at all costs. We find that flying with kids isn't terrible . . . so long as you do extensive preparation in advance, mentally prepare for all possible contingencies, and pay extra for direct flights, the close airport, and checking bags. Sprezzatura. So the flights went smoothly, the kids were totally awesome, and people were nice to us. Everyone loves a toddler in a sweater rolling his own suitcase, and a fat smiley baby in pink striped leggings -- especially when neither of them is making a scene.
Henry was running on zero nap but pure excitement when we landed in Minneapolis. He and Dave went out to play in the snow and we didn't see them for the rest of the afternoon (alas, I didn't get any pictures).
I was the first victim of the stomach bug and spent the 22nd on my in-laws' bathroom floor wishing that the Mayans had been right. We nonetheless powered on with our plans to visit the great-grandparents in Northfield the next day. Karl and I had made our annual pilgrimage to my favorite suburban fast-food restaurant, so everyone assumed that my abiding love of Taco Bell had finally come to its logical end (i.e. the toilet), and I was not contagious. That was a good theory until Henry puked all over Dave in the car two miles from the farm. He continued to be sick all over Gene and Joyce's house. Way to contaminate the elderly family members. We borrowed a puke bucket for the ride home, and Henry was a champ and hit it every time. When Karl carried him back into the house, Henry was pathetically wailing, "the buuuucketttttttt." Sad, sad toddler.
At least we had a great visit with Bob and Joan before Henry got sick. Joan was at the nursing home recouping from surgery and a bad fall, but she looked pretty spry to us. I was so happy to get an updated four-generations shot and pictures of Joan with her mini-me.
After two days of rest we rallied for the big Christmas Eve party at the Brodersens' house. Every year there are more people and more crazy little kids, but Mark and Gail continue to entertain everyone with good humor and amazing food. When I first started attending this event eight years ago, there were no kids, so we all got rather tipsy late into the night (in a reverent, Christmas-y sort of way, of course). With six little ones in attendance, the program has to be shorter and the parents have to stay sober, but the excited chaos is wonderful too. Henry was super excited about his big cousins and over-the-moon excited to sit with them at their very own table. I'm pretty sure they ate nothing but bread rolls, but I can't be certain, because I had a screaming Ingrid in the back bedroom for all of dinner. Good times. At least there was plenty of wine waiting for me when she finally went to sleep. The rest of the party was lovely -- Henry really enjoyed the singing and sat next to Carol at the piano to help her "push the buttons."
Somewhere in there we also visited the Bradens, Andersons, and Sengs -- Henry was overawed by 9-year-old Eric and his Thomas the Train collection. We flew home on Christmas day. Henry was so wiped out from the festivities that he fell asleep on Karl's lap on the plane, which was the first time ever that he has dropped off somewhere other than a bed or car seat. We must have run him ragged.
After a week of R&R and potty training, my parents came to DC for Christmas Part II. By that point, Henry had gotten the hang of the whole Christmas-presents thing and absolutely reveled in it. Christmas morning lasted about four hours as he ripped something open, played with it for 20 minutes, came back, ripped open something else, played with it, repeat. The kids got some really awesome gifts that have been our salvation through the last two weeks of incessant rain.
Squeaky Sophie and hair accessories!
Super cool garden set complete with wheelbarrow (which Henry pronounces "big weasel"). Just before this picture was taken, Henry was shouting, "Where's my ho?"
Fireman and construction costumes. He slept in the construction vest for the first week.
Kitchen stand, which was a godsend while Karl was out of town because it transformed dinner prep into a fun activity for me and Henry instead of chaos and irritability for all. Henry helps me cook almost every meal now. We've been working hard on his knife skills.
It was really fun to celebrate Christmas with Henry now that he is beginning to understand the special traditions and stories behind holidays. We talked a lot in advance about how Santa would come and bring presents, and we would have a big party in Minnesota, and then we would come home and Santa would come again. By the end of the festivities with my parents, Henry was totally in the zone. Now when we play with any of his new toys he asks, "Who bringed me this?" I tell him who gave him that gift, and he usually corrects me and says, "NO, it was SANTA." FYI, Santa also delivers the Amazon packages now too.
I expect it will only get more fun to celebrate the holidays as the kids get older. Traditions and gifts are wonderful, but nothing compares to the excitement of a little kid on Christmas.
Any time you fly, there are always those people flying with kids. Karl and I both try to avoid being those people at all costs. We find that flying with kids isn't terrible . . . so long as you do extensive preparation in advance, mentally prepare for all possible contingencies, and pay extra for direct flights, the close airport, and checking bags. Sprezzatura. So the flights went smoothly, the kids were totally awesome, and people were nice to us. Everyone loves a toddler in a sweater rolling his own suitcase, and a fat smiley baby in pink striped leggings -- especially when neither of them is making a scene.
Henry was running on zero nap but pure excitement when we landed in Minneapolis. He and Dave went out to play in the snow and we didn't see them for the rest of the afternoon (alas, I didn't get any pictures).
I was the first victim of the stomach bug and spent the 22nd on my in-laws' bathroom floor wishing that the Mayans had been right. We nonetheless powered on with our plans to visit the great-grandparents in Northfield the next day. Karl and I had made our annual pilgrimage to my favorite suburban fast-food restaurant, so everyone assumed that my abiding love of Taco Bell had finally come to its logical end (i.e. the toilet), and I was not contagious. That was a good theory until Henry puked all over Dave in the car two miles from the farm. He continued to be sick all over Gene and Joyce's house. Way to contaminate the elderly family members. We borrowed a puke bucket for the ride home, and Henry was a champ and hit it every time. When Karl carried him back into the house, Henry was pathetically wailing, "the buuuucketttttttt." Sad, sad toddler.
At least we had a great visit with Bob and Joan before Henry got sick. Joan was at the nursing home recouping from surgery and a bad fall, but she looked pretty spry to us. I was so happy to get an updated four-generations shot and pictures of Joan with her mini-me.
After two days of rest we rallied for the big Christmas Eve party at the Brodersens' house. Every year there are more people and more crazy little kids, but Mark and Gail continue to entertain everyone with good humor and amazing food. When I first started attending this event eight years ago, there were no kids, so we all got rather tipsy late into the night (in a reverent, Christmas-y sort of way, of course). With six little ones in attendance, the program has to be shorter and the parents have to stay sober, but the excited chaos is wonderful too. Henry was super excited about his big cousins and over-the-moon excited to sit with them at their very own table. I'm pretty sure they ate nothing but bread rolls, but I can't be certain, because I had a screaming Ingrid in the back bedroom for all of dinner. Good times. At least there was plenty of wine waiting for me when she finally went to sleep. The rest of the party was lovely -- Henry really enjoyed the singing and sat next to Carol at the piano to help her "push the buttons."
Somewhere in there we also visited the Bradens, Andersons, and Sengs -- Henry was overawed by 9-year-old Eric and his Thomas the Train collection. We flew home on Christmas day. Henry was so wiped out from the festivities that he fell asleep on Karl's lap on the plane, which was the first time ever that he has dropped off somewhere other than a bed or car seat. We must have run him ragged.
After a week of R&R and potty training, my parents came to DC for Christmas Part II. By that point, Henry had gotten the hang of the whole Christmas-presents thing and absolutely reveled in it. Christmas morning lasted about four hours as he ripped something open, played with it for 20 minutes, came back, ripped open something else, played with it, repeat. The kids got some really awesome gifts that have been our salvation through the last two weeks of incessant rain.
Squeaky Sophie and hair accessories!
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| Actually, I believe the phrase you're looking for is, "Where my hoes at?" |
Fireman and construction costumes. He slept in the construction vest for the first week.
Kitchen stand, which was a godsend while Karl was out of town because it transformed dinner prep into a fun activity for me and Henry instead of chaos and irritability for all. Henry helps me cook almost every meal now. We've been working hard on his knife skills.
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| Also seen here: Christmas sweater, cookie batter. |
It was really fun to celebrate Christmas with Henry now that he is beginning to understand the special traditions and stories behind holidays. We talked a lot in advance about how Santa would come and bring presents, and we would have a big party in Minnesota, and then we would come home and Santa would come again. By the end of the festivities with my parents, Henry was totally in the zone. Now when we play with any of his new toys he asks, "Who bringed me this?" I tell him who gave him that gift, and he usually corrects me and says, "NO, it was SANTA." FYI, Santa also delivers the Amazon packages now too.
I expect it will only get more fun to celebrate the holidays as the kids get older. Traditions and gifts are wonderful, but nothing compares to the excitement of a little kid on Christmas.
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