December! December! I am twirling and throwing glitter and singing carols!
Did you survive November, too? It’s good to see you. I don’t much care for November, and instead of feigning creative release through my blog, I gave myself the month off. I am absolutely positive you would have smelled the faux-interest in bringing you snippets of my life. How the tables have turned, though. It is December! I’m lightheaded from the crafting and future crafting and tree decorating and sweets and gift wrapping.
My husband, Mikey (a nickname he does not condone anymore than I do Nikki), has a pretty crazy schedule this week. What with finals to study for and projects to complete and hours to clock at work. So, we sadly do not have a Christmas tree yet. Don’t weep too hard for me. I’ll survive without decorating until Friday. Surely we can craft something before then? The gratitude banner and painted window leaves must come down. I implore you to share with me if you are creating something particularly wonderful this season. I’m a sucker.
I would share with you what I’ve been sewing this past week, but seeing as how I am making gifts it doesn’t seem appropriate to go broadcasting them. I suppose I could share with you a sneak peek of some of Oren’s gifts, but then again, he gets savvier every day. Things he has been up to lately include:
Stacking three mugs. He stood at the counter one morning just begging for me to hand him a mug. So I did. And he scampered off with it, only to return rather immediately to beg for another. Repeat until he acquired four coffee mugs. He proceeded to build this most magnificent structure.
Surely you noticed how he is contemplating that fourth mug? To date he has broken one dish, for those wondering.
Bingo-Pajama has also made fast friends with a pair of dish gloves. I wish you could hear him as he sways about like a drunk around my legs as I wash dishes “this this this this”, except it comes out “diss, diss, diss diss”. There isn’t much he won’t do to handle the dish gloves. He loves to practice putting his hand in one, then he will clasp the other inside of his gloved hand and crawl about the house with such intention, sometimes hysteria. He likes the way they look, the way they feel, the way they sound squeezed together.
There has also been a monstrous appreciation of books in the past month. Dougie will follow me about the house, asking to be read to. At night, after dinner, he curls up with Michael and I, in our laps, and listens to story after story. Currently Llama Llama and The Night Before Christmas are in vogue. Oh, if you could see it. Him stripped down to his tube socks and onesie, before pj’s are put on, head tucked under a chin. He insists upon switching laps based on who is reading the book.
Sometimes he looks so grown up.
Thanksgiving was hectic and enjoyable. The Thursday prior to the holiday, Michael and I hosted our first ever Thanksgiving dinner for a few friends. One of whom we will not be seeing again for months as he has headed off to the Antarctic to collect data for climate scientists. We do hope he is safe and warm.
The rest of the holiday was a whirl of travel and dinner-hopping. Relatives visited, toys pushed about, chickens talked about.
In other news, there is little other news. Ogie-bogue and I are off to the park. He could really use a romp outdoors. Our yard doesn’t count because our porch steps are steps of doom. Despite his recent mastery of going down stairs, I still can’t shake my paranoia that he will tumble down them and land squarely on a concrete stepping stone.
It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood,