Here’s the obligatory Christmas breakdown post. Complete with a hojillian photos of my kid in 25 thousand different Christmas outfits at the zillion Christmas events we attend/host due to the fact that she was born to two parents that have divorced/remarried parents of their own. It’s Four Christmases on cocaine. Every. Year. AND WE LOVE IT!

2009 was Lyla’s second sick Christmas in as many years and as many years as she’s been alive. My kid is nothing if not consistent. Last year we took few photos because one of us was always holding a sick four-month old wearing a stressed out look on their face and since we were so concerned about her breathing, we weren’t thinking much about the camera. This year, since I’m an old pro at this sick-kid-on-Christmas gig, we keep the cameras rolling.

It started on the 23rd. We gave Lyla her Christmas present from us, a Melissa & Doug kitchen. She was super thrilled and loves it to death. It worth every penny just to see the smile on her face (evidenced in this video). My faith was restored in what Christmas was all about after seeing her light up. And no, I’m not talking about the fact that it was a present. I’m talking about the fact that it brought her joy and happiness. Joy and happiness. Just part of the spirit of Christmas.

That night we headed to my Mother-in-Law’s and she needs to know how lucky she and her fabulous husband Steve were the ONLY family members that got to enjoy our little girl healthy. It was in the car on the way home that The Fever arrived and we took a turn for the worse.

MIL’s husband Steve has collected quite a few Santa suits over the years. He took the box out and we had a little Claus fest and laughed and laughed and laughed. Lyla naturally thought we were all crazy.

Christmas Eve was the night of OMG I ATE TOO MUCH FOOD and my already tight skirt was turned in for a pair of pajama pants WAY earlier than it should’ve been, but OMG. My Dad and his lasagna. I could not stop myself.

And there was this sick, sick Bean. With a fever and misery and a diagnosis just that morning of a double ear infection. But she’s proof you can dress up anything:

And the best part of course was that Granddad was there, at the head of the table, demanding more shrimp cocktail and eating his share of Dad’s lasagna. It was a beautiful night.

Christmas morning we woke, the fever still with us and took our traditional photo by the tree.

Oh the hideousness of that shot. Two stressed and exhausted parents with VERY little sleep and a sick kid. Fabulous.

(Last years photo can be seen here.)

We headed up to my Mom’s after our mini-Christmas at our house. We opened presents there and ate entirely too much food AGAIN. After drugging the kid with Motrin, she managed to enjoy one of her toys for a bit.

My Mom made Lyla one of her Moon Beam creations to wear on Christmas Day. I took most of the photos of her in it with my mother’s camera so I only have this one, which neither does the kid or the dress much justice, but… well, whatever.

We rested on the 26th and boy did we need it. Lyla slept in my arms most of the day and ran a fever around 102.5 all day long. It was so terrible to see her so miserable, but I’d be totally lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the snuggling I got out of it. There’s still something so special about your kid sleeping in your arms that I cant quite articulate. It’s just awesome.

Sunday morning she woke up fever free and lord what a relief it was because we were hosting the remaining in-laws that day. We had SUCH a great time with them. The food was great, the conversations even better, and my nieces were happy to play with Lyla so I could have some adult time. We have many pictures of this day since we gave FIL a digital photo frame complete with loaded memory card (which we um, loaded that very day!), but my absolute favorite is the one of these three beautiful cousins:

So that was our Christmaseseses in a nutshell! I hope you all enjoyed your families and friends and presents this holiday season. Here’s to a happy and HEALTHY 2010!

I’ve written before of my fear of The Murderers. It’s strange that I feel this way because I live in a very safe town in a very safe neighborhood. My neighbors are home all day (but they’re over 80 and probably hard of hearing), there are cars on the street, people out walking, etc. I can go out and start my car in the morning to warm it up and then come back in and collect Bean without worrying about someone taking it. I feel safe in my house.

But I guess I watch the news too much. And all too often bad things happen to good people in good towns who felt safe in their houses, etc. Every nightmare I have typically involves a home invasion. I remember one I had right before Lyla was born that shook me to the core. I dreamed someone had broken in the house and came up to the bedroom while we slept. I slept on the side closest to the bedroom door. Although I was still dreaming, I forced myself to open my eyes. It was still relatively dark in our room with early morning shadows casting through the window. The lights on the cable box looked like eyes. I was pleading with the murderer to spare me, that I was pregnant. And then I finally came out of it. Scared to death.

Today after dropping Lyla at school I pulled down our street slowly and saw a older model, white car with tinted black windows turning into our driveway. It’s a single driveway so if I pulled in behind them, I would’ve blocked them in. Instead, I pulled further down the street and turned around. While I did this, two guys got out of the car. They were dressed in jeans, over-sized hooded sweatshirts, and boots. One of them held a black portfolio case in his hand. The driver of the car pointed at the number on our house and they both walked up to the front door.

I was frozen. I was in plain sight, sitting in my truck watching this whole thing while parked right out front of my neighbors house. They rang the bell and stood back from the front door looking up at the windows. One turned around and peered into the garage door. I think I was holding my breath.

After a few minutes of waiting at the front door, they got back in the car, backed down the driveway and continued down the street to the next road and then turned left. The driver and I locked eyes. I’m 100% sure that they were just at the wrong house. That they were looking for a house with the same house number on a different street in the neighborhood.

I knew I wouldn’t feel comfortable being home all day. Especially since they knew no one was home when they knocked on the door and then would’ve seen my car in the driveway after knowing it was me sitting alone in the street. I whipped into the driveway, ran in the house, grabbed my laptop and whatever else was on my desk and ran out.

I’m now parked on my mother’s couch for the day.

I wondered about calling the police or the management company, but the bottom line is that I’m SURE it was fine and that I’m just paranoid. I’m sure they were just lost. It happens frequently.

I think it’s just that I don’t want to wind up on the news…

Happy Holidays and a prosperous 2010 to all my readers, their families and loved ones. My gratitude to and for you all could not be expressed in a silly holiday card post.

We keep you all in our hearts this holiday season.

Love,
Allyson, Dan & Lyla

I seriously need to stop watching The Biggest Loser.

I get all weepy at the first sign of someone else’s tears and/or joy. I listen to their stories, their triggers, their reasons. And it makes me sad. It makes me hurt for them.

It also inspires. Not in the way you’d think. I mean, I’m typically sitting there with a bowl of ice cream watching these people sweat their asses off. Literally. It inspires thought.

I’m not obese. I’m not a food addict. I haven’t had some horrible drama happen to me that I’ve been unable to deal with. I haven’t just “given up”. But there was a time not long ago where I paid a lot more attention to me. When I spent a lot of time focusing on my needs or what I thought were my needs back then.

I was far from a princess by definition, but my nails were done every two weeks, my toes were done every four, and every part of me was waxed. Regularly. On a calendar schedule. I also had quite a few pairs of jeans and shoes and bags that cost more than I’m willing to admit. That me is gone, much like the 400 lb people on Biggest Loser after three months of Bob and Jillian.

I think back on that perfectly manicured, waxed, highlighted person and while she was pretty and definitely thinner, she was missing something. Something a new Coach bag and pink nail polish wasn’t going to fix. There was a hole in her heart. A hole that was filled, overstuffed actually, on August 25, 2008. A hole that now has this in its place:

While I wouldn’t mind a guilt free shopping trip or pretty nails or toenails that don’t hurt in my shoes because they’re too long, I choose to spend that time (and money) with (on) my daughter and husband. I enjoy THEM far more than I enjoy hot wax being dripped on me in places hot wax should never be dripped (unless you’re in to that, in which case, Hey! Enjoy yourself, Buddy!). I hate being away from my family (this fact blows a lot of minds) and I choose to put time with them ahead of things I used to think I needed.

And I think I’m happier for it.

*****

Click out of your reader to see the new header! Thanks to Cass for taking the photos and putting it together and to my husband for the holiday theme idea!