i have TWO of them?!?

Lefty got all the love there for a while... until EZ discovered Righty tonight. Total party.

random tidbits

On Christmas Day, we had a simple meal by candlelight.





I had wanted to do this Christmas Eve, but we ended up having a little shindig at our place that night instead. But next year, I think Christmas Eve will involve a simple meal of potato soup, bread and cheese by candlelight. This year, we turned off all the lights and electronics as we nibbled dinner (leftovers from the party the night before) and talked about what it must have been like to be there in that humble stable on the night of the Savior's birth. The kids loved it... another tradition in the making.

Yesterday we took EZ and M to the doctor. It looks like EZ's hubba hubba wasn't just in my head. 10-week-old stats: 24 inches, 14 pounds.



It's like he knows his chub is back-breaking.



M is only 28 pounds and will be four in just a few months. She, on the other hand, could stand to gain a few pounds. Ever la princesa.



Tomorrow is L's birthday. Guys, I remembered one day early and bought presents... TODAY!! Epic!



But then I forgot to organize the party he was actually asking for this year... so, in reality... epic FAIL.

So did you know 2010 is almost over? The year felt like 2 days long. On the other hand, it also felt like a decade of events got packed into 365 days. Weird how that happens. But really. What a year. A few of the most life-changing, heart-wrenching and meaningful for me this year:

Tyson
Love, Faith and Prayer
Families Are Forever and So Are Friends
Just Call Me Elder
Friends
Released
Fellow Chilangas, This One's For You
Race Report
Little Burrito
Accountable

Life is amazing. And every single day, I am just grateful for... life.

oh snap

The boys got haircuts yesterday. M wanted in on the action, and I thought, Yeah, she could use a trim. I'll just snip off a little across the bottom...

A trim, people.

But that's not what happened. No. Because Mommy is like a two-year-old with scissors, I inadvertently lopped off about four inches of hair. I snipped off the first big chunk and looked down in horror at what I'd done. M smiled up at me and said, "I look so pretty, Mom?" So innocent and trusting. I faintly smiled back and said, "Oh yes! So pretty." But what I really wanted to yell out was, Holy-mother-of-crap-what-have-I-DONE?!?

And then Bruce walked in a moment later and said it for me. "What did you do?!?"




There was a time when M channeled Bruce Lee. Now we've graduated to Crooked Bob. The hair catastrophes are endless around here. No more scissors for Mommy. We'll be seeing a professional shortly.

mele kalikimaka

"This is the best Christmas EVER!"

L says this every year. And he's right. With every year that passes, we have more and more to be grateful for. And you know what I say every year?

"We're just gonna keep it simple! One toy each and that's it!"

But then you're looking at the toys on Amazon.com or Toys 'R Us and you're like, Oh, but they would love this! And this! And this! 

Suckers.

Anyway, this year my kids drew each other's names and bought each other gifts at the market. Another tradition in the making. They loved it. In one of the pics, you'll see L hugging M in ecstasy. She'd picked out a cheap, little police man set for him, complete with a dart gun, handcuffs, and a badge. L had picked out a Tinkerbell notebook and silly bandz for her. My children obviously know each other very well. And I guarantee L will be drawing in that Tinkerbell notebook tomorrow while M is handcuffing herself to the kitchen chairs.



























Since B got an iPod touch for this birthday, he gifted his now very unused Nintendo DS to M.



She was thrilled.















And EZ sat around being super chubby and tres awesome. And maybe a little nervous about all the commotion.







And then he passed out shortly after this.

Sidenote: Are you loving these Christmas pjs or what? They are courtesy of my dear sister-in-law, Kauti. Since I had given away every stitch of baby clothing after M was born, I had nothing for EZ when he came along. Luckily, Kauti gifted me all her baby boy clothes. And since she is the mother of all bargain shoppers, EZ has had a new outfit for every single day since he's been born. You think I jest, but I don't. No laundering necessary. A new outfit every. single. day. And then some. (Kauti, we think of you every outfit change.)

Mele Kalikimaka, friends! Feliz Navidad! Merry Christmas!

smells like asian up in here

Last night Bruce whipped up a big pot of seaweed soup.



My kids are huge fans.









Okay, so EZ's like an indirect fan. Let's get one more look at Chubby.



Anyway, back to the soup.



This soup cures all evils. You know how every country has their version of chicken noodle soup for the sick and afflicted? Like the Japanese have miso soup, the Chinese have hot and sour soup, and Mexicans have caldo de pollo with a fat dash of chile and lime to clear the sinuses. Well, Bruce is half Korean and the Koreans do seaweed soup. This is stellar stuff. Healthy and healing.

But this morning, I woke up to an apartment reeking of garlic (a key ingredient). I think it was coming out our pores and seeping into the bedsheets. Egads!! This kind of situation severely unsettles me, because (at the risk of revealing how non-PC and prejudiced I truly am on the inside), I have a serious phobia of smelling Asian. I hate it when Asians smell like... Asian. Crikey.

Anyway.

I went and whipped up a batch of sick fudge and fatty meatballs this afternoon (for a little Christmas Eve party tomorrow night), which then re-Americanized the apartment and clogged my pores with the buttery aroma. And now I think I feel a zit coming on. All hail the American way.

So... would you rather be obese... or reek of garlic?

Please commentate, debate, elaborate and modulate (this is for you, Joshua) below. Because I just can't decide.

bedtime christmas stories

Bruce has been reading Christmas stories to the kids every night before bed. New tradition in the making.

And speaking of Bruce, just a little shout out to my one and only s.o. Thanks for manning the fort while I was down. We would never have survived the widespread carnage of gastroenteritis without you there to pick up the pieces (literally, chunks), rub achy backs and bellies and lay out makeshift beds on our bedroom floor at 2 a.m. every night for a week. Real men clean up vomit.

And so we can stop thinking about the fact that I just typed the word vomit, click on this little video below and bawl your Christmas eyes out. Or at least I did. How long do I have before I can no longer blame neutralizing hormones?



Flash mobs rule. And food courts have fantastic acoustics.