On the Eighth Day of Christmas....

....I turned 34.

In honor of this momentous day (at least in my mom's and my life), I bring you:

The Pros and Cons of a Birthday 5 Days Before Christmas...

Pro: So many twinkle lights that you almost feel like they've been put there just for you.
Con: So many twinkle lights that you ALMOST feel like they've been put there just for you.

Pro: The decorations are beautiful.
Con: The decorations have absolutely NOTHING to do with you or your birthday.

Pro: It's usually pretty easy to find yourself off of work or school because you were taking vacation anyway.
Con: All of your friends are also on vacation, usually in another part of the country, and so no one is available to help you celebrate.

Pro: All those tasty cookies.
Con: So many cookies that no one wants cake.

Pro: It's your birthday and aren't all birthdays good no matter when they are.
Con: It's also Jesus' birthday.
(Picture me here holding out my hands, one on each side, moving them up and down like a scale, saying, "Jesus' birthday," while moving one up, and "Danielle's birthday," while simultaneously moving the other down. It think you get the point here.)

Pro: Presnts.
Con: All of them are combination birthday/Christmas presents and are wrapped in Christmas paper.

Pro: Birthday money.
Con: All of it spent on other people's Christmas presents.

Pro: The sweet cards.
Con: They all read, "Hey Christmas baby....."

And I wonder why I've always had a love/hate relationship with this holiday.

Moral of the story....plan your conception activities so the kid is born sometime between February and November, NOT around Christmas. Or, at least if it is, have the sensitivity of my mother (who's birthday is tomorrow and also suffered the misfortunes of a Christmas birthday growing up) and make sure to go ABOVE and BEYOND in making it feel like a separate, special occasion, even down to stealing and re-wrapping your friends presents in birthday paper. Thanks mom. The mani/pedi/latte/lunch was great!

I'm chock full of sugary, buttercreamy goodness. And now I'm off to indulge in a bath with my new smelly bath stuff in my nice clean (thanks Doug) tub, while listening to my new i-thingy.

Hello 34, I'm Danielle.

On the Seventh Day of Christmas...

....I drove ALL OVER town looking for a doll house.

Yes, Emma decided she wanted a doll house for Christmas just two days ago. And I have not had an opportunity to shop for one until tonight.

It was ugly people. Ugly. Everything I hate about the Christmas season encapsulated in one crazy 35 mile trip around town to 3 different stores looking for a doll house.

And I didn't even get the one I wanted.

But in the midst of my Christmas rage at yet another rude shopper who used their cart as a battering ram in order to shove past me in a vain attempt to grab at the last of some plastic, piece of crap that their kid just had to have, I realized that I had truly been initiated as a parent in the midst of the Christmas season.

I used to watch news reports about parents like me, swearing that I'd never get so caught up in the crazies that I'd drive all over town, cutting people off, honking my horn, pushing people out of my way, sprinting down store aisles (and yes, I did all of those things tonight)....just....for....a....toy. But it's Emma. My little Emmers. And I want so badly to see her face light up on Christmas morning when she comes downstairs and sees her coveted doll house containing a "Belle" doll lounging comfortably on the chaise lounge. And now she will. And my heart is smiling for her.

As for not getting the one I want, well, I'm tempted to pull another crazy parent stunt and set this one up for Christmas, only to return it when the other one becomes available.

Have I lost my mind? It's a doll house.

Oh...and if you see an Imaginarium Cozy Country Doll House lying around your local Toys R Us, let me know. Apparently I'm willing to drive pretty far.

My neighbor on You Tube...

...check him out. Mullet and all.
Seriously, this is just too close to home right now.

On the Sixth Day of Christmas...

...I got my mother-in-law.

For those of you that are cringing, stop. My mother-in-law is actually one of the coolest people I know, and I respect and admire her so much. She's funny, witty, smart, very well put together, classy, down to earth, real, and all with a great sense of style. And she and I have always had a great relationship. We get each other. Same sarcastic sense of humor. Similar tastes. And like her, I am very practical.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon, I received a birthday card from her, and after reading the front cover, I put it down and immediately called her up laughing hysterically.

It read,

"My son is very lucky to have you as his wife..."

Now I wasn't laughing because I disagree with this sentiment. Quite the contrary. I think Doug and I are both lucky. After a rocky start to our marriage, we have both grown together in a most unexpected and complimentary way. And I know that we are both lucky to have the other in our lives. But when your mother-in-law sends you a card that says so....well, that's not only atypical, unexpected and phone call-worthy, but blog-worthy.

Anyway, I called her up to thank her for the card and let her know what a kick I'd gotten out of it before I'd even opened it. As per usual, we chatted for about 20 or 30 minutes updating one another on the goings-on of our lives, had a few good laughs, and bid farewell until next time.

And then, this morning, in the midst of making fruit salad for preschool, constructing teacher presents, dressing two children, dressing myself, and going shopping all before 9am, I stopped to read the inside.

I wasn't prepared. At all.

The card reads,

"My son is very lucky to have you for his wife....
....and I am just as fortunate to have you in my life."

Yup. I started crying here. You see, my mother-in-law and I share one very important quality in common. We both HATE those sappy, overly emotional, sing-songy cards, yet we're both inclined to send the sentimental variety. Problem is, it's hard to find one that sounds sincere without also sounding trite and schmaltzy. So, I know that, like myself, she took great care in picking out a card that said just what she wanted to say and really meant it.

And as far as I'm concerned, she hit the nail on the head. This was one of those, "You had me at hello," Jerry McGuire moments.

The card went on to say, (and yes, it went on....as if that first part wasn't enough)

"You're more to me than a daughter-in-law,
you've also been a friend,
and I hope this year will bring you love
and happiness without end."

And with that, I was reduced to a blubbering mess. Emma asked me, "Mommy, why are you so sad."

To which I responded, "I'm not crying because I'm sad baby, I'm crying because Nanny sent me a beautiful card and it made me happy."

And after listening to so many of my friends regale me with stories about what a pain in the ass their mothers-in-law are, and how they are often riddled with self-doubt and brought to tears by these seemingly tyrannical women, I thought, "how lucky am I."

I too have cried over my mother-in-law. But the only tears she brings to my eyes are tears of joy, and disappointment that she's so far away.

I miss you Nan. I miss our weekly visits and chats over coffee. Thanks for the beautiful card. It was perfect.

On the Fifth Day of Christmas...

...I got a good laugh...twice!

The first comedian in the house is, of course, my daughter Emma who out of nowhere declared,

"Mommy, you're just a little bit crazy!"

To which I stopped dead in my tracks (while putting away laundry), chuckled, looked up and said,

"Tell me something I don't know. And guess what....you got my genes little girl!"

Then I laughed maniacally.


The second comedian in the house is my husband, although he had no idea what was so funny about what he said.

While watching a Discovery Health program called, "Medical Incredibles," the two of us found ourselves caught up in the story of a little boy who was born with a VERY rare condition. He had a twin that had taken up refuge inside his abdomen. So this little boy literally found himself pregnant in utero with his own twin, complete with its own amniotic sac. Apparently this condition has been seen in various forms only 76 documented times in the last 2 centuries. And some of these cases involve the twin developing into something called a, "parasitic twin," in which the twin partially develops outside the body. The result of such a rare anomaly is a fully formed child sporting the legs, or full torso, or extra arms of another child which extrude from the hosts abdomen. It's quite a sight let me tell you.

Now this condition, in and of itself, is of course not funny at all. Luckily for the afflicted, it's benign and easily resolved with the removal of the, "extra parts." And frankly, from a scientist's point of view, I found the whole thing fascinating. Doug on the other hand was not quite as intrigued by the show, but rather shocked. And when the show broke for a commercial and I turned over in bed to inquire as to his thoughts, I caught an open-mouthed, raised brow, wide-eyed grimace staring in horror at the tv screen. And before I could even ask what he thought, he gave me.....

"We are SO not having anymore kids! Are you kidding me!?! Kids with legs sticking out their stomachs. Get the f**k outta' here!"

And I just died laughing. I watch these shows and come away with more scientific questions than I know what to do with. He watches and comes away with that. If nothing else, we are good compliments to one another.

Thanks for the laughs honey.

On the Fourth Day of Christmas...

....I got to see through my son's eyes. And how clear was the view.

My mother works as the director of a large assisted living facility here in Cackalackie. This afternoon, said facility hosted a Christmas party complete with Santa, sugar cookies, candy canes, and crafts. It was really adorable, and the kids enjoyed the extra opportunity to visit with the jolly, fat, bearded guy one more time for last minute requests....because as you can imagine, telling him what you want once just wasn't enough for my daughter. Nope, she thought of MORE things she wanted and had to see him just one more time.

Anyway, in attendance at the party were of course, lots of grandkids and their parents, grandparents, and in many cases, great grandparents. Guests ranged in age from 8 month olds just taking their first steps to a few fragile women in their mid-90's who had already taken their last. And once again, I was struck by this circle of life....this return to helplessness and the need for loving care when navigating what seem to be the simplest of tasks.

But what struck me even more than the shared experiences of two generations who are seemingly in stark opposition to one another, was the wonder each inspired in the other. In a room full of people normally overlooked by the more capable, and able-bodied of us, it was the dimpled hands that were quick to reach out and caress the wrinkles of gnarled fingers with awe and abandon. It was the cheurbic faces that buried themselves in the warmth of years-worn, hand-knit sweaters without reservation. Wide eyed babes gazed upon fragile forms held firmly to their wheelchairs with strategically placed pillows and blankets without judgment or fear. And clouded eyes looked with awe upon small forms bouncing with ease through a room full of endless wheelchair obstacles.

And as I watched my 21 month old son crawl his way onto the lap of yet another sweet old woman resting comfortably in her wheelchair, I saw how much they needed each other. How they fed each other.

She lit up at the touch of his pudgy, taut, little fingers. She delighted in his incessant babble, and miniaturized adult gestures, hungry for the touch and attention of someone who was able to look past her frailties and ill-health. She devoured him as he looked with wonder upon her frail form instead of the sorrow that she was used to seeing reflected in the eyes of her children and caregivers.

And he....well, he came alive in the midst of his captive and adoring audience. Performing the best of his adorable "toddlerisms", he egged her on, getting the very attention that I sometimes find myself too tired or too bored to provide.

They needed each other. They fed each other's spirit. And in lives where they often find themselves regarded as burdensome, they alone were able to look upon one another with wonder, admiration, and awe. And I thought to myself how sad and ironic it is that we middle-aged folks, with our 20/20 vision and intellectual acuity miss so much. How sad that so often we are blinded to the wonder of these people not by naivete or failing eyesight, but by our responsibilities and our fear of death. Perhaps it is the innocence of a child, ignorant of life's imminent demise and its often slow and sometimes cruel progression; and the wisdom of age, appreciative of all of youth's possibilities that allow these two generations to see each other so clearly. With so much love and abandon. With an understanding that only those on the cusp of life's beginning and end can muster.

On the Third Day of Christmas...

....I got a son-in-law....or at least the promise of one.

At the dinner table:

Emma: Mommy, did you have fun today with Daddy.

Me: Yes baby, I always have fun with Daddy. That's why I married him.

Emma: Mmm. I'm gonna' marry Nicky 'cause I always have fun with him.

Me: That's sweet baby, but you can't marry your brother.

Emma: Who do I marry then?

Me: When you get older, you marry a boy you fall in love with.

Emma: What's his name?

Me: I don't know sweetheart. You'll have to wait and meet him when you get older.

Emma: Oh. Ok. So I'll ask him when I'm four.

The innocence and naivete of a three-year old pushing the limits of her understanding of all things adult is priceless. So she's going to get married at the ripe old age of four. I just love how her mind works, and I guess this proves that age really is nothing more than a state of mind. A lesson to be taken to heart as my own birthday looms just days away. I forget sometimes that in her brief 3 years, with so much accomplished and so much yet to discover, another year represents opportunity, understanding, and a chance at growth. And I am humbled by her awe and willingness to move forward fearlessly.

(Incidentally, it's noteworthy that this moment comes days before my 34th birthday and my daughter is 3 going on 4. Ok. It's a silly twist on numbers, but I couldn't help but notice.)