If your blog needs a makeover. . .

Enter Blonde Ambition's makeover giveaway!

You're welcome in advance.

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Momversation Monday: Bad Mom Moment

EDIT: For some reason this was scheduled to post on Monday, but it got posted today instead. Momversation Tuesday. Roll with it.
Today's post is inspired by this momversation:



My poor Baboo. He has a cold, is teething, bumped his head and got a goose egg, and had his shots yesterday. He's super clingy and will only sleep pressed right up against me. I'm about to rip my hair out, but I feel bad because he's the one whose suffering. I also should've been watching him when he clunked his head on the couch. Bad mama. I know he likes to crawl under the couch, I know to keep an eye on him or else he will push himself up on all fours while under there and knock him noggin on the frame, but I was--what else--on the computer and clearly had my eyes elsewhere. What's worse is that I heard him crying and didn't pick him up right away because I assumed he was just whining about something unimportant. You know, like being hungry or having a diaper full of poop. When I saw the huge lump on his head I screamed like I was in a horror movie and promised him I'd never go on the computer again. That lasted, oh, half an hour. My husband shot me daggers with his eyes for the rest of the day, even after the nurse at the health line asked me a bajillion questions (Do you think that if he couldn't move his arms and legs I'd be on the phone with you right now? Do you think that if he was having seizures we wouldn't be on the phone with 911 instead?) and then assured me that he was fine.

That was my worst mom moment so far, and what scares me is I know they're only going to get worse from here on out. First time he pees his pants and then cleans it up with my cashmere sweater? First time he gets detention for fighting at recess? First time he stays out all night and forgets to call? Heaven, help me.

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My guilty pleasure: The Bachelor

I'm not going to lie or apologize. I love that show. I used to experience shame because of it, but I'm over that. Yes, its ridiculous. No, nobody (with the glaring exception of Trista and Ryan) ever actually stays together. But it's dramatic and funny and it gives me a chance to vicariously experience dates that I will likely never go on in my life (ziplining in Hawaii? Helicopter rides over France? I am not a Rockerfeller). And aside from all that stuff, it is not nice to talk about people that you know in real life behind their backs. But you can totally do it when you're watching people on a reality show because, let's face it, what do they expect? I can make fun of them all I want, and that is probably the number one reason why I watch the Bachelor--even though after Brad rejected both Jenni and DeAnna, I swore I'd never watch that show again. And then when Jason picked Melissa, and then dumped her for Molly, I vowed the same thing. And hell, I'll probably end up pissed at the end of this season and say the same thing again. But you'll know not to take me seriously. Because the show is just too entertaining and addictive to give up. I spend my days inside an 800 square foot box, I got to get my thrills where I can, you know?

One of the best parts of watching The Bachelor are my husband's sarcastic comments throughout the episode. He says that its the only way he can make it through the show, though this season he admits that he actually likes Jake for sending home the airheads and putting crazy Michelle in a cab for repeatedly saying she wanted to go home, just so he'd beg her to stay.

Here are a few of my favourites from The Hubb's repertoire of hilarious comments. We'll call this Hubby Words of Wisdom, The Bachelor Edition:

When asked if he thought Vienna was attractive (trick question, haha):
Vienna looks like a Zombie. A Zombie with $40,000 teeth. Do you think the other girls don't like her because they're racist towards the undead? Is that racism?

In reference to Michelle, who got sent home last week for demanding to kiss Jake and then getting upset because she'd known him for TWO WHOLE WEEKS and the kiss wasn't long enough:

You'd think that by now they'd have reached the end of the supply of attractive women who are crazy.

In reference to the fact that Jake is so afraid of heights that he was CRYING when he had to go bungee jumping on his date with Vienna (though that could have also been due to his fear of toothy zombies):

"Isn't  he a PILOT!? Would you want the guy who's flying your plane to be up in the cockpit clutching the hand of the stewardess and bawling like a little girl?"

Stop by next week for more sarcastic comments from my husband!

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I love free things! I love jewelry! What could be better than FREE JEWELRY!?

I'm participating in the blogging event, One World, One Heart by giving away a necklace handmade by yours truly. One of my goals on my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days was to make a piece of jewelry, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity. It's a gorgeously funky glass leaf pendant strung on a suede choker.

To enter, just leave a comment below with a way to get in touch with you! The winners will be drawn on February 15!

To enter other great giveaways in this event, visit this link.

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Flame Free Friday Confession: Confessions of an Oreo

Here's my confession: It's a big one, and something that I'm not proud of, but here it is anyway.

Sometimes I hate being Black.

I hate the hair. It is the bane of my existence. It either needs chemicals, or extensions, or massive amounts of combing and blowdrying and oils to make it look decent. And I hate that I feel that way. Why can't I just go natural? Whenever I contemplate going natural, I get pressure from, of all people, my mother. I can't go natural, I have to look "good". Why isn't the way I look naturally "good" enough?

I hate the assumptions of others. I hate that people think that I have to dress a certain way (Apple Bottom Jeans, lots of bling, Baby Phat baby-tees), and listen to a certain kind of music (hip hop, gospel, and gangsta rap).

I am not like that. I am not like my cousin who is getting her PhD in race and race studies. I am not like my sister who only dates black guys and enjoys Mariah Carey and Chris brown.

I love to sing, but I channel Sarah McLachlan more than. . .honestly, I paused here because I can't think of any black artists besides Janet Jackson and Whitney Houston, who I don't think are popular anymore.

When I was in high school and going through my rebellious phase, I didn't wear low-rise jeans or basketball jersey dresses. I lined my lids with black eyeliner and wore shirts with skulls and cross-bones on them.

I can't play basketball or run track, I am not a good dancer, and even in my post-baby body I am not booty-liscious.

But I am expected to be and do all of these things. I'm not and I can't and I don't even want to. I want to not disappoint people when I don't turn out to be what they expected me to be. I don't want people to be impressed or surprised when I don't use the current slang. I don't want to have to be ashamed that I'm more interested in travelling to Greece than Africa, or that I prefer HGTV to BET.

I just want to be allowed to be myself. I don't want to be called an Oreo. I don't want to be shunned by my own family members because they think I am "white washed". It enrages me that my own people are stereotyping themselves so badly that they are surprised when another Black person isn't exactly like them.

Are all white people the same? Do all white people drink tea and play water polo and summer in St. Barths? No? Then why should all Black people be the same?

I just am who I am. I cannot help what I like, and I will not modify what I do. If that's not Black enough for you, then you're the one with the problem. And frankly, you're invited to twist off my top, dip me in milk, and bite me.

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Sweet Home Alabama (or Canada. . .whatever)

Today I'm participating in Mama's Losin It's writers workshop. The assignment is to write about all the places that I've called home.

I have moved 19 times in my 24 years. It's so crazy I almost don't believe it. I know people who have lived in the same home their entire lives, and I am a little bit envious. They can show me the tree they planted when they were a child, the place where they buried their beloved hamster, and the place where uncle Chester tripped and cut open his forehead when he got wasted at their baby sister's third birthday party. I don't have that--my entire history condensed in the space between four walls. So when I think of the places I've called home, I dont think of buildings, but rather, people.





When I was a little girl I had a friend Tiffany who lived right up the street from me. We ran back and forth to each other's houses all summer and I liked her house best because she had Nintendo. Our families camped together, and they were some of the best vacations I can remember taking. They even out-ranked Disneyworld, because having a friend there makes all the difference. It's the people, not the place.

When we moved away, I had a best friend Molly that I met on the first day of school. She and I were inseparable and even did our third grade speeches about each other. For two years we played together every day, had sleepovers on Saturday nights and spent Friday nights talking to each other on the phone while watching every episode in the TGIF line-up. My mom says she can remember coming into the living room and seeing us just sitting on the couch, hugging.





The next time we moved I didn't have another best friend, and I don't know that I've had one since. I had a schoolmate at our new house who I walked to the community pool with, but I didn't like to sleepover at her house because her mother smoked and she snored like an elephant clearing its nose.

The next neighbourhood we lived in was full of young families with young children, and I got baby-sitting jobs with yuppies who came home 5 hours after they said they would and doubled my pay to make up for it.




When I was 17 I had problems with my parents so severe that I moved in with a friend for 6 months. We ate dinner in the living room on TV trays and watched the news, and for the first time in awhile I was able to breathe. Her mother was crazy, but her father was a peach and I married someone just like him. (Does that mean I'm the crazy one in this relationship?)

I went away to college and lived with forty girls, and it was just as hellishly wonderful as you can imagine. I made friends I will be close with for the rest of my life, and it also made me want to run screaming into the night several times a month.

A few years and roomates later, I found the perfect house and I loved it. It wasn't big or fancy, but it had arched doorways, yellow walls, a sunny kitchen, hardwood floors and a fireplace. The yard was spacious and filled with berry bushes and mature trees. I could have lived there forever. But one roomate got married, then another moved to Europe, then another got engaged and I had to leave it behind, because how could I carry the rent on my own?

Soon after that I was the one to get engaged and then married, and my home ever since has been wherever my husband is. It's wonderful to have that constant.

And now that we have a family of our own, I am adament that we will put down roots. I do not want to spend his childhood moving around, always looking for the next best thing. When we find our home, I want to stay there. I want him to bring his college roomates there for the holidays, and then his wife, and then his children. I want him to be able to say "Over there is where we tracked how tall I was getting every year, and that's where mom fell and pulled down the Christmas tree when she had too much eggnog." Though maybe I will have to have a talk with him about which stories we share and which ones we never tell daughters in law (or social workers) about. *wink*

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I have a problem with playing in Haiti

People are on a cruise. In Haiti. Royal Caribbean took people on vacation. To Haiti. There are people sitting on the cruise deck, stuffing their faces with food, donning their bikinis, frolicking and playing and gambling, while people die--IN HAITI! This interviewee seems to think that its fine because the cruise line brought aid, but I think the following:

It is their responsibility to bring aid, but NOT tourists.

It just strikes me as being incredibly insensitive. Can you imagine going through a tragedy the likes of which you have never seen, while hundreds of people are having the time of their lives--on freaking vacation, while your home is decimated? I have no words.

What do you think?

More details here:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/34936685/ns/travel-cruising/

http://news.moneycentral.msn.com/ticker/article.aspx?Feed=AP&Date=20100115&ID=10992213&Symbol=KSS

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/opinions/editorials/let-the-cruise-ship-dock/article1437196/

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Updates

The Home Front: My neighbours are still ridiculously loud and trashy. There is still daily screaming, cursing and fighting, and weekly visits from cops. I overheard (from where I was eaves-dropping--if I have to put up with their noise I should at least get some good gossip) that the woman across from me is on parole, and that the woman downstairs has had her children removed from her before.

Here's my question: Do I have the right to judge? I feel like The Hubbs and I just had unfortunate timing regarding School + Baby, and we're paying for it by living alongside criminals, derelects and deadbeats.

My Mom: She's not doing much better. We went over to help cook and clean the other day, and she was really tired and weak. She tried to admit herself back into the psych ward, and they said things weren't bad enough yet. Nice, huh? They want to wait until she has another complete psychotic break from reality and THEN they'll help her. I am blind with rage.

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Momversation Monday: Life List

This momversation is about life lists.



I already have my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days posted on the side-bar of this blog, and it's been fun doing it and also kind of cool that when I think of putting something off, I can say "but I have to do it, it's on my list." It gives me an excuse to be a little indulgent and selfish, and make some of the little and big things that are important to me a priority. The idea of a life list, however, is a lot more intimidating. Maybe its because the fact that I have the rest of my life to complete these tasks means I'm more likely to put them off and never do them. Maybe its because the things on my life list would all be big things, as opposed to be 101 things list, which is comprised of both the silly and the significant. Instead of just listing off the things that I want to accomplish in my life, my life list is more of a set of ideals. It answers the question, "What are the most important things in my life?" Another way of phrasing it would be, if I look back on my life in 60 years, what do I want to remember having done?

My Five Big Things:
(in no particular order)

-Family
-Travel
-Professional Fulfillment
-Art & Growth
-Security

So how does this translate into a list?

Under family, I would say my goals were to get married and have children, as well as to add to my family by fostering close friendships. I am a firm believer in the idea that you choose your family even more than you're born into one. I have the husband and I have the baby, I have friends that are close enough that I'd consider them relatives, so as I go through life I just want to make sure that I continue to make these relationships a priority and really strive to make them work. I want to be close to my husband and son, always.

As far as travel goes, I have a list of places that I definitely want to experience. That list includes:
-Greece
-Hawaii
-New York (I went on music tour but the trip was too short. I want to go again and experience all of it)
-South America
-The Maritimes
There are a lot of other places too, but these are my top 5 (apparently five is a theme for me).

Professional Fulfillment: I want to start my career in a field that helps people, and I want to move around in that field until I find my niche. I also have other professional goals, which are also personal goals because they are things that could end up being business endeavors but could also be just for me. I'll talk about those under. . .

Art and Growth:
It's important to me to always be learning and growing and furthering myself as a human being. Some of the goals I was referring to above include becoming a better photographer. I do not necessarily need to become a professional--in fact, the more I learn about photography and the drudgery of editing, the less I want to do it for anything more than personal enjoyment. I do want to take a class someday, and I would love to have photos published. I want to be a professional quality photographer without actually having it be my job.

I also want to pursue writing. I have always wanted to have something published, and that is on my life list. Other goals include becoming a certified yoga instructor and getting my doula certification to assist women in childbirth.

Security:
Security to me means having put down roots, as well as having an investment in our future. In short, I want us to have a home of our own one day, and I want to save up enough money to retire comfortably. I want to be able to bless my kid(s) with a good education and a contribution towards their wedding or home, and I want to be able to help send my grandkids to college.

These are my Big Five. What's on your list?

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The Sound of Us (Book Review)

I picked up The Sound of Us randomly, while searching the post-Christmas sale at Chapters for a baby book. I saw a table of discounted paperback novels and rummaged around looking, honestly, for chick lit. I just wanted a light read, which this was. It was more than that too, though.

I loved this book by Sarah Willis. It's about a woman who is an interpreter for the Deaf. I have always been interested in sign language and have limited knowledge of ASL, but this book gave me an inside look into the Deaf  culture and what it's like to communicate primarily with one's hands.

The protagonist of the novel suddenly becomes a foster parent to a little girl who is half African American, and the story explores issues of prejudice (they never use the word racism, because it's more about pre-judging people than actually having something against any particular race). This aspect of the story was also fascinating to me because my son is half African American, and because as an African American myself I have encountered prejudice and outright racism throughout my life. It was interesting to read about these things from the perspective of someone who is not a visible minority.

Finally, I loved the portrait of the foster care system that this painted. It describes case workers, the places that the children go to visit their parents, the court system, what biological parents go through to regain custody of their children, and what it's like to be a foster parent. Of course all of these things will vary on a case by case basis, but as someone whose parents were foster parents when I was growing up, a lot of what the book touched on rang true.

My husband and I have also considered fostering to adopt our next child. We have gone back and forth on the issue quite a bit, particularly when we think of what it would do to us if it didn't work out and the child was taken away from us. But then we think about how wonderful it would be if it did work out, and we were able to give a home to a child who wouldn't otherwise have one--especially an African American child, who I understand have a harder time getting placed with a "forever" family. I won't ruin the end of the book for you, but if you pick up this little gem, you won't be disappointed.

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The Most Shocking Rose Ceremony in Writing Prompt History

Today I am participating in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, using the following prompt:

"Welcome to the most shocking rose ceremony in writing prompt history. Please award roses to the ten people (or items) in your life that you’d like to continue pursuing a relationship with."

Here Goes:

Canon 30D: Will you accept this rose, you wonderful piece of equipment you? You have changed my life. You have allowed me to take photos of my child's split-second facial expressions without the lag time that my old point and shoot had. I can actually document each second of a sneeze, yawn or laugh, and then click through them like a flip book and watch the entire thing like a movie. It. is. wonderful. No more crying because Baboo was doing something adorable and I "missed it".

Ikea Gulliver: Will you accept this rose? Thank you oh, so much for existing. Thank you for allowing me to sidecar a crib with a bed, so that we crazy, crunchy co-sleepers are no longer all sleeping a top each other like a basket of wiggly puppies. Ah, being able to stretch, being able to roll, being able to actually have my husband stay in bed with me all night instead of packing up and heading for the couch at 3 am because there is.no.space. I *heart* you. A puffy pink heart.

Etsy: Will you accept this rose? You are the provider of handmade goods, and for that I love you. Sure, you have taken a generous chunk out of my savings, but because of you, I have things for my son that none of those mall shoppers have. You are a trove of treasures, like custom wall decals for my son's room, unique, one of a kind jewelry I can't find anywhere else, and this camera bag that I am asking the Hubbs to get me for my birthday.

(Stephie Mc)

                               

(xcessrize)

Shutterfly: Will you accept this rose? You make great quality photo books and will occasionally toss 50 free prints or a free poster my way. For someone who has taken thousands of photos of her baby boy in the six short months of his life, you have been a God-send. My only issue with you is your use of Vividpics. I got some prints back the other day and my sweet Baboo looks like he has a spray-on tan, but ever since I realized I could turn that option off, I have been loving you more than ever.

Crinkle Book: Will you accept this rose? You are such a simple thing, I just threw you in my cart on a whim while shopping for my Sweet Baboo before he was even born. How was I to know you'd be the thing that saved my sanity on many a car ride? The baby loves you. You hang from his carseat and he crinkle, crinkles away. Your built-in teethers have also been a life-saver. Let's make beautiful crinkles together.

                                             

Moby Wrap: Will you accept this rose? You are amazing. I can put my behbeh in you and actually carry him, while having hands to get things done! I can cook! I can clean! I can wipe myself when I pee (don't judge unless you've had a baby who screamed every time he was put down)! More importantly, though, is the fact that you operate as an instant napper. 2 minutes in you and he's out like a light.

                                                       

Bathtub: Will you accept this rose? At the end of each day, when the Hubbs returns home, you are there waiting for me, filled with bubbles and hot wather. You are a place where I can unwind and have half an hour to myself to study, read a magazine or a novel, or to just think. During my pregnancy you were a GODSEND for my aching muscles and back! Now you are the only place I can go for a little "me time." Thanks for being you.

Electric Fireplace: Will you accept this rose? My older than dirt building is heated by a radiator, which my cheap-ass landlor has set to "frigid". Without you, my family and I would surely freeze. Plus, you look classy, and I don't have to have one of those fugly space heaters that also look like fire hazards. One day I swear I will have my own home, with a wood-burning fireplace, but you bring me so much joy in this little apartment of mine. Plus, the landlord may refuse to pay for heat, but this is a utilities included building, and he still has to pay for the electricity! Thanks for helping me stick it to the man!

                                            

                                         

Portable DVD Player: Will you accept this rose? What would I do without you? We have no tv in our bedroom, and you provide entertainment for me when our Baboo doesn't want to nap on his own during the day and needs me to lay beside him while he sleeps. You are also a CD player,  on which I can play ocean sounds for Boo to lull him to sleep at night. And you allow for family entertainment. All three of us can be together in bed, with space for Boo to roll around and play with his toys, and the Hubbs and I can have snuggles and watch a movie.

Internet: Will you accept this rose? You allow me to chat with other moms on message boards during the day when I would otherwise be lonely and have no one to talk to you. You let me read hilarious, insightful and informative blogs when the kiddo is sleeping in my lap and it would be too hard to hold and read a book. You link me to great recipes and let me set up playlists of my favourite music with the click of a button. I think if you stick around there's a chance of you getting the last and final rose. We have an "AMAZING CONNECTION!"

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Studio 54

Number 54 on my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days is create an artsy photo wall in our house. I was just turned onto this idea and I absolutely love it!

Tara Whitney is a genius. Absolute gorgeousness. Consider it stolen! The best part is, that in our ancient apartment building we cannot hang photos the normal way with nails. The walls are made of actual cement, so we have NO artwork up! This way, we just vignette the photos while they're still in the computer, then use lightweight plastic frames to put them up and we can attach them to the wall using double-sided tape. I can't wait to get that project underway!

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Number 16--done and done!

We just spent a gruelling hour and a half with a representative from Canadian Mothers Resources and the Heritage Education Funds. My brain is totally flooded with mutual funds, bonds, GICs, shares--for someone who failed grade 9 math, it was NOT a fun hour and a half. Thankfully, though, it's done. We have a registered savings account opened for our Sweet Baboo. By the time he's ready for college or university, at the rate that we are saving right now (and we plan to increase once we have both graduated and entered our careers) he will be $75,000 saved up for school. The best part? We can't touch it until he's 18, so we can't blow it and leave him with nothing the way that my parents did. What a load off!

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Thoughts and Prayers Needed for My Mom

For those of you who know the back story of my mom and her relationship with my father, things are not good. He had moved back in for awhile because he couldn't afford rent where he was staying anymore, but they were staying in separate bedrooms and he was supposed to be moving back out once he started his new job this month and saved up some extra cash. Well, apparently my mom is starting to cave and I found that really weird because she was so determined to not be with him anymore. The reason she is starting to cave, though, is because the stress of everything is really starting to wear her down. She has been getting gradually sicker and sicker over the past few weeks. She isn't eating, she isn't sleeping, her body really hurts (she has fibromialgia, so that contributes to it) and she doesn't have the strength to fight my father anymore. She says she needs him to help her because she's so exhausted. He's been cooking for her and getting her medicine and helping her up and down the stairs, etc.




Another concern I have is that my mother was hospitalized in the psychiatric ward in August because things got so stressful for her that she had a complete psychotic break with reality. She was in a really bad car accident years ago (that's how she got fibromialgia), and in July was supposed to be the settlement hearing. Well, they went to the hearing and neither the insurance company nor the cement truck company (she was T-boned by a cement truck) wanted to settle, so after four years of suffering she found out she had to go to trial. And then they were moving, had sold their house and were counting on the settlement money to pay for their new house because my father had worked for GM and been laid off when the economy crashed, so they had that financial strain .



Plus their relationship had really deteriorated. She watched her husband verbally abuse and scream at me while I was pregnant, vandalize my sister's property when she was "disrespectful" to him, and treat my mother like dirt, refusing to help her around the house though she was disabled and constantly making her feel bad about herself for gaining weight and not being the perfect housewife.



So one night, when my son was a month old, my sister called me in the middle of the night to tell me that "something was wrong" with my mom. She was crying and obviously very scared. I found out later that she was admitted to the hospital under the lable of "psychosis" because all the stress had just been too much for her.



I went to visit her and it was horrible. She kept reliving the accident over and over and trying to convince me that she really was injured and really couldn't work. She refused to eat while I was there so they made me leave, and when I was leaving she tried to follow me out and they had to pull her away from me.



I don't think I will ever forget hearing her yell my name down the hall of the Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit. They thought it would be weeks, if not months, until she was better and able to come home, but everyone in my family and our church prayed for her, and within 3 or 4 days she was totally back to her old self.



Well, the past few weeks things have started to deteriorate for her again, and I am afraid that she is headed back to the hospital if she doesn't get her stress under control and start sleeping and eating again. I am terrified of what will happen if she doesn't. I called her this morning and she sounded really out of it. So if you're the praying type, please pray for my mom.

I mean, it's my mom.

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Christmas Loot

An itemized list of what my son got for his first Christmas. . .
A record for his baby book :)

From mom and dad:
Tradition Starters
Traditional Christmas eve PJs
Traditional Baby's First Christmas Ornament
A stocking with 2009 embroidered on it


Toys and Clothes:
Onesies from Daddy's school
Wooden stacking rings

inflatable roller ball
push and spin top
squeaky plush hammer
teeny stuffed animals from IKEA

beautiful baby quilt
animal sounds playmat
wrist and sock rattles

Barenaked Ladies Snacktime CD

Books:
The Tooth Book
The Foot Book
Hop on Pop
The Night Before Christmas
God Must Really Love Opposites
The Alphabet Book
Maman, Je T'aime
Papa, Je T'aime

From his aunts and uncles:
-A shirt
-pants
-brown leather shoes
-Gap onesies
-A musical, light up teether
-a corduroy pageboy cap that matches his daddy's

From his GiGi:
Key ring teethers with spaces to put photos of family members
A learning snail

Clothes
Lion King pop-up book
Pooh and Friends board book

From his Grandpa T:
A glow in the dark teddy bear

From his Oma and Grandpa:
Learning Curve woofing dog
A dinosaur sleeper
Sweater
Pants
The Angel and the Lamb (A Story for Christmas)

Edit: In January, thanks to a snafu with the post office, Baboo finally got his gifts from The Hubbs dad and step-mom. They sent a $100 Sears giftcard, which we're going to use to get him a Jolly Jumper . The kid loves to jump, so we're excited for it to no longer be on us. His aunts and uncle, who are 6 and 3 years old, sent a Rollipop, which so far Boo just enjoys taking apart. They also sent the Cadillac of sippy cups, the Born Free Trainer Cup, which is awesome because the other two types of sippy cups Baboo has he can never get anything out of. The spout on this one is made out of nipple material to get him used to drinking from a cup. He loves it!

Well, its clear that Baboo got spoiled rotten, but The Hubbs and I didn't make out too bad ourselves!


My Gifts:
From my husband, who really did put a tremendous amount of effort into my gift this year, I got a new camera, which I have already raved about on here. The Canon 30D usually goes for upwards of $1300 new, and my wonderful, wonderful husband searched Ebay for me every day and bid on every. single. one until he managed to win an auction and get it for--drumroll please--$105! I am so impressed with his persistence! I love that man.

As if that wasn't enough, he also went into a jewelry store, by himself, with no prompting from me whatsoever, and picked out these gorgeous white gold hoop earrings, which he gave to me from Baboo. I was, again, so surprised! I put them on immediately, I love them!

I also got One Tree Hill season 1, because even though I am an adult, I still enjoy watching shows about high school students. Well, no one's perfect, right?

My stocking was stuffed with Blackberry Vanilla bath products, a tin of cashews, Jolly Ranchers, and Gummy Worms! The Hubbs did good!

The Hubbs Gifts:

 I got my husband a subscription to National Geographic, which was no easy feat. I thought I'd be on top of things and order it back in October, but that meant that they actually started delivering the magazine in October. . .and November. . .and December. Whoops. So I was basically guarding the mailbox for three months, trotting down there several times a day to make sure that he didn't accidentally discover any of the issues. I hid them and wrapped them and he had a few to read on Christmas day!

I also got him an I-pod shuffle, to replace the I-pod that I got him for our first wedding anniversary that got stolen. I'm aware that it's not a fancy I-phone and that it doesn't play video or write term papers or mow the lawn or whatever the newest I-pod is doing these days, but it does play music, and we're on a budget, so that's good enough.

From Our Sweet Baboo, he got onesies with his school logo on them so they can match (think of the photo ops!) and a customized Starbucks tumbler with photos of the two of them on it. He was very touched by both gifts.

In his stocking was oreo sippers, which he used to drink his egg nog, a word of the day calendar, a book of Soduko, a bottle of Whiskey and a few packs of gum.

I'd say we all made out pretty well this Christmas. Now it's snowing, and I'm off to start my 365-photo challenge by getting a photo of my baby making his first snow angel! Peace out!

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