The Christmas That Ate Everything
January 02, 2012
As in, ALL THE FOOD. ALL THE COOKIES. ALL THE WINE. ALL THE BRAIN CELLS.
Hello! And happy 2012. Sorry for slacking off last week. After Instagramming the shit out of Christmas Day, I guess I got distracted by our hosting duties, my new-found mastery at making pâte à choux and filling it with horribly fattening delicious things, and Noah's pleas to assemble ALL THE LEGOS.
If you ain't no punk holla We Want Legos WE WANT LEGOS!
The Spongebob house (worst set EVER, was missing a ton of pieces and will fall apart if you breathe on it too hard) was a brief diversion from the True Meaning Of Christmas, however, which was:
MORE STAR TREK
GOOD GOD COULD THERE BE ANY MORE STAR TREK IN THIS PICTURE
(Judging from the complete Enterprise Bridge Model Playset with Poseable Action Figures and Various Other Impossibly Tiny Pieces currently taking over my entire living room floor, the answer is YES.)
"It's not that big, I don't think," my mom texted me re: this cardboard spaceship. Lies! Such lies!
My mom was actually the one who had to go to the emergency room on Christmas eve. Her calf and ankle were swollen after she arrived on the train and kept getting worse so I insisted we go and check it out. "I Googled!" she protested. "It's nothing!" (Again with the lies!) I didn't even have to Google that one to know exactly what WebMD article would come up first. Never challenge a blogger to a Google-off, people. YOU WILL LOSE. GET IN THE CAR.
(Two ER visits and two ultrasounds later, it was diagnosed as a Sprain Of Mystery and not a blood blot.)
This family, right?
Ike spent the week acquiring eleventy billion new teeth, no exaggeration.
(Slight exaggeration: He now has seven. SEVEN.)
He also did more than his fair share of eating all the food. Parsnips, carrots, peas, zucchini, pears, yams, celery root with potato, green beans with mint, a little Lobster Thermidor a Crevette with a mornay sauce served in a Provencale manner with shallots and aubergines garnished with truffle pate, brandy and with a fried egg on top and spam.
OMG IT'S THE CATERPILLAR I BARFED ON IN THE STORE THAT TIME NO WAY U GUYS.
After Christmas the second wave of family arrived, including my five-year-old nephew, so the real feats of strength could commence. And the beatings. And the "stop that, you guys, stop that, somebody's going to get hurt, stop that."
I think someone said something to me about "wow, I guess this is what it would be like with three boys" before it registered on their face that OH RIGHT THE BABY. But I may have imagined that comment because you know what it's like with three boys? Drunk. All the time. As much as possible.
(It's mostly full of stuff like this.)
Anyway! It's good to be back, little blog! But now I must be off because I promised the kids we'd go bowling one more time before school starts tomorrow. Then I have to get ready for another IEP meeting this week and lose 20 pounds of pâte à choux-related ass. I know. So much excitement going on with this rockstar lifestyle of ours, it's incredible that I can even find the time to type it all out sometimes.