Full-on Jolly

We don't mess around when it comes to the Holidays -- I've been blarin' the Christmas music since Halloween. So, by now, less than a month from the big day, you can bet we are full-on Jolly. I love, love, love it. Last night, we marched in the Elf Parade, winding through downtown with gazillions of other little elves, all jingling bells. The parade finished in the plaza, and we sang carols, munched Christmas cookies, and snapped pictures in Santa's Sleigh.

Anna was dazzled by the sights -- and didn't realize that she was one of the delightful sights herself. We printed Elf ears and pinned them to her hat, then used the removeable fur cuffs and neckline from one of her sweaters. Her elf shoes are Elmo slippers with green felt smothering Elmo's laughter.

Anna was introduced to the character of Frosty last night -- I think for the first time. A little girl sang "Frosty the Snowman" -- at the top of her lungs and with the fervor of little orphan Annie singing "The sun will come out tomorrow" -- and then Frosty himself made his appearance in the crowd, literally leaning on the arm of one of Santa's city councilwomen helpers, either because he was wasted or because that huge snowball head kept him from walking upright on his own. Anna didn't care though, she was seeing all of this through the untainted wonderment of childhood innocence -- and the sugar high from the giant Christmas cookie they gave us at the Gingerbread house. She was crazy about Frosty and, of course, we had to hear "Frosty the Snowman" on the way home. Luckily, mommy has an impressive collection of well-worn Christmas CDs and was able to quickly locate the Dan Tyminski version on the '03 Acoustic Christmas CD. Crisis averted.

Anna already knew who Rudolf was though! I will not attempt to convey her raptures at being allowed to touch Rudolf's blinky nose. I haven't the room to do them justice.

Today, we walked through a nearby old historic downtown and visited one of the cutest toy and fudge shops ever -- Polkadots! There we had a chance to visit with Santa. First, Anna and Santa compared boots...

Then philosophically discussed the merits of age -- being three is a big deal!

Then she asked Santa for a new "Ariel the mermaid" doll. Anna thought it was important to mention that the last one was broken accidentally. Mommy butted in with the meddling truth: that Ariel's head accidentally got caught in Anna's teeth. Santa was dutifully horrified to hear of Ariel's beheading, but he composed himself enough to request that should he bring her a new one this year, perhaps she could go to the trouble of keeping her in one piece as long as possible. Poor Ariel. She thought she had left those scary sharks under the sea...

I better quit for now. Thanks for reading all the way through ;-)

Up on Cripple Creek She Sends Me

Sing it, Bob....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xsj41Qs2Hmw

When I get off of this mountain

You know where I want to go

Straight down the Mississippi river

To the Gulf of Mexico

To Lake Charles, Louisiana

Little Bessie, a girl that I once knew

And she told me just to come on by

If there's anything she could do

Up on Cripple Creek she sends me

If I spring a leak she mends me

I don't have to speak she defends me

A drunkard's dream if I ever did see one

Good luck had just stung me

To the race track I did go

She bet on one horse to win

And I bet on another to show

Odds were in my favor

I had him five to one

When that nag to win came around the track

Sure enough he had won

Up on Cripple Creek she sends me
If I spring a leak she mends me
I don't have to speak she defends me
A drunkard's dream if I ever did see one



I took up all of my winnings

And I gave my little Bessie half

And she tore it up and blew it in my face

Just for a laugh

Now there's one thing in the whole wide world

I sure would like to see

That's when that little love of mine

Dips her doughnut in my tea

Up on Cripple Creek she sends me
If I spring a leak she mends me
I don't have to speak she defends me
A drunkard's dream if I ever did see one



Now me and my mate were back at the shack

We had Spike Jones on the box

She said, "I can't take the way he sings

But I love to hear him talk"

Now that just gave my heart a fall

To the bottom of my feet

And I swore as I took another pull

My Bessie can't be beat

Up on Cripple Creek she sends me
If I spring a leak she mends me
I don't have to speak she defends me
A drunkard's dream if I ever did see one



Now, it's hot in California

And up north it's freezing cold

And this living off the road

Is getting pretty old

So I guess I'll call up my big mama

Tell her I'll be rolling in

Bet you know, deep down, I'm kinda tempted

To go and see my Bessie again

Up on Cripple Creek she sends me
If I spring a leak she mends me
I don't have to speak she defends me
A drunkard's dream if I ever did see one

My Panties are Stuck!

I forget why, but I took Anna to story time at the Open Space visitors center. I'm rather fond of the Open Space areas in our city. Of course, it's Open Space in the sense of serene pockets of wilderness and wildlife tucked into the city, not Open Space in the Roswell martian sense. I saw online that they were doing a Southwest-themed story time, so Anna and I went last Saturday. The visitors center is breezy, monastary-quiet, and spicy with sage and juniper. Very relaxing for anyone not visiting with a 3-year-old.

Anna was one of the youngest in attendance at the day's activity-- and was by far the most active. She couldn't just look at the sculpture garden replica of New Mexico's topography, she had to climb the volcanoes; she couldn't simply stand on the lookout over the wind swept mud flats, she had to announce that they were poo-poo.

Story time was hosted that day by a retired teacher, who loved the kids and the stories dearly. Most of the kids were mesmerized by her inflective readings about Hopi children, coyotes, and rain dances. Anna loved the stories as well, she just had a hard time remaining still for so many of them. At the beginning of the story time, she and I were sitting together on one of the fancy red leather sofas, but she soon had to move about the place alternating between our spot on the sofa and the floor -- at one time cuddling with a sweet grandmother who I hadn't even met but who patted Anna's back and let her scoot up next to her and suck her thumb.

Towards the end, Anna crossed over into downright antsy -- the kind of antsy that embarasses a mommy. She was squirming all over, and though she insists on wearing dresses nearly every day, she hasn't come close to an understanding of lady-like behavior, so she kept tossing her legs into the air and flashing the audience with her Dora the Explorer panties, which were only covering one of her little toddler cheeks because somewhere during the course of the morning, she had put them on backwards.

Finally, I had to leave my perch on the couch and join her on the front row of the floor in some attempt to reign in the flailing legs for the last few minutes of the last story. She plopped onto my lap, but was still rocking like a beetle trying to right itself from having turned over onto its back. After one of my whispered attempts to get her to sit still -- the kind of whisper that comes out like a hiss -- she decided to try to whisper an explanation to mommy why she had to move around; she still, however, whispers in a voice that's louder than her regular speaking voice. She scream-whispers -- the kind of whisper that makes one red in the face -- because she doesn't really have faith that her whispers can be heard by anyone more than a millimeter away from her mouth. In truth, her whisper was heard by the cranes in the mudflats: "My Panties are stuck!"

All heads turned and all faces smirked. Before I could compose an answer other than a snort, she said it again -- louder this time, if that's possible: "My Pant-ees are stuck!" I tried to discreetly 'unstick' them, but she didn't notice and instead flopped over to face me, since I still, clearly, hadn't understood her: "My pant-ees are sssttuck!" -- this time with the tone of a teenager trying to get through to her idiotic mother. Like she was going suddenly learn to spell, pull my face up close to hers and go "S-T-U-C-K!"

My brain had been trying to figure out what to do in those few horrifying seconds, but it wasn't until her third proclamation that I actually got us both untangled and on our way out of the room -- so quickly her little legs were skittering like the cartoon roadrunner's to keep up. All the way out of the room she repeated the same phrase -- right into the next room that, conveniently, had the echo of a cathedral -- and into the bathroom. It was in the also echo-y bathroom that I explained in near-hysterical tones that we don't talk about what our underwear is doing when we are in public.

She seemed to accept the explanation and was fine once we got her panties on right-way-round. I actually took her back in there for the craft-time, though I was giddy with withheld laughter, so, thankfully, we have some lovely paper-plate dragonflies in our kitchen to remind of us the festivities.

Bugaboo in the City

Anna and I flew to Minneapolis in May. The flights out of Dever each time were so turbulant that Anna at first giggled, "Mommy this plane is bumping a lot!"

...and then a few minutes later she questioned, "Mommy why are you praying?"

It was pretty cold most of the time. We sported our outerwear that we never get to wear in winter in the 'querque.

The highlights of travel for Anna Banana were the grandmas, the grandpas and the cousins. Oh, the cousins!

The Cousins (and their noms de plume to Anna) are as follows:

Taylor ('Teen Idol'), Joshy ('The Protector') and Bryson ('The Accomplice'). See below for a dazzling impression of a Gap ad.

Other trip highlights include....

...Party at the Playpark: Here we are wrapping uncle Jason around our little finger.

..."Say Ah!": The famous Dr. Anna checks Great Nana's throat for 'germies.'

...First Time on a Horsey: We rode "Patches" at the 4H fundraiser that cousin Taylor was volunteering at. Since that day, every horse Anna sees is also dubbed "Patches."

...Tell me about the rabbits, George: We also cuddled/mauled unsuspecting bunnies.

...Tickles and Pitworms: Anna graduated from calling her grandma "Gaga" to calling her "Grandma" because she decided she was too old for "Gaga."

(Anna is too old. Not Gaga.

For the love of all that's holy...no one said Gaga was old!)

...The Social Gathering of the Century: We all went to Jaqueline's wedding and had a delightful time...

...Quote of the day: A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost.

~Marion C. Garretty

...The whole tribe: We spent some wonderful time at the Spakousky home with all of the extended family (more cousins!) and got some pics of Nana and Papa with their grandkids (missing Jacqueline and Misty...sniff).

...First time getting this shot: ALL of their great grandkids.

...Another Gap ad knock-off: Cutest bunch in the world!

Closing thoughts: Ufff!

Princessy, Wiggly Mayhem

Anna turned 3 -- and we turned an unsuspecting weekend into a toddler frenzy. First, came the parade of princesses at her party on Saturday.

We managed to quarantine the adults in the safety of the backyard and Steve BBQ'd the afternoon away, while the princesses played dress up, sang along to our Disney princess video...

............and chased the cat about willy nilly.

Then, on Sunday, we joined our friends at the 'Pop Go the Wiggles' concert.

We "played our guitars with Murray," screamed "Wake up Jeff!" every time the poor purple man tried to get some shut eye, and sang about fruit salad all afternoon.

The show even included ballerinas, which made little Anna say, "Ooooooohhhh," and rather than hold up lighters at the concert, the Wiggles instructed all the parents to turn on their cell phones and hold them up -- it had the exact same effect too. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star was downright inspirational...

Here's a whole herd of Wiggles, Wiggly dancers, and Wiggly mascots...

Mommy's favorite part (yes, mommy gets one!) was when Anthony and Captain Feathersword were telling a story of the Chickens coming to Albuquerque on the train. Anthony was a bit of a show-off. Go figure.

And then the finale with the Big Red Car driven by "The New Greg" (I think his name is Sam maybe).

It's an April Fools' Day Miracle!

Steve and I have something to celebrate. Tuesday, April 1st, is our 7th anniversary. That's the year where the gift is wool or copper if you're keeping track. Fingers crossed: maybe we'll get blankets and pennies.

We made it past the 7 year thing, and most of those years were doozies. In honor of our upcoming anniversary, and because I believe in building memorials, I'm going to be an annoying little blogger and publish one of my own poems.

Something Momentous
Like Israel’s desert wanderers,
We create memorial in this moment,
Gratefully piling up stones we will see
Later, when through memory hazy
With doubt and fear we look back,
Or circling lost (betrayed by our dominant stride),
We glance at the remembrance.
Look there; something momentous.
Faith coughs and sputters back to life.

We will infuse this moment with celebration
Of gifts and efforts.
We should celebrate such things:
In doing so we will celebrate God.

This is no small matter.
Let us celebrate, Let us commune,
Let us sigh with relief,
Thanking God and each other.
Leaves are made new and overturned.

He hands us this moment,
Gently dangling it from divine thumb and forefinger,
Lowering time into our clumsy, open palms,
And fills it with His presence, saying,
“Enjoy this one. Enjoy each other.
Your next step, your next 20,000 steps,
Are on my soil.”

It's okay mommy, I found one...

I did a really bad thing.

When I discovered that an Easter Egg hunt was being held in a nearby community, I told Anna we were going and built up her little expectations to a fever pitch. "Baby, it's going to be so fun collecting eggies!"

Then, I blew it. I got us there exactly two minutes late. For those of you "in the know" regarding Egg Hunts, that means I got us there when it was over. Apparently, it only takes a mere two minutes for a horde of basket toting candy fiends and their kids to sock away a few thousand eggs.

I was distraught. I scoured the green with her for anything that was left -- we found one inexplicably tiny chocolate egg. How could I have done this to her? She would never have even known this disappointment if I hadn't jazzed her all up about it.

I started to cry. I really did. I kneeled down and looked her right in the face and apologized that we didn't get to do the egg hunt. Then she did something that made me cry more. She held my hand and started comforting me: "It's okay mommy, I found one..."

I took her directly to the store and bought eggs and dye, and we did a whole batch ourselves for her to hunt down in the back yard that afternoon.

And she was fine. Of course, she was fine the whole time. It was her mommy that wavered.

Once she got to wear her Easter Dress, though, she was thrilled.

Of course, this is her after mommy took a gazillion pictures of her in her Easter Dress and wore her out...

Sigh. I try.