I’ve had some requests for some Christmas pictures; I’ll post more after we return to Denver next week. Should it ever stop snowing so we can fly home, that is.

#1: The long-awaited Kiddie Kandid’s Kristmas shots . The one we chose:

#2. The one I should have chosen: (for full explanation, see Kiddie Kandid’s Katastrophe here)

#3: Bode’s first haircut from cousin Ashton. I like to entitle this one: WHAT DA FWEAK??!

#4. Jamie’s favorite “gift that keeps on giving.” My sister-in-law Jane bought “Jamie” an R.E.I. gift card and this sassy little number. Finally, someone who gives the lingerie to the correct person. As I’ve said for years: it ain’t for me.

Though I do think his legs will look stunning….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

As usual, our Christmas was comically chaotic. We threw our stellar Christmas Eve party, had a grand time the next day opening the presents but even more entertaining was watching the kids. Haddie got everything Dora and Bode was so entranced by it all, especially all the tissue paper and bows he received for Christmas. Yep, we’re just that generous.

I love everything about Christmas except the huge meal. Call me crazy but I’d rather spend time playing games, watching movies and just hanging out vs. barking at each other in the kitchen. Because I so love spending my holiday stressing about cooking and then cleaning up all freakin’ day. Call me an anti-traditionalist. But here are some highlights:

How You Know You’re in Canada for Christmas:

“Jane, that’s a pretty huge tree. How tall is it?”
“About 12 feet.”
“How’d you get the ornaments up so high?”
“We used a hockey stick. But I got mad at your brother Pat when he put the porcelain angel on top and in his attempts to get her to stay, he started high sticking her face.”

How You Know Dogs Rule the Roost:

Would you eat these tasty goodies that were left on our table?

Yeah, me too. Turns out, this deceptive little package was in actuality dog treats. And they didn’t taste nearly as good as they look (I found that out the hard way). As I’m usually the butt of all the jokes, this blunder was no exception. I thought all was forgotten until we were opening gifts and I was surprised to receive a gift bag from Jane’s snarky shitzu.

“Oh, I feel so badly for all those horrible things I’ve said about Rosie over the years!”

But then I opened it.

My brother Jade had retrieved the dog treats in all their glory, wrapped them up and regifted them to me. Can you say D-O-G-H-O-U-S-E???????!!!

How You Know Hemeroids can be a Beautiful Thing:

After dinner, my Aunt Sue gave Jamie and my mom some electrical shock therapy to help with their individual ailments. Because what would Christmas dinner be without torture tactics? I thought the highlight was when Aunt Sue accidentally jolted Mom with about 100 volts and her eyeballs bugged out of her head. But I was wrong.

The real highlight was our discussion that followed on Preparation H. Don’t ask what the connection was; there doesn’t need to be one in my family.

Me: Did you know body builders put Preparation H on their abs before a competition? It pulls moisture out of the skin and shows greater muscle definition.

Jane: Beauty pageant contestants do the same to eliminate wrinkles under their eyes.

As we discussed the ramifications of Preparation H for aesthetic purposes, there was a lull in the conversation before my brother Pat acerbically announced:

“I think I’ll just keep using it on my butt, thank you.”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

We received a Christmas miracle of our own this year: Jamie was able to get a flight on Christmas Eve!

Since I’ll be posting a bit more infrequently this week as my entire family enjoys the holiday together, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my best Christmas ever. It actually wasn’t even at Christmastime. Huh? As I posted at this time last year, when I was at BYU I did a Study Abroad in the Holy Land, with Israel, Egypt and Jordan as my home. It was my privilege to study under some of the most renowned Jewish, Muslim and Christian leaders in all of Jerusalem.

One particular outing still resonates in my mind. We’d gone to Bethlehem and had toured the Church of the Nativity and other related sites. From there, it was onto Shepherd’s Field where I witnessed for the first time what the true meaning of Christmas was all about….

“I am sitting here at Shepherd’s Field, enjoying the view of Jerusalem today. Call me crazy, but whenever I’ve thought of ‘fields,’ I’ve always thought of green grass and rolling hills! The area we’re in forms kind of a valley, with rocks at every footstep. There is a scattering of small trees that appear to be scratching their fingernails on an ebony sky. This is the only form of life in this desolate, harsh terrain.

Shepherd’s Field. How many hours did the shepherds spend with their flocks here, just enjoying its quiet beauty? What a simple yet fulfilling life they must have lived. Yet they must have been such righteous men, so in control of their own world. What an honor to be witnesses of both angels on high, and then, the Messiah. What an incredible place this must have been to come back to! A place of divine manifestation, a choice place where the Son of God would begin his mortal existence. There is so much that has happened in this Holy Land. The ministering of angels, the footprints of the prophets, the touch of the Christ.

It’s 7:40 p.m. and the Muslim’s Call to Prayer echoes throughout the valley. It’s as if it is coming from two separate sides of Jerusalem and I am the central focal point where they both shall meet. In the moonlight, it appears as if everything around me is moving in slow motion. A subtle, heady perfume is in the night air. The darkened sky is pure, cluttered only by an eternity of stars.

I rarely recognize significant moments when they occur. Momentous things seem to happen without the clash of cymbals or the beating of drums. Usually they occur in the most innocuous and mundane moments, and we understand the impact only when we view it from the summit of the future. But tonight, I recognize. And appreciate. And will never forget….”

-Jerusalem Study Abroad
July 31, 1997
Merry Christmas to all!

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Jamie’s flight tonight has been canceled, which means he will not make it to Calgary until late Monday afternoon due to the utter chaos at the Denver airport. Being husband-less on Christmas sucks beyond words but almost as bad is he’s also transporting all the presents.

He was snowed in yesterday and allegedly worked from home. I called later that evening to ensure he’d survived his day but I couldn’t reach him for a few hours. And then I remembered: it was the BYU football game and he wasn’t able to watch it on our satellite because I was recording something else.

I called his father.

“Duane, get my husband on the phone.”
“Who, Jamie? Oh, he’s not here.”
“You lie about as well as Haddie when she claims she doesn’t have a poopy diaper, yet the stench runneth over. I can hear the game in the background. Get him on the phone.”

[Reluctantly hands the phone over, commiserating that their cover had been blown.]

“Jamie, I’ve been worried sick about you! What on earth are you doing leaving the house in these kinds of conditions? It’s supposed to be a snow day!!!!!!”

“Honey, don’t you know? It’s a snow day from work, not football….”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Lest you had forgotten about me, I’m still alive. And yes, our igloos do have Internet access up here in the Great White North. DSL, even. I’ve just been caught up in a whirlwind of family and friends since we arrived and this is the first moment I’ve had to sit down and just breathe.

I know you’re all waiting for misshapen tales of my flight to Canada but (brace yourselves): it went smoothly. So smooth that I’m still in shock over its texture. The only real bump was on the descent when both kids screamed that their ears were going to explode. Oh, and when my parents were a half hour late picking us up. I still feel kinda bad about all those nasty [and anonymous] messages that were left on their answering machine.

Coming back home is always a trip (pun intended). My parents have lived in the same house for 40 years and I am flooded with an immeasurable amount of gratitude for all my wonderful memories every time I drive into our neighborhood. This visit in particular has taken me down memory lane as I’ve hooked up with two of my closest friends to hash out all the good gossip. How we now have good childhood friends who range from doctors to drug addicts. And how grateful I am for the path I have chosen to land me where I am today.

This morning, we went to my high school for a hair appointment with my niece (who is in their cosmetology program). If acknowledging that I graduated from that hellhole..errr..high school 16 years ago isn’t bad enough, even more sobering is walking in with two kids. Try it sometime if you really want to feel olllllllld.

Haddie did marvelously during her first non-mommy-hack-job haircut and Bode got some serious action from every ogling 17-year-old girl in the room. And he left his mark on every single one of them. The puke kind. He’s such the ladies man in the making.

Jamie arrives late Friday night and the rest of the crew (my brother Jade’s family) will be here Saturday. Well, weather permitting. Denver’s big blizzard disaster (see pics at our house) has even made the news up here and has earned respect among the hardcore who-cares-if-my-nose-hairs-are-frozen Canuckian crowd.

It took my dear husband three hours to drive home and it’s likely the poor thing will be snowed in tomorrow. Wait: retract feigned sympathy. He will probably curl up to the fireplace, watch the History Channel and revel about allllll the sleep he’s receiving.

All of which are definitely worth a few extra night shifts when he eventually arrives in Canada, wouldn’t you agree?….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

The kids and I fly out to Canada today. The funniest thing happened on our way out the door. I checked my ticket and realized through blurred, sleepless eyes that we don’t fly out at 11:33 a.m. like I had anticipated. Turns out 1133 was the flight number and I had completely botched our departure time.

And so it begins….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Some of you may not be aware but Hadley is the worst picture taker ever. This is not an exaggeration. The only reason you occasionally see quasi-cute pictures on this blog is because 1) I have a digital camera and take a oodles shots in hopes I can get just one keeper and 2) I bribe, threaten and beg her to “Please, just smile once for Mommy or I will personally remove Dora the Explorer from this earth.” Gotta strike ‘em where it hurts.

Jamie has always been completely against getting professional pictures taken. So my act of rebellion during his business trip was to drag the kids into Kiddie Kandids and submit myself to a nervous breakdown.

We went early before the store opened and there was already a line. As I waited, Bode chose that small window of eternity to do his irregular poop. You know: the one that has been backed up for a week and is like Mount St. Helen’s every time he erupts (the next explosion will surely be during our plane ride to Canada on Monday). Good thing the pictures were full-frontals; there’s something kinda unappealing about a lovely brown stain all the way up his back.

The actual photo session was frustrating because we couldn’t get the kids positioned correctly and our inept photographer wanted The Hurricane to hold Bode. Because she obviously doesn’t value his life as much as I do.

“You mean to tell me out of your gazillion studios across the country that you don’t have anything to prop him up?”
“Not for the ones who can’t sit up yet,” she said accusingly.

Because it’s obviously lazy Bode’s fault he’s still a baby and can’t do it on his own yet.

It went downhill from there as The Hurricane defied our efforts to lure anything but scowls, escape attempts and canned smiles. Bode, on the other hand, did marvelously. Problem was the person beside him in the picture. As we reviewed the photos at the end, I weighed my options.

“Can we just crop her out?”
“You want to cut your daughter out of the picture?”
“Don’t you think she deserves it? He was at least making an effort to smile.”

The photographer analyzed me, trying to figure out if I was just kidding. I mostly wasn’t.

In the end, we ended up choosing the only halfway decent one of Hadley but unfortunately one of the few where he wasn’t smiling. I later regretted this decision and wish I had chosen one of his many cute ones with her canned smile.

Just to truly memorialize the occasion, of course.

In Part II of On the Road to the Loony Bin, I will detail the flight I take by myself with two kids up to Canada tomorrow. Just be glad you’re not on Flight 666. Oh, and pray for those other passengers….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Prior to having Bode, I had the goal to nurse him for six months. This was lofty given my negative experience feeding Haddie who, after three months of resisting, finally went on strike and I dried up forever. I was happy. She was much happier. And I dreaded ever doing it again.

But this time around was much different with my “boob man” Bode. For some reason, I am reluctant to admit that I have enjoyed nursing him. Though I won’t miss being constantly attached at the hip with him (or rather, boob), there is a part of me that will miss the way he grins like he’s in nursing nooky nirvana every time he dives in.

We’re taking a cruise without the kids at the end of January but that still seems so far away and I wasn’t planning to start weaning until after New Year’s. Jamie has been pressuring me lately to start now. I honestly thought it would be a breeze because Bode eagerly takes one bottle a day from Jamie prior to bedtime.

I was wrong.

My plan last week was to replace one feeding session with a bottle. Unfortunately, I discovered that though Bode is delighted to take a bottle from Daddy, accepting one from me is a completely different story.

I settled in on the couch and he geared up for his flashing session. But then came Bottle. He took it grinning, as if to say, “You’re messing with me, right?” After a few minutes, he realized holy crap…this is some sick joke and where is mama’s manna?

And then he wailed and wailed–a revolt dedicated unto every kid who’s ever had his mom’s breast unceremoniously taken from him.

I finally gave in and nursed him. The waterworks immediately turned off, his devious smile returned and he gazed at them lovingly as if to say, “Don’t ever leave me again.”

In a word: it is not going well. OK, so that’s five but who’s counting?

I informed Jamie about my failure and he started giving me tips on weaning.

“Jamie, how do you know all this?”
“I’ve been reading up on it lately.”

I don’t know about you but it was somewhat disconcerting to think my husband knows more about this than I. And it doesn’t make sense that he is pressuring me to stop doing something that could potentially save him loads of money every month in the cost of formula.

But then I discovered his memo:

Dear Bode,

I want my boobs back.

Sincerely,
Your Father

Suddenly, it’s all making sense….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Saturday was Hunky Hubby’s 36th birthday. You know, the same guy who is ditching me the rest of the week for a last-minute business trip to California. WhoTheCrap plans something this late notice and this close to Christmas? Those yahoos at Yahoo, that’s who. I’m not that bitter. But I will be if he returns with a tan.

I’d like to say I went to the same effort for Jamie’s birthday as I did the Christmas party but I’d be lying. Part of the reason was he already received his gift the day after Thanksgiving. This was the one and only time I will ever entrust a 2 1/2-year-old with a secret. It took her exactly 2.4 seconds from the time he walked in the door for her to lead him to where I hid his new car stereo. Happy birthday, indeed.

The other reason is we were just so utterly thrashed after the Christmas party and a bad sleep night with Bode. Though the little tyke is doing better and is “only” waking up 2-3 times, we’re still in the hole from his two-month stint of waking up every hour. I’ve been promising Jamie for a while that I’d move Bode’s bed out of our room but have been stalling because it’s easier to have him in close proximity. For the record, I’m completely against co-sleeping. Which is why I usually end up doing it around 4 a.m. out of sleepless hysteria.

And so the next morning when I thought Jamie had gone back to sleep, he was actually kicking Bode to the curb a.k.a. moving him out of our bedroom. Happy birthday, indeed.

That afternoon, Haddie had a birthday party for her friend up the street. They hired a company to throw a little train-themed bash and Hadley had the time of her life. I’m kind of an amateur as to the cost it takes to throw a kiddy party so queried my friend Kristen about it.

“We only paid $325 for them!” she elatedly replied.

I almost choked. That is supposed to be some kind of a deal?

That night for Jamie’s birthday party, we invited his family over for cake and presents. At the last minute, we decided to get Chinese and watch the second part of my present: Season 1 of The Office. The cost for Jamie’s big bash:

Costco cheesecake: $14.99
The Office marathon: $21.00
Cheap Chinese food (for seven people): $16.01
Jamie finally kicking Bode out of our bedroom: priceless

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I survived our Night in Bethlehem Christmas Party. I would like to say it was well worth all the effort but it was one of those cases where the negatives far outweighed any positives. Don’t get me wrong. The booth decorations turned out amazing, the evening went smoothly and most people dressed up in Biblical attire to get into the spirit of it all.

It’s just the drama behind the scenes that still has me up in arms. I can now understand the Holy Wars. Those Crusaders claimed their reasoning was a fight against Islam. But I know the true meaning: they were control freaks who set the chairs up in an unacceptable fashion. I expect the history books to change immediately upon the advent of my discovery.

Let me get something straight: I am in charge of all social functions for our ward (congregation). Way back in October, I gave leaders in the ward specific assignments to help pull this off and extensively followed up with each of them. Some were wonderful and followed through 100%. Others, NotSoMuch.

It started Monday when I found out the person in charge of constructing the manger scene had delegated it to another. Fine. I was annoyed but it was still getting done so I coped. But then everything fell through with it and suddenly the night before, I was faced with having to throw it together at the last minute because no one would step up and take responsibility.

If that wasn’t bad enough, things came to a head with Egg Lady. Though she is a tremendous organizer and planner, she is an obsessive control freak and has to have her hands in E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.

She stopped in briefly on Thursday night when we were setting up. When I told her what happened with the manger scene, she made the accusation it was my fault. That I hadn’t given everyone enough time (because it took me two hours to pull off what I gave them two months to plan). That when she was the Activity Person, she did blah blah blah. I am not a contentious person but these comments and others made me snap and the fight began. I finally walked away because she was not backing down.

I didn’t sleep all night because I was so worked up. When I arrived the next morning to drop some decorations off, she was there. I tried to be pleasant but it took her exactly five minutes to start criticizing. This time, she didn’t like how the chairs were setup. I told her a man in the ward had graciously done it for us and they were just fine. End of story.

Until I showed up later that afternoon right before the event and SHE HAD REARRANGED THE DAMN CHAIRS ANYWAY.

Now, because I am married to Jesus Junior I have not done anything wicked. Well, except for the above expletive. And because he is a calming influence he has me convinced I need to talk it out with her. Talk. Where’s the action, the drama?

And so for now (well, just as soon as I’m calm enough to play the diplomat in this battle) there will be peace in the land.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog