In typical OCDWPT style (That's Obsessive Compulsive Disorder with Procrastinatory Tendencies. Look for it in the DSM-IV in the Spring of 2009!), I planned the girls Christmas dresses, curled and style their hair, and generally just spent so long on getting them camera ready, that I lost any good available lighting and therefor had no Christmas pictures this year. And on Christmas Eve (when we do our familiy get-together) I almost completely forgot to take pictures. So I figured that I would not have any decent photographic representations of this, the happiest Christmas ever.
However. Take 30mg Adderrall, add 44 oz of diet Coke, 2 Marlboro Ultra Lights and then sit in front of Photoshop CS3 for a few hours, and some of the pictures become quite passable....
Deceptively cute, aren't they?
The manic glee of Christmas which sets Avery in constant motion...
The pre-teen dramatic Christmas spirit of "Mom, I'm so over this photography crap. Can you get that thing out of my face now?" (Does age 5 count as pre-teen? 'Cause the attitude sure as heck fits...)
We love our Mommy because she gives us presents!
We love our Gaga because she gives us cookies!!
My sister and her adorable family. My nephew Cayden (age very very 2) was even nice enough to stop his head spinning around 360 degrees long enough for this picture. It was a Christmas Miracle!
And the lovely Ron. Dear, sweet, loveable Ron. His superpower? Complete inability to keep his eyes open for a picture. For any picture. Flash, no flash, posed, candid, anything. He blinks. I'm working on an animated GIF for those who don't beleive me. It's adorable. Most of the time.
And what's the most Christmasy shirt he could possibly ever wear? Why, the Buddha shirt of course! (We like it for the style, not for the religion, so you need not have an aneurysm Grandma. I promise we're at church almost every Sunday...) It's still fun to antagonize my mom though :) And yes, even when he's not facing the camera, the eyes are still closed.
Hope all of you had a really fabulous holiday of your choice. I miss you guys oodles and hope to be back in the swing of things by New Year.
I've been completely remiss in writing and reading blogs of late. And even
in just communicating with anyone not directly in my line of vision. Which
is really just totally sucky of me. I seem to be going through a depressive
phase on my spectrum which ranges from gloomy to depressive. It
particularly sucks because at this time in my life, I have more to be happy
about than ever before. My kids are healthy and cute. I'm ridiculously in
love with the most fabulous man on earth. My mom is alive, I have a job, no
one is dying (that I know of) so what the hell is my problem? I can pull
myself up for a day or two at a time, but those times are becoming shorter
and I see myself withdrawing. Not wanting to finish anything or even start
anything. Not talking to people. Wanting nothing more than to just take a
very very very long nap. I want very very very badly to get back under the
care of a medical professional, but work has been such that I've been unable
to. Soon though, I'll have vacation days. And I might just use a big block
of them to go take care of my frustrating little brain.
So yeah. That's why I've been kinda absent. And really, no reason to
worry. Things are badass. I'm just trying to find a way to relay all that
badassiness to my lazy effing neurotransmitters. Go jump a synapse or
something.... stupid dopamine.
Love you guys! Will talk when better medicated! Kisses!
Ash
Getting ready for their new years party!!!
My dear friend Leigh Ann is a finalist in Ellen's "Bad Santa Pic" contest and you should totally go vote for her. Not only are her daughters screaming, red-faced, and crying in the picture, but the Santa is leering like he might actually eat them alive if they don't shut the hell up.
It's a great pic. Go vote for it per the link below. If you don't, I'll send the evil Santa to your house and he'll make you cry just as much as Devyn and Avery.... And I mean seriously. Do you want this guy creeping through your house in the middle of the night?
Here is the link. You can vote as many times as you like. The more you vote, the less likely Evil Claus will stalk you....
http://ellen.warnerbros.com/2007/12/vote_on_your_favorite_bad_sant.php
Doesn't she have the cutest astigmatism ever?
I was actually really shocked when we found out she failed her vision
screen. Then watching her read the letters at the doc's office was even
more shocking. She was briefly worried that the kids would call her names
and make fun of her, but I told her that if anyone teased her, then she had
my permission to either spit on them or kick them. Because it's important
to impart these conflict resolution skills at an early age.
Oh, and doesn't she look about 7 or 8 in these pics? She's barely 5 and a
half. My baby's growing up... waaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!
Yes, we've found the box in which the creepy babies were packed. Let the fun resume!!!
Tell us about your holiday traditions.
Submitted by Talk is Cheap.
My favorite holiday tradition is my sister's birthday. Linz was born on December 23, 1981. The night before she was born, Mom and I drove around looking at Christmas lights, so we still do that tradition every year. And that is the last Christmas related thing we do until Linz's birthday is over.
Mom made the rules for her birthday early on:
No joint birthday/Christmas presents.
No wrapping presents in Christmas paper.
No wrapping paper with red or green.
No Christmas shopping on her birthday.
No Christmas carols on her birthday.
No verbal or implied acknowledgement of any day other than Lindsay's birthday, on Lindsay's birthday.
It probably seems extreme, but Mom wanted to make certain that her birthday didn't get lost in the midst of all the other Christmas craziness. And honestly, I look forward to it every year because it provides a much needed break from the madness. For one day I can quit stressing about presents and wrapping and cooking, and just celebrate with my sister. After that break, I definitely much more in the mood to resume the Christmas stuff with a better frame of mind than if I hadn't had the break.
I mean I'm still the big sister, so I still get to give her shit about it. In fact, I've taken to calling December 23 "Birthmas", just to tease her. But she knows I'm probably a more strict enforcer of the Birthday Decrees than anyone.
Thanks for Birthmas, Linz! ;)
What's on your holiday wishlist?
WORLD PEACE!
Okay, and maybe some Jimmy Choo shoes too. But actually no because part of owning them is the experience of buying them. Or so I'm told. And really, the Choo's are something I aspire to acquire on my own. So don't anybody go buy me any Jimmy Choos for Christmas! I mean it! I know I've just confused the shopping plans of so many with that edict, but I just can't allow it. If you want to pick up a nice Manolo Blahnik or Christian Louboutin, feel free. But the Choos are from me to me.
Seriously though. I can't make a wishlist because I'm 30 and somethings just have to fall by the wayside at some point. 30 feels a bit too old to be making detailed lists for Santa. Plus, I've just trained the girls to be my little mobile vocal wishlists. They came home from a trip to Sephora knowing the correct pronunciation of Issey Miyake and the knowledge that should anyone inquire what I want for Christams, those are the two words to chant repeatedly. Kids are so handy. I don't know why I didn't have them sooner.
PS. If you really want to know my wishlist, I do have it in an Excel spreadsheet and you can filter it by category, priority, and estimated price. :)
Creepy Baby vs The Snake
(posing and concept by Linz and her husband Jerry)
(photos by moi)
(creepiness by the baby)
(and maybe a little by the snake)
We interrupt the march of the creepy babies for this profound thought: It is okay to be average.
Groundbreaking, I know. But it's something I've been struggling with, and when this article popped up on my Yahoo this evening, I decided to pay attention. It details the link between depression and perfectionists, and it makes a frightening amount of sense.
I've been accused of being a perfectionist, but I usually deny it. My mom feels responsible for expecting too much of me, and claims she shouldn't have incessantly told me that there was no limit to what I could acheive. (Yeah, that kind of encouragement is super-bad parenting, Mom.) What others characterize as perfectionist ideals, I describe as simply knowing what I'm capable of and holding myself to that standard.
The article says:
Some researchers divide perfectionists into three types,...: Self-oriented strivers who struggle to live up to their high standards and appear to be at risk of self-critical depression; outwardly focused zealots who expect perfection from others, often ruining relationships; and those desperate to live up to an ideal they’re convinced others expect of them, a risk factor for suicidal thinking and eating disorders.
As a mother, I've noticed that I'm becoming that other kind of perfectionist... the kind who begins to set high standards for other people. Mostly, the girls bear the brunt of that. I exhaust myself sometimes trying to enforce behavior that isn't possible, and I'd be much more relaxed if I just resigned myself to the fact that family meals will feature burping and fart noises for a least a couple more years. That they're not going to always use their "inside voice" at the movies. That standing still on both feet for more than 2 consecutive seconds is maybe just too lofty a goal for Avery. And the biggest expectation that I need to relax is that my children are not me.
I think every parent dreams of having a little version of them running around. When I was pregnant with Allie, I just knew she would look just like me, act just like me, have the same interests, sense of humor, and the same gifts. And for the most part, I've been right. Even she can't tell the difference between pictures of her, and picture of me at the same age. She's got my strange sense of humor, my shyness and sensitivity, and my creative flair. I assumed that she'd have my brains too and couldn't wait for her to start kindergarten so that I could find out just how smart she really was.
I thought she would learn how to read quickly and easily. (Because I was reading at the age of 4.) I thought she would be recommended for the gifted program. (Because I could read 6th grade level in the 1st grade and was skipped to 2nd.) I thought she would breeze through her lessons and come home begging for more challenging assignments. (Because I started writing my first novel in 2nd grade.) I thought she would be like me. I thought she would be a genius. I know every parent thinks their kid is special and smart and above average. But I just knew that I was actually right. That all my brains had been passed on to her and she would use them better than I ever did.
She got her first report card right before Thanksgiving. She mostly got "S" which is average. She got an "E" in one area. She had several "N" marks which indicate a need for improvement. Her teacher even wants her to do in class tutorials on a few points. I freaked. I felt like I had failed. I felt like I had messed something up and that something was wrong with her. I called my mom crying, worrying that I didn't start flash cards early enough, or that I should be reading more books to her, or maybe all the trauma of divorce and moving and life had stunted her intellectual growth. I didn't expect her to be typical. I expected her to be like me.
Mom told me "This is what you want. This is easier. You don't want her to be like you." She reassured me that Allie was normal, but I emailed the teacher anyway. I asked what I could do to help. Did she need to be enrolled in Kumon? Should I purchase special software or workbooks? Would practicing with her 2 hours a night help? Is she normal? Is she going to repeat kindergarten? Did I fail?
Know what I found out? She's normal. She's average. She's learning things at her own pace and it is perfectly within the range of what a kid her age should know. She's not at the top of her class, but she's not at the bottom. No great measures are required on my part beyond what I'm already doing. Except maybe taking a big fat chill pill and getting over it.
I admit that I grieved for a bit. Then I realized how stupid that was. She is normal! How many parents pray for that exact same thing? She's healthy, happy, and she gets to be a kid! She gets to learn 5-year-old type things. She gets to be friends with other 5-year-old kids without worrying about alienating them. She won't get bored with school because she'll always be learning. She'll get to ask me for help with her homework and I'll actually be able to help her. I've always said I wanted her to have a normal, stable life and she'll have it. No shuffling her around, trying to figure out what the hell they can actually teach her. She gets to be a real, live, normal kindergartener. I never had that, but she will.
And on further reflection, what good has my big ol' IQ done me? Not much. I was miserable in school, never finished college, and I'm certainly not using my much heralded intelligence in my work. It always felt like a blessing to be above average and special, but I'm beginning to see how it hurt me as much as it helped me. I don't know that I'll ever feel like I'm living up to my potential. I'll always know that I could have done more with my gifts, had I applied myself more. I'm that perfectionist who is expecting herself to live up to ideals I believe others expect of me. And that, frankly, is just stupid.
I always make a New Year's resolution to not be so hard on myself. To not expect perfection. I never would have thought that my expectations were contributing to my depression, but it makes a lot of sense. If it's okay for Allie to be average, then it's okay for me to be average too. I know I'll need some help in adjusting my expections of myself (and other's), but she's helping me already. After all, she is the absolute BEST average kid in her whole class.... ;)
