This weekend was packed full of holiday goodness. And I thought I'd recap it all here today:
On Friday evening, the hubby and I were invited to a cocktail party. So we needed a babysitter. And this time of year, babysitters are a lot like Lego Harry Potter for Wii - in high demand and the cause of many fist-fights between normally peaceful mamas. All of our regular sitters were busy, so on one of their reccomendations, we lined up a new sitter, Megan. And Megan was awesome. The kids loved her. She was friendly and personable with us. She asked if the kids had allergies, if there was anything off-limits to them, and where our fire extinguisher was. (That last one stumped us. I'm pretty sure our fire extinguisher is still packed in some box from when we moved 5 years ago. Hey Santa, can you bring us a new one??) Needless to say, we left our house relaxed knowing the kiddos were in good hands and we could enjoy our evening out. Which is pretty much a Christmas miracle in itself, no?
Saturday morning we watched H's first basketball game of the season. Unfortunately, they were matched up against the team with mini Michael Jordan on their roster and subsequently, got creamed. But our little hoopster hustled his heart out, took a few shots, got some rebounds, and made us proud. Of course, it was hard to convince him that that was more important than a win.
That afternoon, in Clark Griswold tradition, we set out to hang the exterior Christmas lights. Last year we had invested in our very first icicle lights, blissfully unaware that ICICLE LIGHTS ARE THE DEVIL. We painstakingingly packed them away last year so we could avoid the typical Holiday Curse Fest this season. I'm happy to say the untangling went smoothly. But then we plugged them in. And don't you just know that every.damn.strand would only light up halfway. So we checked bulbs. And changed fuses. And unplugged and replugged. And bent and wiggled and adjusted. And still, only half the string would light up. Several hours and several f-bombs later, I remembered a recent flyer stuck to our front door for exterior light installation. I called the number. They came to our house. They brought lights, ladders, and manpower. And in about an hour and a half, our entire roofline was aglow in lights. And Mike and I looked at each other, clinked beers, and declared it a Merry Christmas indeed.
Saturday evening we attended Mike's company Christmas party, an event I will forever remember as The Evening I Got My Husband to Wear a Mulberry-Colored Sweater. With a fabulously festive striped silk tie that would have made Clinton Kelly proud. And then I watched him deliver a speech to a room of 300 people, looking dapper and at ease, and I was proud, too.
Finally, on Sunday, the girlie and I got fancied up and headed out to see the Nutcracker. She had begged to see it, and I was reluctant to take her, worrying she'd get bored and restless. But I couldn't have been more wrong. She was mesmerized by it. We had great seats, and she kept her eyes glued to the stage, humming along to the songs she knew (declaring "Mama, I KNOW this song!") and mimicking the ballerina's arm motions from her seat. It was adorable. And heartwarming. And pretty much the perfect holiday gift for this mama's heart.
So that was our weekend. And with the exception of a few marginal-quality cell phone photos, I don't have photographic proof of any of it. So I'm documenting it here in hopes that I'll remember just a bit of the magic. (Except for the satanic icicle lights. They can go straight to back to hell where they belong. :)
