Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Christmas Family Letter 2009

The year, as is the case when you get a certain age, has passed us by faster than you can "Bon Jovi's Slippery When Wet was made TWENTY THREE years ago?". And so it has. This year has been slightly more eventful than others.

We've had another child on January 16th, 2009. A boy this time. A somber, serious boy who will look at you with soulful eyes full of life's regret and the eternal struggle of self-actualization until you play peek-a-boo and he kills himself laughing. He's a mystery. His birth was little on the long side, but everything came out swimmingly, we were out of there in record time because we've done it before and as much fun as hospitals are, they're no place to raise a child.

What else is there to say about him. Well, he's a baby, he doesn't have a whole lot of opinions. He likes to crawl, he likes to hold things and stand up. He's really into objects. He'll be crying bloody murder like someone has just suckerpunched him with a bag full of nickels, then you'll give him, say, a Tupperware container, and he'll be as content as, uhm, well, a baby with a Tupperware container, I suppose.

He's the quiet, understated sort. Or at least, he's quiet in relation to Owlet.

Owletis even more of a firecracker now that she can speak in full sentences. A strong enough grasp of language has lead to bartering and pleading and, more often than not, commanding. While the word 'bossy' is often whispered or just said outloud, we, proud parents, prefer to think of her as spirited! Enthusiastic! Decisive! Bossy! No, wait, not the last one.

She's in a whole whack of activities. Dancing, gymnastics, swimming, and a few hours of preschool. It's fun to see her flail about at different activities and discover the joys of sport and athletics that her parents never quite got a grasp of.

Everything now is pink, princess, fairy, purple, ballet, butterfly, chocolate, and tea. Often times all at once. As much as I'd hoped she'd be kinda agnostic towards the entire 'Princess' thing, she's gone full bore. Hopefully when she's older and rebelling against the perfect image that Media and the Disney Conglomerate try to brainwash into young girls she'll remember the time I took her down the aisles of boy toys and she looked at me blankly before racing towards the aisles of pinky, fluffy, toys that seem to make her oh so very happy.

Owlet loves her brother a whole lot. She's adept at making him laugh, and they'll often sit there laughing and laughing and laughing and I know not too far in the future they'll still be laughing and laughing and laughing but it'll be at me and I'll grumble something incoherently before making shoddily constructed bird feeders in my wood-shop. But what's important is that they seem to be hitting it off. They both find each others pretty darn interesting.

Molly is going with me to work now, which mean she gets to have naps outside the home, which is a nice change for her, I suppose. I'll take her upstairs from the bowels of the building where I stare at a computer all day, to the clerks and program officers and whatnot who all love her to bits. Echoes of her name will ring through the offices as people realize she's come for a visit, "Molly!" "Molly's here!" "Is that Molly?". Course, I've worked there coming on 9 years and I'm sure none of them know my name. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm still at Corp. ABC. At some point they'll try and nail a plaque on me and declare me a heritage building. I'm still doing programming. Let's move on before you fall asleep.

Mrs. Owl is almost done her maternity leave. She feels as if she hasn't done anything this year. And besides birthing our second child; caring, feeding and clothing and entertaining a baby and a toddler; not having a complete night's sleep in a year; and putting up with me, she's completely correct.

She keeps herself busy taking Owlet to all her activities, having play-dates and tea-time with her friends, and dreading the time she'll have to go to work. At least it's part-time. Which will be good since she'll spend most of her time chasing around two energetic small children and counting the hours until she can go into work and take a breather.

And that's all the news that's fit to print for this year.

May the new year find you all healthy and wealthy and wise, and if not that, at least under the influence of a full night's sleep.


Chris B. said...

Merry Christmas to you and yours!

Greg X Graves said...

You are a good person for writing Christmas letters. I usually update my family on how my year has gone by how loud I'm yelling and how much profanity that I'm spilling into their ears.

Happy Holidays!