The Christmas newsletter

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm thinking of writing one.

Oh how I love reading these - mostly to get updates on family and friends. Who am I kidding. I live for the bad ones. The 4-page brag-a-thons - I love making fun of those - my parents get some real doozies.

Over my years of reading and making fun of Christmas newsletters, I've learned a few things.

- Begin with a cliche phrase. Get a little more creative than "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays." Throw in something along the lines of how "shocked" you are that a year has gone by and note what you're doing at that exact moment. "Here we are again, writing the annual family Christmas newsletter next to our decorated tree!"
- Brag, brag, brag. Don't just stick to a graduation or new baby. Your husband's Adult League Softball championship? Your kid's first poo poo in the potty? Your daughter's weekly piano, ballet and voice lessons? All milestones.
- Exaggerate. You gained 15 pounds? No, you ran a 10K and are training for a marathon. Your kid get a C-average? PLEASE, Honor Roll that in the newsletter.
- Don't be a Debbie Downer. Don't write about the sad stuff! It's Christmas, no one wants to read about lost jobs and dead relatives. If Jesus overcame adversity, so can you. Just keep it out of the newsletter. Remember: Your family is flawless.
- Plug your business. Let everyone know you host Mary Kay parties and just started a photography business. Bear your testimony on multi-level marketing.
- Your life is cool - so own it. Write about your roughly dozen vacations this year (include pictures), the new car you purchased, the big-ticket events you attended, the chance encounters with local celebrities. Don't be shy.
- When in doubt, write it out. YES everyone wants to know you were the first in line at your local theater for "New Moon"! YES your kid's mediocre violin recital should be mentioned! YES your lucrative calling as Sunday School president needs to be written about in painful detail! "Newsletter it" is your new motto.
- You most likely have not talked about your children enough. It's true - mention them some more. A page per child should suffice.
- End with a cliche phrase. You went the impersonal route and wrote a mass newsletter you are copying for everyone. So end with a sentence that makes your letter seem personal and like you actually care about the recipients well-being. In all reality, this is trite and meaningless. Something like: "May God bless you and yours!" or "We're hoping you have a safe and prosperous New Year!"

Now I fear I've ruined a newsletter for myself. What can I do to make one not so horrible?

Hey Santa, could you look dead in the face for this one?

Obligatory child screaming on Santa's lap picture!

O.

M.

Gosh!!!

So Peanut kind of hated Santa. Something about a perverted old guy watching her 24/7 to make sure she's "naughty or nice."

In a cruel twist of fate...*

...Peanut loves fast-food hamburgers.**


"Eatin' with half a tooth - holla!"


"NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM"


"Secret sauce, yo!"


"PROCESSED COW MMMM"

***
****
*****

*Random fact you don't care to know: I hate fast-food. Particularly burgers. I won't be a snob and refuse eating at such an establishment if that's where a social group chooses to eat, but I refuse to order a burger. I was hoping Peanut would inherit this. Read "Fast Food Nation" if you too would like to be turned off from this sect of dining.
**It was an In-N-Out burger, so at least the ingredients are a bit healthier than regular fast-food.
***GJ took her with her aunt and cousins (welcome to Utah, In-N-Out!), ordered her a burger, cut it up in little chunks and she wanted nothing to do with the little chunks - she grabbed the other burger half, shoved it in her mouth and somehow ate it with a mere half a tooth.
****Ew, I hate when parents talk for their kids. "1-year-old Jimmy says he wuvs you daddy!" But I couldn't resist with these photo captions - they screamed for some baby gangster talk.
*****Last footnote: thank you SIL Megan for the pictures.

Lessons from NaBloPoMo

Oh NaBloPoMo, you sly dog, you. I invited you into my life thinking this would be fun, but in reality, I'm exhausted and glad we're breaking up Dec. 1.

This month, we learned that I:

- Celebrate Halloween ghetto-style
- Really love fall in Utah
- Have an awesome grandpa
- Will never get a pedicure at a beauty school again
- Am NOT the favorite parent
- Am a good liar
- Gave birth to an Indigo Child
- Dispense tips I don't even follow on being a working mom
- Am a good listmaker

Lessons I learned:

- When you post daily, people don't want to comment daily.
- I can't post daily, since roughly half of these I "backposted," changing the date and time to actually make the NaBloPoMo deadline.
- About 1/3 of people actually check blogs on the weekend. What's the point of that?
- Posting daily really burns you out. The posts in the last week were particularly lacking in any sort of substance.
- November is a HORRIBLE month for NaBloPoMo. Right in the midst of the holidays? BAD MONTH.
- I will never do this again. Dizzlefig said it best: "I feel we are sacrificing quality for quantity here, and quality was scarce in the first place."

I am THRILLED to say I am going back to being a crappy, irregular-posting blogger.

(JK. The only thing NaBloPoMo taught me is that I can post 3 times a week (a constant, lingering blog goal) if I really want to. That desire? Meh.)

1 going on 15

We went to Arizona for Thanksgiving and, oh, what a wonderful trip it was. We swam everyday, ate great Mexican food and hung out with my awesome in-laws.

GJ, Peanut and I flew back to SLC Saturday night and went straight from the airport to the Jazz basketball game.

I knew GJ and my brothers would love the game - work hooked me up with club suite seats, complete with steak dinner and an unlimited snack bar - but I was nervous how Peanut would last. The game went well past her bedtime and she already fell asleep driving away from the airport. A grumpy baby at a basketball game wouldn't exactly be fun.

Boy was I wrong. She LOVED it.

This picture makes me laugh every time I see it. Peanut with her own bowl of chips, sitting on her own chair next to Uncle Ryan - she thinks she's so big.



Hangin' with the boys.



Oh Peanut - she wanted to do everything herself. She didn't want me bringing her anything (until she realized it was food, then she was all for it), she pushed me away when I tried to prevent her from dipping her chips into my brother's nacho cheese, she didn't want me holding her.

It was like I was cramping her 1-year-old style.

She was immediately transfixed with the game and the people - she cheered when the crowd cheered, stood up when they stood up, clapped and booed at the appropriate times. She's a great little basketball fan.

(GJ was thrilled.)



(And she finally let me hold her.)

A lesson in social graces

Another question today from blog buddy Lady of Perpetual Chaos , who said...

Well, I always enjoy hearing about the stupid and/or embarrassing things people do. It makes me feel better about all the stupid and/or embarrassing things that I do. All the time.

Well, here's a gem for you. It involves my friend Melinda, and since she just had a baby and has all the time in the world now to check blogs (HAHAHAHA), I figured she'd appreciate this one.

And it's a reminder to me of why I need to work on my social graces.

End of summer, our church's women's group had a garden dinner party at the home of a woman who is a talented interior designer. She also flips houses as a hobby - buys a fixer-upper in the neighborhood and uses her skills to create a gorgeous yard and home.

I knew she had moved in the past year, but the flyer had her old address listed. "She must have moved back," I thought. "Surely the Relief Society wouldn't pass out flyers with the wrong address on it."

So I followed the old flyer. And when I reached her house, there weren't many cars out front. "Hmm...maybe everyone walked? It's a nice day." It should have been my first hint that I may be at the wrong house, but instead I felt like a jerk for driving my car roughly a block and a half.

I walked into the backyard and...nothing. No one was there, no noises. "Where is everyone? Maybe they used the old directory to type the address?" But still, I walked up to the door, knocked, heard a "Come in!" and headed in, plate of fresh herbed deviled eggs in hand.

Three teenagers were sitting on the couch, staring at me with confused looks on their faces. I walked into the wrong house, carrying a large plate of eggs.

I quickly blurted out an "I'm sorry" and left. I called a friend who was already at the party, found out the right address and everyone had a good laugh about my blunder. Even funnier were the invitations - my friend Melinda made them, realized she wrote the wrong address, corrected most of them, but gave me an old one because she figured "Amelia knows her new address."

But my embarrassing roughly two hour period got even worse. As I was driving home, I saw Melinda's husband Bruce running. Being the graceful woman I am, I rolled down the window, let out a "WOO-WOO!" cat call, waved and...it wasn't Bruce.

Lessons learned: don't walk into a house party where there are no cars or noise AND cat calls really aren't appropriate, no matter who you are "WOO-WOO"ing at.

I would be a crappy mommy blogger

...if I had no post listing what I'm grateful for!

or

An easy post to bang out minutes before the day is done

or

I'm still on Thanksgiving vacation and doesn't that mean a blog break?

or

What kind of crap photos are on my computer that I can use in a post?

or

NaBloPoMo PLEASE hurry it up because I'm sick of posting daily

ANYWAY. This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for my one and only, for dealing with my crazy.





...and, of course, our own little crazy.




*This post brought to you by PhotoBooth and all its timewasting wonderfulness.