Christmas at my parents’ was even more hectic and insane than I could have imagined. I was up at 5 but wanted Ray to get plenty of sleep since he’d taken the night shift, so we ended up not leaving until well after 10. I managed to get a shower and blow dry my hair — the latter of which is reserved for special occasions now — and get a non-pajama outfit on, but Holden decided after our final feeding of the morning to puke on my shoulder. No big whoop, I thought, and wiped it and him off. Except that he did it again, this time in my hair too, at which point I had to change shirts because for holidays I’ve always tried to have a one-puke limit on my clothes. And that was when I was single! (Rimshot.)
Anyway, we got to my parents’ after noon, and there was a huge spread of finger foods laid out (Ray was so grossed out by the term “finger foods” — is that a regional thing? I would feel like a phony calling them hors d’oeuvres). Holden was passed around quite a bit and Ray and I were on edge thanks to my parents’ idiot yipping dog that kept making like he was going to jump on the baby (that for some reason they wouldn’t put in the basement … grrr) but did fine except when he got hungry and wanted to nurse. It was loud — my family yell talks — and crazy and we were only there six or so hours but it made for a long, exhausting day. I didn’t even have a chance to eat any of my birthday cake, and no one got a picture of Ray, Holden, and me like I wanted. Bleh.
My sister made us a sweet DVD of photos of me and Ray as kids and of Holden. I asked her to send me the file so I can see if I can upload the little movie. It’s pretty cute. It made me cry. I am a sentimentality factory these days. Oh please, more like always.