So, Christmas whizzed by in a blur. Ella got every pink, Princess, sequined, glittery, feathery, girly toy, accessory, and clothing piece known to man, including a "Little Mommy Have to go" doll. She has been begging for this atrocious thing ALL. YEAR. LONG. And I said no. It's a doll that you put on the toilet, and the toilet flips over to reveal.. plastic human feces. You flush the little fake handle, and it flips back over to sparkly blue-looking "water". Now, I'm not sure what sort of sick and twisted R & D executive gave this thing the green light, but I really hope whoever they are, they got caught in the most recent round of layoffs. Because this thing is insane. You may as well design a tween doll that simulates getting her first period. I mean, think of the accessory packs you could sell separately! Genius!! Anywho, my four year old daughter, who is already potty trained, has been asking for this offensive bathroom denizen all year. Not just asking, but telling her teachers that all she wants for Christmas is this doll. Telling people she sees on the street that Santa is bringing her one. Telling me that if she didn't get it on Christmas morning, she would cry. Good thing she's not dramatic. So, I gave in. Sorta. I refused to buy it, but I allowed her grandmother to buy it for her. Which meant it would be at her house on Christmas morning, not here, at home, where SANTA came. So, after all the presents were unwrapped, presents which included such extravagant items as a kid's digital camera, a Dora train set, Barbies, My Little Ponies, and much, much more, she looked at me with her best pout and said, "where's the last one?" We explained, of course, that there were more presents awaiting her at Nana's house. And, boooooy, let me tell you. We may as well have wrapped up dental floss and socks for her here, cause everything she just opened took on a coal-singed, foul-smelling tinge once she understood that her Little Mommy Have To Go Doll was at Nana's. Later, Santa! I'm going to get my REAL toy!!!
So, other than Ella's beating heart leaping out of her chest when she unwrapped her amaaazing doll, Christmas was pretty uneventful. Lovely, kid-centered, and uneventful. Just the way we like it.
Now we're inching toward New Year's, my 28th birthday, and Ella's 5th birthday. And Ella's birthday is starting to give me heart palpitations. Not because she's expecting a party, or that we haven't even begun to plan something, but because this means she is FIVE. FIVE. YEARS. OLD. I can't even really wrap my brian around it. Ivan and I talk often about how it feels like she was a baby just yesterday. So, when she uses logic and symantics to trick us and get her way, we're all that much more impressed and astounded. And once she's five, that means it will be mere months before Noah is a year old. I swear to you, I can still smell the hospital room where he was born. It feels that recent.
So, in conjunction with my budding photography interest, I guess my New Year's resolution is to document and do everything I can to remember and preserve every moment. (Watching The Curious Case of Benjamin Button sure didn't help this "time slipping through my fingers" feeling, either.) But, hopefully, one day soon, when I forget what Noah's baby neck smells like, and they have both decided to hate us because we make them wear jackets, we can look back at photos of this year and smile. And cry.
But, mostly smile.
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