Christmas 2011: Beach Party!

We tried something new this year: Christmas at the beach. I am happy to report that it was every bit, if not more, fabulous than I anticipated. Not that it was perfect; a bit o' family drama involving chlorinated hair and perhaps someone accused someone else of drinking all her rum before she had a chance to return to her rightful armchair after changing someone's dirty diaper, but all in all, a smashing success. Here are a few pics recounting our vacay, but fortunately, none of me in a swimsuit. If the year was 1997, then yeah, I'd be plastering photos of my nineteen year old bikini-clad self all over this here blog. But this year, 2011, I borrowed one of my mom's swimsuits because the only ones I have are maternity. Needless to say, all pictures of me will show me appropriately clothed. Although I did wear my pajamas to the beach. You can't win 'em all.

Here we are, playing rummy. Grandma there on the left side of the table is the Queen of Rummy and I tell you what, I am the World's Worst Rummy Player. I won once but I think I cheated. I included this pic because of how eerily alike my mother and I are. Heed this warning, my daughters: this is your future. 

GH shucked oysters. In the condo bathroom. Really, I have no more to say. 

The weather was gorgeous. It was supposed to rain the whole time we were down there but it didn't. Christmas on the beach just feels so right. 

This girl does look attractive in the warm light cast from the setting sun. This picture was taken before the Great Hair Debate of Xmas 2011 in which I emerged victorious after a three hour battle culminating in me forcing her head under a faucet and washing three days' worth of chlorine out of her grimy, stank hair. Not a high point of our vacation. 

Lotsa shells. Most of them came home with us. After being washed out. In, guess where? That's right, the condo bathroom. 

Sunset, followed by rum. Or was it rum followed by sunset? Either way, glorious! 

The only intact sand dollar on the entire Florida Panhandle and guess what, MOS broke it. On purpose! Did you see him, Mother! He smashed it! On purpose! On purpose! ARGH! (I surreptitiously poured rum in my coffee at this point and tried to look innocent.) 

Key and Grandpa and their chickens. Little pecking chickens. Never turn your back on them. 

I do love both of these people ever so much. 

Same story with these two. Much love!

Grandpa just told Tiny that joke about the rabbi, the butcher, and the priest walking into a bar. She thought it was hilarious! 

SWAK! 

I knit GG2 this hat for Christmas. Key attempted to filch it but I caught her. I am now on the hook for at least one, if not more, of these hats to bedeck Key's noggin. Best get to knittin'. 

Christmas on the beach. Is there anything better?

Insectarium, Or How I Learned To Respect the Bugs

Man oh man I loved the Insectarium! My kids loved it, GH loved it, it was a win-win all around. It is smaller than the Aquarium of the Americas, so I think it is good for families with smaller (i.e. more uncooperative) children who might not be able to endure a two-story underwater extravaganza. The entire Insectarium can be covered in two hours if you move along, so no one (i.e. MOS or Tiny) had a major meltdown. Please note I said major. Lots of minor ones, but that's to be expected.

Face to face with little snails. Much mouth-breathing as we looked into the terrariums, all of which were on eye-level for kids. No hoisting by parents! Yeah! 

Did not want to look in terrarium. 

Did not want to cooperate. At all. Laid on floor and extended tongue. By-passers stared. Mother took her picture. Moving on....

 

GH rode the bike that measured how fast his legs moved in relation to various insects. He beat a few of them like the woodlouse but the cockroach and some sort of beetle stomped him. Get it? Stomped him? 

Petting a hercules beetle. They also petted a Madagascar cockroach that was roughly the size of a dinner plate, but I just couldn't take a picture of it. Don't want to remember my precious children's fingers touching that creature. They all loved it, though. 

GH eating cricket pecan pie. The children were horrified and it was so worth it to gross them out. Lots of arm flapping and eyes squinted closed as Daddy munched the crickety goodness. 

And then I ate cricket pumpkin pie. That nearly did them all in. No, Mama! No! Don't eat the bugs! I chomped that bite down and resisted making a gagging noise and falling on the ground. I really wanted to but I was worried I would scar them for life. I mean, scar them more than I already have. The pies were excellent, if a bit crunchy. We declined an offer to purchase our own crickets (pre-ground!) and add them to our Thanksgiving feast. Maybe next time. 

The metamorphosis room was the most fascinating for all of us. GG2 is kneeling in front of the metamorphosis chamber which houses hundreds of butterflies in various stages of hatching. From cocoons to newly-hatched butterflies, this case has them all. They are clearly labeled and you can see every stage perfectly. When the adults' wings are dried out they are put into the butterfly room next door to live out the rest of their lives. Unbelievably cool. 

I loved the display room but GG1 was a bit unsure. All those dead butterflies and insects unnerved her. But even she couldn't resist this display. I had never seen butterflies that came in all these colors. So very interesting! It was also a fairly empty room and the one to which I retired to spank MOS for spitting on Tiny. No witnesses but a lovely environ for administering swift discipline. 

In the butterfly room which is so peaceful and tranquil. Even the kids calmed down a bit at the sight of all the butterflies floating lazily around the room. It's pretty warm in there so make sure you dress in layers; all the butterflies are tropical ones not native to the area so they are used to more temperate climes. There's a stream with giant koi that have those long floating fins and lots of benches to sit on and admire the butterflies. The sibling spitting and bug-eating aside, we had a very nice time.

N'awlins, Part I

GH and I spent a fabulous two days in New Orleans all by our ownselves over Thanksgiving. It was so wonderful, so relaxing, so lacking in kids! It was amazing! Key and Grandpa kept the chirrens and they claim to have had an excellent time as well. They brought the kids over to NOLA to spend two days with us, going to the zoo and the Insectarium. I know Key and Grandpa declared that they adored the children and loved spending time with them, but lo and behold, their mini van burned rubber out of Orleans Parrish rather than go to the Insectarium. Apparently the zoo did them in. I present to you here pictorial evidence of our awesomeness; take from it what you will. I neglected to get a picture of the six foot man wearing a bikini top and tutu on Bourbon Street. My apologies.

I think you know where this is going..... 

Yep, Cafe du Monde, every morning we were there. Beignets, a giant cup of cafe au lait with the excess powdered sugar from the beignets spooned in, and a crazy man playing a trumpet out on the street. He was enthusiastic, that crazy man. And loud. 

Look how relaxed! How youthful! Must have been before the kids came over. 

Look how non-twitchy I am as I sip my coffee! No stress! No bizarre food particles stuck in my hair from a kid gesturing wildly while eating! Awesome! And now, on to the zoo!

Ick. Gross. Stop touching that thing. 

We all know that I am a bit more, shall we say, relaxed, than my mother? Apparently when I was a wee lass of about six or so, my class took a field trip to this exact zoo and this exact Discovery Zone, aka the petting zoo. And it seems that a goat took an interest in me because I was a dollop of adorableness that looked tasty beyond belief. So the ol' goaty goat wanders over and takes a nibble of my dress, a nibble of the lace-edged sock that was on my black and white saddle shoes (my mother was a bit particular) and then its little goat lips nibbled up the hem of my dress, around to the front, and before my mother could stop it, ate my name tag right off my chest! She was utterly horrified that I was touching a barnyard animal in the first place but the fact that it had the effrontery to eat my name tag? Unacceptable! I don't think I touched a goat again until I was an adult. And then I milked one at my friend's house. But don't tell my mother. 

Clearly I have no hang ups about goat-touching. 

As you know, GG1 loves cheetahs and frequently pretends to be Cheetarah. When I saw this statue, I was excited. She was not. This was all I could get out of her. 

MOS was obsessed with the zoo map that he clutched in his hands the whole time. Even whilst riding a speeding antelope. Or gazelle. Whatever. It was running away from the cheetah. 

And Little Miss Cooperative here enjoyed the cheetah muchly! 

While others of us rolled our eyes in consternation. 

Even though it looks like MOS is about to fall, I assure you, he did not. He merely sat down right where he was and then shrieked like a girl until I came over and rescued him. Good times! 

Here's me, posing reluctantly with the lizard. No one would be in the picture with me since I had worn them out trying to get that pic in the header of this entry. Oh well. I can do bad all by myself.

Stay tuned for Part II of our N'awlins trip. We went to the Insectarium and ate crickets. Delightful!

1976

My parents got married in January of 1975. My dad's older sister got married in August of 1974. And his younger sister got married in January of 1976. It was rough on my grandmother there for a while. Then, in March of 1977 my cousin was born. I followed soon after, on the other side of the country, in July of 1977. But we'll save those baby pictures for another day, shall we? At any rate, my parents had a boring wedding, if by boring you understand I mean nothing distinguished it as a wedding that took place in 1975. No colors, frills, flounces, nothing. My dad even wore a grey tux, not a baby blue one. BORING! My mother designed her wedding dress and her mother sewed it; the dress was candelight satin and perfectly exquisite. But no wild colors! No giant hats! Nothing! Well, my mom did wear heaps of green eyeshadow but that was it. She didn't even have big hair! Just subdued, slightly curled, glowing hair. Come on, Mom, where's the Farrah flip? How could you do this to me? Mother told me that Daddy had been in a wedding in 1974 and the bridesmaids all wore sherbet-colored dresses and they were arranged in rainbow order. The groomsmen, of which my father was one, wore white tuxes with shirts covered in ruffles that matched the sherbet hue of their designated bridesmaid. I believe the groom from that wedding is currently in prison, but don't draw any correlations between wedding party attire and future incarceration.

My mother. A disappointment to 1970s glamour. So timeless, so elegant, so not dated. I weep.

(from l. to r.: Uncle Tim, Gran K, Aunt Deb, Uncle Jim, Mom, pastor, Daddy, Gam Gam, Gam Gam Bishop, Uncle Craig) Not an iridescent hue among them. Classic, refined, and a shame. They had the chance for rainbow sherbet and instead chose something safe. Phooey!

But my dad's younger sister....ooooh boy, did she have an AWESOME wedding! My aunt is very striking in appearance and she worked it like a champ on her wedding day. I imagine my grandfather wept as he walked her down the aisle, not because she was getting married and moving away but because his hand ached from all the checks he signed. At any rate, she looked like a million bucks, in a dramatic, gorgeous dress. I don't have any pictures, but you can imagine it. It was the opposite of my mother's. My uncle wore gloves with his tux, of all things, kid gloves in a soft dove grey. But the bridesmaids, oh the bridesmaids. They were INCREDIBLE! Head-to-toe 1970s fashion! My mom was one of the lucky ladies and she kept her bridesmaid ensemble for the same reason that she kept all of my baby clothes: you never know when you might need a burgundy fur-trimmed cape and matching muff. Although the fur is actually marabou, but still, fur-trimmed! I'll tell you when you need it: your daughter will wear the dress and cape and tote the muff to a college spring formal and receive lots of compliments and inquisitive looks. And then, your granddaughters (and for one brief embarrassing moment, grandson) will model the cape and muff in the backyard, also looking like a million bucks. And then you'll be thrilled that you kept that stuff for all those years!

She really was happy to be modeling this stuff. She just had a hard time expressing it. You know, like with her face. 

It's tough to look good in a fur-edged cape. But she pulls it off. 

And we all know GG2 had no issues with modeling.  She'll knock people down to get in front of the camera. 

I like the over-the-shoulder peep look. 

Eat your heart out, Dr. Zhivago. 

I dunno....Tiny looks like she fought with a Muppet and won. Note the sly grin. 

She looks just like her daddy in this one. If he was blond, had blue eyes, and a penchant for wearing burgundy capes. 

Oh, MOS, when will you outgrow this desire to be in on whatever your sisters are doing? Hopefully, never, since I like taking pictures of you all dolled up. Although, really, to tell you the truth, you are not super cute in this outfit. Clashes with your skin tone. I think you're a summer and this color is so autumn.

Well, Happy Boo To You, Too!

Halloween 2011 will be indelibly written in my brain as the Year of Astrid. I, however, do not have any good pics of GG1 as Astrid since she was very self-conscious in her costume and removed most of it once we got to the Harvest Festival at our friends' house. She also left her battle axe in the car. So you will just have to content yourself with pictures of Tiny, who was the World's Cutest Bumblebee Baby. She adored her costume and has worn it several times since Halloween and makes buzzing noises while flapping her arms. Adorable! MOS was Spider-man, but he wouldn't wear his mask or let me paint his face. So he just looked like he was wearing pajamas.

My mom made Astrid's costume, and it was exquisite, lemme tell you. Epaulets, a skull skirt, a headband, and leggings. Astrid is a character from How To Train Your Dragon, in case you haven't seen the movie. It's really not a bad movie, and this is coming from someone who has watched the movie about twenty five times. GG2 was Cleopatra, and, per her request, it was a store bought costume. Store bought costumes offend Key on a deeply intimate level, as evidenced by her hurt feelings that have still not abated from when I was four (4!) and wanted a store bought cat costume, one of those plastic jobs with the plastic masks held on by a thin string of elastic. It was hideous, I am sure, but I felt cute. My mother cried as she dressed me that fateful Halloween morning, readying me for my preschool Halloween party, eyes misty as she recalled the pumpkin costume she had painstakingly stitched for me the year before, or the ghost the year before that, or the witch my first Halloween. The cat costume was a low point in our relationship. She has still not forgiven me. I was a clown the next year. She, too, was a clown; in revenge for the cat costume she made us wear matching costumes, with face paint. I will spare you any more details of that particular year because I imagine you already have enough nightmares to deal with.

Hello there. I enjoy eating cheese. What are your thoughts on the matter? Do tell. 

A friend of mine painted her fingers to the bone decorating all the kids. She did an awesome job. 

Butterflies were everywhere!

She might have painted an adult or two, also. I was a Saints fan. See? One side of my face is happy for when we win and the other side is sad for when we lose. Sometimes I need both sides during the same game, depending on how our boys are playing. 

Whatcha doin', Tiny? Just buzzing around? 

Literally the best one of all of them. Amazing how hard it is to get everyone to cooperate. MOS, I'm speaking directly to you here. 

Tiny was just as cute from behind. 

She is struggling to hold back her mirth. 

Astrid plays games, albeit with large portions of her costume missing. It's tough to be eight years old. 

Spider-man was a whiz at throwing the beanbags and completely missing the target. Good job, son!  

Cleopatra was quite successful at the games. Perhaps because she played each of them fifty seven times. The kids got a piece of candy every time they played. Obviously, GG2 had some ulterior motives for playing ring toss so much. Her candy bag was dragging the ground by the end.