What REALLY goes on behind the scenes of those cute holiday photo cards? Well let me tell ya...

It's time for another installment of Chicky Family Christmas Pictures!

*Thundering cheers*

*Smattering of polite applause?*

*Fine, one lady in the back who wandered in thinking this was a sewing circle and is too embarrassed to leave. Hey lady, there's coffee in the back. Help yourself.*

If you're new to this blog you should know I have a history with photo Christmas cards. I tend to set the bar a little too high for myself, not considering the two sentient beings who are the focus of each card. They have opinions too. And their opinions suck.

But photo cards must be done and they must be perfect! For they are the only proof my children occasionally smile and love each other! Black eyes and scrapes that I Photoshop out notwithstanding.

This year's Christmas card photo session was held over two days. The first, Caroline was having nothing to do with it and screamed the entire time. The second, Caroline was having nothing to do with it and screamed the entire time. The distinction, the first day Caroline was overtired and had a head cold. The second she was being Caroline. Big difference.

On the first day we tried to take pictures of them together:

I will not smile but I will insist on holding this 8 year old dog toy that has been sitting outside for the past year. Later I will lick it when I think you're not looking.

Grimacing is almost like smiling, right?

I believe this move is called the "Step Off, Beeyotch. I'm swinging here."

On day two is was very cold but we decided to push on anyway. You know where this is going right?

I... don't know what to say.

Except, thanks dog! The random tail in the picture gives it visual interest, dontcha think?

I could go on. Forever. But I won't because I'm tired of uploading pictures to gawd damn Blogger.

We tried to take individual pictures, too. We got dozens of pictures like this from Miss I LOVE the camera! Take more pictures of ME:


And we got hundreds of pictures like this of Miss I AM A FIRESTARTER AND ANYONE WHO ANGERS ME SHALL DIE:

Actually, that was a good one. The other ones would eat your computer from the inside.

But in the end, we got our shot and the cards were created and ordered. And there they sit, on my counter, until Santa sends me some of his elves to help address them. Should be any day now.

See? Perfect children being perfectly perfect. No one will ever know! Bwahahahaha! Except all of my friends who read this blog. Shit.

I may have included a little surprise on the back. I just couldn't resist this picture.

But honestly, who could?

The day after the day after

A whole week away from blogging to enjoy the Christmas madness merriment sure does a body good... Except all that time away will be for naught when the actual holiday whups your ass, leaving your poor body sick and tired and your toddler's body beaten and bedraggled.

And by that last part I don't mean to insinuate that we beat our child. But have you ever seen a toddler high on fistfuls of White Trash snacks who hasn't napped in a couple of days? I always thought it was a saying but they literally bounce off of walls.

We're both slightly sick and very over tired so all stories and pictures from Christmas will have to wait. But, oh, I have stories. Stories of excess and surprise engagements and hour long violent tantrums.

On second thought, I think I might skip that last story. Some things don't need to be relived.

Before I go rest my heavy head I realize that I neglected to mention before my mini break that my quad screen test came back all clean and healthy. No problems there, as far as we can tell, which means we'll probably be skipping the amnio and live in blissful oblivion until the end of May. That's all I really wanted for Christmas anyway.

So internets I leave you to watch Elmo's Countdown to Christmas for the bazillionth time. I hope all your holiday celebrations were worth the stress of mall trips, shipping charges, long lines in the post office and staying up late to put together ridiculously large Christmas presents that your kids played with for 20 minutes before they moved on to the boxes and bows. Which as everyone knows are way more fun to play with anyway.

A Very Chicky Christmas - 2007

Dear Santa,

It's been a whole year since I last wrote to you, pal, and you NEVER WROTE BACK. I think I mentioned that when I finally got to meet you a few weeks ago but, you know, I'm two and a half and I forget things. I think you laughed about it. That much I remember. I don't like to be laughed at, buster. So you just wait and see what I leave for you in your plate of cookies this year.


You can make it up to me, Santa. Remember how I asked you for a doll house? Yeah. I'll be expecting that under my tree. I'd also like a monkey, a purple cow and Raffi tied up with a big red bow. Not a Raffi CD. I want the man himself so he can sing to me whenever I demand it, which is often according to Mom. She's been trying to get me to listen to other types of music this year - she calls it my "musical education", whatever that means - and I've gone for some of her tricks. Johnny Cash is pretty cool, I like him a lot. I like some of that Beatles stuff too, even though bugs usually freak me out. I'm not buying the rest of it though. Could you talk to Mom about lightening up on the weird music and concentrate on more "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star"? Oh, but don't touch the Macarena. I like that crazy groove.

And I expect the monkey and the purple cow to be real, not stuffed.

It's been a crazy year, Santa. Mom spent a lot of time either sleeping on the couch or coughing. Daddy said she wasn't coughing but that she was "throwing up". I don't know what he was talking about because I was always asking her to play ball with me and she always said "Don't throw the ball in the house". Maybe she and Daddy are playing ball after I go to sleep. They always seem like they're in such a hurry to get me to bed at night.

Whatever, all I know is that she's now telling me she has a baby in her belly. How could she have a baby in her belly when she was always coughing everything she ate into the toilet?

Hey, wait just a minute... Do babies come up from the potty?? Do you think a baby jumped up from the potty and into her mouth while she was coughing and then she swallowed it?? That's it. I'm never using the potty now. I don't need some baby growing in my booty.

Regardless of how that baby got there Mom says I'm going to have a baby brother or a baby sister next year some time after my birthday. I'm not too sure what she means by "brother" or "sister" - I mean, my vocabulary is getting better but it's not perfect - but I think there's a little boy in there. If you ask me tomorrow I'll tell you it's a baby girl. Ask me the next day and I'll tell you it's a kitten. Try living in my head for a while, big guy. It's WILD.

Onto the presents!

I mentioned I wanted a doll house, right? Never hurts to say it two or three times. Or twenty-five times! I really like to repeat myself over and over and over and over and over and over and over...

I never got that Elmo doll from last year. Hint, hint.

How about a dinosaur? He can sleep in my room with me.

And a new pair of rain boots. I wear my old rain boots almost every day around the house and Mom says they're two sizes too small for me. Eh. Doesn't bother me one bit. Especially since I usually have them on the wrong feet anyway.

My Mom says she really wants a glass of wine and for Daddy to put the Blackberry away. Daddy wants Mommy to get a job but then says we all know that isn't going to happen any time soon, so I guess you can forget a gift for him.

Oh, and the dogs would like more Girl Scout cookies.

Just to warn you, Santa, now that Mom has told me you come in the night when I'm sleeping to drop off the presents I fully plan on staying awake all night so I can say hello. I love a good petting zoo and I want to feed that reindeer of yours with the freaky red nose.

Word to your mother.

Love,

Chicky

Because everyone knows that the holidays are a gas

Last year around this time, although a week or two sooner in the season, I was freaking out about Christmas cards. Because that's what I do. I freak out. About stupid things that have no bearing on the rest of the world. Because I can.

This year was no different, except instead of realizing that I didn't have a Christmas card prepared to order and then send out to the multitude of friends and family that were no doubt waiting with baited breath at their mailboxes to receive my inspired holiday greetings (you can totally imagine them waiting on their front porches in the snow, right? I can.), then simply taking my cherubic angel of a toddler out into the backyard on a ridiculously unseasonably warm late November day and snapping 200 pictures until we made her cry (yeah, that was a good day) and making the damn card in a flash (because technology is cooool), this year was more like this...

Week before Thanksgiving - "Holy shit!" *retch, cough, gag* "We need to take pictures of Chicky for our Christmas card!" *retch, retch, gag*

Week of Thanksgiving - "Jesus Christ on a popsicle stick!" *retch* "We still haven't got a decent picture of that little shit for our card!" *gag* "Because she won't stop squinting at the camera and making goofy faces!" *retch*

Week after Thanksgiving - "For Chrissake!" *retch* "We're never going to get these goddamned cards done in time for Christmas!" *gag* "And we will burn in parenting hell because everyone is expecting some goddamned cute photo card like last year." *gag, retch, retch*

As you can see I really invoke the spirit of the Lord at Christmastime. No wonder I hear thunder when I get within a hundred yards of a church.

And no one is expecting anything. That's just part of my psychotic break.

We finally got our damn card prepared last night, no thanks to my daughter who is going through that "I will not look cute in front of the camera any longer, you cute mongers. I will instead squint and look really weird every time you try to take my picture just to spite you. And then I'll try to hit you because I can" phase. See?

I'll add that to the group of pictures to bring out when her first boyfriend comes to visit. And her hair needs a trim. Christ on a mule.

This is the final result:


I take no credit for this picture, it was all Mr. C. He took Chicky outside with that poinsettia on a 30 degree day without a coat. And he burped to make her laugh. Because that's what it takes to make our kid laugh these days. Fear of freezing to death and gas. Happy Goddamned Holidays.

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Oh, hey! Don't forget, we're giving away stuff over at the New England Mamas all this week. It's our official blog-opening for the new site. Please stop over and say hello, 'kay?

Fill 'er up. Unleaded please

I'm having a bit of a Christmas conundrum. This is the first year that Chicky will really enjoy Christmas and all its trappings - presents, Santa Claus, hanging lights and ornaments on the artificial Christmas tree we've committed ourselves to for the foreseeable future

(shut up, I have a good reason for having a plastic tree. I know it's not very "green" of me. I have enough guilt for all of us, okay?)

- but when it comes right down to purchasing her gifts I've gotten stuck. She doesn't really need anymore toys, or more to the point my house doesn't need any more toys in it, so what she gets better be damn special. Not to mention something she'll want to play with until she's 37.

I've told Mr. C that any gifts purchased for our child with our own hard earned money will be from companies that can reassure me that no lead paint or date rape drugs were used while making their toys. I can't necessarily control what others will be buying for Chicky but as her mother you can bet your bippy if I'm going to allow more toys to clutter my already over-cluttered house they're going to be safe. Or as safe as they should be before she learns how to use them as weapons against the dogs. It won't be as easy as say running to my local super retail store and grabbing the first battery powered toy that produces fifteen different sounds, all of them designed to make my ears bleed, but it is as easy as a few web searches and an extra shipping charge.

Unless you've been living under a rock you've probably already heard of Consumer Unions Not in My Cart campaign to keep unsafe toys away from our children (only, like, a bajillion bloggers have already written about it). Well, their Twelve Days of Safe Shopping drive is starting this Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. Or Black Friday as it's so cheerily called. If you're committed to keeping unsafe toys out of your home, and the homes of others, go to their website to see how you can become a Safe Shopper.

Like I mentioned it all kicks off this Friday around the country. However, if you're in the Boston area I've got the details for that local event:

Meet at the Park Street T Station (Corner of Tremont and Park) at 9:45am on Friday morning and then walk over to Downtown Crossing.

As well as Consumer Union there will also be local support from MASSPIRG and Clean Water Action. Local media and maybe a government representative or two will also be on hand. Concerned shoppers are needed to hand out information to the public and talk to the media. Here's that link again if you'd like to sign up to help.

Even if you can't make it to one of the designated Get the Lead Out cities you can help by spreading the word and making others aware. Tell your friends and family about only purchasing toys from safe manufacturers. Make them aware of the dangers of lead paint on our kids (and our pets! Does it never end??) toys. And only buy toys from companies that can tell you with certainty their toys are safe.

In the meantime I will be resuming my web search for Chicky's Christmas presents. I've got my eye on this and this and maybe something like this since it's what she asked Santa for. Okay, she didn't really ask for that. She asked for a doll house. But I thought the other toy was way cooler, not to mention it was awarded the Oppenheimer Toy Portfolio 2008 Lead Free Platinum Awards.

Yes, I'm aware it will take up a butt-load of room in my house. I just can't win.