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?

Maybe we should change her name to "MeMe"

C.C. is a talker, a big one, and the more tired she is the more talkative she gets. Which means she'll probably grow up to be that really annoying girl at the slumber party who dares everyone to stay awake all night long. You know the one, the girl who will put your bra in the freezer if you're the first one to fall asleep and then tell all the boys at school about your icy boobs.

But even when she's perfectly rested C.C. is the type of baby who likes to engage whomever is near, and that someone is usually me. Her eyes will follow me where ever I go and when I turn to look she shoots me the sweetest smile before chattering away. And that smile is the reason why she's still allowed to live in my house after waking me up every two hours last night.

Still can't convince him he's not the baby of the family anymore

Fisher will always be my first baby, but if he doesn't stop looking at the pacifiers and the stuffed toys with lust in his eyes I'm sending him to military school.

Stupid human tricks - Or, why you should never try to brush your dogs while barefoot

Because while brushing Dog #1, who doesn't really enjoy being groomed as it is, Dog #2, who loves being brushed almost more than anything, even butt scratches (and really, who doesn't like a good butt scratch every once in a while), will come bounding out of the house at 100 mph and begin doing crazy-ass puppy laps around the patio furniture. Dog #1 will see this and in her own doggie way will say "Forget you, Lady" and bound after Dog #2 to grab his whole head in her mouth, therefore ending any and all fun that might be had (Because fun? It's the work of the devil himself and Dog #1 is here on this earth to do nothing more than do God's work and snatch food off counters) and in the process step down hard on your naked foot with her talon-like claws, resulting in this:


And that cute pedicure you recently got? Well, at least the colors match.

Just another public service announcement from your friends at Chicky Chicky Baby.

The future of the Red Sox

Whoever said girls can't play ball has never seen my two year old in action. Chicky is a natural.

(Must have gotten that from Mr. C, 'cause she didn't get her natural athletic abilities from me. I run like a wounded chicken.)

When she's a famous athlete (and a Nobel prize winner and a rock star and President of the United States) you'll be able to say you heard it here first.

More proof that God hates me

What's the best way to follow up three days on Cape Cod, where the air was cold (for summer) and it rained at least one day?

Stomach virus!

Whoo... eh, I haven't got the energy to get excited, even in the name of sarcasm.

I've been out of commission for the past two days because of my gooky stomach, too sick to even check my bloglines. But I need to get my strength back because I'm supposed to meet some lovely ladies tomorrow, so I'm going to leave you, internets, to try to choke down more than two bites of dry toast.

From out trip:

The Unibomber is not above bribing her victim with Goldfish crackers to avoid a tantrum on the ferry from Cape Cod to Martha's Vineyard.

The Chicky's take Minnesota (part one of a needlessly long series)

What is it about traveling that makes you feel like you just went on a 10 day bender? You'd think that after spending so much time sitting on my ass in airports, airplanes and cars that I'd be fairly rested. But nooo.

Wake me when it's time for me to leave for Chicago.

I have to give credit to Chicky, however, because that girl traveled like a champ. Sure, she had a few meltdowns on the airplane there and back but for the most part she took to life at her Aunt's house and our rental in Wisconsin like a duck to water. I wonder what part of my soul will be collected for that windfall, 'cause I may have mentioned something about selling it to the devil before we left.

The first leg of our trip was in Saint Paul with my Mr. C's sister, her husband and their two boys (ages 4 and 8). Let me tell you, Chicky has some serious hero worship going on for her cousins. Even though they weren't that close in age the three of them got along really well and the 8 year old was called upon more than once to keep an eye on Chicky so we could throw back a few get a break from toddler watching. It's times like that when I really wish they lived closer. Or that we lived closer to them. They tried to convince us to move there by telling us that living in Minnesota wasn't really that much different from living in Mass.; cold climate in the winter, humid in the summer, and Great Lakes that could pass for the ocean if you squint a bit. Given the housing prices, it's tempting. But I think I'd feel claustrophobic being that land locked. And from being that close to Canada*.

The highlight of our time in Saint Paul - other than spending quality time with family - was our trip to the Minnesota Zoo. We would have really enjoyed it if it wasn't as hot as it was. Because when it's 90 degrees toddlers tend to get cranky, especially when searching in vain for some shy tiger that wouldn't show his face. Damn cat, so finicky.

Mommies get cranky too when they find out that the Minnesota Trail, the part of the zoo which supposedly has a number of the incredibly beautiful and noble Northern Gray Wolf, is closed but will be re-opening in two days. When we're not there. God hates me.

Thankfully there was a big petting farm (sponsored by Hormel! Those poor animals just don't know what's in for them)...

With goats:

She kept calling it "baby goat" but I'm pretty sure she thought it was a dog.

Two day old baby pigs:

In order from left to right: Bacon, Spam and Little Sizzler

And this:

You have no idea what it took to get her to stick her head through the opening, but I think it was worth it.

Oh, and ice cream:

You scream, I scream, then we stop screaming when there's ice cream.

I don't know what it is about the Minnesota accent but I couldn't stop giggling every time I heard someone say a word with an "oh" sound. I'm sure I offended half of Saint Paul and parts of Minneapolis too, but I just couldn't help myself. It's so cute. And Chicky came back with that accent. I swear on a case of expensive wine (because, to me, that's holier than the Bible) that it's true.

On the drive home -

Chicky: "Where's Auntie?"

Me: "She's home. In Minnesota."

Chicky: "Oh, yeah. MinneSOHDA. Yeah."

I might move there just to pick up that accent. It's THAT good.

So that was part one of our trip. You'll have to wait until tomorrow - or the next day, or the day after that - for part two. Not because it's super interesting or anything but because I'm just sick of writing. A whole week away from the blog and I'm out of practice. Gotta pace myself or I could pull something.

Until then here's a few more pictures of our time in Minnesota because, hell, why not?

They have hot dogs at the zoo, too? Cool. Hey, you don't think I just ate the uncle of one of those animals I just met, do you?



S'up, betches? I's on dis rock, watchin' your camera.


Word. S'up?

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*I knew I'd get at least one nasty comment or a question as to why I could possibly hate the fair country of Canada. I don't. I love Canada. It was a joke. Get it? Funny ha ha?

They drive me crazy

Two is not always better than one. But it's hard to stay mad at those faces.