The Christmas cards have started arriving, and it is every bit as much fabulous fun as I hoped it would be. I love the cards and the letters and the pictures of the kids, and especially loved the cutest Christmas card/pregnancy announcement in the history of either. My cards (most of them, anyway) went out yesterday. My mother got hers today and was appalled, so at least the rest of you have something to look forward to.
(And you had better appreciate it, because I hand-addressed so many envelopes that my good pen ran out of ink. Do you have a good pen? One you like to write with that you stash away where the kids can't reach it and chew on it or turn it into a finger puppet or use it to stab a glue stick? I mean, this was my teacher note pen, and now it is no more. For a good cause, surely, but what a lousy time to blow through your good pen. Wait, are you all looking at me funny? I'll move on.)
Owen and I put up the outside lights and ground-based decorations today (the wreaths went up on the windows last week). It was 34 degrees, but he was demanding to play outside and we'd already been out on the swingset for an hour and he refused to go inside so I figured we may as well get something done. And you know those houses that are beautifully decorated and totally pulled together and have a theme and perfectly arranged lights? We are not one of those. I mean, we are never one of those, but this year I put Owen entirely in charge of the outside decorations. The results are predictable, they look like a two year old did it. But the two year old in question was thrilled, so it works for me.
I lost my voice on Wednesday, Chris says I sound like Mr. Bill and I can't argue with him. The only good part is that the kids find it hysterical when I sing Christmas carols. If it isn't better tomorrow I'm going to record myself and post it here so you can all enjoy the hilarity at my expense.