Merry Mary

As you may have noticed, I, formerly "Enlarging Marge," took a bit of a holiday break. I didn't drive to Bloomfield Hills. I didn't do any freelance work. I didn't sew any dog collars. And I didn't do much blog posting. I did, however, take some photos. Vacation's over - on to posting. (And doing freelance work - I promise, Maria!)

After an exhaustingly fun Christmas Eve with "the boys," Maizey crashed, forgoing the cookies-for-Santa routine and sleeping until a leisurely 8:30 a.m. Will and I were up at 6 though, for set up. Following my wise parents' "one gift from Santa, one gift from Mom and Dad (+stockings)" rule, there was little prep. An Ikea easel and wooden train set... plus heaps of goodies from out-of-towners.

We both went up and collected her from her room, but I had the pleasure of carrying her downstairs and rounding the corner to the living room. Seeing the train set, glowing tree and easel, she immediately implored, "Down, Mama. Down!" then ran to the loot.

Customary Caldecott winning book from Grandma Betty...

"A Ball for Daisey." by Chris Raschka.

And fabulous cards from awesomely generous PaPa and BaBa.

 We were enamored with the gift. Maizey the the photo inside.

And so it went...

  Merry, Mary indeed. 

It was a marvelous morning.

And we only opened about half of the presents. Lady got a titch overwhelmed so we decided to stretch out the fun and opened gifts for the remaining week.

Twas the night before

All iced up

I can hardly believe Christmas has come and gone, and that a week ago I was rushing around Ikea and Target, subjecting poor crowd-averse Miss Maizey to my office holiday potluck, welcoming Will home before 5 p.m., and icing those Betty-mixed sugar cookies...

We quickly found out that our little Picasso would rather create than decorate. And I realized why my mom is the world's fastest cookie decorator. With little kids to cater to, you don't have time to make rainbow zebras. Unless you're a dad.

The jolly Joker at her finest.

More merry pics to come...

Cheers! It's Christmas Eve!

May visions of sugar plums dance in your heads.

(Special love to my U.P. family - missing you this Christmas eve. Ring in Wigilia with an extra serving of cabbage pierogi + two beano for me...)

Cookie monster

For those worried Maizey would be permanently scarred from Santageddon, never again able to capture that Christmas spirit - fear not. Girlfriend found something to really celebrate this holiday season. Hint: to make up for my lack of a sweet tooth, Maizey's been endowed a full set of sugar-loving chompers. Yep. Sassy pants loves herself some cookies.

On Tuesday, at 7:30 a.m., she threw herself on the kitchen floor and wailed... "Toooties, Mama. Toooties."

I gave her one.

But taking advantage of the teachable moment, made her help bake more.

Maizey's highlight? Dough eating and flour throwing. Stay tuned for the icing-event...

Confession: Yes the dough was homemade - but I didn't make it. Came straight from Grandma's U.P. kitchen, delivered by Aunt Robin. Thanks, ladies!

p.s. Yesterday (Thursday, Dec. 20) Maizey decided to free climb. Straight out of her crib. Lawd help us.

Santageddon

Last year Miss M met the Jolly Old Fellow at a Huron Valley Mom Club Christmas party (the one and only club event we ever participated in - back when I was still panicked about my droll social life and lack of adult stimulation). And, loved him.

The year I was ready to make the magic happen. After thoroughly researching our options, including Santa's Cabin (fully booked), Somerset's Santa and Twelve Oaks' Santa (too pricey), I settled on Milford restaurant Bakers' campy-fabulous "Brunch with Santa."

We were rearin' and ready to go at 9:30 a.m. and on the drive to the joint Will channeled his Scripps prep-time parent persona and drilled Maizey on Santa's name and M.O.

Will: "Maizey. Say 'Santa.'"

Maizey: "Tanta."

Will: "Santa."

Will (again): "Maizey. What does Santa say?"

Maizey: "Oh oh oh."

Will: "Close enough."

And, repeat.

We rolled up and my toddler toddled into the eatery, smile in place. I whispered to the hostess, "When does Santa arrive."

As she led us to our booth, she gestured toward to seating area, "Santa is here."

Ole Saint Nick was holding court with a kid clearly not buffet stranger. 

Maizey spotted him, whispered "Tanta?" and when the man in the red suit (and a REALLY bad beard) turned his sites on her, promptly attached herself to my calf and began whimpering.

"Noooo. Nooooooooo. Buh-bye Tanta. Buh-bye."

Luckily, the man of the hour got the hint and made himself scarce. Clearly, this isn't his first rodeo.

We commenced with brunch... Maizey stacked half-and-half...

And crammed carby breakfast lovies into her maw.

A short 35 minutes later, little lady was all done and Will and I strategized...

Will: "We have to pass him to get out."

Me: "Yeah. I know. I want a picture."

Will: "She's going to scream."

Me: "Yeah. I know. I want a picture."

Will: "She really doesn't like him."

Me: "Yeah. I know. I want a picture."

Off we went.

She spots him sitting in his throne by the entry...

Pregnant pause...

She protests...

Mom ignores...

And, scene.

(But really. I don't blame Girlfriend. I was a little skeezed out sitting on this guys lap - hence the lazy eye. It's like Lady Godiva aged and this dude glued her locks to his face.)

Anywho...once outside, she was happy as a reindeer with a Popsicle
(or a kid with a candy cane)...

Thank my lucky stars I didn't splurge on Santa's Cabin.

And, in this time of tragedy,

thank goodness I have these two to call home.

xoxo