Wow, glad that X-Mas bile is out of my system, I was starting to dislike myself...
Christmas was, of course, perfectly wonderful, making me feel like a foolish harpy. Lola got many, many toys, including a doll house that actually made her step back and say "WOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!" She unwrapped a majority of her presents, my presents and Tee's presents, much improvement from last year when the paper itself held more wonder for her than the carefully chosen presents inside.
There was little to no whining, tamtrum-throwing or overtiredness (on her part or mine) and since I didn't have to attend more than two places this year (instead of 3+in previous years) it turned out to be the most relaxing Christmas on the books. Lo and Tee napped while I watched Willow, we ate leftover tostadas and then visited my aunt and uncle's home for enchiladas. I enjoy the Hispanic side of my family because they are accepting and loud and the kitchen's always hopping, and because they customized a whole role of enchiladas without meat especially for moi.
Next time you have 30-some crazy Mexican relatives over at your house and you are supervising/expertly filling/rolling tortillas in the enchilada chain gang, you tell me if you remember ONE/10,000 of your nieces doesn't eat meat. Love ya Uncle Dean.
Other things to note: Lola decided to eat crackers in bed one morning and I gave her my mostly unconsious go-ahead and fell back asleep. When I wake up, it was like a Ritz genocide in my bed. I had a whole role of buttery, delicious crackers sprinkled like crispy confetti, under my prostrate body, nestled between my tits, mooshed into my pillow, hiding in the crack between the bed and wall. Judging from how many there were in my bed, she probably ate about two and then realized how fun it was to shower Sleeping Butthead with them. I'm just glad she hasn't pulled one of those poop-smears, it could've been a lot worse.
On the Tee Front, we went to see The Spirit on Sunday and I believe that while absence makes the heart grow fonder, close proximity just makes us fucking annoyed with one another. If you have a cuddly, comfortable date-night in mind (as I did), keep dreaming. This was stiff and careful, almost formal without the pleasant nervousness of a date with someone you don't know that well. We were so anxious not to say the wrong thing, piss the other off, that we barely talked, smiled only a little, laughed not at all. This is stupid, why are we even trying?