Nigel's First Christmas

December 25 was a good day in our house for two reasons: Christmas and Nigel turned 9 months old (I know... doesn't seem possible, does it?!?!).

We stayed at our own house this year, which was a little hard for me to get used to but we had a blast! And here are the pictures to prove it.


Meeting Uncle John, my youngest brother, for the first time. Sadly, he flew out this morning to return to his Marine base.


Nigel and Grandpa McD. play chicken on the new RadioFlyer with Wrangler the Dog. Poor puppy...


This photo is so tragic. We stuffed him into these "First Christmas" PJs, which were WAY too small, right before bedtime on Christmas Eve. Recipe for tears.


A rested Nigel on Christmas morning. Tragedy would befall these PJs, too, when Nigel's tiny hands toppled over my coldish cup of coffee.


A dancing/talking Yo Gabba Gabba toy.


The pack was Nigel's present to Tim.


Celebrating with Lala and crew yesterday. - Sarah

We're Our Own Family Now

If you're like us and you said "NO" to traveling - even across town - this holiday season, check out this article on Babble. The solidarity will make those guilt trips bounce right off you!

craziness in the store

last night Sarah and I ordered out chinese food. I stopped at the local convience store and that is when the craziness began.

The scenario. I am third in line. second in line is what appears to be a youth of about 13-14 years old about 6'2" and 150lbs. He was with his 2 younger brothers and they were getting Nacho's with cheese from the store. In front of them was this little old lady buying lottery tickets. She is conversing with the shopkeeper about lottery drawings and when they occur.

In walks this dude in a orangish suit with an earpiece in for his cell phone. He has one small bottle of Cranberry juice and thinks that he can cut to the front of the line. He says I am in a hurry and tries to hand the money to the cashier. The cashier says "I have to ring that up and these other customers first."

This man Proceeds to throw his drink that hits one of the kids on the shoulder. The kid spins around and throws his nachos with cheese sauce on this man. The man is starting to reach and this old woman pulls out a can of mace and the man behind the counter says to get out of there before he calls the cops. The man leaves. All of this happens in about 10 seconds and I am just like what the #*&! just happened. I am glad no shots were fired. -tim

Passing Down A Tradition

***Keep the magic alive: Warning, this post is not for children's eyes***

My two brothers and I believed in Santa well into middle school. We held onto the magic because of one man, Mr. R. He's the REAL Santa in our town. We went downtown to sit on his lap every Christmas Eve. He had a twinkle in his eye that no mall Santa could ever rival. And he always knew our names.

One year, I really wanted a scooter, but when Santa asked me what I wanted, I was so excited I totally forgot. In the car on the way home I cried so hard because I just knew I wasn't going to get the scooter... but I did! Because Santa is all-knowing. But what really kept us believing is when he would call to my parents in the crowd by name. Sure, there could very well be a system of microphones in which the Snow Queen would tell Santa our names (there is) but there's no way he could know our parents unless he really WAS Santa.

Turns out, Santa knew us so well because I grew up with his son. We went to preschool together on up through high school. He also went to the same church as my neighbors. I don't remember when I found out (I'm guessing even his son didn't know because he never blew his dad's cover), but my mom says my youngest brother, who was in late elementary/early middle school at the time, heard Mr. R. a few aisles over in the super market and recognized his voice as Santa's.

The magic was broken, but not really. We still sat on his lap, year after year. And yesterday, we passed on that magic when Nigel sat in Santa's lap - the REAL Santa, Mr. R. I'm not gonna lie, I cried. And what made it even more special is that it was Tim's first time EVER seeing Santa (I know, how un-American... haha)!

Checking in with the Snow Queen


A stunned Nigel


A very PO'ed Nigel

I Went Where Obama Can't.... At Least Not Yet

Obama wants to move into the Blair House early, but according to this article he's gonna have to wait a little bit longer. Alas, if only he had my kinda connections he could have staked out the place Thursday and claimed squatters' rights!

Thanks to two fabulous friends, my mom and brother are friends of the Blair House, which allows them to attend two parties a year there. These are definitely not my people: too rich, too powerful and too posh to be in my circle. Nevertheless, I went as a guest on Thursday and had a fab time! Here's the play-by-play:

My oldest younger brother, George, sported some new facial hair.


George and our fab pal Jay, who helps orchestrate parking and helps us with the Metro.


To say I'm obsessed with subways is an understatement. The ride on the Metro is always the highlight of the trip for me.


If you look really hard you can see a woman in the background. She's an old-school TV journalist, but I can't remember her name to save my life. If you know who she is you'll be the hero of the day! Last time I met Sandra Day O'Connor.


My mom and George. This place was really decked out for the holidays.


Jay and a minister in the Korean government check out the bedroom suite where the Obamas will stay before the inauguration. Below is the bathroom.



I toured the Wedgewood plant in England when I was in high school so I always love spotting the pieces. There are plenty at Blair House.

Help, I'm Standing and I Can't Get Down

Nigel needs reverse Life Alert or something. He's now pulling himself up in the crib, mostly in the morning about an hour or half hour before he's supposed to be awake. He's usually pretty good about babbling himself back to sleep, but now the problem is that he can't figure out how to sit back down so he screams bloody murder!

Second Post-Placement Visit: Check!

Our SW came yesterday afternoon for our second of three post-placement visits. We'll have our final one in February and then our lawyer (who has already gotten an enormous check from us) will do her thing to make Nigel's readoption final and help us with his citizenship. The visit was a breeze, as have been all of our homestudy visits. And she was so pleased with Nigel's growth and development that I almost forgot to feel a twinge of bitterness and resentment about the whole process (why don't birth parents have to do this crap, too, blah, blah, blah). Almost. It'll really hit when I stroke the check to cover the 20-minute visit.


*** Good point, P. Every state is different. I know of one person from our group who's already finalized and one peep who traveled after us that has, too.