Rachel Callahan

The Birthday Archives.

January 8, 2013January 7, 2013 Rachel Callahan Every Now and Then I Can Be Sappy Too., Kids: The Experience., The Blissfulness of Life

Six.

There’s something about that number that seems very significant – as if it’s the 21st birthday of being a kid – as if they should legally be allowed to drink caffeinated beverages or something.

Last weekend, I went through the ridiculous amount of photos that I’ve taken of Ali’s six years of life. It was a strange sensation to look at photos of her toddler years – it all seems so so foreign now. After all, she’s been a kid for a LONG time.

But it was fun to observe what has and hasn’t changed – at least in photographs.

She’s not always been clean,

She’s not always been polite,

But she’s had six years of a fabulously persistent right dimple…

Six years of me attempting (and failing) to answer the question “Exactly what color ARE her eyes?”

Five years of insane hair (that first year was pretty sparse)…

Four years of making her own couture fashion statements…

Six years of being a Daddy’s Girl…

And six years of being attached to Mommy whether she liked it or not.

After four solid years of being a trio,

She’s now had two years of being an impressively kind and caring (albeit an obsessively over-cautious) big sister.

The year of five was good. She showed that she is a kind, compassionate, conscientious, eager to learn, joyous little girl with a soft heart toward God and other people.

(As well as being OCD, poetically minded, informative, appreciative of illness, a rule-follower to the brink of disaster, helpful with dieting, a camel, a deep theologian, overly thorough, and intensely ambitious.)

The year of six, I’m sure, will only be better.

These Lights Will Inspire You.

January 7, 2013August 7, 2014 Rachel Callahan Blogher, Chris, Guest Post, Running

This is a guest post by Chris, my contributing editor, contributing dad, and contributing husband.

So, the new year is here, and most of America resolves to do something.

In January of 2003, I threw my large flabby self into an old pair of sneakers and walked ambitiously to the foot of our hill and started running with all of the fervor and grace that a fat guy can muster. I didn’t make it a quarter mile before my legs & lungs gave out and I had to walk again. But I kept at it, and this January marks ten years of habitual running.

Its not just exercise for calorie burning, although that is definitely part of it. Its become my favorite hobby – a mind-clearing, fresh air breathing, challenge conquering pastime.

But the biggest reward of running is the freedom to explore the world around me.

I can go a little farther now, and I make a point to explore on foot when I travel, which I have done in San Diego, Saluda, NC, and pretty much anywhere I go for more than one night.

When I tagged along with Rachel to Blogher back in August, I left her to conferencing and explored Manhattan by running 15 miles over two days, since it was my first time in NYC.

On a warm Friday morning, I took the subway to the far side of the Brooklyn Bridge and headed back to midtown on the elevated pedestrian path.

(Note: No Mopeds, because you see those never. And no runners over 3 tons. That’s for you, Sunday Night TLC.)

After crossing the bridge, I turned south towards the business district, to see the Old Trinity Church from National Treasure (where all of Solomon’s Egyptian gold is buried!!), and along the way I learned where hedge fund managers buy non-dad jeans to match their metro casual scarves. Not at the Levi’s on 34th street, but on Wall Street itself, across the street from THE New York Stock Exchange, at True Religion, 14 Wall Street.

Skinny, low-rise excess is available right there between Capital One and Charles Schwab.

I left the district of historic fortunes and luxury denim and went north along the Hudson River, past the well-dressed foreign nannies walking babies in the 2%,

and checked out a mix of new construction and classic NY. It felt like wandering around in Seinfeld and Friends.

I headed back to the east side and up through Chinatown and Little Italy – where businesses flourish, especially in the basement. Yup, this is totally legit. Nothing to see here.

It didn’t always smell “fresh,”

despite their efforts in exterminating their unique set of pests,

but it was very cool to see. Once you get north of Little Italy, the street numbers start, and the blocks went on forever.

So in the interest of time, here are a few touristy shots of architecture between 4th and 34th Street, some you might know and some you might not.

This brings me to one of my two tips for NYC.

Times Square is the zoo train of the city. It has nothing to do with the city (except I guess on New Year’s Eve,) and its surrounded by much more interesting animals places.

It is absolutely packed with tourists, back-to-back double decker tour buses, and chain restaurants that have nothing to do with New York.

After making it nine miles back to the hotel, I cleaned up and returned, blissfully exhausted and starving to the same subway exit for the best pizza I ever had. This is where you want to go:

A short walk puts you at the original Grimaldi’s.

This is the Best Pizza I have EVER eaten.

And I have eaten a lot of pizza in 36 chubby years.

Go to Grimaldi’s in Brooklyn. I cannot recommend this with any degree of reservation.

And not to worry – they are prepared for you to eat the whole thing.

The next day, I ran around Central Park, and by that, I mean a complete six mile lap around the perimeter. I know there are lots of other scenic trails inside the park, but it was my first time. Besides, I loved the short, old, quirky buildings along 5th Avenue stuck in between the standard super tall boring ones. Do Rockefellers, Astors or Vanderbilts live in these buildings?

Let me insert my second New York tip here. The south end of Central Park is the popular one. See my earlier description of Times Square. The Plaza Hotel, Columbus Circle, horse carriages, bike renting pamphlet pushers, and tons of tourists are all in attendance. If you keep going a few 10 or 15 blocks, you can have 5th Avenue all to yourself – or at least the sidewalk.

If you make it to the end of Central Park at 110th street, you are just barely in Harlem. And when I saw this, I desperately hoped that McDougal’s was right around the corner:

I passed what was either a swearing-in ceremony or NYPD Glee Club.

Coming back down the west side is just as quiet, at least for 30 blocks or so…

…until you get closer to standard tourist formation, with hot tired people milling about in huddled masses.

Oooh. Look! Standard Huxtable Brownstone!

Sweet! Panoramic postcard vista!

I made it back again, having thoroughly enjoyed exploring the city, and ended up with a few amateur observations about Manhattan.

1. Really New York? Has it come to this?

2. Who is Fang Wong? And why does he have an office?

(Google it. Not what I expected.)

3. Central Park is full of playgrounds. Really nice ones. Who knew?

4. Finally, Manhattan has some really unique churches. You won’t find these congregations in Alabama:

The ever popular denomination:

Those decisively hard nosed fellows who didn’t like the first, second, or third group at the:

And my favorite:

This particular church’s marquee sported the best sermon topic I have ever seen at a Collegiate Reformed Protestant Dutch Church:

It’s a new year and you are going to resolve something. So grab your old sneakers, build a habit, and discover irony in faraway places.

Welcome to America, Season Three.

January 4, 2013January 3, 2014 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Downton Abbey, I'm a Meme You're a Meme, The Cartoon Age, Utter Silliness

The long-awaited time has come. Downton Abbey Season Three starts in America on Sunday. Or, if you’re like me and have been pretending to be British, Season Three just ended.

But no worries – I will offer no spoilers. I won’t even update my graphic until you’re caught up – because I’m nice like that.

However, I did happen to take notice of something this season: there are a good number of parallels with another oft-watched show in our household.

In fact, I suspect that Downton might be a complete knock-off.

I present to you my evidence:

That Thomas. He’s the cheeky one.

The Origins of the WWE.

January 2, 2013January 1, 2013 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Boy Child = Bizarre., Toddlers: The Experience, Utter Silliness

I’ve never understood wrestling. Why grown men enjoy watching other grown men sling each other around and place each other into questionably intense positions has always been beyond me.

However, now that I have a son, I think I might understand.

It’s because wrestling reminds them of their mother.

Call it good memories. Call it the desire to return to their childhood. Call it Oedipal. Whatever it is, it’s because male toddlers make it a requirement for their mothers to pin them in multiple and complex wrestling holds every day just to accomplish basic tasks.

Here’s a tiny sampling of my daily wrestling moves, documented in crappy iPhone photos.

9:00 AM: Boy requires the Elevated Double Legbar Octopus Hold in order to allow his shoes to be placed on his feet.

Boy does not fight this position – he rather enjoys it. But try and place shoes without a solid Elevated Double Legbar Octopus Hold and you’ll find out exactly why it’s necessary.

And this is what will remind him of our times of shoe placement cuddling one day.

Wrestling photos source: Wikipedia

1:00 PM: Boy needs large amounts of snot retracted from his nose. In order to accomplish this task, Boy requires a Double Kneelock Brain Squeeze Deathshooter.

Perhaps not quite as endearing of a moment when performed by a man wearing nothing but a “Masterpiece” Bikini, but I get the connection.

7:00 PM: Boy needs teeth brushed. Boy requires a Full Body Lotus Lock with Double Arm Compression.

Yes, I do make it a habit to sit on my child.

Does boy complain about such? No. As soon as Boy sees the toothbrush, he lays down on the ground with arms to the side, so as to offer himself up to this hold as easily as possible, giggling all the while.

If he’s so happy about it, surely Boy wouldn’t need such extreme measures, right?

Wrong. Just try to brush his teeth without a Full Body Lotus Lock with Double Arm Compression and you will find yourself insane.

Because it’s moves like this that make life worth living.

Somebody give that man a toothbrush.

The Not-So-Nativity.

December 31, 2012July 9, 2013 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Kids: The Experience., Lego Love, Quirky quirky quirkiness

For their Third Annual Lego Nativity Scene (see years one and two,) Ali and Chris decided to branch out in their block-based biblical interpretations. This year, they chose the oh-so-Christmasy story of the building of Noah’s Ark.

The ark looked oddly medieval, with seemingly not-so-watertight windows involved. But they saw their work, and they said that it was good.

“The Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time.”

(Personally, I don’t think that killing rats and spiders is so evil.)

“Now the earth was corrupt in God’s sight and was full of violence.”

(Including giant spiders that look suspiciously like Aragog.)

“God saw how corrupt the earth had become, for all the people on earth had corrupted their ways.”

(Wait. Was there One Ring to Rule All in this story? Because I totally don’t remember that verse.)

“So God said to Noah, “I am going to put an end to all people, for the earth is filled with violence because of them. I am surely going to destroy both them and the earth. So make yourself an ark of cypress wood; make rooms in it and coat it with pitch inside and out. This is how you are to build it: The ark is to be three hundred cubits long, fifty cubits wide and thirty cubits high. Make a roof for it, leaving below the roof an opening one cubit high all around.Put a door in the side of the ark and make lower, middle and upper decks.”

“You are to take every kind of food that is to be eaten and store it away as food for you and for them.” Noah did everything just as God commanded him.”

(I balked at the bucket o’ fish. Pretty sure they weren’t eating those until AFTER the flood. But maybe those are just Swedish Fish.)

“Just as it was in the days of Noah, so also will it be in the days of the Son of Man. People were eating, drinking, marrying and being given in marriage up to the day Noah entered the ark. Then the flood came and destroyed them all.”

(So THAT’S why it’s bad luck to have rain on your wedding day. Everything makes so much sense now.)

“By faith Noah, when warned about things not yet seen, in holy fear built an ark to save his family.”

As you read this post, the entire scene has already been destroyed and put away — farewell Christmas 2012. But An all-new Nativity 2013 is already sketched out and ready in Chris’ head.

What to Do With Christmas Cards.

December 27, 2012December 27, 2012 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational

I have to admit that some of my IRL friends and family looked at me with sketchy, concerned eyebrows after reading my offer to do a Christmas Card swap with my blog readers.

(IRL = “In Real Life,” for those of you in real life.)

I get it, I get it – the internet is a big, bad, place. And sometimes I do experience that badness. But I consider myself a fairly good judge of character.

(For instance, I totally didn’t give my address to that creepy dude from Vanuatu.)

(See, Mom? I’m taking care of myself.)

But really – It was so much fun exchanging Christmas cards with so many of you. I loved the photos of your family, the drawings from your kids, the magazine cutouts of Printed Jeans, and your sweet notes. I know that some IRL people will never completely understand this, but internet people are actually just as real as they are.

Weird but true.

As cards began coming in, I admit that I let them pile up on my counter, a bit panicked at what to do with them now. Normally, I slice my cards all up, magnetize them, and stick them on the refrigerator.

But,

a) Cards are getting more complex in their photo layout every year which requires a greater dexterity with scissors than I possess, and
b) There were a LOT of cards. And Ali is taking up more of my fridge real estate with fairy drawings every day.

On Christmas Eve, I was feeling especially anxious about my lack of Christmas Card Display. I began going through my stack again, and my IRL friend April’s round card (the only round card I’ve ever received) inspired me.

“Wouldn’t this look cool hanging on a ribbon surrounded with square cards and rectangular cards?” …I said to myself.

I told Chris my vision, and he said something about not having time before we needed to leave for Christmas Eve Festivities.

He was right, but when I get a vision, I can’t just let that vision die, which is exactly what happens to a vision unless I complete it right then.

Usually this type of situation doesn’t end well for my sanity, as things never quite work in reality like they do in my head.

But I pressed on.

So I dug through my Present wrapping supplies and found an unused roll of 1/4” ribbon. I also found my hole punch and punched the top and bottom of every card.

Then I strung them up like popcorn, with the ribbon travelling behind each card.

(See how April’s round card brought the whole idea together? Next year there need to be more round cards in this square world.)

In a miraculous bit of Christmas Magic, my vision happened exactly as I thought it would. The ribbon was the exact right size to hold the cards in place with no tying (not even on the ends!), and when I finished stringing all of my cards, I had used up exactly the entire supply of ribbon on hand.

And here is my new dining room wall:

Yes, it will be staying like that for quite some time.

I started out by taping my ribbons on the wall, but one fell off once an hour. So Chris took pity on me and nailed them in place with tiny, adorable nails.

(Which further solidified their semi-permanent state.)

The only thing that would have improved my wall would have been if you had all gone with a Spring Design – you know, so I didn’t look like I was just being lazy about not taking down my Christmas Decor.

So, Next year: Circular Spring Cards. Everyone on board?

On Finding Christmas Magic.

December 26, 2012December 26, 2012 Rachel Callahan I would NEVER take too many pictures. . ., The Blissfulness of Life

On Christmas Night, my sister-in-law and I were discussing the various Mom Types of the Christmas Season. There are Grinch Moms, Stressed-Out Moms, Desperately-Trying-to-Fake-Christmas-Cheer Moms, and Magic Moms.

(Who are of no relation to Magic Mike.)

After much self-analysis, I decided that I have Multiple Christmas Personality Disorder (MCPD), because I cycle violently through all of the different types of Mom, most likely giving my husband emotional whiplash.

Fortunately, though, I somehow found my Christmas Cheer on Sunday afternoon (after panicking about all I had to do in the next 72 hours,) and managed to hold onto it nearly flawlessly until Wednesday’s Great Broccoli Showdown with Noah.

(In my defense, on Monday he had pitched a fit because he wanted me to buy him broccoli.)

(But apparently, after feasting on stocking candy all morning, broccoli doesn’t taste quite the same.)

But to focus on the good, here’s what our Christmas looked like, in images.

Christmas Eve:

Chris, showing off his Greek Skills to the Greekest member of our family (my Great Aunt Marie) by making Saganaki:

(Note the fire extinguisher on the table.)

No one can be stressed out when there’s flaming cheese in the house:

(He’s working diligently to perfect his recipe, so watch for a post explaining how to light your own cheese on fire very soon.)

My Dad, who is an expert wood craftsman among many other skills, likes to make the Grandkids something very special every year.

This year, Noah got a replica of “Pop’s Old Car,” including a Pop and a Noah to ride inside:

(Noah had lost his clothes after a big dinner of lasagna. It happens to the best of us.)

Ali, receiving a craft table, designed by my Dad with some pretty fabulous details:

Noah spent the evening examining every angle of his new car,

(Yes, he was naked all Christmas Eve – he prefers nudity when given the option,)

And Ali enlisted everyone in the house to help her make fabulous art projects.

Right before bed, I fought the kid into his Christmas pajamas. He was thrilled beyond words.

…And then attempted the Christmas PJ Photo Op. Which traditionally fails every year.

Christmas morning involved the usual: running down the stairs, ripping paper into shreds, and shoving as much chocolate into their mouths as possible.

In short, beautiful chaos.

We had Chris’ family over for brunch, during which I failed completely in my photographical duties. It could have had something to do with frantic cooking of Pancakes and Sausage Rolls, but I shall offer up no excuses.

I know – this makes me the worst daughter-in-law ever.

Then, a blessed Christmas nap.

Tornadoes were gracing our area, but it ended up being safe enough to still go to my parent’s house for dinner, where my Mom (a forever Magic Mom) took great joy in making the adults dress up – supposedly for a game for the children.

Many of us were thrilled with this opportunity.

Or at least willing to pretend.

We never did quite understand the rules of the games, nor did the children.

But Mom felt the magic, and that’s what was important.

Despite the presents and the magic and the games, the hit of the night was my Grandmother’s Dog’s crate. The children astonished us all with their ability to climb in completely and shut the door,

and only the smallest of them all managed to get stuck and need the door removed from it’s hinges and a five-person removal operation.

But that’s okay. Because she felt the Christmas Magic, too.

But the most magical thing about my Christmas was this:

How was your Mom State this Christmas?

The Christmas Story, with Director’s Notes.

December 24, 2012December 23, 2012 Rachel Callahan I would NEVER take too many pictures. . ., Kids: The Experience., The Blissfulness of Life

A play, intended for annual use, to be put on by the children of a small group.

Dress children in anything remotely period appropriate, including but not limited to tree skirts,

1984 Pageant dresses,

(Which can be made more authentic by adding a cloak and a halo,)

and Batman costumes.

For actors that will be playing animals, allow them to use their own hair to enhance their costume’s believability.

Allow participants to choose their own roles when possible, even if they desire to represent extremely ancillary characters that didn’t make it into the recorded narrative.

Stable Janitor

Ensure that actors are acquainted with their props.

Feel free to improvise with common household items – for instance, cinnamon sticks make a perfect substitution for frankincense. Or a light saber.

Allow the talent time to socialize before the play – this creates more natural interaction on stage.

Attempt to corral all participants, taking care to not allow them to stuff their faces with high-fructose cookie dough dip immediately prior to the performance.

For optimal efficiency and maximum results, have one adult male reading the narration while another adult male wields a large stick.

Begin Play.

“In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world.(This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.)And everyone went to their own town to register.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.”

(As with any expecting couple, they most likely had a disagreement or two while travelling. Feel free to improv these interactions.)

“While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.”

(If male actors are unwilling to play the part of Joseph, another woman may be used.)

“And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night.”

^{(“Flocks” can refer to a solitary sheep if animal volunteers are in short supply.)}

^“An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.’”

(Make sure that the angel displays this great joy in a believable fashion.)

(Sheep may find themselves bored during this long angelic speech. But do not be troubled – after all, they are only sheep.)

“Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

‘Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.’”

(Feel free to allow one especially talented angel take on the soprano lead in this proclamatory song.)

“When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, ‘Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.’”

^“So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger.”

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”

(And Joseph was also doing a bit of pondering himself. Things like how anticlimactic the births of the rest of their children would surely be after this one.)

^“The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.”

“On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise the child, he was named Jesus, the name the angel had given him before he was conceived.”

(It is recommended to quickly skim over that paragraph, as explanations might produce a bit of stage fright amongst the male cast.)

“After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalemand asked, ‘Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.’”

(If you realize mid-play that you have too many Magi and no Herod, you can quickly substitute an extraneous Magi for Herod. Choose one that has a natural vibe of grumpiness.)

“When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found out from them the exact time the star had appeared. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, ‘Go and search carefully for the child. As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him.’”

“After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was.”

“When they saw the star, they were overjoyed.”

“On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him.”

(Extreme melodramatic worshipping is okay. Even if it borders on hammy.)

(…because sometimes, actors are destined to inherit hammishness from their fathers.)

“Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.”

“And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route.
When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious,”

(…or perhaps contrary, finally looking happy when he’s supposed to be furious,)

“and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi.”

(As children may find this part of the story disturbing, perhaps replace it with Herod simply stealing Jesus’ presents.)

(Then again, children might find that equally disturbing.)

After the play is completed, reattempt a corral to obtain a full-cast photo.

(This is a completely impossible feat, but what is life without attempting the impossible.)

Continue snapping photos until you can minimize silly faces, grumpy children, and escapees,

as well as nose-pickers, continuing silly faces, and adults replacing escapees.

And if you’re lucky, and I do mean really, REALLY lucky, you might get a keeper.

Merry Christmas.

Christmas Wins and Losses.

December 21, 2012December 20, 2012 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Anal Retentivity to a Fault, Blogging: the therapy., I embarrass myself just for your amusement., Just My Luck

I fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous of which is “never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line,” but only slightly less well-known is this: “Never trust Etsy with the timely distribution of your Christmas Cards.”

The first twenty-nine steps of Christmas Card Creation were the easy ones.

I won’t bore you with the next fifty-one steps of pain and anguish, but it culminated yesterday morning with me in a deeply troubling pit of despair. A pit in which I had to use my normal, boring, black-inked return address stamp rather than my gold ink pad and the pretty, fancy, customized stamp that I ordered from an artist on Etsy eighteen days ago.

(For which, by the way, after realizing that the Etsy Artist was going to take the full 7 days of her “2 to 7 day” window AND that those 7 days meant business days, I finally paid an extortion fee of $15 to get two-day shipping. It has now been nine days since it was shipped and my stamp has yet to arrive.)

And so, after my laboriously addressed, stamped, and sealed cards sat on my kitchen table for an extra five days while awaiting their proper return address, I sweated, paced, and put all of my hopes and dreams into the United States Postal Service. One cannot explain the deep-seated anxiety that can be caused by something as ridiculous as a non-arriving return-address stamp and the resulting last-minute mailing of Christmas Cards, but it exists, people – it exists.

So at this point, I know that I should bring it all around with an uplifting message about how I realized that fancy return address stamps are not what Christmas is all about as Schroeder plays the piano softly in the background of my monologue, but my heart still fills with angst every time I think about That Stamp that now has no purpose in my life (I’ve pondered having a baby just for the opportunity to send out birth announcements,) so perhaps that sentiment wouldn’t be so genuine at this particular moment.

Instead, I’ve decided to document this year’s Christmas Wins and Losses in a weak attempt to make myself feel better about the strenuous pressures that unfortunately is an American Christmas.

(On that note, I’m considering moving to Madagascar before next Christmas. Surely I won’t be fretting about return address stamps there, right? I hope not, since my super-special one would no longer be accurate.)

WIN: Pretty addressing. I decided to try my hand at creating my own handwriting “fonts.” There was something extraordinarily therapeutic about the practice of actually writing for a change.

(Of course I didn’t really mail a card to the Claus Family – but I assumed that none of my real recipients wanted their address posted here.)

WIN: Finding a fun stamp at Michael’s to dress up the boring white envelopes.

LOSS: The aforementioned Etsy Debacle. There’s always next year. Unless I move to Madagascar.

LOSS: Gift-Buying. You know those last few people on your list for which you have no ideas? They drove me insane this year, and some are still outstanding. I am thirty-one years old and am completely out of original ideas.

WIN: Making a last-minute decision to take on holiday baking with Ali, thereby giving me something to give to some of those distressingly hard to buy for people.

LOSS: Forgetting that I also have a two-year-old. A two-year-old that has recently discovered the joys of continuously repeating, “PLAY, Mommy! Let’s go! Play Mommy! This way!”

WIN: My mother coming over to play with Noah while Ali and I baked.

We managed to bake four treats together: Deep Dark Fudgy Cookies, Soft Butter Mints, Chocolate and Peanut Butter Fudge, and Oreo Truffles (aka Johnny Macs.)

LOSS: Kitchen Cleanliness. If you ever see a blogger’s photos of their kitchen while making sweets and it’s not completely ravaged, they’re lying to you.

LOSS: Pretty wrapping paper. I set the bar too high last year and have no motivation to compete with myself. Because I am thirty-one years old and out of original ideas.

WIN: Gift Labels. Ali and I made this super simple sign the other day using thumbprints and sharpies,

which led to the idea of using the same technique for labels (and allowing Ali to practice her new favorite hobby, “fancy writing”):

LOSS: We might have made the labels, but that present is totally staged. I haven’t wrapped yet.

What were your Christmas wins and losses this year?

They Say It’s My Birthday.

December 19, 2012December 18, 2012 Rachel Callahan Guest Post, NoahBlogs

Hi internet people! Noah here.

So today, I’m this thing that they call two.

And apparently, I’m supposed to be happy about it.

But here’s the thing: I believe that I’ve been treated unfairly.

Birthdays are a big deal. Just ask The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy who insists that her own is to be celebrated for an entire month.

smh.

But then it comes time for my birthday, and she basically throws me an Afterthought Party.

I get it, I get it. I was born six days before the busiest day of the Mommy Year.

But Poor Family Planning on your part does not constitute a subpar Birthday Celebration on my part.

What? Don’t believe That Woman could throw a pitiful party?

First of all. She bought my birthday supplies at PARTY CITY rather than making them with her own loving hands.

Did Party City birth me? No. Does Party City have a vested interest in my level of lifelong success? No. Should Party City get the HIGHEST OF HONORS of being allowed to craft my Birthday Party?

NO.

Second of all. I didn’t even get a tablecloth.

A TABLECLOTH!! How much are those cheap paper wastes of trees anyway?? Like, a dollar??

But yet. She had the money to buy me this??

HAS SHE NO CONCEPT OF HOW HUMILIATING SUCH A THING CAN BE??

And then there was the issue of the very, very storebought cake.

Sure, they said it tasted fabulous and all, but I wouldn’t know. Because I refused to eat a single bite of it. On Principle.

It was white. With blue and green squirts on it. And it said “Happy Birthday Noah.”

The minute I laid eyes on the thing, I was flabbergasted at her lack of affection for me.

How many hours has That Woman spent on Pinterest this year?

AND SHE STILL THINKS THAT WAS ACCEPTABLE?!?!

I could have decorated a better cake with my vast collection of Snot Rockets.

It just wasn’t fair. The Woman has all the time in the world to make Memes out of me, but no time to make me a six-foot-tall sculpted Lightning McQueen like I deserve.

She just made that into a meme, didn’t she?

So wrong. So, SO wrong.

During the party, I took a minute to vent to my cousin Andi about the injustices served to me.

She was great, offering me a comforting hug,

And a missed kiss.

But then she got all exhortative on me, pouring out a sippyload of advice about looking inside myself for the answers to my problems.

So I told her that her diaper was full of it.

And judging by the smell of the place, we both knew I was right.

Present time definitely helped my frame of mind,

But after I’d opened everything, The Servants rolled in my present from them. I didn’t even notice at first,

But when I saw it, I have to admit: I was shocked by their generosity.

And, as I rode my new wheels around the room, I realized that Andi had been right all along.

And, just like a woman, she knew it too.

So I guess you didn’t come here to listen to me whine. You came here to see an anthology of my fabulous face over this year, right?

Personally, I think the best way you can celebrate my birthday is to read all of my guest posts. But because I’m here to please and not self-promote, I present to you: my face.

Here I am at my birthday last year. Apparently not so offended by the cake offering.