After you...

I tried to hit some stores last week to return some items and see what kind of sales were going on, but didn't stay out after seeing the mob scene all the shopping areas were hosting. Figuring most people would be back to work this week, FunnyKid and I ventured out. And, for the most part, things were fine.

What was surprising, though, was the number of people who have no regard for the fact that I was maneuvering a baby in a stroller. I actually had people line up behind me to go in the same door rather than open the next door over for themselves. There were also one or two people who walked up to a door, went through it and kept going rather than stopping to hold it open for us.

But the worst was a 20-year-old girl who, despite the fact that I was backing out of the door and pulling the stroller after me, decided she HAD to use that door and not the perfectly good one right next to it. And apparently her business in the bookstore was urgent because she didn't want to wait for the stroller to get out of the door behind me and actually tried to slip between me and FunnyKid's stroller in order to get in.

Really?!? She was thwarted by the fact that I refused to let go of the stroller, but dashed inside as soon as the stroller cleared the doorway. Because it would have apparently been too much to ask for her to grab the door for me and FunnyKid to get through, and not at all inconvenient for the person trying to BACK OUT of the door WITH A STROLLER to hold it for another person.

This Christmas is different.

There are very few presents under our tree for me, both because the Pretend Husband and I agreed not to exchange gifts and because I feel like 2010 has given me everything I need. I started crying in church this afternoon watching the joy on FunnyKid's face as his father made faces to keep him entertained.

A warm home, an abundance of food, a loving husband, generous family and friends, success in business and a baby with the chubbiest cheeks you've ever seen. It doesn't get much better than that.

Happy holidays to you and yours. May you get everything you want-- and not necessarily wrapped up under the tree.

You know you're a mom when...

You instinctively use your hand to block your son's pee (and that's not even the grossest thing you touched that day!)

Lately, I have been putting FunnyKid's tub in front of the stove in the living room for his bath time (I tell him some people pay a lot of money for a spa experience like that). While I do put towels on the floor to protect the rug from the kiddo's splashing, they weren't going to be enough this morning. When the little geyser erupted (and started arcing over the towel toward the rug), I quickly jumped in and used my hand to send it splashing into the tub instead.

Of course, I'm all casual about this, but let's be honest, what's a little pee? Now, if it had been vomit or poop, I'm not sure I would have been so quick to jump in and start catching it in my hand. In that case, I may have just opted to buy a new rug.

Why yes, I do still have some baby weight to lose...

I will always gladly show off photos of my adorable four-month-old. I will not, however, smile while I'm doing it if you are only ask to see the photos as you backpedal from asking me when I'm due.

When am I due? Beginning of September, but I had the baby at the end of August. I will take your awkwardness as an apology.

It turns out *we* are the terrible neighbors

When the Pretend Husband went to empty the ashes out of our pellet stove yesterday, the tray was still too hot and burned a hole through the oven mitt he tried to use to carry it outside. I opened the door to find him bent down next to the tiny garden pond by our front steps, trying to break the layer of ice on top and dip the oven mitt into the water.

As he came inside, the PH threw the oven mitt onto a pizza box sitting on the front steps (I think he was going to hold it under the ash tray to make sure ashes didn't fall onto the floor as he walked?) and I warned him to make sure the oven mitt wasn't still burning because it could start a fire.

An hour later, the doorbell rang, I heard the PH yell, "Fire!" as he walked into the hallway and I immediately began filling a bowl with water. As the PH took over that job, I opened our front door to find our neighbor pouring his beer onto the charred remains of the oven mitt and pizza box.

Our neighbor, while working in his garage and trying to enjoy a beer, had noticed huge clouds of smoke drifting over from our property. From his house, it looked like the smoke was coming from the bedroom windows of our house and so he hustled over to investigate. As he was arriving on our doorstep, intending to find out if we were home, he came upon the actual fire that was creating all that smoke and, as I mentioned, wasted a perfectly good beer putting it out for us.

All I can say it, thank goodness our neighbor is the type of guy who investigates first and calls the fire department second. And you had better believe I made the PH tell me I was right about not leaving the oven mitt sitting on cardboard.