Monthly Archives: December 2011

Merry Christmas 2011!

Santa just finished up his work in our living room…guess he and Mrs. Claus will pay more attention to the words “Some Assembly Required” next time they go shopping. Ha! Totally kidding. Actually, they got off pretty easy this year, lots of tiny Barbie kitchen gear to set out on the tiny Barbie kitchen table and counter and shit, but, overall, relatively easy stuff to assemble…even in the dead of night on little or no sleep. So, yay for that!

Anyway, as I head back to bed with Mrs. Yeti — did I mention that we were up too? Well, we were. The same time that Santa was here too…weird how that happens, huh? — I wanted to stop for a minute to wish you all a very Merry Christmas. I don’t know what you have planned, but, if it’s anything like ours — we usually eat, watch movies, play with presents, nap and repeat — then it’s bound to be fun. Merry Christmas, amigos!

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Christmas cards mailed: check

Whew…just finally finished up our freaking Christmas cards. I know, kinda late. But, hey, if you actually send them and they are postmarked any day before the holiday, they still count as Christmas cards in my book. So, they count.

I don’t know what it is, but, Christmas cards, more than any other element of the season, totally haunt me. I literally cannot start having fun until they are done…and now that they are, well, bring on the Christmas cheer, baby! Daddy is ready to par-tay!

Seriously, I was so excited to be finished with our cards that I actually drove them to the post office the minute I finished them…which was around 2:00AM this morning. No traffic, no lines, just me and a big old handful of stamped Christmas cards at the post office. I know I coulda waited till the morning, but, to me, the act of dropping them off inside the post office means that they are beginning their journey to their recipients. Crazy, I know, but, lemme tell ya, I smiled the whole drive home.

So, for those of you lucky enough to be on our Christmas card list, check your mailboxes in a couple of days…and for those who are not, well, Merry Christmas anyway! We still love you.

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A chipped beef Christmas

OK, so, last time I wrote, Greta had proclaimed herself “healed”. Well…big shocker…she wasn’t. In fact, since my last post, she has been pooping up strangely cream-colored gravy. I know that sounds gross, my apologies if you’re eating your lunch or something when you read this, but, that’s what it looked like. Pale gravy.

Actually, I’m feeling the writerly compulsion to get a little more specific than “pale gravy” here. So, weak-stomached readers, please, feel free to totally free skip to the next paragraph. Anyway, when I was a kid my Step Mom used to buy these weird chipped beef and gravy packets for us. They came in these little plastic baggies that you plopped into boiling water for a couple of minutes and then slit them open and poured the chipped beef, gravy and everything over some toast. I remember it being pretty yummy, but, man alive, it looked like shit. Literally. And now, I can say with some certainty that it looked exactly like what Greta was serving up late last week. Chipped beef deluxe. Extra runny.

Anyway, so, she’s got the shits — or as she so eloquently put it as she thrust her crap-covered hand in my face on Wednesday morning: “Daddy, I threw up in my butt!” — for a couple of days. Then I get the shits, real bad. Then, my Mom arrives Friday afternoon ready to drive with us to my Grandparents house in the middle of nowhere for their annual, all-family, early-Christmas blow-out. Deep down I knew we shouldn’t have gone, but, hey, we were already packed, Mrs. Yeti was working all weekend, and, hello, my Mom did drive way out of her way to commute with us to Grandpa’s. So, I popped my daily limit of shit pills, changed Greta for the tenth time that morning and hit the road. On a Friday. At rush hour. In Los Angeles. As you can imagine, it was a lovely ride.

What should have been an hour-and-a-half drive turned into a three-and-a-half hour slog from hell. I’m not kidding, walking would have been faster. So, we get there, hang out a little bit and have some pizza. Yeah, I know, bad idea. Actually, the pizza was the first of several bad ideas. Let me just say this, when you’re shitting brown water in the morning and you cork it up with diarrhea pills in the afternoon and then hop into the car for a three-and-a-half-hour slow boat to China, pizza is not your friend. I literally felt like I was gonna explode after I ate my first piece. I drank a soda to help me burp it down a bit, but, nothing worked. I couldn’t burp, I couldn’t fart, I couldn’t poo…urgh…I felt like Augustus Gloop stuck in that chocolate tunnel in “Willy Wonka”. Ah, who am I kidding? It felt like Augustus Gloop was stuck in my chocolate tunnel and I wanted him OUT!

So, we’re tired, our hosts are tired (or just old and cranky, it’s hard to tell the difference sometimes) and right before we go to bed Greta, who ate like, two bites of pizza, decides she wants to eat some Cheetos. Ding! Bad idea number two. But, hey, I’m bloated, totally stopped-up and exhausted, so, what the hell, you wanna eat Cheetos in bed? Eat up, kid.

A few Cheetos in, she finally falls asleep, I do too and six or so hours later I have the mother of all bowel movements. I swear to God, I thought I was gonna crack the toilet wide open with that epic, hard-ass turd. Whoo-hoo! But, lemme tell ya, it was heaven sent, baby. And I went back to bed feeling absolutely glorious.

Until about two hours later, when I awoke just in time for Greta to barf on my face. Yep. She got my ear too, but, trust me, the face is the worst. Of course, she was covered in Cheetos-tinted barf as well, so, I stripped her down, stripped the bed and woke up my Mom for assistance. God bless her, she woke up, stared incredulously at the two of us for a minute and then got down to business.

People weren’t due to arrive for the party till 1:00PM, but, we both knew that Grandma would be up in a couple of hours and that the last thing she’d wanna see is a barfy crime scene in her guest bedroom, so, Mom and I worked fast to get that shit cleaned up. And we did. Note to self: If I ever kill someone and need to cover it up…call Mom!

So, the room looked great, but, Greta and I still felt like shit. There was talk of us leaving, but, Greta’s beloved giraffe (who also took a dousing in the face when Mt. Greta erupted that morning) was still in the dryer and Greta had finally fallen into a deep, much-needed slumber, so,we figured we’d stay and see how she felt when she woke up.

Luckily for all of us, Greta felt much better after her long mid-morning nap, so, we stayed. I was still dragging my ass — I have a feeling “dragging my ass” is the new normal this holiday season — but, we ended up having a really awesome time hanging with my Grandparents and the extended family, so, I’m really glad we stayed around.

In fact, I know it sounds kinda corny, but, I think we were healed by the magic of Christmas. Once everybody started to arrive for the party, and they cranked up the Christmas music, and the food and drinks started flowing, I genuinely started to feel better. Greta too. It sounds crazy, but, maybe two cc’s of Christmas cheer was all we needed to get right back on track. Or maybe it was just the food and baked goods (which were out-fucking-standing!).

Either way, the good news is that father and child are on the mend and we still have a whole week till Christmas. So, bring on the Christmas week adventures!

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Christmas presents wrapped: check

Urgh, what a day. Greta was kinda sluggish and tired all day, no fever or anything, just a general blah-ness I guess. Anyway, she skipped her nap and then fell into a deep, deep sleep right before we ate dinner. Mrs. Yeti and I decided she needed the sleep and figured she’d probably sleep through the night…but, guess what happened? Yep, you got it. She woke up four hours later and proclaimed herself “healed”. Yes, she actually said that, it was hilarious.

So, seeing as it was well after midnight, guess who got to stay up with the newly healed patient? Right again! Honestly, it was no big deal and it was kinda fun to hang with her since she’d been so blah all day, but the best news of all is that we spent our time together wrapping the bulk of our Christmas presents. Meaning, most of the bigger boxes and all of the stuff we bought Mrs. Yeti. So, hooray for us, our beautiful little tree actually has presents under it!

Now, if I could just get those damned Christmas cards started all would be right with the world…

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You’ve come a long way, baby…

Yesterday was Greta’s last ballet class of the year and to celebrate this monumental event, her teacher, Miss Sommer, let the parents actually sit in the studio and take pics and video of the class in session. We invited my brother and his wife (aka Uncle Guy Guy and Aunt Laura) and this is the perfect snapshot he captured of Greta in the studio.

As you can see from the confident little glint in her eyes, any initial fears she may have had about taking a ballet/tap class are long gone and she’s just as hammy when cameras are around as the rest of us. Ha! Congrats on your first three months as a ballerina, sweetie. Long may you jeté!

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Michael Bublé Christmas Special airs tonight! (via make.see.eat.do)

Spent the weekend putting up the tree, decorating the house and trying to explain to Greta why we don’t wear our Christmas stockings on our actual feet. She calls them “socks” and, well, why shouldn’t she? Explaining the whole thing to her last night, Mrs. Yeti and I kept looking at one another, like: “Wow, this is kind of a weird tradition…no wonder she’s confused!”

Anyway, Greta and I are still putting the final touches on Christmas-izing our merry little household, so, you’ll have to forgive me if I cut corners a bit and post something from our sister blog here today. I know it’s totally cheating, but, I promise to dazzle you with some exclusive content real soon. So, for now, Merry Christmas and enjoy the link!

Michael Bublé Christmas Special airs tonight!.

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Riding out the Santa Ana winds…

It’s 4:30AM and the wind is seriously howling outside. I mean, like, the worst Santa Ana winds we’ve had since we’ve lived down here, which has been like, forever. I wish I had the energy to record the sounds for you, so scary!

And howling winds outside, of course, means non-sleeping toddler, which means, non-sleeping Daddy. So, in order to spare Mrs. Yeti the agony of our tossing and turning in bed at every fallen tree branch outside — at least I hope that’s what I’m hearing, who knows? — Greta and I have moved to the living room for the duration of the storm.

Yep, nothing like a little Raisin Bran and “Parenthood” to get your mind off the insanity outside. Has anybody but us been watching that show this season? It is FANTASTIC. Really great shit and if you have kids, it’s even better…actually, it’s almost too realistic sometimes, but, I love it. And Greta likes all the kids on the show, so, it has become our late-night “story” of choice.

Anyway, back to the bunker of blankets on the couch. Here’s hoping one (or both!) of us will fall asleep before the power goes out and we really start wigging. Yikes…

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