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Need Some Sage Advice

Hey guys, I need help. H's birthday is a little over two weeks away and I'm kind of floundering. I want to do something for a few people in his birth family but I'm not sure exactly what. I've been taking monthly photos of him, so I'm going to compile them either into a little book or collage and pass it on - but I feel like I need to honor them in some way. I'd like to think that eventually, we'll be able to celebrate his birthday together somewhere down the road. But that's not the case this year. And the first year seems special to me. It's like, the first big milestone.
Did you do anything special for the first birthday (and/or subsequent birthdays) to honor the birth family and their sacrifice? I love them and want to make sure they're not overlooked.

I'd love to hear of any traditions or plans you have/had to honor/include the birth family. Thanks!

Aaaaand..... exhale

Phew. This girl here is glad the holidays are over. Not because I'm a grinch or anything... I love and all the frenzy it brings. Especially now that Little W is old enough to get the whole Santa thing. It was a blast. But it was tiring as heck. Thank goodness for online shopping (and double thank goodness for free shipping).
My husband, Neil was home with us for two weeks so we tried to fill every day with fun stuff for W. We soaked up all the holiday joy-based goodness in Philly including eating our way through Reading Terminal Market. In fact, we ate our way through everything these past 6 weeks. And it shows. Yikes!

We had to tear him from the train display at Reading Terminal. 

Helping Santa prepare all the Christmas magic was more fun than I ever imagined. By Christmas eve, W was worked into a hot Santa lather and on his very best behavior (by 2.5 year old's standards). And I was glad for this because I was desperate to document picture perfect family memories to slather all over our updated profile.

I failed miserably. Christmas came and went in a blaze of wrapping paper and tight schedules. Narry a memory was documented in focus.

This is seriously the best Christmas morning shot I got. Kid was on full throttle.

New Year's Eve was quiet in our house. We took down all the Christmas decorations, inside and out. Space is a precious thing in our busy little house, so as much as I love my tree and our decorations, it all had.to.go. I needed my space back. After everything was back to normal in our house (except my waistline), we packed all creatures great and small up and headed down to the river for a peaceful stroll. These unseasonably warm afternoons are soooo appreciated (sorry polar bears. I promise to donate to the WWF later this year).

Don't let the serene scene fool you. W was probably screaming about fish poop and trying to jump in the river.

But I did get to sneak of on my own for a minute to do a little nerdy photography.

 I love me some global warming

Later that evening, after W was zonked, Neil and I had a sushi making date followed by gorging ourselves on our creations. Holy soy sauce overload! We watched bad tv and rung in the new year like old farts.But it was a perfect night. I happily said hasta las pasta to the wild and crazy nights out of my youth. Well, I'm still pretty youth-ish. 32 ain't ancient, but after chasing a toddler around all day, we felt pretty antiquated.
At least I made it until midnight.

So that was my holiday in a nutshell. In case you were wondering. And now here we are in twenty-dozen. I'm hoping for big things this year. Maybe this will be the year I make it back down to a size 10 (ha!). And I'm hoping beyond hope that this is the year our baby finds us. I don't think my heart can manage another year of The Wait. It's so painfully obvious that little W feels the same way. He wants a baby as much as we do, I think. We got him a baby doll for Christmas and he's very into making sure it's healthy. Repressed NICU memories, perhaps?

"Lungs sound good, mommy."

So here's to 2012 and here's to friends known and unknown who are navigating The Wait with us. This is going to be our year, I can feel it.

Traditions, Old and New

W and I just headed out and braved the post apocalyptic battleground that is Wegman's two days before Thanksgiving. Sheesh. Luckily, my list was small, so it wasn't too bad. Thanksgiving is at my parents' house this year so I'm not allowed to do too much for it. Even though I'm 32 with my own husband and child, I'm still my parents' baby, so I'm not allowed to do too much as far as helping. It's our job to show up and eat eat eat. I was able to convince them to let me bring an appetizer and the coleslaw. So I'm making slow progress. Anyway, to Wegman's we ventured. Since I'm only allowed to bring an appetizer, I decided to make the yummiest appetizer that I know of (and one I over indulged in a few days ago at a friend's baptism), stuffed cherry peppers. Yum! I can hear the prosciutto and provolone calling my name in the fridge. So let's wish me (and my waistline) luck that I don't eat them all before Thursday afternoon. I just subscribed to the one-for-you-one-for-me school of assembling. Now I'm stuffed full of stinky cheese and cured meat. Happiness.

And so begins my most gluttonous season. I love the holidays.  I love stuffing myself to the gills for two months, I love the smells and the family and the traditions. But what I love most about the holiday season is all of the opportunities to indulge in cranberry sauce. And not of the homemade variety. Sure, I appreciate a good, homemade cranberry sauce. I may even reserve some real estate on my plate for it these next few months. But the shiny, can shaped glob of sugary goodness is where it is at for me. I love the sound it makes when it slides onto the bowl, I love the way it melts a little when it mingles with the warm gravy <insert Homer Simpson gurgling here>. Oooh I love it.

photo credit: zipongo

And while I'm talking about traditions and food, I should mention my newest tradition. A few years ago we came home from Thanksgiving with zero (ZERO!!) leftovers. Blasphemy! Little did we know that our friends down the street were suffering the same injustice. We started talking about how rotten a Thanksgiving without leftovers is. And we got sad. And mad. How could this have happened? Why didn't our respective families understand the importance of next-day-turkey-sandwiches?? Why were we powerless in this situation? And why were we standing for it? Convention ruled that that you can only eat gastro-busting portions of turkey and fixings on the third Thursday of each November. Why only once a year? Seeing as we (my friend and I) weren't ones to necessarily follow convention, we said screw it. And so it was that Slapsgiving (named in honor of a silly episode of How I Met Your Mother) was born. Now every year, once Thanksgiving is over and the sea of leftovers has dried up, we will get together with our dear friends and drink wine and cook a traditional Thanksgiving feast all.over.again. We use pretty china and wear forgiving (read: stretchy) clothes, we listen to awesome Christmas music (Think, Pogues and Waitresses) and we enjoy a great Slapsgiving.
And there are always leftovers for everyone.

photo credit

I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving and a groovy Slapsgiving (with no actual slapping, of course). Cheers!