I hope your Christmas/Chanukah/vacation was lovely. Mine was great. I got tons of time with my family, both immediate and extended, received an embarrassingly large assortment of great gifts, saw Slumdog Millionaire, which I believe to be the best movie of the year, and I got to go shopping yesterday with the lovely Torrie (WHO HAS THE WORLD'S MOST PERFECT EYEBROWS AND I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO TELL HERRRRR) and Heather B., who I still love, despite her newfound penchant for vlogging and videotaping me looking surly and talking about my plans to make my $20 Gap Outlet boots look...like they didn't cost $20.
This was Lo's first Chanukah, and T's first Chanukah that he truly remembers, so we got a little picture-happy these past few days. I mean, look at us! Aren't we the picture of holiday warmth and familial bliss?
I also took T with me to the office the day before Christmas and snapped this shot, which I cannot stop staring at. He's losing his round pudgy baby look, and getting more angular, somehow. He's turning into a little boy. It's thrilling and sort of makes me get a little throat-clenchy and weepy at the same time.
Before you worry about this becoming a barf-inducing Hallmarkfest o' Pictures, I have a few...shall we say, outtakes.
First up is J, looking as if he just came from Daddy's First Mugshot. J! Where's your Myspace page?
Then, there is my son. A few days ago, I put him down for a nap, and realized that either: (a) he was way too quiet (and Toddler Quiet, as you well know, is never a good thing); or (b) he had fallen asleep almost preternaturally quickly. As I entered his room, I realized the answer was actually (c) all of the above, AKA, HOLY FUCKING SHIT THE BOY HAS PULLED DOWN HIS BOX OF CREAMS, LOTIONS AND SPRAYS, AND, WEARING ONLY A DIAPER AND A T-SHIRT, HAS SLATHERED HIMSELF FROM FACE TO FEET IN VASELINE, BALMEX AND GOD KNOWS WHAT ELSE, PROMPTLY FALLING ASLEEP SANS PANTS OMG.
Shortly thereafter, J, in an apparent attempt to get me back for the super awesome picture I shot of him, began sneakily taking a series of equally super awesome photos of me. I call this one...The Angela Chase, and yes, I swear this was totally unintentional, as I didn't even notice J taking the picture. I'm probably smack in the middle of making my Mom Face in order to get T to stop break dancing so dangerously close to the BURNING FIREPLACE. (As you can tell by the face, I was undoubtedly a pleasure to deal with from the ages of 12-17.)
The next shot is my personal favorite, by which I mean, "picture that sort of makes me want to cry, for never before have I noticed a striking resemblance between myself and Jack Nicholson frozen in the snow maze at the end of The Shining, but that's the Beauty and Wonder of Photography for you [sobs]."
And then there's Lo. Because really, you're never too young for a bad hair day:
birth story). I mean, my God. That's just mean of me, especially considering what an amazing kid she is. So let me tell you a little bit about her:
It goes without saying that I love T to bits, and honestly, my connection with him is...deeper at this point than it is with Lo. I would think most parents with a toddler and an infant probably feel the same way, at first. Your new baby is adorable and lovable, of course, but you and your toddler have history, you know? And while T wasn't a "hard" baby, I can honestly say that Lo is...I don't want to say easier than he was, but--oh, hell. Fine, I'll say it. SHE IS EASIER THAN HE WAS. Whereas J and I would basically have to convince T to go to sleep as an infant, pacing the living room with him at 2 a.m., Lo just...falls asleep on her own. She's never upset unless she's exhausted or teething. T cried often, and got easily frustrated as a newborn, but I'm finding Lo to be perpetually smiling and one of those mythical happy-go-lucky babies. As T got older, he became the sunnily-dispositioned, inquisitive kid he is today, but man, those first few months were rough, especially in comparison to our experience with Lo. I'm sure the fact that she's a second child has something to do with it, but all the same, J and I keep shaking our heads at our dumb luck. (Knock on wood! Knock! On! Wood!) Plus, I never got to do this to T:
Come on. Her turnout is AMAZING, no? (After all, she IS the best goddamn dancer in the American Ballet Academy.)