Pre-Holiday Joy

Gavin outdoes himself
A fever and a runny nose - not worth an emergency trip to the doctor, right? All the same, we took him to the doctor's office yesterday after hearing that my cousin has an ear infection, and the poor kid has a sore throat, two ear infections, and pink eye. Oh no. I don't know how he did it, but now all three of us adults are rubbing our eyes, a bit paranoid. The bright side is that we now have two kinds of antibiotics, and he will be feeling better for his birthday.

The End of the Year Letter
The mamas on my board have inspired me to write a hypothetical holiday letter, like the kind that gets xeroxed and inserted into Christmas cards from family members you don't really talk to. This is the letter that would be, if I had any interest in further alienating my in-laws.

2004 was an eventful year. It began with the good news that, after 7 years, Mike's family decided it was time they got to know me better. It has only been 11 months since that announcement, and I am sure the first questions about my interests are going to arrive at any time. 

After our desperate retreat from New York, we all got busy. My mother and I completed all the tests and paperwork to please the Human Resource Gods and get into grad school, Mike found himself the captain of a sinking ship in Aikahi, and Gavin began to snowball his vocabulary from "uh oh!" to "Mama, sit and kiss kitty!" Two shiny cars joined our family, and two old cars were dumped on whoever would take them. Our two aging cats gave up the fight and allowed two scabby strays to visit us. We have named them "Headlights" and "Sylvester". Headlights has recently earned the nickname "Tailpipes", because he farts a lot, and most of Sylvester's fur has grown back. Xebo, on the other hand, has started to bald, but he vomits less these days, or at the least neatly covers his mess with shoes, socks, etc. Hurcules has discovered that he can carefully use his claws to peel open our sleeping eyelids. Great.

Following a sad incident with some red plastic playground equipment, I have lost 15% of my body mass and posted an embarrassing number of progress pictures on the internet. Halfway through the semester, I realized that I was truly meant to be a librarian, just in time for a flood to tear through the library and destroy our school. Luckily, though, classes went on, and we successfully completed our courses, including another bronze class. 

Yes, it has been quite a year. Mike discovered the level of staff incompetency it takes to run a theater. Gavin learned how to run and climb, as well becoming the first baby I've met who can draw a heart, star, circle, square, and parallel lines before the age of 2. I haven't met many babies, but it seems good to me. My mother had a date, told off a potential admirer, was granted leave of absence for next year to pursue her degree full-time, and bought a VW beetle. As for me, I had an emotional year, being accepted into school, rediscovering my bony landmarks, thinking more about old friends, and finding myself suddenly employed.

What comes this next year? Mike is flying out to attend his brother's wedding (in my conspicuous absence). The adventures of my new job will unfold, with new friends and Tales from the Moldy Stacks. Gavin will be talking more and learning numbers and letters. And we will find ourselves pulling the mortgage and bills while my mother takes her sabbatical in the fall and tackles a full load of classes for the first time in 20 years. 

 
And so, friends and family, I hope your years were happy as well. Thanks to my paternal grandparents, who have been in touch ever since the arrival of their great-grandson, and who have shown pictures of Gavin to my father. I still hold hope that he might write to us some day. Thanks to my mother-in-law for the homemade pickles, which almost make me forgive what happened last Christmas. Salvo, I'm proud of you. Peter, well, you know how it is. Brooke, I love talking to you. Rose, I wish I knew where you are. My RMC mamas, you rock. Take care, everyone, don't forget to write.


-Holly