We put some light-up reindeer antlers on Abby and got a couple glasses of wine and laughed our asses off at the absurdness of it all, knowing we will never forget this.
Also, I have made a decision on the To Santa or Not to Santa situation. I elect to encourage the belief in Santa for as long as possible. I have chosen this route because as the picture below demonstrates, Parker seems to be difficult to impress when it comes to gifts. I need to be able to blame someone else when I see this face again in Christmases to come.
I mean if this picture doesn't say, "What the hell, mom?" I don't know what does.
He also got a little car, from Grammy, that he can ride on. He seems to be terrified by this toy, but I have a feeling that will subside and he will end up LOVING it and I will end up equally HATING it. Thanks Grammy!
Other than that our holiday weekend was pretty quiet, although I did introduce him to something controversial. No, not porn. No, not Smirnoff.
First of all, let me say, the boy is still...still I say...toothless.
I gave him both blueberry frozen waffles and very hard pizza crust.
Before you turn me over to the authorities, let me say I did not give him these at the same time, nor did I leave him for a second while he was enjoying either. I do give him frozen waffles quite often now, though. He LOVES LOVES LOVES them and they seem to really help with the teething. I got this advice, not from a wise old Grandmother, or any sort of veteran mom. No, I learned about this from Roseanne- what works for the Conner's works for me- sort of.
We also introduced him to church over the holiday. We went to a small Christmas morning service at a Episcopal church (we are Catholic) in Ocean City, Maryland. Parker was the only baby and brought the average age of those in attendance down to 60. He was being super cute (of course) and well behaved (duh). However, when he was offered the Body and Blood of Christ, the priest dipped the stale bready disc into the sweet wine and placed it in Parkers' mouth. And Parker immediately and without hesitation, spit it out. I'm scared about what this may mean.
Our NYE was about as eventful as any other NYE really. I kind of think that holiday is overrated- similar to Valentine's Day. I was in bed by 10:30p.m. but I fell asleep on the couch well before that. However, I think I may have crashed out so early because the night before Parker was quite literally in some sort of P-funk.
I have a strict policy of no sleeping babies in bed. Meaning, Parker sleeps in his bed, er crib. I will vaguely explain why in an effort to protect the guilty. I know a certain mom and dad who let a certain daughter (not me I swear) stay in their bed until she was...what...like 10? I will say I slept in this certain daughter's room while she was in our...I mean her parent's bed.
I expect to argue with Parker over somethings, sleeping in our bed will not be one of them.
Or so I thought.
The other night he just was...well a devil child. (See above mention of church experience). He wasn't crying, he was full on screaming. Looking back I think maybe his stomach hurt because he was arching his back and farting...a lot.
Did I mention I had just introduced him to prunes?
Anyway, back to the point (there I go again). He was screaming every time we put him down, but he was able to fall asleep in our arms. Finally around 12:30a.m., after about 3 hours of scream-crying, I caved and brought him into our bed. Of course he fell asleep, like instantly. I, however, had to sleep with my robe on because I was afraid to pull the covers up and suffocate my baby. I also had to sleep in the exact shape of a horseshoe around Parker in order to fit on the bed and keep him aware of the fact that I was actually right there at all times. I am still not able to stand up straight, but I can tell you if your shoes need to be tied!
He woke up a few more times, whimpered and then going back to sleep. I slept in about 10 minute intervals and just about sucker punched Josh when he started snoring. At one point I got Josh to try and put Parker in his crib only to have them both return minutes later with Josh saying, "This just isn't going to work. He is staying here."
Great.
I guess I should see if I can get an adult sized "I still live with my parent's" onsie. My fear of him still living with us when he is 40 may not only come true, but will also involve him sleeping in our bed. Neat. Guess who is going to be an only child.
