We had a good visit to Kansas City over Christmas. Ruth was teething, I was prego hormonal, and Ryan drank eggnog and whiskey like it flowed from the fountain of youth. So yeah, we had a good visit. But with that combo, I don’t know if anyone else that saw us had a good one.

After a non-eventful drive up, in which Ruth screamed for twenty minutes, then passed out until ten minutes before arriving to grandma and grandpa’s house during which time we sang christmas carols together. I catch her singing a lot to herself now and the songs, I’m pretty sure, carry notes from Les Mis. The child (and Ryan) have been made to watch clips from the Les Mis 10th anniversary about everyday for the past three months in preparation for the premiere. Ryan has asked Ruth on more than one occasion to try to act interested for the love of gawd because doesn’t she know I’m pregnant and sensitive? But I’ve noticed  that he hums and sings it all the time now, so dost thou protest too much methinks?

We sang songs for ten minutes, and arrived happy….. to an empty home. Merry Christmas. My parents were at weekly their bridge club. They have more of a life than me. But that’s good. It makes me glad to know they’re keeping busy. When they got home, Ryan made a round of egg nog drinkie poos (minus me) and we all cheersed to Christmas. Then they breathed fire. By the end of the week, he mastered the ratio.

The next day, Ryan and I braved the mall to pick up some last minute gifts at the American Girl store. The shoppers there freaked me out. An older lady was standing in line behind us with her husband. After seeing the latest snow outfit on a little doll mannequin she squealed and gushed that they needed to get that too. She needs to find a bridge club. Stat.

When we got home, my sister had arrived to spend the night. So we took the opportunity to stalk my parent’s newish neighbor. A single (we think) chiropractor (found out by another neighbor) who lives with his sister (this fact has not been verified.) 
He comes out to sit on his porch for a cigarette a couple times a day which lets us peer through the window and analyze the situation. Apparently he breathes in and breathes out, from what we gather. I’ll need to use the binoculars next time to double check that. As we discussed various ways Amy and I could casually approach him (you know: giving a christmas card, Wiley going poo in his yard, asking for a smoke), another neighbor walked up to his door with a package in hand.

Scandal! What did she think this was anyway? Christmas? Whatever.

That night we played Taboo, girls against boys, and said that the losing team had to introduce themselves to the chiropractor. When we lost, my mom said sternly that she was not going to introduce herself. We suggested that maybe if she did, she’d get cookies every once in a while. This was not well received.

The next day we laid around until the White Elephant party at my aunt and uncle’s house. Don’t let this relaxed face fool you.

Because this is how Ruth was most of the night:

Every party has one, so Ruth decided to be the pooper that night. Literally. Three times over… because that’s what happens when you only pack one diaper thinking it’ll be plenty, thus causing you to mooch off your cousin’s daughter who is 8 months older than your own.

We took an opportunity to get some group shots. My brother and his wife must not have shown up yet. They were en route from Arkansas. We’re always amazed at how fast they can get there. It’s been a long time since we’ve made a non-stop venture.

And the girls… one of which recently got a new haircut. At a get together not long before, literally no one commented on the cut. Finally someone said, “Carolyn you got your hair cut!” and me, literally unable to not be self-deprecating said, “Yeah, it’s my official mom cut.” And they said, “Yeah….” with voice trailing off and then changing the subject.

What. EVER!!!! It made me laugh.

After Matt and Des did arrive, an interesting thing happened. Des had brought some of her dad’s moonshine, bulgarian-style. That’s cool and all, except when it’s in a Fanta bottle. Except when a niece asks for some soda and pours Fanta for herself then takes a swig. You’d think Ryan had poured it for her because she breathed fire for a bit herself. Merry Christmas Elayna!
Can you find a culprit leaning against the wall? This was after the Fanta label had been peeled off in hopes of less confusion. I’d still think it was coke.

Ruth was only happy (and by happy, I mean, not crying. A scowl thrilled me to no end at this point) when she was in one of her grandparent’s arms. Here she is with her grandma, great Aunt Mary, and cousin Kaylee.
…not happy unless in my arms,
or in a cousin’s arms. Or with food.

Whatever it takes. Just please stop crying and pooping.
So after some chit-chatting and catching up, we dug into the meal. Homemade meatballs and pasta. Mmmm! Aunt Sue is the only real Italian. The rest of us are just wannabes.

Next up was White Elephant, which is always fun. But there was yet another sad story. First it was Elayna getting chest hair from the Bulgarian moonshine. Then my nephew, Will, during White Elephant.

It was his first year to participate and was really excited.
He watched us open our gifts, analyzed them, decided not to steal any and so decided to choose a present to unwrap.

He looked over the presents carefully then chose one.

What luck! He’d unwrapped an X-box (or something like that)!!!! He’d been wanting one  and he looked at his mom with so much happiness.  Lisa whispered that he might want to open the box, because things aren’t always what they seem in White Elephant land.

And what did he find inside the box?

A six pack of beer.

He was sad, but from the looks of it, his dad was happy.

Maybe next time someone will bring an X-box, Will. Don’t give up.

Next up, Christmas, bad singing, and a Jamaican relative.