We Wish You For a Merry Christmas

 That is how Phoebe sings the song anyway: "We wish you for a Merry Christmas..." On Christmas Eve, we went to a brunch with friends. Our kids performed the Nativity; Phoebe was an angel (really) and Bruce was a wide man (of course).

 Once again, you wonder why our Christmas card hasn't reached your mailbox. I'm thinking a New Year's or Valentine's Day card for this year, perhaps something worthy of Awkward Family Photos.

 After our brunch, we went to see the Nutcracker. Phoebe has been very interested in all things ballet/pink/beautiful, and a friend of ours was dancing in it. I was worried she would get bored (it's nearly three hours long), but she sat on my lap and kept a whispering commentary about the mice and the nutcracker and the naughty boys who try to steal the nutcracker. She also moved her arms and tried to dance from my lap. She was into it until the final 20 minutes, when exhaustion finally took over and she fell asleep. Surprisingly, Bruce was interested too; he kept pointing out music that he had heard in music class or on a toy or a ringtone. I thought we had taken a picture before the Nutcracker, but it must have been a mental one; above is my closest shot, Phoebe is eating a cupcake at an eatery by the theater.

After the Nutcracker, we headed to our second party of the day: more friends and more Nativity. This time, Phoebe played Mary and Bruce was a shepherd (that would be him in the upper left corner doing a ninja pose). Phoebe was quite serious for most of the play until the shepherds came along. "That's enough," she said after a bit too much praise from Bruce and company.

 Christmas Day turned out better than expected. One of Scott's coworkers switched shifts at the last minute; Scott will have to work New Year's Day, but got out of an evening Christmas Eve shift. I think we got the better end of that deal. Scott got to sleep at night in his own bed (yea!) and we didn't start present-opening until 7 a.m. I baked blueberry muffins, we ate, then the kids got down to business. Bruce opened a Lego set, took it to his room, and disappeared for an hour. Phoebe opened her dollhouse and played with it for an hour before moving on to the next present.

 We were all very spoiled this year. Scott got me some dishes, I got him an awesome flannel shirt that he has worn night and day ever since (atop scrubs, no less), Bruce got lots of Legos, and Phoebe got all kinds of doll-related stuff.

 We have been dog-sitting Gatsby for the past week. Most of the time, he is like a cat: hangs around the house, sleeps, eats, doesn't do tricks. The kids are good with him and he is very patient with them. He has some food issues; if he was a person, I'd diagnose him with disordered eating and send him to rehab. He always tries to eat whatever is lying on the sidewalk when we walk him. A few days ago I wrestled a stale piece of naan from his mouth. Yesterday he got a bite-sized piece of poo from another dog. Today he chomped something sizable so fast that I didn't see what it was. Tonight he threw up chunks, then started to lick them up and eat them. It was so gross that I couldn't intervene; Scott emerged and cleaned up the mess. He told me that's what he does at the hospital all the time and that I just need to re-access my thinking about what's gross. I have reaccessed and have decided that dogs are gross. I am no longer indecisive about wanting a dog: I definitely do not want a dog.

Scott has been working the night shifts all week (except Christmas Eve by some miracle), so when he comes home in the morning he is ready to sleep for a few hours. If you've been to our condo, you know the walls are thin and the kids are loud, so we can't be in the house when he's trying to sleep. We have been spending the mornings out and about, passing time in spaces like McDonald's and friend's houses. Tonight is his last night shift, and then he resumes normal sleep patterns again. Hallelujah!