Mixed Bag

I'll keep this post brief. I probably don't really even have enough to say today, but since it's Monday I feel like I should post something.  (Note:  I just proof-read this, and realized that the previous two sentences are complete and utter lies.)

This weekend was kind of a mixed bag of stuff. I had lots of fun plans set up in my head, involving a holiday party, a playdate and a concert, but you know what they say about the best laid plans... The DSANV holiday party went off without a hitch, at least. I had been looking forward to it for one primary reason - so Samantha could see Santa for the first time this year. It's not like she's obsessed with him or anything, but it's been so much fun watching her grow over the last year, listening to her mention things she's seen or things she is looking forward to doing, and Christmas and Santa have been pretty major players. If you ask her what she wants Santa to bring her this year, she says, "presents!" Smart girl! She still doesn't know what exactly she wants, so hopefully that will be the exciting new developmental phase to look forward to next year. I think she's just happy having new toys, or new anything.

Speaking of new, on Saturday, Steve put princess/castle appliques up on Samantha's wall, door and headboard while she was downstairs playing with me. When she went back upstairs, she was SO excited about the new decor. See, just about anything new is good, especially when it fosters imagination, of which she has plenty. Change just one thing in a room, any room, and she is all over it, instantly. Can't get anything past that kid.

Steve did a lot more decorating this week, including hanging the lights outside and the Christmas stockings over the fireplace. The latter was done while Samantha was napping, and when she woke and came downstairs, her eyes went wide and she said, "Wow, beautiful stockings! Thank you, Santa!"  She now says thank you Santa to any new holiday decorations that appear when she's not in the room. 

Anyway, Samantha was absolutely thrilled to see Santa at the holiday party, and I got some cute photos, which I'll have to post later this week. Lucky little girl will get to see him yet again this week at her school. I can't make it to that visit by the jolly, bearded weight-challenged one, but hopefully Steve can go and get some photos. Then, I'm sure, we'll make a paid visit to the jolly, bearded weight-challenged one of-the-shopping-mall-variety before the season is over.  (Was my description of Santa falling into unfair stereotypes? Like what happens to our kids all the time? Maybe I shouldn't characterize him as being "jolly." I'm willing to bet that, like our kids, he certainly can't be happy all the time...? Shame on me.)

On Sunday Samantha became supremely snotty. Classic cold. Yuck. We had planned on a playdate in the morning, with an outdoor holiday concert at Wolf Trap in the late afternoon, along with one of her friends from her typical school. :-) Sadly we had to bow out of both, partly due to her condition (which included plenty of contrary and cranky in addition to snotty), and partly due to inclement weather (gusty wind, feeling like it was in the teens).  Wolf Trap puts this concert on every year, and every year I want to go, and every year we can't go.  The first year we tried, Samantha was sick.  The second, it rained buckets (I'm not brave enough to drag a toddler out into crap weather).  The third it snowed.  And this is the fourth.  *sigh*  What ever happened to the early Decembers of the years before Samantha was born?  I kid you not, there were like 3 years in a row where it was in the 70s or 80s in early December.  One year I remember riding my bike along the Potomac to the National Mall dressed in a tank top and shorts, on December 8th.  I'll never forget that.

So, I've rambled on enough for now.  I actually wrote a lot more than I'd expected.  That's what happens when I get started.  I have this stream of consciousness issue that I try as hard as possible to reign in, and while I didn't go off on too many tangents this time, I'm sure I'll be completely out of control one of these days and (hopefully not) scare all of you off.  My husband gets fed up sometimes when I will talk about 3 or 4 different topics, one after the other in rapid succession, in the course of one or two sentences.  It's not pretty, especially when I consider that I'm the only one that truly knows what I'm talking about...