a job well done.

Hads wrote Christmas cards to all the kids in her class.  All seven of them (including Miss Michelle).

  All by herself.  No help from me.  It took her over an hour. 

And all she wrote was 'TO: (whomever) LOVE: Hadley.

She was beaming. 

 And so was I. 

Funny that these little things are my favorite part of being a Mama. 

the perfect addition.

If you forget about all the pee on the floors, the dirt throughout the house, the chewed up toys, the chewed up corners of the coffee table, and the chewed up legs of our stools.  The jumping up, the biting, and the yelping.  The constant reminders, and the major annoyances...

we sure do like this new little pal.

He fits right in.

a tradition.

I grew up with one of the best all time traditions. 

Every year, since I was born, my mom and her best friend Michelle, and our families, have gotten together for a Christmas dinner.  Rain or shine, snow or ice, happy or not...we meet, we celebrate, we spit on each others food, we laugh, and most importanly, we love. 

We love like family.

It has been going on for 34 some odd years.  That's older than me. 

So lets just say...it's quite the tradition (and lets also throw in that my mom and Michelle are old).
Anyhoo, I wanted a tradition of my own. 

So whom better to start it with than the gal I have known longer than any other gal here on earth.

My Joc...and her boys.

Joc and I have been BF's since kindergarten, Bennett and Ryan have known each other since Junior High...

and thus the magic begins.

Actually, it began 3 years ago when we started this little charade. 

And since then we've both added a plus one.

I gotta say...it was easily one of the highlights of the month.

My mouth never shut, my potatoes were cold, and the boys (meaning B and Ry) fell asleep on the couch...

it was perfect.

As always.

Our little families.

Wanted to make things a little awkward...success!

J and B were the first to meet Frank.  On his very first day with us.  They declined to take him home.  We obviously weren't serving enough booze.  Lesson learned.

Without a doubt, the best hostess gift I have ever received.  Hands down.

REINBEERS!

This kind of stuff is made for me.

Cheers...to another hundred years of friendship...and to a year of me actually having all my food ready at the same time.

P.S.  Hadley wasn't there...just in case you were thinking we traded her in for Frank.  I would have totally traded Carson, but not Hads.  She's at least potty trained.

all beauty, no grace.

Hadley had her Christmas Recital a few Mondays ago.  And what an event it was.  She practiced for weeks...okay, really she only practiced every Monday...at ballet.  A week before her performance I asked if maybe we should practice some moves and she said "I will be fine Mama, I will just watch the other kids." 

Oh boy.

She should have practiced.

Big cousin Lauren is also in her class...she's a few steps ahead...to say the least.

Zaide and Baba (and Nana and Pa) couldn't stop laughing.

Proof I was there...and that neither of us are photogenic.

Come to find out, this was her farewell performance. She's done with ballet, and is moving on to gymnastics...this should be interesting.  Perhaps a sport she may actually be worse at.

I love ya kid.

Glad you didn't break a leg.

Oh, and for the record (truly, because I want these pictures in here for my records), the below pics are from her first ballet performance, that I missed because I had to work.  And she has reminded me everyday since.  Her recital was in June.  That's a lot of reminding. 

naughty or nice.

I have no idea which list he will end up on...

But my money is on 'naughty'.

mr. big.

We headed downtown to meet the Big Cheese. 

 I attempted this years Santy picture at 5th and Pike once again. 

And once again I failed. 

He arrived from the North Pole at 9:30am, we arrived from Woodinville at 9:45am...it was a 2.5 hour wait to see him.

Who in the world has 2.5 free hours to wait in line??? 

Not even Santa is that important to me.

So went to visit Santa #2 at Macy's (Fiona vouched for him, and her taste is impeccable, so I figured it was a safe bet)...only to find out that Santa #2 didn't arrive until 11am.  I do not do well when I have to switch to plan B.  But I tried.  We walked around the city, wrote a letter to him, froze our tails off, went on a pony ride, got coffee...killed an hour.  And when we did finally meet Santa #2, my stomach dropped, Plan B was becoming disastrous, his decor was horrendous.  Ugly, cheesy, despicable.  Come to realize Santa #3 was the guy we really wanted...but he had moved to Pacific Place, unbeknownst to us (this made me forgive Fiona). 

By the time we made it to him...my oldest was beyond over the anticipation of meeting him, my youngest was beyond over his stroller, my husband was beyond over me and I was beyond over Christmas.  So we got our pictures with crappy Santa #2, Hadley spoke her peace, Carson cried, I cringed, and all went home for naps.

And eggnog. 

Only for me to go back to the Bellevue Santa, two days later, for retakes. 

And in the retakes my kids look like they could be siblings of the Gorga children. 

But thank goodness I didn't waste that 2.5 hours in line.

Sorry Santa, I guess you really are that important to me.

Lesson learned.

Again.

She spies Santa.  So cute!

three-peat.

Santa picture #1.

I know why Carson is crying.

It's Santa's ugly chair.

Santa picture #2.

Antonia and Joe Jr.

Santa picture #3.

Cousin jammie photo.

introduce yourself right on right on.

Hello.  My name is Franklin. 

You can call me Frank...

Or Frankie.

Or Frankie P.

Or Frank Sinatra.

Or Frankfurter.

Or Frankenstein.

Or Frank N Beans.

Or Frank the Tank.

Or Francis.

Of course...He will probably also answer to:

NO!

Leave it.

Kennel up.

STOP!

Go potty.

Sit.

Stay.

And OFF!

Because these are actually the things he hears 9,000 times a day....way more than his

name(s)

We love him.  Only because we are supposed to.

What was I thinking?!?!?

I now answer to...Idiot.

Thank God he's cute.

(actually he should be thanking God).

bits of merry.

10 days.

Oh boy.  Oh boy.  Oh boy.

the magic.

What will really be magical is if King Kong Carson the Christmas destroyer doesn't break any of the ornaments.

We didn't decorate the bottom third of the tree...we'll see if we are smarter than him.

So far...we are.

rudy boy.

I think it's time I say a proper good-bye to our old best friend...before we announce the arrival of our new best friend.

Our Rudy boy.

He left us in August.

It sucked...to say the least. 

And sometimes, my way of dealing with things that break my heart...is to, simply, not.

I am a psychiatrists dream.

We fell in love July 2003.

We met him at the Seattle Humane Society, and there wasn't a chance we were going home without him.  We lied and said our backyard was fenced.  We also pretended to have a clue about what to do with a puppy.  We didn't.  But we had a great name, Rudy Jefferson, and a cute collar.  What more do you need?

He puked on Ryan three times on the car ride home.

And went on to puke every single time he rode in the car from that point on.

I had no idea dogs could get car sick.

Leave it to our quirky Rudes.

And quirky he was.

He hated tall men in hats, the broom, people on Rollerblades, and the sound of the harmonica.

He would eat anything and everything. 

An entire pan of brownies, a stick of butter, and even slug bait. It almost killed him.  The siding of our old house, the drywall in the mudroom, and a pair of platform Steve Madden shoes that I never even got a chance to wear (thinking he did me a favor, in the end).

He was loyal to a fault.  He did not like people around 'his people'.  He did not like people at his front door, he did not like people that came within 10 feet of the babies, and he did not like people that touched his bum.

But, oh my god, did he love the people he knew.  Nothing made that tail wag harder than a familiar voice, a little love, and a whole lot of treats. 

He was THE best running partner...topped out at 20 miles.  It took some practice.  I remember him 'dive bombing' every so often on the Burke Gilman into the grass when he didn't want to go any further.  But it became the favorite part of his day.  The minute we put our shoes on, he instantly went into spaz mode.  The 'snapping turtle' on crack.  He would run, right on our hip, for hours.  And every so often, he would give me a nudge with his nose and look right up at me and smile...so big.  There was nothing more that I loved than our 4am runs.  Our own little secret before the rest of the world woke up. 

He was a weenie in the water.  I really don't even know if he could swim.  He was more of a wader than a swimmer.  But I hate the smell of a wet dog...so it was a bonus for me. 

He was great at fetching, horrible at retrieving.  Seriously.  Terrible.  It was embarassing. 

You could never pet him without him putting his paw on your leg (incessantly!) and he could never greet you without the 'snapping' turtle or a swift nudge in your crotch.  Sometimes dropping guys to their knees.  Yep, he was at the perfect height.

He had the whitest teeth and shed like a mutha.  His favorite place in the whole wide world was the cabin.  His favorite treat in the whole wide world was a peanut butter filled kong.  And his favorite person in the whole wide world was Ry.  Without a doubt.

He was our baby.

And even though things changed with the arrival of Hads...and then they changed a little bit more after Carson...he was still a part of this fam.  A part I usually complained about, was annoyed with, a part that ruined our carpets, and left grease marks on the walls, a part that was always, always in the way...

and a part that has left a void in our hearts the size of China.

I miss the sounds of his nails on the hardwoods, I still cringe whenever someone rings the doorbell just waiting for his ferocious bark, I miss letting him up on the couch after a bath, I miss him at the foot of our bed, and I miss, more than anything, my running buddy.

My only saving grace was when Ry and I went together to say our final goodbyes.  And we laid with him and we cried and cried and cried...and he just laid with his head in our laps, smiling and loving that he was getting so much attention, putting that incessant right paw on our chests, and thanking us for giving him the last gift we had to give.

Rudes, you were one of a kind. 

Our first love. 

 And you will always be the pup we compare every other dog to.

Thanks for being our pal. The best pal.

I hope you're somewhere running your little paws off...

And please, don't bite anyone in heaven.

We miss you.

xoxo

Your folks.