Lauren: Rites of Passage

First it was the glasses. Then it was ear piercing. What's next?

I kept waking up every two hours. With one eye on the clock and both ears open to any sounds. Children sounds. They were fast asleep at 2:30AM and at 4:25AM. Then at 6:02AM, I heard the distinctive sounds of paws pattering across the hardwood floor. Oreo the cat. Then the sounds of running feet to the bathroom, feverish whispering and giggling. They were up.

Colin ushered them downstairs as I plodded a few minutes later still in my pajamas to join them. The girls, both dressed for the day, were going from mound of gifts from Santa to the stockings and to the presents under the tree. It was fun watching them squealing, oohing and aahing. They were excited and brimming with glee. Even the clementine found at the bottom of their stockings elicited wide toothy smiles (except for Emma who is still frontless).






Here are some pictures of their gingerbread houses.

Happy Holidays.

The Golden Box

Colin brought home a beautiful gold box. Gleefully, we opened it and found 35 individual chocolate morsels. We decided that each of us would pick one to savor but giving others a "nibble" for tasting purposes. Thankfully, we didn't have to do the old-fashion way of determining the flavors. You know the ONE - pressing the underside of the chocolate to see if it's soft and gooey or solid or with nuts (then putting it back for the next person). The box included a catalog - a colored photo with description of each flavor. Should I have the Coffee Feather (a "rich coffee-infused chocolate ganache in a smooth chocolate shell) or the Cappucino Truffle ("espresso and creamy milk notes in dark chocolate ganache in a dark chocolate shell")? Of course, we couldn't imagine devouring the whole box in one sitting (no matter how tempting). One must savor and enjoy the creaminess, the sweet bitterness and smoothness. Civilized. We sniffed, we licked, we nibbled. Nirvana in a box.

Not American Idol Material

Colin said I was whimpering in my sleep last night. I distinctly remembered singing in my dream. I was belting out. I was Judy Garland singing the Trolley song. You know...Clang, clang goes the trolley, ring, ring goes the bell. (I had TiVo-ed Meet Me in St Louis and couldn't wait to watch it.) In my dream, I was channeling Ms. Garland. I was singing gloriously, spectacularly. Of course, it was all in my head. I was singing, I insisted. No, shaking his head, you were definitely not singing. Whimpering. As in pain. Sigh.

I was singing like Ms. Garland. I swear. It was a good dream.

Pure Essentials

Two front teeth are essential. Essential for biting into things. Even soft sloppy joes. Poor Emma. Couldn't bite off even a teensy bit. Left a great dental impression on the bun. Sharp teeth-marks on the outside of the semi-circle. Gum marks on the bottom. Very essential indeed. She had mashed potatoes instead.

Mary's Card

I'm preparing for my jewelry show. I'm having double vision of pearls of every color and hue. I love pearls. The smooth texture, the coolness against the skin, and brilliant sheen are so alluring and decadent. Although, I enjoy working with these wonderful gems, I feel I'm ignoring the holiday season.

Today, I received a Christmas card from my good friend Mary. Mary's card heralds the holiday season for me. Not the fairy lights that sparkle the neighborhood. Not the beautiful wreaths that hung on doors. It's Mary's card. She always send them early in the month. Always.

As a response, I took out my electric candles from the basement. Up above the cabinets in the green plastic bin encased in plastic bag to separate them from the string lights. Colin and I tested each one, replacing bulbs on uncooperative ones. The girls and I placed them around the house. Growing up in LA in a ranch house, we never did put up candles lights for the holiday. But living in New England, it was to be. Lights by the windows was New England to me. Holiday in New England.

I'm glad that Mary's card arrived.

The Departure of the Ladies

The Ladies left. We are all sad. Upon returning from Prague, I noticed that my basement was organized, my linen closet beautifully arranged and Emma's armoire un-naturally neat. This is a seven-year old's closet! Emma remarked on how quiet the house is now. We miss them already. Is it too early to plan my Mom and my aunts' next visit back?

I can't thank my Mom and my aunts enough for watching the girls. Apparently, they were a hit. They had taken the girls to ballet and piano classes. The teachers were charmed by them. They were cute, they said.

Really. Is it too early to have them back. Now.