Yes, Stella, there is a Santa Claus and he is on the Big Island right now

It felt wrong at first, because I remember how when I found out the "truth," I was devastated. I couldn't trust or believe for a long time afterwards. I think it marked the beginning of my distaste for authority and my eventual slippery slope of a slide into Doctorate of Jurisprudence.

Me (in 1983): "wait, so there is no Santa Claus? So what about the Easter Bunny, is he fake too? And the tooth fairy? That is a lie. So you lied. You are a liar. And I guess God is a lie too?"

But here I was doing it, and after a few days, it just got really easy, so it was no problem, it was effortless, in fact, when the subject came up last week....

Santa Claus? Oh, well, he is on vacation. You see, he is so tired after Christmas, that he pretty much just takes the month of January off. No one really know where he goes, but TMZ got some pictures of who they thought was him and Mrs. Claus in Hawaii, and it probably was them, they were at a pretty exclusive place, which makes sense because it is a nice time of year there and you know, the North pole is so cold, then he comes back in February and he spends most of that time doing R and D for next Christmas, just checking out trends and projections, and then in March they start to gear up again, figure out where the sales are....

Vacation was all she heard. The rest was just me talking to myself. Santa Claus in on vacation. So was Uncle Gene. So whenever we drive past the one or two hold outs who have not taken down their Christmas decorations, Annabelle says "Santa on 'cation. Uncle Gene on 'cation too."

I guess it is pretty confusing to a little one, because since October, he has been all over the place, and then, pretty much on December 26, he is gone. No more Santa doll at Kroger, no more lights or decorations, no more trips to the mall /gazebo park/HEB and we just happen to run into him. It is hard to understand why we don't sing the Santa and baby Jesus songs any more and hard to understand why baby Jesus is no longer at the Church, especially when one or two losers won't take down their decorations and keep confusing the matter.

getting back to 1983-----why couldn't he have been real?

what almost 2 year olds dream about.....

Yesterday morning, as is his custom, Hyphen asked Annabelle how she slept. It went like this:

H: how did you sleep last night annabelle?

Annabelle: goooooooood.

H: did you have sweet dreams?

Annabelle: yeeeeeessss.

H: you did? What did you dream about?

Annabelle: caaaaaaats

H: Cats? what else did you dream about?

Annabelle: lollipops.

H: Lollipops? what else?

Annabelle: dooooooogs.


we should all be so lucky. She is the best thing we have ever done.

cousins coming soon

Annabelle has certain understanding of cousins. She knows that she has two cousins, M____ and A_____ who live in Dallas with their Uncle M______(who is her new boyfriend) and their mom T_______, who, like most moms, is superfluous. She also knows that there are babies in Auntie's tummy. Since my sister's delicate condition has been progressing for 35 weeks now and since there will soon be invaders in the world of Ga-ma and Gand-pa, I decided to talk up her new cousins today. I explained to her that she will be the big cousin, kind of like a big sister and she will have to show them things, like how to eat and how to walk. Annabelle immediatley got the teaching concept and chimed in "Bus song?" Yes, you can teach them "The Wheels on the Bus." She then said "play leggoes?" Yes, you can show them how to play leggoes. Her suggestions went on for a while, and all included things Annabelle absolutely loves doing and she got progrssively more excited about showing her cousins her world. During supper I questioned her in front of Hyphen about her cousins. Here is a summary of our conversation:

1. Annabelle's cousins are "coming soon."
2. The cousins are in "Auntie's tummy."
3. Santa Claus is bringing them.
4. Annabelle will play leggoes with them.
5. Annabelle will give them a lollipop.
6. Annabelle will eat candy with them.

and most importantly,

7. "driver bus move on back all the town!!!!!!!!!"

She just added this last part, but, she pretty much screamed it, so I figured it was central to our converation.

what my mom is worried about today

My mom saw something on tv today that made her worry that someone will see annabelle, see how pretty she is, become insanley angry about her beauty and throw acid, hot coffee or boiling water on her face and she told me to watch out for people carrying containers or to-go cups and not to let them near annabelle.

I wish I was making this up sometimes.

brush those teeth

I have been in San Antonio these last few days visisting everyone and I finally got to meet my mom's oncologist, who was younger and cuter than his pictures on the South Texas Onconolgy Website show him to be. I also got to meet her drug study nurse (my mom is being super cool and donating her body to science--while she is alive!!!). Annabelle got completely shy when introduced to Dr. Smith and he understood why immediately. "She is probably not to keen on doctors," he observed, "let me try to find cookie or a piece of candy or something." I surreptitiously handed him the emergency lollipop I keep in my purse for just such occasions. He gave it to her and left to go do doctor stuff. So we were left with the study nurse and Annabelle relaxed and was her normal chatty self. Then we went into the waiting room and as we were walking out Annabelle said "Nice doctor?" Which I think translates into "that was a nice doctor and he didn't stick stuff in my ears and I still got a lollipop--who knew???"

I left to go to Houston and then my parents had to meet with the nurse again. When they did, she told them that Annabelle seemed advanced for her age.

Obviously she wasn't at the house earlier in the day.

I was trying to get her ready to go meet the oncologist and she really didn't want to change out of her play clothes. I had managed to get her top off when she tried to stall by saying "pee-pee, potty?" So I took her. When Annabelle pees, she cannot have her pants on, so I took them off. She didn't pee, of course. Then she wanted to wash her hands with the "baby soap" (little soaps my sister made 7 years ago that my mom still uses--waste not, want not). Then she wanted to brush her teeth with a toothbrush Hyphen left at my parents' house. I knew he would be super-keen on that and I knew that would occupy her for a while, so I let her. She was standing on a terry cloth covered vanity bench my mom has in the guest bathroom. I proceeded to finish my makeup and pack and make the bed. While I was fluffing the pillows the mom-ping went off in my head. The mom-ping is the silent noise every mom hears when her kids are up to no good. I went in the bathroom to check on her and she was still brushing her teeth but there were two, man-sized pieces of poop on my mom's terry cloth bench. The third piece was still emerging. I burst into laughter, did a super quick cost-benefit-analysis and ran to get my mom because I knew the consternation this would cause her would make the inevitable tongue lashing I would receive on my bad parenting habits totally worth it.

I rushed to my parents room and then opened their closed bathroom door.

Guess who else likes to brush their teeth buck-ass nekkid?

That's right, my dad.

The sight of his rear-end didn't even phase me as I was on a mission to hear my mom speak Spanish in exasperated tones.

Me: "Sorry dad, mom come quick and see what Annabelle is doing."

My mom runs out, expecting something cute, and then: "Ay dios mio, Annabelle!!!! What are you doing? Stella???? Do you theenk thees is funny? Cabrona. Where is her diaper? Why is she naked? Ay chihuahua. Why didn't you clean this??? Ay, Annabelle don't move...." Etc. etc. etc.

Of course I am laughing hysterically and Annabelle just looks perplexed.

When the fallout was over, I saw my dad and said "Hey sweet cheeks."

Dad: "you are the one who is going to have to live with that image, not me."

When we were kids, Audrey used to answer the phone and say "Looney bin" instead of "Stevens residence." It was so good to be home.

Santa baby

Some things seem like a good idea, like getting bangs or wearing a sweater dress, but in actuality they are not. That's what Annabelle and I learned about our trip to see Santa today. You see, Annabelle loves Santa. We have a Norman Rockwell's Deck the Halls out from the library that has a picture of him on it and she loves it. "La-la book, La-la book," she says every night. Whenever she seems him in someone's yard she says "San-ta Claus" and gets really excited. Sometimes she gets it a little confused and thinks he is Jesus, which is understandable because they both love you and have beards.


So I thought it would be a good idea to put her in a little Christmas dress and take her to have her picture taken. Problem number one was the dress. I had the perfect little cutesy dress picked out that I got on sale a few weeks ago. So this morning, I asked, rhetorically, I might add, "what should we wear to see Santa?" Her response? "Penguin shirt." You see, when I bought the cutesy little dress, Annabelle found a red t-shit with a penguin on it, took it off the rack and went running around the store with it saying, "Penguin, cute, Penguin, cute." So I got it for her. That is what she wanted to wear to see Santa, and you know what? She was right. Santa can see through artifice and I think if she came in a cutesy little dress, he would have said something like "Annabelle, is that you?" She was keeping it real, and he appreciates that and so does her Mama, even if from time to time she wants to put her in frilly little dresses with bows in her hair.



So we head off to the galleria, get there, park, only to find Santa is on the other side of the mall from where he was last year. Problem number 2. Oh well, gives me an excuse to browse. So we get there and are the second in line. She is transfixed and there is a look of joy on her face that I can't describe. You see, Santa from afar is just, well, a ripe jolly old elf. Up close is another matter. We made our approach. He was a great Santa, a real beard and everything. He even had ruddy cheeks, from being so cold at the North pole, I guess. Although they might be from drinking too many Busch Lights--I mean, hot toddies, to keep warm. As I am making this observation, Annabelle starts to get cold feet. Problem number three. Santa, in his infinite wisdom sees this and says to his helper taking the picture, "make this one quick." Annabelle says "Hi" to him and then when he puts her in his lap, she starts to scream. I am torn between sympathy for my daughter sitting on a bearded, creepy old stranger's lap and trying really hard not to laugh. The picture was short and as we were paying, I heard the next customer blame her child's shyness on Annabelle, saying "it probably didn't help that the other kid was screaming at the top of her lungs." Ho Ho Ho to you lady.


You know what? Santa, the real Santa, knows that you are not supposed to sit on strange people's laps without protesing and he marked that in the nice column for Annabelle which is a good thing because we are close to C-day and every little thing counts.

the songs of Christmas

When we were kids back in the early eighties(the best time ever to be a kid, as far as I am concerned--more on that later), we would listen to records as we decorated the tree. My parents had two Christmas records, and they were, and still are, the best compilation of Christmas music in the world. There was one song I dreaded though--the most mournful song you'll ever hear--"No Room in the Inn, " as sung by Mahalia Jackson. It begins very slowly, "When Mary and Joseph went out on their journey..." and proceeds to go on about how weary they were and how the Innkeepers told them there was no room in Inn and how Jesus was born in a manger. And when I was little, I wanted to cry every time I heard it, and because I was and am a freak, I hated crying--still do--so I had to fight back those tears. I knew where on the record the song was and got such tremendous anxiety as we got closer to the song. How could anyone tell Mary and Joseph that there was no room for them? Just thinking about it now brings tears. After experiencing pregnancy I feel even more in awe of Our Blessed Mother. Of course, there are lots of times in our lives when we have no room for Jesus, probably lots of times throughout a day. Sigh. But we try to make room.

The song I loved and looked forward to was the Jim Neighbors version of "Go Tell it on a Mountain". "If No Room in the In" is the suffering, fatigue, and fear of those days, "Go Tell it on a Mountain" is the joy. Advent vs. Christmas. You hear it and you want to just dance like crazy and sing from the top of your lungs. I love it toward the end of the song when he belts out "Tell it on a Mountaaaiiiinnnnnn!"

And although the ipod has replaced the record player, we listened to each of those tonight as we trimmed the tree. And "Last Christmas," as sung by George Michael, because, as I have said, we are children of the eighties.

Our tree is beautiful. The coverage on the bottom is excellent. Annabelle is of the school "more is more" and likes to put all of the ornaments on the same branches. Looks really good actually and it takes the guess work out of where to put each one. I am going to finish the top that way.