Christmas Adam and Christmas Eve

So when I get back from practice at 10:30 at night, I often find myself wired for the next three hours or so.
It blows.
I need to go to sleep because tomorrow is fast approaching and I still haven't recovered from today.
But I can't because I was effing exercising at bedtime.
It takes me forever to unwind.
So naturally, I decide it is the perfect time to file some government paperwork.
And then organize all the pictures I took over Christmas.
And watch a cooking show.
Then assemble a snack.
Also, I haven't blogged in a while.
So despite the fact that it is well past midnight and my kids will be waking up at dawn, I think I will write a lengthy entry about all the activities we crammed in before Christmas (which in my book is actually the best part of the holidays; if you think about it, Christmas morning itself is somewhat anticlimactic because it is over in a flourish and then you have 7,000 slivers of wrapping paper to clean up and nothing to look forward to. It's a drag and a half.)
Anyway, let me just clean the kitchen real quick.
Okay, I am back and I am serious about writing this post.
And overwhelming you with a lot of pictures that will most likely bore you to tears.
Because they are all different versions of the same picture.
You're welcome.
Fo' real.

^^ Sporting their Christmas threads for church. My dad has scary eyes. ^^

^^ Nearly all the cousins on the Beard side (minus baby Evelyn — who is 5 months old and hates me) preparing for their dessert on the kitchen floor. We made them eat it here, all crammed together, so we could contain the mess. ^^

And now on to the aforementioned repeats.
But, in my defense, there wasn't a single picture taken of us looking in the same direction.
So I decided to include them all.
That, and it has become harder and harder to get all the original Beard kids together in the same room long enough for a picture.
Or 80.

^^ Me (duh), my youngest brother Brady, Britney the Beautiful, and Danger Bryce. ^^

^^ I wish Brady were smiling bigger so you could see that collectively we have the biggest teeth any family ever had. Including horse families. ^^

^^ My siblings are so attractive. Meanwhile, I look preggo. Lovely. ^^

^^ I assure you I am not. That would be physically impossible at this point in time. TMI? ^^

You should have seen the mass chaos that was happening just outside of this frame.
Two thousand kids all crying at once and clamoring for our attention.

^^ And with my Dad, the creator. I'm gross. ^^

And then on Christmas Adam (you know the night before Christmas Eve — because Adam came before Eve ...) the kids and I decorated a gingerbread house and drove around in our jammies looking at Christmas lights.
Not at the same time.
It was quite magical, if I do say so myself (which I absolutely do because I orchestrated it single-handedly and it went off without a hitch).
My Dad and Heather were in California visiting family so it was just the four of us.
Which proved to be perfect and a little sad at the same time.

^^ Another picture without a funny caption because I am getting tired. ^^

^^ This was the best one. It is getting so late. I am reaching a point where it may become necessary to prop my eyelids open with toothpicks in order to finish. ^^

^^ Last one! Making chocolate-dipped pretzels for Santa on Christmas Eve. Exercise-induced frenzy wearing off ..... ^^

I will be back to finish up my Christmas trilogy ... soon.
And a Happy New Year!

Marry Christmas!

Okay, everyone drop everything (even if it is a baby) and listen to me.
I am shooting out a quick post on pre-pre-Christmas happenings, and then I intend to type up a proper entry regarding actual introductory Christmas proceedings once I can sort out all the pictures.
Then I will most likely bore you with a real-time Christmas report, followed by a post Christmas run-down.
So you can either read all my droning essays (there will be at least three) or I can come to your house and slap you in the face with a fish.
You want to hear all about our Christmas tree and my holiday Craigslist score?
Okay.
Only if you insist.
Here is our tree:

^^ Yes, there is also a horse head on the wall. Because what would a home be without a horse head on the wall? ^^

It is short, yet very symmetrical.
We bought it from a 17-year-old boy scout with very silky-looking hair and a slight lisp.
He was pretty much the cutest thing ever.
And he took his tree-selling responsibilities very seriously.
"Are you looking for something sturdy with hardy branches for heavier ornaments? Or do you want something aromatic that will fill your house with a pine-y scent?" he asked.
These were good questions.
I apparently hadn't given this decision the appropriate amount of thought.
Suddenly picking a tree became very complicated.
But after pacing the tree lot and stroking my beard looking at every variety/option, I settled on the perfect one.
And after we got it decorated, we capped it with a pirate hook.
Naturally.

^^ A close up of our festive tree-topper. Because when one doesn't own a sparkly star, one must misspell "Merry Christmas" and tape it to your brother's dress-up pirate hook. Now the horse head isn't looking so strange, eh? #parentingwin #newChristmastradition. ^^

And lastly, this has nothing to do with Christmas but may be the most important antidote included in this little present of a post.
I found these vintage twin bamboo Hollywood Regency-style headboards on Craigslist.
I was actually looking for a king-sized piece, but put side-by-side these will be magnificent.
I was thinking I wanted something new; something different from what Scott and I shared.
Listen to me.
Trying to justify my hoarding.

^^ They are so beautiful I may just snuggle up right here in the garage with them sans mattress. ^^

Happy pre-Christmas!
Stay tuned for my story about how all the original Beard children showed up to the same place, at the same time, with all the the offspring they had created and pure pandemonium reigned.
It was holiday magic!

Ryan's baptism

I intended to share Ryan's baptism several weeks ago but got preoccupied while binge-watching seasons one through five of Gilmore Girls;
And then, on an unrelated note, I was also busy being excessively emotional and overly sentimental when confronted with the upcoming holiday.
All the cute Christmas cards (which I LOVE getting, fyi) remind me that our card is missing a key player and then all the Christmas lights remind me of the house that we almost bought and it doesn't make any sense except that it does.
Oh, and Micah has given up pooping altogether, which is causing tears and anxiety.
And he is feeling upset, also.
So, as you can see, I have had no time to write.
But then I remembered my commitment — to myself and no one else — that I write even when I am feeling craptastic ... and if I break that commitment, than the whole handshake I gave myself will be for nothing.
So, even though I am feeling unmotivated and just want to turn off the T.V. and go to bed only to turn on my iPad and watch another episode of GG (crossing my fingers Lorelai and Luke reconcile) I am going to make myself journal until my fingers bleed.
That, or I will quickly detail Ryan's special day and then "go to bed."
And when I say "go to bed" I don't, unfortunately, mean anything dirty but am really hinting that I will watch Netflix until my eyes burn.
And now I realize that quotation marks are probably unnecessary if I am going to spell it out with a lengthy explanation.
This is what happens when I forget how to write.
So ... Ryan's baptism was very nice.
In The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we believe that baptism is performed for the remission of sins and to become a full-fledged member of the church.
We also believe that it can only occur after the age of accountability, which is defined as eight years old.
We believe it is a choice one must make when they are old enough to understand the implications of the commitment.
Ryan asked that her Papa (my dad) participate in the ordinance in lieu of Scott.
I am proud of the decision she made but was sad that Scott wasn't there.
In my head I pictured him outside the window looking in.
Which, I suppose, is sort of a depressing thought.
And this is where I stop writing any more words and let the pictures do their thang:

^^ No this picture was not taken at a prison, which one might surmise by looking at the slammer-esque backdrop. Our church also does not believe in unnecessary adornment on the walls. Obviously. ^^

^^ Ryan and Annie wanted to be baptized together (one right after the other) because they are, and I quote, "BFF cousins." ^^

Amen.

A stuffing recipe that will blow your mind

To the vulgar, lumpy, pear-shaped woman with the offensively bright, electric-blue page-boy haircut and the sourest expression plastered across her dumb face: I want to say, "Brava!"
As you were huffing up and down the aisles at WinCo muttering abusive, dimwitted comments about how "unbelievable and irresponsible" my sister and I were acting by allowing our small children to follow unassumingly behind us, giggling, as we pushed our carts around the store collecting food for our Thanksgiving dinner, you reminded me that no matter how hard my life is, it is better to keep trying and flailing and laughing than to allow myself to become a gross, bitter, impudent woman who, instead of enjoying the blessings she does have (health, food, the complexion to pull off teal strands), chooses instead to be resentful and bellow at two young mothers to "leash" their kids instead of letting them "run reckless around the store, getting in everyone's way."
I say, if you are that indignant about women daring to bring their children in public without being tethered than you must be in worse shape than I.
Please, don't ever reproduce.
Also, your asinine remarks were then promptly rebutted by a very kind, older gentleman who apologized in your behalf for being an obscene, inappropriate ass-face.
He didn't actually say ass-face.
But I am sure he wanted to.
We all thought you were an ass-face.
Speaking of which, I have a holiday recipe for you.
I really love Thanksgiving and all the time I get to spend in the kitchen with my sister creating the most delicious meal.
And one of my favorite sides is homemade stuffing.
This is not to be confused with the spongy, icky stove-top variety (unless you like that kind, than three cheers for you).
It is hearty and savory and will change your life.

Thanksgiving Stuffing

Ingredients:
3/4 cup butter, melted*
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 large celery stalks, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
1 lb. spicy pork sausage, crumbled and cooked
1/2 cup dried cranberries
2-3 apples, cored and chopped
9 cups soft bread cubes = 1 loaf of french bread
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon sage
1/4 teaspoon pepper

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees
2. Saute celery and onion in olive oil on medium-high heat for 6 to 8 minutes until tender.
3. Remove veggies and set aside.
4. Break apart and cook sausage until no longer pink.
5. Gently toss celery mixture, butter and remaining ingredients with bread cubes until evenly coated.
6. Grease a 13 x 9 baking dish. Arrange stuffing in dish then cover with aluminum foil. Bake for 30 minutes covered and then remove foil and bake for an additional 15 minutes.
* Instead of using all butter, sometimes I use 1/2 cup chicken stock to moisten the stuffing. Or you can do a combination of the two.

Happy Thanksgibbing Back!
p.s. I will be back with a full recap on Ryan's special baptism day. She looked so beautiful.

Another list of important links

This one is for my butt hole coach who insists we buckle down and get our minds' in the game tonight, which for me, apparently, means writing my feelings.
However the only relevant feelings pertinent to my performance tonight are those of anxiety, some excitement, and a general sense of disorientation.
But we are the champions, my frieeeeeend, and we'll keep on fighting 'til the end.
So I am sure tonight will be just fine.
For the love of all that is holy — it'll be fine, okay?
And maybe if I say it enough times, I will also be less on edge.
Good gawd almighty.
So as a way to channel my nervous energy, I will instead present to you the latest list of essential must-sees.
You know to keep everyone abreast of the most current pop culture phenoms.
Important stuff.
So, first one:

If you haven't seen this one, than you should probably rethink your priorities and stop doing all the things.
Spend more time out from under the rock you are hiding beneath.
I'm a huge jerk.
But seriously, what have you been doing?
Moving on.

Have you seen this tiny, very young girl dance?
She is so good it's stupid.
I am really in a mood tonight.
The next one is just another reminder to the masses of the devotion I feel for Sam Smith.

I could listen to Sam, my Sam, all the days of my life.
And now you can too. Check out this video.
And now to get my monkeys in and out of the bath, teeth brushed, books read, and tucked into bed in the next 20 minutes.
So I can jump in my car, have a quick weep, and then hit some ladies.
Peace out.

The One

I have someone to introduce you to.
My latest thrifty, mid century find topped with a retro-tastic shade (from Target) has found a place in my room and also in my heart.
I love lamp.
In fact, once it is legal for people to marry furniture, we will wed immediately.
As I may have mentioned before (in every post previous to this one) I enjoy furnishing my non-existent home.
Slowly, carefully I am collecting a very well-curated, well-edited assortment of home goods to outfit my future home.
It makes perfect sense to me as to why I would constantly stalk Craigslist, antique stores, big box stores and online boutiques for interesting, relevant pieces even though I currently live in a 9 × 9 room.
I have even collected my house down-payment.
And by collected I mean saved.
So that's neat.

^^ Look at this! It is a poorly-lit, crappy picture of a very lovely lamp. The shade has golden leaves on it. Golden! So therefore, I had no choice but to bring it home.

Oh, and I also got the most incredible kilim rug from a sweet, old lady on a motorized cart I met through Craigslist.
Because what is an imaginary house with no rug?
It is no house I want to live in, even if only in my head.
With each sentence I type, I am sounding more and more pathetic.

^^ This is another bad picture of my rug ... folded in a wad. Nothing but the best quality photographs for my blog! The rug is really quite large (around 8×9).  Big enough to roll myself in like a carpet burrito. ^^

Oh and how much do you like posts that direct you to other interesting sites/videos around the web?
Because I, for one, love them and will be shooting one of those your way so you can fall down the internet rabbit hole and spend more time than is healthy staring at your computer screen.
And p.s. did anyone see that huge a$$ picture of Kim Kardashian's huge a$$?
I am such a titillating conversationalist.
She is an anatomical phenomenon.
Like, how does she not fall over?

^^ One last picture from Ryan's family birthday. We get together with my sister and her family for every event.
The two turkeys (cousins) in the middle are exactly one week apart. ^^

Happy birthday to my Lion

^^ This is a look I receive often. ^^

Ryan likes to hear the story of her birth.
I begin by saying that I was über fat and gained the most weight growing her, which resulted in the biggest chipmunk cheeks this side of a chipmunk.
My contractions started around 4 o'clock in the afternoon, which I remember distinctly because they interrupted my first viewing of Oprah since I had started my maternity leave.
They were slightly uncomfortable at first, building (as they do) throughout the evening until I found myself writhing in pain on the hallway floor around 1 a.m. barking at Scott to "STOP SLEEPING AND BEING GENERALLY  RELAXED!" and gather any last-minute items needed for my hospital stay.
After strongly insisting that my contractions were, in fact, close enough together, Scott and I left for the hospital, swinging by Britney's to pick her up around 2 in the morning.
Upon arriving at the hospital I was so delirious with pain and naivety, that my hubs and sister checked me in and wheeled me to the maternity wing before I could even grasp the enormity of what was happening.
I was going to be a mother! Squeee!
And even more immediately satisfying was the reality that I would no longer be pregnant! Huzzah!
I got situated in my indecent backless gown as I doubled over in gasping spasms while my cramping continued to escalate beyond a threshold I was unaware existed.
It was shocking how painful labor was!
I mean, duh, you are pushing a human out of your body, but still.
I had refused any birthing classes because, knowing my anxious self, I wanted to remain blissfully ignorant about the hurt I was facing for as long as possible.
Well, now that I was in the throes of childbirth I was rethinking my whole tactic.
What the H was going on?
When would this be over?
Where were the drugs?
Why would anyone do this more than once?
And then my Savior appeared. He was wearing scrubs. And came armed with a long needle in his hand.
And he was very handsome.
WHAAA??!?
Not only was my anesthesiologist hot, he was getting a pretty good look at my fleshy, flabby full moon. Gross.
But soon enough, none of that mattered ... in fact nothing mattered anymore because the convulsions stopped and the pain slackened.
I could breathe again, and even sleep.
I dozed on and off for the remainder of the night/morning in a drug-induced haze until around 9 or 10 a.m. when the pressure began to mount.
It was time to get down to business. I needed to push.
I knew it even though I had never done it before.
Isn't that incredible? You just know.
Anyway, my water broke (all over my doctor's face. Barf. Like it actually sprayed into his mouth — you're welcome) and then I pushed twice and out she popped.
Scott was concerned that her head came to a point (which is normal) and her face was pinched like a squishy-faced pug (which is also normal) but all I saw was the prettiest baby.
She was SO perfect.
A tiny nose, big, gray eyes, pouty, full lips, and wavy fuzz for hair.
Scott cried and then ran to the gift shop and promptly appeared with a stuffed kangaroo that he proudly squeezed into her crib.
I felt so relieved and complete and content.
Ryan is the smartest, most helpful, timid, stubborn, sensitive, persistent, unique girl.
I kinda love that she is obsessed with reading and roller skating and playing the recorder.
She is unrelenting and quirky.
She has a loud laugh and a zillion freckles.
She saves everything.
She is a good eater but is also a night owl and never wants to go to sleep.
She savors treats by eating them really slowly, so that they last as long as possible.
I am grateful for our relationship and that we genuinely get along.
I like her and know that we will continue to be the best of friends.
I love her little personality and am so blessed to be her mommy.
Happiest birthday to my Lion!

^^ Eight years old! ^^