364 Days to Go until Next Year!

Loves his new wagon
identical cousins!

Yes, yes, folks, i know. The child ran out of clean Christmas PJ's. Sue me.

Hope ya'll had an absolutely splendid Christmas. I heart Christmas so so so much! And aren't we all so blessed? There are so many stories I want to share that will take so long. Having a child at Christmas blesses me. Kids are funny and joyful. Makes all the gifts seem so meaningless. Especially when they really just want to play with the gift wrap tape. We had 2 big Christmas celebrations that were each so special and wonderful. The pics above are from the Wilson Christmas we had on the 22nd. My dad has all of the pictures from yesterday on his camera b/c I was letting my NEW CAMERA BATTERY!! charge...a great camera! My old one was getting very obsolete. Poor Mug had a very very high fever all of Christmas Eve and Day. Despite that though, he was a trooper and fun. I hope you all made lots of memories with the ones you love. May I share the funniest and most traumatic story of the holidays for me?:

My mother-in-law has been wanting to do a family portrait of her kids and grandkids. So, she paid for the ol' pro and we somehow managed to get all of our schedules to coincide for the event. And I mean it is an event (what isn't when you involve posed high priced pictures and 2 little bitty guys)? So, Kendra finds THE ONLY black shirts for babies in town and we are set to drive to Tonkawa Falls (about 30 minutes away) to take the much anticipated portrait. I am already a little sweaty just thinking about the photo. Tristan had not napped in the afternoon and was snoozing on the way. I was praying that this meant a few minutes of smiles before a major tired meltdown. As we pull up to the location, I smell a faint odor of poo. Dern. Now I have to change him in the cold, high winds in the back of the car. Oh well. Let's get this show on the road. Brent wakes him and takes him out of the seat and says, "Nic, he peed thru his diaper." Double Dern. Well, shoot. No extra jeans. Let's assess the damage. Wait, that "wetness" seems awfully thick to me. Triple Dern. The only jeans I have in the bag and THE ONLY BLACK SHIRT for babies in town are now covered in runny, stinky, hot poop. I also have to add that Tristan has only leaked poop out of a diaper once before and he was quite a small infant. Insert Mommy meltdown. Why now?? The clock is ticking and the pictures are apparently still going to happen--poop or no poop. So, with Tristan freezing cold and now screaming bloody murder in the back of the Durango, we wipe off his poopy shirt. Still smelly. Take off his poopy pants and wrap him in a blanket or two or three and take him down to the falls for the family picture that happens once every 10 years. I have no idea how those pictures turned out. Brent and I looked like we had been beaten to a pulp--I am sure our smiles looked quite contrived. I think I gritted my teeth the whole time. Poor Tristan was all but naked and wrapped in everyone's black sweaters. If I can get ahold of one of the pics and post it, I will. I am sure they do not depict the madness and insanity that took place. Hopefully they portayed a picture of peace and happiness...just as we would want! Lesson learned: always pack an extra outfit and find another black shirt even if you have to go out of town. You never know when poop is going to happen.