The Real Santa

So today I heard someone complain about how it is “ridiculous” that anyone takes their kid to visit Santa Claus. Why would you “lie to your child?” Again it was in passing and I’m not completely sure I know exactly what they were talking about… but I’ll assume from context clues that she was referring to the absurd rumors that Santa Claus is not real. And by absurd rumors I mean, of course Santa Clause in real.

I don’t mean in cute ending in all of the typical Christmas movie way in which we say of course Santa is real… in our hearts if we all just believe. No, I mean, I don’t have enough patience to fight a herd of people willing to trample another human on Black Friday to save $8 on a Westinghouse LED TV. I do not have enough money to pay $175 for a $13 Fingerling Monkey because someone bought the last three cases of them and is now jacking up the price on the nearest Facebook Tag Sale Site. Listen I love my kids… I love them immeasurably, but I don’t love them enough to hide a stupid elf all over my house everyday. I have enough butts to clean up after around here… I don’t need to be responsible for anymore.

Nope… not me… not now… not never. I am not Santa… and the reason I am not Santa is because the only person who is Santa is the real Santa. Now listen I’m not 100% sold on the “Elves make all the toys in their workshop” stuff… even Santa is smart enough to know Indonesia trades for pennies on the dollar snd he can get way more for his buck by outsourcing at least some of his toy making. It doesn’t take Wall Street Journal reporter to know you don’t keep a small mom and pop company thriving for thousands of years by making poor business decisions.

I very much enjoy watching my older son interact with Santa now, talk about him… call me out when I threaten to email Santa because he isn’t listen, “Yea, call him.” But there is something about watching a child meet Santa for the first time. The raw emotions are just so authentic. You either get the screaming and crying or the child that says “I’m going to pull off your beard you imposter… you’re not the real Santa… you smell of beef and cheese!”

Then there is Oliver… little ole Ollie-burger… just sat there and sized him up… “sure Santa you want to hold me for a picture? No problem, but just know I’m the one who knows if you’ve been naughty or nice…” and I guess, in the end, just give the magic of Christmas a chance before deciding if Santa is real or not… and in this case… I know Oliver knows he’s real… besides would anyone else stand outside in 25degree weather handing out candy canes if he wasn’t the real Santa? I think not.

PS: Slick move by Jax trying to bribe Jolly Old Saint Nick with his special Taggie. Listen buddy… at this point it’s going to take a lot more than a taggie to change his mind… but nice effort.

Ninja Training

Putting a baby to sleep might be one of the most difficult tasks I’ve ever faced, but even more difficult is getting away after said baby is down.  

I just spent 40 minutes rocking And scratching Oliver’s  back to get him to sleep and then pulled off some of the greatest ninja moves since Chris Farley in Beverly Hills Ninja.  

Saying Goodbye 1-2-5 B. Run

e7e9c4ad987a016714d5a3792c30c3c7l-m3xd-w1020_h770_q80Saying, “Goodbye” to a house isn’t something that you think of when you are contemplating a move.  There are so many other “important” things that need to be done that saying parting words to an inanimate object are not that high on your to-do list.  Yet leaving can be tough for various reasons, and one of them is the realization that the moments you had in it can never be re-lived… special moments, sad moments, happy moments and all the moments in between.  We moved into our house 13 years ago… on the day one of the most special people in my life, my grandmother (nan), passed away and we leave 13 years later with two dogs, two children, some furniture, picture frames, lamps and a whole lot of other crap.  We aren’t just leaving behind walls and a roof, we are leaving behind a legacy of great neighborhood get-togethers, quality time spent with family members who are no longer with us and a shelter that kept our little ones safe for so long.

Our memory often times fails us; as we continue to stock pile events in life our brains seem to pick and choose other memories to push out. Sadly, we become forgetful as we age and even replace great memories of the past with newer, more exciting times.  I thought about walking around and taking some pictures of how the house looks right before I left for the last time, but realized that right now it’s not even our house anymore.  The floors aren’t full of muddy footprints from Buster or Max (or pee for that matter) and the walls don’t have the same scratches from the times I idiotically tried to move things upstairs with any help. There are no toys spread all over the boys’ rooms, or Harry Potter books overflowing from shelves.  There are no games of full contact whiffleball going on in the front yard and the pool is covered, so it’s hard to imagine it full of friends and family.  The basement is empty, its void only haunts me as I think about all the holes, the wall anchors and screws that need to be removed, patched and painted that once supported some of baseball and football’s greatest players and moments.  My lawn doesn’t even look the same.  I spent hours mowing and raking, setting up rock walls and bricks like only a true Italian can do and without MuggleCast playing in my earbuds, the lawn is just a lawn, not an escape from the everyday hectic and breakneck pace of life.

Life provides us with natural changes, from the seasons and weather… to growing up and growing older.  The past is captured in photographs, more now saved in the packed storage of your iPhone than in photo albums.  But the time spent in one place and the stories that go along with them will live in memories… or at least in the pictures the realtor took… and those pictures no matter how beautiful will never really be an accurate representation of two adults, two children, two dogs… countless friends, family members, birthday parties, baptisms… going away parties, Halloween bonfires, setting the toaster on fire, crashing the riding mower into a ditch, crashing the neighbor’s riding mower into a ditch. Labor Day Parties and invented games of pool football, Sean’s old school boom-box and Eli showing up at 11:30 at night when everyone is already asleep are just part of the memories now.  It was a fun ride, full of laughter, happiness, some sadness, good times and bad times… but as one chapter of our lives ends… a new one begins.

If only those walls on Brandon Run could talk…

Nine Months

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Nine months old already? I am sure I just wrote the eight month old blog… now its Halloween and this kid is getting ready to trick-or-treat… next thing you know he’ll be driving!

  • Weight: Too heavy to carry for long periods of time (18.5lbs)
  • Length: Too long to comfortably fit in the new kitchen sink for a bath
  • Eating chicken, mima’s soup and cheese
  • Pulling himself up to a stand with no help
  • Tries “talking” to Jackson, Buster and Max
  • Loves playing in his pack and play
  • Four teeth
  • Started daycare full-time
  • Enjoyed Did not enjoy Hand-Foot-Mouth for a week (see above bullet)
  • First ear infection
  • Survived the “BIG MOVE”
  • First Halloween (Tonight)

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