It is the Holiday Season and I have a child who is mesmerized by it. The lights. The songs. The cookies. The candy canes. The fact that Santa sent him a video on mommy's computer. The tacky, singing plush holiday bears. All of it, he loves it all.
And I love watching him take it all in.
So sure, I can feel steamrolled by Secondary Infertility. Truth be told.. I often do. But today and this week it is all about Christmas. No Doctors, No blood draws, No feeling of dread.
Fa la la la la la la la la
Fa la la la la la la la la
So I have a house decorated, presents wrapped, Christmas cards mailed, Christmas Day menu planned. (Prime Rib if you are wondering) and cookies. Lots and lots of cookies. I love cookies.
Toddler T and I baked cookies together (togedder, as he would say). If you are getting cookies from me, don't panic. He washed his hands first and didn't double dip too much.
Let me say a word about baking with a toddler. PREP. Prep like you are Paula Deen with everything in a pretty clear glass bowl. (But make them plastic). Forget about a step stool, drag the toddler table into the middle of your kitchen and set aside your expectations of 'pretty' cookies. I used to pride myself on making beautiful sugar cookies that were perfectly iced. Well, this year it was all drop cookies with more sprinkles on the cookie sheet than the actual cookie. And I loved them just the same.
This cloud of secondary infertility may be hanging over my head. But my feet remain firmly planted in the here and now of life with Toddler T, because Santa is coming and that is magical. If all that merriment and wonder wasn't enough, my kitchen looks like a spinkle bomb exploded and needs my attention.
As Clark Griswold so poignantly expressed it, " I am going to have the hap hap happiest Christmas this side of the nuthouse." And I will.
You my dear...are funny!
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