In case you forgot what she looked like.

Here's a few dozen pictures of our trip to the west coast.

By the way, this first picture is the whole reason we sprung for the 3rd seat.

5:45 am. Dinosaur pj's are all the rage among east coasters wandering around the lobby of the Fairmont Hotel.

I really wish I'd taken more pictures of the Fairmont. It was just so civilized.
The cheeks? The nose? I think it's fairly obvious that brothers are responsible.

Kevin, Scarlett and I had a wonderful trip west for Christmas. We managed to squeeze a lot into a few days, including doing something I've always wanted to do. Coming back across the Golden Gate Bridge on Christmas morning, we gave the toll taker a 20 and told her to please use if for the next 3 cars, yelled "Merry Christmas!" and drove off. The next time you have the oppurtunity to drive on a toll road, I highly recommend this mini act of philanthropy. It was really fun.

California time.

We are back. Many, many photos to sort through, but I'll leave you with this one.

It's called "Last night of the trip, and Mommy has given up."

I'm going for a look here.

We obviously haven't made it back to the salon. Christmas photos will require mousse and squirrel.

We are busy preparing for our trip out west this weekend, so the Frank Family would like to wish everyone a Happy Holiday Season, and the rosiest of New Years.

To our West Coast family, we'll see you all this coming week. Scarlett can't wait to poke Maya in the face and say "Eye!" Seriously. You have to squint when you hold her. No one is safe. Perhaps I should hand out safety goggles.

Happy Birthday Carson!

It's hard being the birthday prince. All those people to greet, making sure everyone has a drink to chew on, getting mom to clear all that pesky paper out of the way so you can play with your new toys...

Happy Birthday to Carson, the latest of our playgroup to turn one. He had a very successful party, and made quite the haul.

All our love and congratulations!

Thursday night at 10pm, Anne and John welcomed baby Ronan Louis. [John said "via the northern route", and I'm here to say, John, that it was more like the Northeast route.]

Anyway, we can't wait to see Ronan, and tell him how lucky he is to have such cool parents. Not every one's dad paints meat, and not every one's mom looks equally good as a blond and a brunette, and starts out as a certified baby whisperer.

Reasons Why Kevin Rules.

Even though he thinks it's nuts, he unplugs the christmas tree lights, because I'm afraid of fire.

He let me sleep in till 8:30.

He likes to decorate christmas cookies. And did a way better job than I did. An engineer with the soul of an artist.

Our christmas cards.

Suckers.

Dear Nuby:

You have changed the design of the grip-n-sip! You obviously heard the cries of the tormented parents of toddlers. Thank so much, for surely you have made a superior product.!

Love,

Official Cup Assemblywoman.



Dear Cup Ass:

Oh, you think so, huh?

Ha ha,

Nuby.

P.S. And don't call me Shirley.

Haiku

Baby will not sleep
Learned to stand up in her crib.
Fall, Baby, Fall down.

"Ba ba ba ba ba
Aw-iis Aw-lis AW-LIS GAH!!!"
Dog can't help you, kid.

And it was good.

Silent night...but not for long.

Oh, and this guy? French party crasher. The shoes will give it away, every time.

Oh, the curry...the curry...and the dumplings...

I left before karaoke. Which is a shame, and the crowd is a little poorer for not having heard me belt out The Dixie Chick's "Earl".

Everything looks cooler in little compartments.

I'm going to start serving everything in bento boxes.

Denali. Or Westport. Whatever.

Friday afternoon, about an hour after I arrived at my sister's, a flukey little storm blew through Westport. It lasted about an hour, dumped a couple of inches of snow on the ground, and provided just of the white stuff for a quick snowball fight.

Charlie eventually joined in, but he was very very busy picking Lego kits out of a toy catalogue. When asked what he was telling Santa he wanted for Christmas, he practically sighed before answering "It's complicated."

Next season on PBS Mystery.

The Mystery of the Cranky-Ass Baby. Requiring no help from a bespeckled, needle weilding busybody, I solved this one on my own.

We've known about the two teeth coming in on the bottom, but this evening we realized she has two new molars coming in on top.

It was Miss Scarlett, in the conservatory, with the teething ring.

Hey! I elfed myself!

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1184940979

Kate turned us on to this last year. This year we upped the ante with two new elves.

Off to Connecticut on Friday for shopping and curry. I have cashed in some fun chips, and am going sans husband and baby. I think Kevin is up for the challenge.

Much like Dr. Evil, he has a mini-me.

I am prompt. I think this is not particularly surprising to anyone. Generally when I say I'll be somewhere at foof o'clock, I am there at five till foof.

Having had a child has naturally adjusted this somewhat, as it should. Babies are the unknown integer and can't always be confined by societies "rules". However, I still like to be on time.

Kevin is his own man, time wise. He never fails to show, but he runs on his own clock. One of my best friends is like this as well. Years ago, just before I married Kevin, I had a conversation with her husband.

Me: How do you get them to be on time?

He: You get used to being late.

What does this have to do with anything? This morning, Scarlett was unceremoniously plopped in her crate to play while I did dishes and finished laundry. The tree went up last night, and I'd like preserve the few ornaments hanging on it.

Anyway, on one pass through the dining room, I came upon this.

Looks sort of proud of herself, doesn't she?

She might be a little late to the game, but she's playing all the innings. Who on earth could she get that from?

I predict walking at around 16 months. Just after she masters Italian.

Things your mother should already know.

When you stick your finger in my mouth to check on a new tooth, and you are bitten, don't expect a different outcome when you try again. Sheesh.

On the other hand, I don't know what will happen if someone sneezes.

I say "no" a lot.

"No, Baby."

"No, Scarlett."

"That's not a toy. No baby."

It is nice sometimes to just say "yes." Yes, you may destroy that half empty box of kleenex. Yes, thanks to Costco, and mommy's blatant disregard for the environment, we have plenty more in the basement. Go to town, kid.

Yes.

Things your mother should teach you.

Oatmeal is not a finger food.

But nice try, Miss Independence.

Also, I realize when you are in lock down you are lonely, but it is not OK to french kiss the dog.

And I don't even LIKE pumpkin pie.

We are all finally awake around here. The leftovers are gone, and calorie counts are dropping.

Friday was of course, for shopping, and we escaped mostly unscathed. Mostly. Target lacked the foresight to keep back an extra Guitar Hero just for me. They also sold out of the Wii, and the two types of televisions that were stashed back with Liz Lange's Maternity gear. Because when I was pregnant, there was nothing like reasonably priced panel front jeans and a flat panel TV.

Saturday was football, and more eating. And putting things in the yard that make your neighbors wonder who went to Tennessee, and that scare the bejezus out of your dog.

Sunday was a day of rest. And today, Monday, was for looking at each other and saying "Are you kidding?"

So now we look forward to the next round of holiday cheer. It will be here this weekend.

Turkey Aftermath.

It's funny when dinner for like 30 is considered a "small Thanksgiving".

I hope everyone ate a lot of their very favorite things. When I've awoken from my turkey coma, I'll post a little more.

I like youtube.

Kevin and I might be a little late to the game on this one, but we've been laughing about it for an hour.

Have a very Happy Thanksgiving!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMNry4PE93Y

Don't judge me.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071121/ap_on_re_us/infant_judging

The true test will be to see what the monkeys do. Cheeky monkeys.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.

David was in from California, so we indoctrinated him to lunch at Bronte, and a round of train play at Joseph Beth Kids. He should recover, although I think he may not be anxious to try it again anytime soon.

On the other hand, I think we are dangerously close to being regulars.

I'm also dead impressed that when Lisa started counting, her son listened. And obeyed. Who has that power? I need lessons.

They look remarkably similar.

Here we are, all full the hopes and dreams of the new football season.
And here we are, all full of beer.
Cincinnati fans are remarkably resilient. The conversation at Sunday's game was all about how much better our seats will be next year.

Ohio State: 14, Michigan: Not Enough, Suckers.

We went over to watch THE Ohio State University game today. At the only house in the neighborhood with the Tennessee mascot "Smokey" standing 8 foot tall in the front yard.

But team allegiances aside, we were dismayed to see Anne there. You see, she is about 74 weeks pregnant, and every time we all make plans, Anne tags her reply with "If I'm still gestating."