Happy Hanukkah!

So moving to Texas seems like a strange time to find my Jewish roots (not that we have any). But Katrina and Felicity are both learning about it in school (I think K's teacher is Jewish) and we decided to make latkes for dinner after checking out a book at the library. Our kids love their holiday books, just ask Alice, who read them 847 Halloween books while we were gone for ten days in September.

Latkes are potato pancakes, served warm and eaten with sour cream and applesauce. Matthew was begging for hot dogs and trying to throw them into the cart while shopping at Kroger this morning. So I decided to add that non-Kosher item, plus some peas and carrots and a chocolate banana shake for dessert. We ate at ten to five because Matthew was grumpy enough that I was ready to throw him in bed then. However, I later discovered a bloody scab in his ear so maybe he has an ear infection too.

Katrina is realizing her reputation for closing her eyes whenever a picture is taken, so here she is trying her darndest to keep her eyes open.

Last night while going upstairs, I asked Matthew, "Doesn't our tree look pretty?" His response:
"No! It's not pretty, it's BIG! It's not a gull, it's a boy!" (and boy trees are NOT pretty).
But admittedly, our tree's looking very sparsely decorated, since all previous trees have been considerably smaller. So we topped off our Hanukkah activities by painting Christmas decorations. Matthew really enjoyed using the green paint on the tree, and Felicity had fun with the snowflake until it turned out to be the longest project. Then she was crabby and wanting help. I did some touch-ups on everybody's after baths.

All is Lost

Since I'm already doing a terrible job of keeping up with life, I thought I needed something else with which to be delinquent. So here ya go: a blog, an online journal that will hopefully give Daddy the chance to see some pics and hear some stories of what happened to his kids today while he saved lives and civilizations far away.

But alas, I can't find the camera. Normally, I keep it in my purse. (For any who are startled by the news that I now, at age 31, am finally carrying a purse, let me reassure you that this was the only acquisition from Europe for myself. And I bought it off the street in London for one pound. So it will be banished as soon as this baby shows up and demands that I lug around a diaper bag again.) So anyway, no camera. Sorry Mark! Therefore, no pics, either.

I think I need one of those beepers on everything I own, like you can page your portable phone. But I need it for the cell phone, for keys and camera and Matthew and my watch. They all tend to wander away from the place I put them and since the house is so immaculate, there must be a Bermuda Triangle around here somewhere. It's like the Bunker family laundry room.