26 December 2018

Christmas 2018

Merry Christmas! What a wonderful season it has been. 

This year has felt extra special. I’ve been puzzling why it feels like this is our first Christmas together, and I think having a baby makes it feel like now the Christmases count. Now I have to be on my toes with traditions and foods and magic. My mom did such a good job with holidays when I was a kid, so I am determined to bring the same level of wonder knowing how special those memories are to me now.

This is a text I sent Jon last week. I left Ezra alone to use the bathroom, and when I came back I found this. I think I gasped out loud because Ezra can definitely NOT crawl yet. For a good day or so I had no idea how he had gotten there (which was eerie) until he spontaneously started doing double rolls across the room. 

The highlights: Ezra started sitting up on his own on Thanksgiving, his personal best is to stand (on his own) for 7 seconds and he took his first two steps on Christmas Eve with his daddy. 

But, when I’ve told people that over the past couple of days, the conversation usually goes something like this: 

Them: He’ll be walking before you know it! 
Me: I know, it’s crazy! He took his first two steps on Christmas Eve. 
Them: What, really? Hold on a sec… how old is he? 
Me: Five and a half months. 
Them: Wow. That’s AWFully early to be walking… 

And they say that last line with that one incredulous eyebrow raised up—the one usually reserved for delusional mothers who think their kid can read at 18 months. But I swear it’s true—this kid is just dead determined to be mobile, even if I am doing my darnedest to keep him from skipping over the crawling stage. 

The problem is that I once read an academic article that suggested crawling was critical for some cross-brain-hemisphere something-or-other and even though I’m sure there have been other studies that may say the opposite, I can’t get it out of my head. So I’m stuck somewhere between super proud mama and massively paranoid mama, something I very much doubt will get any better as he gets older.

Last week, Ezra and I went over to Sophie’s to make some Christmas crafts and we ended up immortalised this little guy’s monstrous footprint in the process. It’s not an optical illusion either; that is really the size of his feet. My theory is that it's his huge, pressure-loving feet that are to blame for his walking so early. 

The print now proudly displayed on our mantle, almost like proof of a baby Sasquatch. 

We’ve been lucky to have had a lot of fun Christmas festivities this year—from pie parties to Christmas lunches to a cheese + pyjama party. It has been a packed couple of weeks. Lucky for Ezra his best bud Avery is usually there. He is starting to get to the point where he seems to recognise people, and I think he might be starting to recognise her. I’m glad he has a little pal to grow up with.

Look at this spread! Serena’s cheese party was fab, even though our offering (a posh, locally produced soft cheese) was sort of the rotten egg of the evening—almost literally. After a round of try-to-place-the-cheese-flavour, we settled on partially-digested cauliflower. So, yeah, not a winner. Some of the others though were delish, especially this toffee cheddar

Quick side note: I learned that the reason I haven’t been able to find any carmels in this country (before this year) is because I was calling them the wrong name. Here they are called ‘toffee.’ In the States, the brown caramelised goodness is called ‘caramel’ if it's runny, a ‘carmel’ if it’s soft and chewy, and ‘English toffee’ if it is hard like peanut brittle (the last one now rings especially strange). What are the runny and hard kind called here? This is still a mystery I’ve yet to unravel. 

Anyway, before several very irreverent rounds of Quiplash that night, I had my first taste of non-alcoholic champagne. It was horrible. However, there was Appletiser, so my unrefined, sweet-loving pallet was happy. Also, Ezra had on a bobbly Christmas tree headband, so all was right with the world.

And so ends Ezra’s first Christmas. My little Santa-baby, Freddie-bear was the squishiest, loveliest baby this season. I’ll be sad to take the tree down, not just because our living room feels more balanced with it up, but also because I love seeing all the wonder and magic in E’s eyes. Babies are the best. Christmas is the best. Can’t wait til next year.

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