Bettie Bookish

The best Christmas ever

I probably wrote that last year, too, but whatever.

Here's a quick rundown:

Best gift given: Krups Coffee Grinder & Brewer for HSH because he hates our coffee. And because I am the prototypical 1950s housewife, I find that equivalent to his hating my housekeeping skills or blowjobs. Because I'm a lady like that.

Best gift received: A small Guan Yin, which makes me think of taking both of my daughters to the Six Banyan Tree Temple for a blessing, one of which was cut short by a cell phone call received by the monk.

Two other amazing gifts: A phone call received from Xerxes before we had a chance to call him. The Soundtrack to Office Space, worth "Damn It's Good to Be a Gangsta," alone.

Best food consumed: Vegetarian lasagna on Christmas day.

Runners-Up for best food consumed: Trader Joe's truffles and Lila's chocolate chip cookies.

Best drink consumed: Tempranillo brought by Lila (help  me out here with the vintner, L), around which she tied beautiful red and green ribbon. Edited to add: It wasn't tempranillo - it was rioja. With Pure Spanish Character. (Thanks, Lila.)

Best feat of engineering and persistence: Four adults (two of them Ivy leaguers) assembling a kitchen playset at midnight Christmas Eve. I was not one of the Ivy Leaguers. But I was sharing the Tempranillo with one of them.

Worst gift decision: Buying a T-shirt online.

Best gift decision: Buying Superbad for my brother from Amazon, and then having to buy it again because it had not arrived in time. Special gift for me - Cash Back!

Bee's favorite gift: Real makeup from Grandma.

Posey's favorite gift: Four consecutive days at home with four adults = four consecutive days of lap sitting and death defying for an audience.

Photos soon.

Foals in winter coats

My job description is about to change slightly to include some oversight duties. I am beyond excited about this because I really love learning about all the workflow process stuff. Who knew?

Anyway, one of the issues I'm dealing with is finding the right approach to facilitating workflow in a very small office where I'm viewed as a novice.* I have a long drive to work every morning, so I have lots of time to think about this stuff. Frequently, I have the same internal conversation. It starts out with lots of optimism and Mary Tyler Moore-style hat tossing. Then I remember little mistakes I made, or situations where I had to ask a really stupid question of someone. (What's this big white TV with the grey apple on the front?)

Before long, I can totally talk myself into self-loathing.

*(edited to add: Although I really, REALLY hate discussion that reduces experience to gender-specific behavior, I am wondering if this is something that women struggle with more than men. I've known lots and lots of men who have zero trouble taking leadership in areas about which they know nothing.)

Then yesterday, it occurred to me that my morning music mix might not be doing me any favors.

Bright Eyes. Death Cab for Cutie. A little Colin Haye. Coldplay. The Shins.

It's not exactly a musical protein shake.

So I asked two of my best friends to help me come up with a mix. Here's what we've come up with so far:

Lolita suggested Eve.

"Or there's Missy Elliott. I mean, "Work it" pretty much will make you feel like kicking ass. The ladies of hip-hop might be the salvation. They want to blow your mind."

An' Beppe had plenty of good suggestions, too:

"AC/DC, Jill Scott, Violent Femmes, Beastie Boys, Prodigy, Martha Wainwright (Bloody, Motherfucking Asshole is a good one), The Donnas, Dixie Chicks, Le Tigre, LL Cool J, Mary J. Blige...shit, throw you some NAZARETH "you're messing with a son of a bitch" up in there, and you're good to go."

To this I want to add Cake "Shut the Fuck Up", "Short Skirt, Long Jacket" (which happens to be my ringtone).

And let us not forget Husker Du's cover of the Mary Tyler Moore Theme Song.

My brother also made some excellent suggestions, but it was during a chat, which I did not save because I am dumb.

And now I open the question to you. What music do you put on when you want to feel like you rule to world?

So it's like that

Me: I had this terrible dream that I was working for a really awful hippie restaurant. And it was a scam, too, because the owner made us all buy these big broom skirts and satin shirts she was importing from Asia.

HSH: Oh, honey. That's the only kind of restaurant that would ever hire you.

One very full year

It was in China, a year ago today, that my Hot-Shot Husband, Bee and I met our Posey. One very, very full year. In the meantime, we've been through hospitalizations, staph infections, recurring croup, sibling shenanigans, biting, co-sleeping, more biting, three unrelated visits to the ER, and - as of today - a possible viral rash.

She is upstairs right now, still co-sleeping, possibly infected with chickenpox (doesn't every happy story include that line?) asleep in her red plaid flannel nightgown, hugging her stuffed tiger.

I have called her an easy baby in the past, but that is so untrue. She is not easy. She is fairly demanding.

"Hold Posey!" she will say, stretching her hands up, and sometimes grabbing the top of your pants and pulling. If you happen to be earing pajamas, look out. Posey will pants you.

Posey is a leaner - she can bring all activity to a dead halt by simply leaning on the nearest adult. She looks up at you with a clear, smiling face that says, "Oh, just TRY to move, you amateur. How about everyone just s tand still for a few minutes, and no one gets hurt."

No, she's not easy. But she is happy.

In the morning, while we are struggling to get everyone ready for school, and Bee suddenly decides that whatever outfit we've chosen would burn her skin like acid, Posey will happily put on her own clothes. "I did it!" she says.

Of course, then she takes them right off again. It makes no sense to dress her until we are actually walking into her "classroom" at the daycare.

She's not easy, but she is happy, and that, in turn, is easier.

Smiley wrote me the other day and told me that Christmastime reminds her now of being in China, in Guangzhou as all of Shamian island was decking the halls. She reminded me of the elfin waitresses at the White Swan breakfast buffet.

It' no wonder that, this year, Posey is so excited about Santa.

And Smiley - she is expecting her own little girl right now, due to be born in January. We can't wait to see her beautiful face.

Clearly, the year has been eventful for Smiley.

And Z - well, she's now Mrs. B. She went and got hitched and everything. Eventful on that front, too.

I'm not saying we're changing lives here at Bookish Farm, but, well, you do the math.

As for our own lives, I can honestly say that I was unprepared for having two small children. It's harder than I thought, yet so, so, SO much easier than what other people experience. My kids are mostly healthy. They don't fight in a way that draws blood (yet). And they are still happy to take baths together.

But there are things I do not know how to handle. When Bee says, "My dress is prettier than hers." Or "Her dress is prettier than mine."

Or when Posey assumes authority in the house and declares us all in Time Out.

I have two daughters with strong personalities, and I'm not sure I'm up to the task. Consider this an open invitation for all you sisters in the reader ranks to tell me what worked, what didn't, how much your folks drank. Recipes, please.