Christmas!

I effing love Christmas.  In our house, we've been listening to Christmas music for months, and if I could have my whole house adorned with twinkly Christmas lights year round without seeming like a complete freak show I totally would.

And Christmas with kiddies?  Get outta here, man.  Charlie's not even really old enough to get it get it, but he was still a little dream come true on Christmas morning.  And sweet Tildy even joined in the fun (when brother was sleeping and she could check out their new kitchen without fear of him yelling "STOP!" at her and pushing her to the floor).  We ate too much and opened gifts and played and baked cookies and ate and played some more.

I've been out of school since the 20th, and I don't actually have to go back until the 6th, so Matt and I have been using this long break to alternate sleeping-in mornings, to get shit done (like those tasks that linger and nag at you for 200 years because you don't want to do them but an actual adult would do them), to chillax, and to enjoy each other.  Add to that the fact that my family is in a really good place right now (if you are privy to those deets you'll understand just how remarkable that is) and the fact that I'm not pregnant, and I've got to say, my heart just feels really. . .full.

I really can't remember the last time I've felt this happy and content with everything: babies, family, work, responsibilities, life in general.  Matt and I have said to each other again and again how great this week has been, how it's been one of the best Christmases ever.  I kind of don't want it ever to end.

Christmas Eve trip to Publix.

Well, Well. Look What the Cat Dragged In.

Okay, so I've completely neglected this little corner of the internet for a while because it was starting to feel like a chore and I was too busy in my actual life to devote any energy to it.  But I kind of miss the ol' M Cubed, and even though blogging is kind of fucked out and people don't care anymore, I like having one central place to post pictures, update folks, and write (even if that writing may resemble some rejected script for the critically acclaimed MTV show The Hills).  No promises here about frequency of posts or content that is interesting to anyone who is not me or blood-related to me (and my kin probably still doesn't care about half the crap I'm going to put here, excepting, of course, pictures of the spawn).  But I'm going to try.  

I'm back, bitches.*

I have a kind of love/hate relationship with mommy blogs.  I mean, I hate them.  But I read a number of them, too.  I don't want this space to become one either, though, you know?  They're all like cutesy pajama parties and way too many DSLR pictures at weird angles using a flash and look at my overly-pinteresty birthday party garbage.  This space has always been about our life, what we're doing and eating and watching and being pissed off by.  And right now our life is about two babies: what they're doing and eating and watching and being pissed off by.  As much as I'd like to pretend that I am still independent and well-rested and freshly-showered* and living life just like before, now just with two babes in tow, that's just not the reality.  But we knew that we were signing up to have life as we knew it hijacked for a few years, so I'm not complaining.

Anyway, yes, there's going to be a lot about babies and what they're doing, because that's what we're doing.  If that's not your thing, I totally get it.  While I have to be careful about what I post because of work and because Charlie and Matilda's peers will be able to read this when they're all 12 and possessed by the devil, I'll try my best to be real about our triumphs and our failures.  And maybe you'll even get a new recipe every  now and again, too.

There's so much to share!  I can't wait to get down to it!  But first, and in no particular order, pictures.

*Charlie doesn't talk nearly as much as I would like for him to right now, and I'm tempted to fuck with the universe a little bit and punctuate every sentence with ", bitches" so that he'll pick up on that and then finally when he does start talking all the time he'll mimic it: "Read me a book, bitches."  "Play trucks with me, bitches."  I won't actually do this because I do possess at least a tiny shred of maturity, but I will giggle about  it and fantasize.  

*Okay, that freshly-showered part was a joke.  I've never been one to shower regularly.