Wow, so it's been awhile since I've posted my boring life happenings for you all to see. Sorry 'bout that. I know you've been dying to read more.

Ken and I remain exhausted and usually about a hair's breadth from losing all sanity, but the boys are doing well. Henry is 17 months now and still isn't walking independently. He's planning to hold out as long as humanly possible because he is stubborn as hell. Wonder where he gets that from? Hmmmmmm. (Don't let my mom tell you any stories. She's lying. My sister, too.) His vocabulary is burgeoning, though, so perhaps he's just going to be a wordsmith like me. Poor kid. Padraic is going to be 4-years-old in less than a month so please pinch me. Ken and I are already trying to figure out what we're going to do with our work schedules when Padraic starts kindergarten. In September 2010. Yeah, I like to plan ahead.

What's cool is that this is the first year that Padraic has enough awareness to know well in advance that Christmas is coming. He keeps telling me that when Santa comes, I can pet the reindeer. Sweet kid. I can't wait for Christmas morning, though, because when Padraic comes down the stairs, he is going to see a big red bike in front of it. I think his reaction will be priceless. He's been wanting a bike ever since our neighbor's son started riding his past our house every night toward the end of summer. I find myself wondering if he'll be talking about this Christmas morning when he's a grownup: As in "I still remember the Christmas I was 4. I came downstairs and saw that Santa had brought me my first bike, and I spent the afternoon riding up and down the street with my dad right behind me. My parents are awesome!" :) He'll make his own memories from the holiday, but as his mom I get the right to hope they are amazing and bring him joy whenever he thinks back on them, even when he's 95.

The Christmas memory I wish I had was of Ken's company holiday party last weekend. I couldn't go because we didn't have a babysitter and then Henry came down with a stomach bug anyway. Not wanting to keep Ken from enjoying what really is part of his holiday bonus from work, I elected to stay home alone, wiping Henry's stinky butt at all hours of the day and night, while Ken went to the party (which includes an overnight stay at the hotel) and got some serious drink on. Enough so that he joined his friend Mike in the annual demonstration of that most excellent dance move known as "The Worm." Oh, yeah. Right in front of his boss, who was heard to say, "Stick a fork in Ken. He's done." Priceless memories that I have to have second hand.

If you're not laughing already, I should add that Sunday morning when Ken got home, he noted that his forehead was sore. Around 2pm he suddenly remembered that it was from smacking his head into the dance floor while pulling his super dance move. I almost pee my pants whenever I think of it. Thank God I made sure his good friends would be there to keep an eye on him. For Ken to have been anywhere near a dance floor indicates to me exactly how much whiskey he had in his system. To his credit, last night when we had dinner w/all those friends, he promised that next year he'll bring his better judgment with him. Meaning, of course, me. Mwahahahaha.

But enough chit-chat about Christmas. I have to get off my ass and get shopping and cleaning. I have bought exactly 4 presents so far, and if you've checked your calendar lately you'll have noticed that Christmas is coming in nine days. I've always been a wicked procrastinator, though, so I can do this. (I think.)