Warning:

The following post may prove to be entirely too long.

Because it was Christmas.
And as the mother of a 2 1/2 year old, Holidays have taken on a very new meaning.
Christmas especially.
This Holiday in particular has gone from a pained smile while drunk patrons butchered carols for FAR TOO MANY DAYS IN ADVANCE at the bar I tended through most of my twenties, to eagerly awaited paid holiday time and the heart stopping BLISS of watching my child discover the glory of all of its... stuff... lights... shiny things... candy growing miraculously from trees... and so on.

So please pass on by if you are not interested in repeated pictures of my son.

OK.
As some of you may have beheld, my stepfather takes certain celebrations very seriously, and at times over the top. And Christmas holds a very special place in his heart. He is a guy who believes that Christmas trees must not only be perfect, but that underneath these trees, the volume of gifts must be overwhelming. Now you can get a lot of volume out of things like bulk packages of paper towels, windshield washer fluid, toilet paper, um... new doors... and when they are wrapped and strategically placed, it is a spectacle of Christmas excess the likes of which are rarely seen.

Holy Awesome.

And there's a train.
A train with whistles and horns and well, train noises.
A train that runs in and out of tunnels made entirely of gifts that, as the unwrapping commences, reveals more and more track.

Just. so. good.


This over-doing of things transfers to stockings as well.

(Now, for craft content, here's a little story about Christmas Stockings. When My son was born, clearly it was up to me to knit him some incredibly huge fair isle number on size 2 needles out of yarn spun from reindeer hair and dyed with fairy tears. Which didn't happen as I was busy doing...well, something else. A lot. So Christmas #1 was a stand-in loaner from Grandpa, #2 was also not the year. So I couldn't possibly let year #3, a year when he is finally able to comprehend some of the madness and ritual, pass by without his mom-crafted-stocking. But then October was gone in a haze of last minute costume frenzy, November...cheesecake, and December was quickly running out of weeks. So this is what happened:


YES! Freakin GENIUS! A stolen tip from my gorgeous and sassy step sister. A 4$ giant red cotton rib knit sweater from the used clothing patch. With the price tag still attached, no less. Cut out, seamed together, and name embroidered in a cream colored sport weight cotton. Time spent actually making Child's First Stocking: 23 minutes. I am a very well-intentioned mother, though one with a full time job, a much neglected husband and a penchant for TV. And sleeping. And generally not doing stuff. So my genius has to come in these panicked spurts.)

But back to the Christmas Fest.
Santa was good. He brought the much desired guitar,

(which looks adorable next to mama's...)


which was well loved, though a pale comparison to The Drum Set.

Yes, Santa is a sucker for the rock.

And the boy even reluctantly shared with his step half cousin. In law. Removed... something. We love her and she got a damned pony!



And there was a parade


And there were puzzles


And there was the bike



And we were explained the awesomeness of it all, very articulately