The Birth of Hope

And thus the prophecy was fulfilled...from humble beginnings in a distant land came the Hope and Salvation of the World... For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. 

How grateful I am for the greatest gift that has ever been given - the birth of hope. 

Hot Wheels, Baby

I love shopping for Landon. It's like getting to relive my childhood all over again, except with way cooler toys and no big brothers constantly stealing my barbies to serve as "victims." He's at the absolute perfect age where he's out of the touchy-feely infant toys but not big enough to actually care if he gets anything more than the bow on top of the gift. It's like I'm a hero no matter what I do. ("Well, since it IS Christmas, I guess I won't stop you from eating that wrapping paper. No tinsel though. You remember last time.")


The best part about shopping for Landon is the justification. I figure that since he's my first kid, I can buy him anything because it's not spoiling him - it's an investment for all future kids (+ or - s. Haven't decided yet). So a $40 working mini vacuum cleaner for a toddler? A little pricey. But if you factor in the mythical 4 (4!!??) more kids who will play with said vacuum then it's a steal at $8 per kid! How could I NOT get it?


Although I do have to admit that even the coolest toys usually have a cheaper, more practical version that gets the job done just as well, especially at Landon's "is this peanut butter or play doh? Who cares?" age. Take his "big" Christmas present this year, for instance. We want to get him a tricycle. The kid loves anything on wheels and is constantly trying to hijack other kid's rides at the park. On a completely selfish note, this would also majorly cut down on the time it takes us to get places around the neighborhood. We live about 100 yards away from a park yet it still takes almost 30 minutes each way to get there thanks to Landon's ant-sized attention span.


Landon: Mom said we're going to the park. I love the park! The first thing I'm going to do at the park is...Tree!! I see a TREE!! Mama, mama, mama, it's a...woof woof! Did you hear that? I have to find the doggie, I have to...whoa! A tree! Mama, treeeeeeee!!!


Me: Landon, I think we are now farther from the park then when we....ohh, did the neighbors get new curtains?


I digress. 


So I started to do research on toddler bikes and came across quite a range of the three-wheeled contraptions. Metal, aluminum, fiberglass, Handy Manny, Dora, Mickey, green, blue, neon pink. A rainbow of diversity on wheels. But my gaze quickly set up the upper tricycle echelon where I spied this fantastically divine creation:

It's like the Delorean of tricycles. It truly makes you believe that if your little guy pedaled fast enough he could find the rip in the time-space continuum and be sent back to correct some of life's most devastating mistakes. I believe that I would send Landon back to 1995 to prevent my 6th grade self from perming my bangs. (No, Mama! Er, I mean - awkward 12 year-old girl I don't know! Step away from the curlers unless you want to be known as Poodle Girl for all of middle school. And trust me, you don't.)


But, as much as straight bangs and a tip to my teenage self to invest in a little company called "Google" would be great, I decided that the $100 price tag was just a little too much to justify, no matter how many mythical kids I added into the equation. So I settled on this little number:

So it's not a Delorean. But at $40 it is affordable, not unattractive and definitely gets the job of going from point A to B done with all the same laughs and smiles. It's the Honda Accord of trikes. 


I'm excited to show Landon his presents on Christmas morning and watch him light up at everything from the $1 bouncy ball (which he picked out) to the new set of wheels that he'll instantly try to push around the living room. I may even give it a whirl myself. Just to see if that time-continuum thing really works. 

Dear Santa,

Is it socially acceptable to wear these out in public?

Nevermind. I don't care.

One in every color, please. Maybe two of the tiger print.

I've been good this year.

Love,
Debbie

5 Reasons Not to Marry a Doctor

"Find a nice doctor to marry," your Mom always said. "Have some security in life," said your Grandma. "Wouldn't it be nice to have someone we could call for free medical advice?" said your Father.

Sure, sure. It's all fun and games and a free tummy tuck to the rest of you. But little does anyone know the reality of hospital widowhood.

So to all of you parents out there pushing your daughters (or sons) to the door of the medical school to find a nice doctor, here are five reasons you might want to redirect them to the business school instead:

1. He will come home with blood on his nice khaki pants and when you freak out that he's bleeding he will calmly reassure you by saying "don't worry, it's not my blood."

2. When you try to move his pager he says not to touch it because you "don't want to know where that's been." Even though it's sitting on the kitchen table. In your spot.

3. Three words: Colorectal Surgery Rotation.

4. Your husband is gone so much that your son starts calling random men "Dada." This makes for painfully awkward conservations at church.

5. When everyone else is making themselves merry with presents and way too much eggnog on Christmas, your husband is working a 30 - hour shift. And his wife and child are hanging out pretending it's just another Saturday. (Insert sympathetic scrunching of face here).

Or if, like me, all of these reasons to not marry a doctor pale in comparison to actually being married to the person that you love most then go on and be Mrs. Dr.

But don't say I never warned you.