For months I’ve been psyched about the razorback I was knitting for my nephew Waylan. I’ve made him some knitted toys in the past that he seemed to like, so I was totally game to keep them coming. I found a knitting pattern for a warthog that I improvised a bit to make it more hawg-like. I had a beautiful vision. What I got, though, was this:

Oh.

Hm.

Not my best work. At least Waylan lives in N.C. and therefore isn’t very familiar with what a razorback is supposed to look like.

Rodney and Amos are both asleep right now, which is highly unusual seeing how it’s the middle of the day. Amos didn’t seem to be feeling bad, but when he asked to go night-night an hour before naptime and without any lunch, I started to worry. Rodney claims to feel fine, but he hasn’t really been alert at any point today. It’s almost noon, and Rodney is normally up at 5:30.

So it looks like the Christmas plague of 2009 continues to ravish. Good thing we didn’t take our snotty germs across state lines.

The husband and son are off to my in-laws’ house for Christmas Eve events. I still have a fever and had to stay home. It’s not all that bad, though. I’m passing the time tracking Santa on the NORAD website. Just wanted to make sure everyone knows about it, because it’s the most awesome thing ever. As I’m writing this, Santa is in Moscow! There are videos and everything. Amos thought it was pretty cool. I think it’s exceedingly cool. Go now.

We have plane tickets for Saturday a.m. to go to North Carolina to see Amos’ grandparents, but all has gone awry. Amos isn’t recuperating well from the grunge he came down with last Thursday, and in fact was up screaming until 3:30 a.m. I finally had to pull out an old party trick and sleep in the crib with him. It’s been months and months since I’ve been that desperate, but at 3:30 you’ll do pretty much anything. And then this morning when I got up, I was achy all over and my throat hurt. The doctor says it’s viral but looks to be turning into a sinus infection. We’ll power through, but the timing is not good. And flying with oozing sinuses is out of the question, especially with a rambunctious almost-two-year-old in tow.

I expected the grandparents to be heartbroken when I called to say the trip is off, but instead they seemed relieved. It turns out my sister-in-law is laid up with swine flu and they’ve all been exposed to it. Just waiting to see who falls victim next. Even my mother’s ritzy Christmas Eve dinner that she puts on for family and friends every year is off. She wanted to still have it, but no one would agree to come. There may as well be red Xes painted on my parents’ front doors.

The saddest part about it is that Amos will miss out on the snow. They got 18 inches in Asheville last week. Amos seems to be obsessed with snowmen even though he’s never seen one, so I asked my dad to build a gigantic snowman in the shadiest part of the yard so it would still be there when Amos arrived. Amos would love it, and it was hilarious to think of my dad going home from work, changing out of his suit and heading outside to build a snowman. Dad tried his best but reports the snow is very watery and not conducive to rolling into balls. He compromised and built a snow mountain that has a face on it. I imagine it looks sort of like an albino Jabba the Hutt. Dag, hate to miss that one.

Also, dad always rigs up a tree with red lights in his front yard as a beacon to guide us home. We call it the burning bush. I think he’s a little embarrassed by the tacky glowing Santa-red bush that shakes in the wind like a big mound of jello, but that only makes it all the more fun for me to think of him reluctantly plugging it in on the day we come to town. What an honor, you know? My sister Kathryn is making the trip home from D.C., so hopefully he’ll crank it up and mark the occasion with a proper burning-bush welcome.

I get all giddy and greedy this time of year when I see the UPS man swerving down the street, ping-ponging between houses on either side. Is my Amazon order in yet? Is someone sending us a present? Pick me! Pick me! On Monday night he stopped at our house with a package from Amos’ grandparents in NC. Woohoo! My dad’s wife, a.k.a. Grandjan, sent Amos a special plate to put Santa’s cookies on for Christmas Eve. I pulled out the camera to snap a few shots to share with Grandjan since she couldn’t be here to see Amos’ reaction herself. Here’s the first shot. Notice Rodney’s protective hands hovering around the porcelain plate, ready to catch it if Amos’ fingers slip:

but it's backwards

But that picture didn’t show the cute Santa-side of the plate, so we staged another. It was much better. See here:

sort of

But that shot is still kind of lame. So I asked Amos to stand still and hold the plate in front of him. Right as I was about to snap the photo, he turned and darted into the kitchen. Our kitchen has ceramic tile floors. There was a crash, then this:

oops

And then, of course, this:

dag

Bah humbug.

Shrek the Halls came on last week, and it made me remember the days before Amos when I would sometimes amuse myself by dressing my dog up in a Shrek costume. Now I spend quite a bit of time chasing Amos around, trying to get him dressed at all. Sam the golden retriever is far more laid back about putting clothes on than probably any 2-year-old on the planet. I tell you this as a caution for people who think their dog is good practice for having a child. Not so much.

Our enthusiasm for Christmas shopping died down after our exuberant late-night dash through Walmart to buy yard decorations. It’s hard to get pumped up to brave the crowds any old day, but especially when it’s gray and rainy. So I’m opting out this year and buying pretty much everything online. So far it’s great. Etsy has awesome handmade things that you can buy directly from the people who make them. I really would love to post a few pictures here to show off my finds, but then it would ruin the Christmas day surprise. Amazon has free shipping, which is a nice Christmas miracle for lazy people like me. Threadless has loads of clever T-shirts for babies and hipsters. Even Walmart will deliver stuff to your house for only 97 cents. If you’re expecting a gift from me this year, work with me and suggest something from these places, okay? We did go to the mall this weekend, but that was exclusively to see Santa, then we dashed out of there before I could even grab a Chick-fil-A sandwich. So far, the missed opportunities to eat fast food have been the only downside to shopping from home.

This year’s Little Rock Christmas parade was ruined, and I’m pretty upset about it. Lots of it was great: The marching bands were amazing, especially Parkview and the dancing ladies in their saucy outfits. The beauty queens were fine, the motorcycles and fire trucks were a hit. But what was up with the gory, bloody, over-the-top crucified Jesus? Some overzealous church (I don’t even know which one, I was too appalled by the spectacle to read their signs) had some poor teenaged boy marching barefoot and clad only in a sheet down Capitol Ave. in 30 degree weather, hauling a cross. That would have been okay except that this freezing child was absolutely doused in fake blood, from his hair down his face and chest and running off his ankles. The sheet he wore around his waist was sopped in it. It was like the horrifying scene from “The Last Temptation of Christ.” Remember that movie? Remember how it was rated R because such violence and gore is terrifying and completely unsuitable for young audiences? So why in the world did anyone think it would be appropriate for a children’s Christmas parade? What’s wrong with a nice nativity scene? My husband and I were disgusted and we left right away. That was not what we came to see.

UPDATE: I just got all mother-hen style and called the city, where the very helpful person who answered the phone gave me a number for The Angela Rogers Group, which is the event-planning firm hired to handle the parade. The person at The Angela Rogers Group said they were really upset by the bloody Jesus, too. They had no idea he was coming. The church, which is called The Potter’s House, did not indicate on their registration form that they were going to be doing anything like that. Next year, the person I talked to said they’d keep an eye out to make sure parade participants are more child-friendly.

Behold: