I interrupt this post of fun festivities from Christmas to bring you this conversation from last night:

Mason and I were watching Diego before his bath.
Diego was trying to save a nest full of baby birds. Their nest had fallen out of the tree and magically landed on a rock in the middle of a raging river. Needless to say, Diego saves them. He tosses out a rope and hauls the nest in. He lifts the nest up and everyone cheers.
My son? Notsomuch.

Mason: Now dump them out! He makes an action as to tip the nest upside down so the sweet birdies tumble out.
He then howls with laughter.
I wonder if I should be concerned?

A few minutes later he's bouncing around on the couch (we were snuggling). He sits on me and squeals out: "Am I sitting on your guts?!"
Me (groaning): Yes!
Mason: Am I sitting on your nipples now?
Me: Yes! Off you little monkey!
Mason: Are they in the same spot?
Me: Yes dear. That's what happens when you get old.

I then sent him over to bounce on his father...who had fallen asleep in the chair. Next time I'm going to give him markers to decorate his daddy.

Mental note: We need to have less conversations about anatomy in this household.

Festive Parasites

What a title for a post. I couldn't stick with something more chipper eh?
But, it's the truth.
At about 3am on boxing day it started with Mason. He woke up screaming and when we came in he had puked all over himself and his bed. When I jumped up, I noticed my stomach was really queasy, but I didn't think much of it and attributed it to jumping up too fast and a delicious meal earlier in the night. I'll spare everyone the gory details, but Mason was up all night and my stomach issues kicked in at about 4 am. Mr. Sass was hit around 9am. Mason was finished with everything at about 9 and beyond being pale and not eating, he was happy. Mr. Sass had a few episodes and a fever, but was able to chase after Mason. Me? HOLY CRAP (no pun intended). I've never been so sick. EVER. It's a known fact that I don't vomit. People have tried to get me to with copious amounts of booze and then greasy, awful food the next day, etc. This time, I was no match to this flu. I had nothing left in my stomach by the time the wretching started...but man did I wretch and heave. Fek. A sip of water instantly came back up. I was so dehydrated...and had feverish dreams of apple juice and water bottles!
It is only today that I am feeling 100%. I still get nauseous at dinner time for some reason and am not eating anything too heavy but I feel good again. This lovely flu bug ripped through both sides of the family. Everyone got sick. Everyone. The odd thing was that the men in the family weren't as sick as the ladies. Hmmmm.

I think I must end this post...how can I possibly tell how we celebrated the birth of our Lord Jesus in the next breath after discussing diarrhea and vomit??

December 14th, 2010

December 14th - HAPPY BIRTHDAY MASON!!

Three years ago my life became much more meaningful, much more blessed and much more fun. I found purpose again. I found joy in the little things. I found life. All the cliches are true. My heart is beating on the outside of my body. There is no love like a mothers. All of it..it's true. I can't physically love a person anymore than I love my precious boy. I love him so much it hurts. He is the wish that I made on every star, every night, for years. He is the answer to many prayers, many tears and much hope. I am so thankful for this gift that I have been blessed with and I will never take for granted what I have been given. He is my life.

Mason,

I was thinking of the day you were born. I was thinking of the labour, the delivery and then the moment you came into this world. 4:02 pm. I cried. Man did I cry. Your mother is actually embarrassed about how much I cried, but I don't regret a tear I shed. Those were loaded tears. For all that happened to get you here and all the hope I had (and have) for you. I was so tired, and then suddenly you were in my arms. Tiny. Perfect. I could think of no baby more beautiful than you. You had so many people who came to welcome you into this world. You have so many people who love you. In the quiet moments of the night after daddy went home to sleep, we sat there, just you and I and I took you in. You were still awake and staring at me. I couldn't take my eyes off of you. In fact, I sang to you. That Frankie Valli song:

You're just too good to be true,
Can't take my eyes off you.
You'd be like heaven to touch.
I wanna hold you so much.
At long last love has arrived.
And I thank God I'm alive.
You're just too good to be true,
Can't take my eyes off you.

In the past three years, you've made me smile every day. You've made me laugh (boy- have you made me laugh..you're such a ham!!). You've made me slow down and experience things with you. I see it through your eyes, and life is more beautiful then I've ever imagined. You have grown into this wonderful, thoughtful, smart little boy who everyone just adores. To know you is to love you. I marvel at you everyday. The things you do and the things you say. I'm so excited to see what life holds for you. I'm sad at the same time, because my "baby" is gone. Time slips by so fast and I miss those moments where we would cuddle, or where you'd toddle off on your unsteady feet. The time where you were happy to sit in a stroller or where your crib was your favourite place to be. Now, on the horizon is preschool and kindergarten. Independence. Your own thoughts and ideas (and they don't always match mine!). You love your numbers and letters and trying to read. You zip around in your "red Mazda" (aka "cozy coupe") and "wedding car" (plasma car) and park all your cars. You love the Big Comfy Couch and grilled cheese sandwiches. You are cheeky and saucy, but in a fun way. You splash like mad in the tub and help me with laundry. You love to help cook and bake and do the "10 second tidy." You carry around your Lion everywhere you go. You are kind and loving to your "lovies" and those around you. You think tooting is hilarious and cry immediately if you think you've done something wrong..even if it's no big deal at all. You can melt my heart..and break my heart. You love fans. Love is an understatement. All you want for Christmas is a ceiling fan for your room..with a remote. Your smile lights up a room. Your laugh sparks others to laugh. You love your "man shirts."

You are the joy of my life. There is no one or no thing that I love more.

Happy Birthday my little Gigi.

Love, Mommy.

Snow, Snow and...no snow

Everyone who knows me knows this about me:
I am ALWAYS cold.
I hate the snow.
I hate the cold.
I hate being cold.
I hate the thought of being cold.
I dread being outside when it's cold.
Cold drinks are okay, but windchill and bitter booger freezing weather are not.

That said, snow between December 5th and January 3rd is more then acceptable. I like a white Christmas. I love that fresh blanket of snow look, especially with the Christmas lights. After January 3rd, it can melt and the warm weather should come. Enough is enough. After that time, there is no purpose or need for it in my opinion. I no longer see a beautiful blanket of white, but rather the piles of yucky dirty brown slush.

Ironic that I not only live in Ontario Canada, but I also happen to live in the snowbelt of our region. Our first year in this area and we bought a snowblower. Often I (watch others) dig out in the morning and once I get 30 minutes south to where I work there is either significantly less snow or no snow at all. You would have assumed that I would have packed my bags and headed south years ago, but I am Canadian through and through and this is home. Besides, I need something to complain about.

Now...on to the news. Most of Ontario got hit with a BIG storm. London had approx. 160cm (63 inches) of snow as of this morning and it's still snowing. The city has contimplated declaring a "state of emergency." You know it's serious when public transportation shuts down and even more serious when the univeristies close. DURING EXAMS. I never got that lucky while in school! Now..here's the thing. We dont' have much snow. A dusting in fact. You have no idea how odd this if for us. 20 minutes north they are buried alive. 10 minutes east? Same thing. I am living in a donut hole of snow. Funny thing is I want some serious snow. Maybe not 160cm worth, but some so I can (watch others) play and have fun!

Hmmm...maybe I should be careful what I wish for.

To Santa or Not to Santa...

While I was pregnant, Mr. Sass and I had this "debate" about Christmas. I grew up with the whole Santa charade and he did not. For him, it was never about Santa, always about the birth of Christ. My family balanced the 2. He didn't want to "lie" to our child, and I...well I want to "lie" to him!! It was always so much fun as a kid waiting for Santa and looking out the window trying to see him. Waking up in the morning and seeing the mess he made with the cookies, and the presents he left. I wanted that for Mason. I don't want to forget the real reason of the season either.
This debate was ongoing. Luckily Mason was born 11 days before Christmas so that first year was easy. We did stuff him into a stocking and took him to see Santa though.

Let me fast track to current day and save the rambling: I won.
We have a nice balance of secular and sacred. Mason believes in Santa but knows all about Jesus and is learning that we are celebrating His birthday. We've kept traditions of both families and I think we got the best of both worlds.

Christmas is so much fun this year. Mason really gets it. He's so excited for Santa. He watches his MAGIC SANTA video a lot (parents..check that out!!) and even visited the good ol' Mall Santa. He went straight over and shared a good laugh with Santa. Santa took lots of extra time with him (since all the other kids were apparently at the Santa Clause Parade in town that day). When Mason hopped down I heard him say "ohhh thank you Santa" when he got his candy cane. Santa was laughing and shaking his head. He looked over at us and said "well, that was a first!" It came as NO shock to us that Mason had asked for a ceiling fan for his room (with a remote). That's ALL the sweet boy wants for Christmas. A fan for his room.

I told Santa he better deliver or the kid is going to be crushed!

He asks me frequently if it's time to bake cookies for Santa and get his fan. We got him an Advent calendar to help him count down.

Have I mentioned how much fun this is?!

As a side note, I'd also like to say that I am proud of Mason. He's learning that it's not all about presents (which by the way I'll be shocked if he opens..he's not a present type of kid so far!). We did 2 Operation Christmas Child shoeboxes which he picked out a ton of things for. We picked a boy and a girl of the same age as Mason so he could pick out things he liked. We explained to him that there were some kids that wouldn't get toys and treats like he does. He asked me if they were crying. He didn't want them to cry. He took it very seriously. It broke my heart and made me proud at the same time. We have a great little boy.

So the moral of this here story (if there is one) is that:

1) I always win.

2) You can have the best of both worlds.

3) My son is damn cute. Check out his Santa picture:

Of course Lion made the cut there too. I had no intention of seeing Santa so he's kind of dressed like a little Pooker...but what can you do?