Redux

So I may or may not be writing this from somewhere in the depths of a diabetic coma, but Christmas was of the utmost awesomeness. Punky got spoiled rotten by her grandparents, aunts and uncles (not us yet -- me, A. and Punky will quietly celebrate tonight) and my living room is now filled with the most obnoxiously loud and huge of toddler toys. There was a point in my life where I decorated our living room, carefully choosing the perfect combinations of sages and plums and burgundies and tans in the color coordination process. Now our main color scheme is PRIMARY. And SHINY. And LOUD.

But here is our Christmas (thus far) in photographic highlights:

Chatted with cousins...


A., his brother "Otto" and I got really drunk waiting for Santa.
Brother-in-law had a drunk Hasselhoff moment with the Christmas ham.


God, my kid's cute.


The annual running of the Naked Christmas Baby.


The cousins... Punky's hand is bordering on inappropriate touching.

We spent the night at A's parents' house over Christmas Eve, despite my wariness due to Punky's inability to sleep anywhere but her crib and in the car. And hey, guess what, I was right. I netted maybe two hours of sleep that night as Punk thrashed in the pack and play screaming, then thrashed and punched and kicked when I tried to keep her in bed with us. Somehow the gigantic black circles under A's eyes the next morning spoke far louder volumes than me saying, "I told you so."

But I so fucking told him so.

But anyway. Christmas was good and we still have my parents' this weekend. I can't wait to see what obnoxiously huge, loud toys we'll be Tetrissing into the car after that.