With Sun being all of six months old already, and the holidays under my belt, I have been asked recently if Sun will have a sibling. My answer to this question is a simple one. I tell the inquiring party that it isn’t up to me, it’s up to my aging ovaries.

No one in my family knows what CS and I went through to get pregnant with Sun. Brandy’s blog reminds me of it all. Unless you experience a fertility problem, trust me, you cannot understand it.

And so the question CS and I have considered is, would we, will we, do it all again? I say today that I don’t think we will. Not because it was too stressful (and boy was it!), because having had such a success and now knowing how it works, I’d think the second time around would be less stressful.

My main reason to not do it again can be said with one word: multiples. When you do fertility treatment, you see a lot of pictures of babies on the walls–babies the specialist helped bring about. And if you look close, you see a lot of twins and triplets. So many, in fact, that there are more multiples on the walls than singletons.

And when we went through the fertility treatment, twins or triplets were a bit daunting, but we were willing to run the risk. We ideally wanted two children, so twins might actually have worked just fine (two for the price of one!).

But now that we have Sun, we have to think, what if we had multiples now? Would we want that? And truth be told, I’d rather have an only child than one older child and a set of multiples. That’s just being honest with who CS and I are. And sure, we could adopt a single baby the second time around. But, again, just being honest, I don’t have this strong desire to have a second child.

We’ve decided to let things go naturally. If I get pregnant, good; if not, so be it. I don’t expect it to happen. But maybe down the line when Sun is a bit older that urge to have a second child might grow. One thing fertility treatment has taught me is that you don’t know where that line in the sand really is until you are pushed right up to it. And somehow, inch by inch, that line gets pushed.

The Christmas Eve party was a big hit. All that homemade food was much enjoyed! The handmade gifts were well received, and I even got Jessica Seinfeld’s groovy new cookbook.

My in-laws just left our home. Their flight back to Ohio was cancelled (OMG!) and they are now driving back. Like previous visits, this one had its moments of testiness, but I was truly sad to see them leave. When I heard there flight was cancelled, I was momentarily happy thinking that that would mean I’d get a bonus day with them. But it instead means a day of hassles for them–going to the airport to try to finagle another flight home (not likely on Christmas) or swapping cars for one they can drive home. It’s at least a 17 hour drive.

I wish they lived closer so that visits didn’t have to be so intense; that we could pop in for dinner or at least a weekend visit. But what we have is a good relationship, no matter what the distance. And this trip I learned to know my sister-in-law a lot better. And she is no longer an annoying adolescent but a budding mature adult. That’s probably the best gift I got this year.

My favorite gift for Sun came from my parents–they gave her a necklace and ring that are family heirlooms. But here’s the catch. I told my mother many times over the years that I wasn’t having children, that it just wasn’t in the cards for me. And she stopped asking when and what names and all those questions that drove me nuts. I figured she finally got my message and accepted what I told her.

But I have eight nieces and nephews; eight grandchildren to whom she could have given these items. But she didn’t. She waited, patiently. And she believed in Sun’s existence even when I didn’t. And I get now why she waited. She’s a mother. And she knew her daughter better than her daughter knew herself.

I’d say it was one banner Christmas all around.

I had a friend growing up that was a child of my parents’ friends. We’d see each other at church and slept at each other’s houses, went to the mall together. Friends. Let’s call her Karla.

I also had a friend that I knew from grammar school. I met up with him in college and we dated for a stint. The dating end of things fizzled out but the friendship remained. Except at the time, I still had feelings for him. Let’s call him Ben.

One night I went out with two girlfriends, Southern Mom and Karla, to see Big Sun and I invited Ben to join us. We arrived at Waldo’s and Ben was there with his brother. He spent the better part of the evening ignoring me. I ignored him right back. Until.

I noticed that Karla was talking to Ben. She rejoined SM and I and I asked her to also ignore Ben. It was a long evening. Karla continued to flit between SM and me and Ben. Ben’s brother left Waldo’s without Ben.

It came time to leave and Karla announced that she was driving Ben home. I went crazy. I saw red and can only relate what happened from that point on from an outsider’s perspective.

I insisted that she need not bother herself with Ben’s problems; that I lived close to his house and if he needed a ride, I’d give him one (he’d have bored holes in his head before getting in a car with me); that he could call a cab; that though we were no longer dating, I still had feelings for him (which she knew beforehand) and her protestations that she was doing this “just as a friend” didn’t ring true–surely our friendship was more valuable than her and Ben’s, right?

She insisted. Ben wouldn’t look at me or speak to me. Rage was all I felt. There were many details that I recall from that night. In the end, I drove like a madwoman dropping SM off at her car and then literally running every red light to get to Ben’s. I beat them to his house and waited in the car. I don’t know what I expected to do, other than be sure all she did was drop him off and drive away.

They pulled up and Karla kept the car running and her lights on. Minutes, long minutes, passed. No activity. I didn’t know whether they even knew I was sitting in my darkened car. After maybe five minutes, I got out of my car. Karla rolled down her window and said to me, “Nola, it’s not what you think; we are just friends,” to which I replied, “Karla, leave. You dropped him off, now leave.”

Ben got out of her car and Karla began to cry. I repeated, “Leave. Just go.” I followed Ben inside his house.

He very glibly told me that it was, in fact, just what I thought it was. And that I had foiled his evening and it was time for me to go. I left. With a broken heart that took years to heal.

The next day, Karla called me and meekly said, “Hey.” I boldly told her that I was too upset to talk to her and that she needed to give me time.

Two days later, she called again. I told her I was still too pissed to talk to her. She insisted on telling me it wasn’t what I thought it was. I stopped her protestations and said, “Karla, I’m done. Will I be friends with you? Yes. If you ever need me, I’ll be there. But I no longer trust you. And I can never again see myself enjoying a beer with you and introducing you to some guy I’m seeing. You are forcing me to decide today where we go. And if you need to know today, then where we go is to casual acquaintances.”

It was painful and I was hurtful. But I meant all of it and more. Frankly, I’d be just as happy never to see her lying face ever again. And to date, I have not seen her.

My parents have stayed friends with Karla’s parents. And over the years, I have had to endure hearing how Karla got married and had kids and is doing well schlepping wares on E-bay. I. Don’t. Care. My poor mother cannot get this message! One time I finally told her, “Mom, I don’t like Karla; we are not friends; she put the moves on a guy I was into right in front of my face once; I don’t need to hear about her life. I don’t care.”

But damned if I still don’t hear about her. I’ve heard that she’s cheated on her husband (big shocker there!), and that she’s living in Arizona.

Today, my mother forwarded an e-mail from Karla’s father, the “year in review” e-mail that are prevalent this time of year. Karla’s still married and living in Arizona raising her children. I still don’t care.

But deep down, well, actually, not so deep, I must care. Because when I read about her life, I get all pissed inside and my hands shake a little when I write about that evening some 15 years ago. I don’t know what gets me worked up. I can think about Karla and not feel a thing. But that night! I remember every last detail like it was last week. And the letter that Ben send me later that week with green electrical tape sealing it closed apologizing but rejecting me all the same.

Karla and one of the hardest nights in my young life are forever intertwined. It’s funny how a broken heart will heal but never completely be scar-free.

Preparations are underway for the big Christmas Eve party we are hosting. Here’s how the menu is shaping up:

From family members:

Shrimp and okra gumbo
Corn and crab chowder
Roasted turkey
Baked ham
Christmas cookies
more desserts

From us:

(Smoked) oyster roll
Salmon spread
Jezebel (spicy apple jelly spread)
Artichoke casserole supreme
Cajun jambalaya
Chocolate cherry bar cookies with hazelnuts

I’ve been to Nor-Joe’s already to buy their Italian cheese and everything-flavored flat bread, and I’ve already been to the grocery store and have baked the cookies. Saturday, I’ll start the jambalaya. Then Sunday and Monday, cooking and cleaning a-plenty. With Christmas songs playing in the background.

As of right this moment, I am sitting in a quiet, darkened, slightly chilly house. The hubs and Sun are running an errand, and the in-laws are visiting friends. There’s a lot of work to be done for the party, work I am looking forward to. We use my mother-in-law’s china (she gave to the hubs years ago) and she’ll get to enjoy it with us for the first time. Plus I get to use all my lovely serving pieces that I’ve acquired over these five short years. I love every last one of the things we use.

This party was traditionally held by my mother growing up. Then my three brothers swapped it out, with my sister hosting it occasionally. Then there were divorces and moves and the hosting of it got to be difficult. Then I got married and moved out of an apartment and was able to host it myself. I’ve hosted it four out of the past five years. I’d host it every year if I could. Now my sister and a brother are wanting to host it again and we have begun swapping it out again.

This party is like a part of my family. I’ve missed it only one year–the year I was taken to Ohio to meet my future in-laws. I enjoyed my visit to Ohio, but longed for my family party on Christmas Eve.

My family isn’t perfect and we don’t all get along as well as we could. But there is no other place I’d rather be on Christmas Eve than surrounded by my family eating the foods we all lovingly prepared.

I am not a big believer in signs. But.

Pete called to tell me that Hulk Hogan is to reign as king of Bacchus in 2008. I should have known then. But.

I got home and picked up Sun to nurse her. As I sat down, I heard a distinct “tink tink tink,” and looked to see a line of branches moving downward on the Christmas tree. An ornament had fallen. Weird. I looked closer at the tree and noticed it was leaning. A lot. I looked even closer and noticed–gasp!–it was moving and leaning! I yanked Sun away from me, jumped up and ran for the tree. I was not fast enough. It came down with a mighty crash accompanied by screams from Sun (or was that me?)! It landed right on top of Sun’s gymini and Bumbo:

Pine needles were everywhere. Bumble, so proud just days before, hid face-down in shame:

Amazingly, there was only one casualty and two injuries: one new ornament broke and could not be fixed and two angels each broke a wing. They are recovering in the Ornament Hospital along side the shepherd from the manger who lost his head whilst in the attic this past year. All three are recovering nicely:

Coincidence that my In-laws are due to arrive in twenty-four hours? I fear not.

I have been focusing on staying positive through this holiday season.  And that should be easy since we are celebrating Sun’s first.  But as a new-parent, I already feel the pull to do more, buy more, consume more.

I have felt pressure to buy fancy clothes for Sun “for the holidays” and am constantly being asked what we’ll be getting Sun for Christmas.  The truth is, she’s not getting anything from “Santa” this year.  She’s six months old and likes to chew on the wrapped gift more than the toy inside.

And let’s face it, another toy, we do not need in our house.  And it’s easy this year to say no to it all.  Sun doesn’t speak and has no concept of Christmas and the manna from Heaven that falls from the sky on “good” kids.  Plus, she will get presents from friends and family.  How much does one six-month old really need?

But as the blogosphere is my witness, I WILL NOT become one of those parents that goes overboard with the presents.  And you know how I know I can do this?  Because it’s how I was raised.  We were not deprived in any way, but we certainly did not get everything we asked for under the tree.  And in the end, I distinctly remember feeling completely satisfied each Christmas and never like I was let down.  I recall the anticipation of it all as being exciting.  What would I get?  Would it be that doll I really wanted or a bunch of other stuff I thought I wanted when I saw it?   Somehow Santa always knew what my heart truly desired.  That, or a child likes the toy in the hand and not the toy in the bush.  Or something like that.

I have always considered myself “green” and have lapsed a bit of recent years.  But as a parent, that greenness is kicking in–there is so much waste in parenting!  The diapers, the clothes, the toys.  All used for short periods of time and then gone.  I like to reuse and recycle what I can, but the truth is that there are many items I can do without from the get go.  And, frankly, so can Sun.

I want to raise an environmentally conscious child.  And that starts at home.  And Christmas is a good start.  So although she may believe in Santa for years to come, it may not be the Santa her friends believe in.

Katie over at Overflowing Brain tagged me for this hoopla. She is modest in saying I have higher traffic than her on my blog. I doubt that is true, but compliments will go far here!

Here are the rules, as decreed by someone higher up than myself.
1. List 12 random things about yourself that have to do with Christmas
2. Please refer to it as a ‘hoopla’ and not the dreaded ‘m’-word
3. You have to specifically tag people when you’re done. None of this “if you’re reading this, consider yourself tagged” stuff is allowed…then nobody ends up actually doing it. The number of people who you tag is really up to you — but the more, the merrier to get this ‘hoopla’ circulating through the blogosphere.
4. Please try and do it as quickly as possible. The Christmas season will be over before we know it and I’d like to get as many people involved as possible.

1. I used to unwrap all the presents under the tree that had my name on it. My mom said it was so bad that she started writing others’ names on my presents to trick me. It worked.

2. I believed in Santa Claus for a really, really long time. I am not sure when I stopped believing, but my four older siblings did a good job keeping the secret.

3. The worst present I ever got was a popcorn popper from my parents. The popper was perfectly fine, it’s just that it was the exact popper they’d gotten for me two or three years before.

4. Christmas 1996 was the worst ever due to a huge family fight. It was closely followed in its badness by New Year’s 2003. Things are mostly better now. At least, all bad behavior is checked at the door–and that’s good because the party is at my house this year.

5. I am really, really bad about getting Christmas cards out. Bad, as in, they often don’t make it out at all.

6. I love Christmas music. I start listening to it on Thanksgiving and go straight through to Christmas. But I can’t stand to hear it the day after Christmas.

7. I detest that dirty/stingy/stealing Santa party thing where gifts get “stolen.” I find them very un-harmonious and un-Christmasy.

8. I hide baby Jesus under the hay in the manger until Christmas morning. Just like I’ve done since being a kid.

9. I am delighted that the Christmas stuffed animals that I saved from when I was a kid are finally getting play again with Sun. The hubs shook his head not knowing where these furry friends had come from.

10. Christmas Eve is the big family party. And my family has started a new tradition of having a crab boil somewhere between Christmas and New Year’s. Christmas day is actually anti-climactic and quiet.

11. I haven’t attended Christmas mass in over a decade.

12. I hope Sun’s memories of her childhood Christmases are as sweet as mine.

I tag Sunny at Babble from a first time mom, Kimberly at Parenting Without a License, Tot’s Mom at Toddler Humor, Rock Star Mommy, and Minnie at screamy thing. Go forth and be merry and bright.

Today Sun was scheduled to have her MRI. After a very, very long day, she did not have that MRI. I am too exhausted to explain. Plus, I want to stay positive. In the end, she had a CT scan. The tech stayed late for her and the doctor met with us before we left. (See, staying positive.) All appears to be as it should. Let’s all release our collective deep breaths. Oh, and no poop-a-thon for this medical procedure!  We are relieved.

Sun is already down for the night. I won’t be long in following her. I wonder if my scratchy throat is a result of hanging out at a hospital all day.

Last night was my firm’s holiday dinner at Commander’s Palace. I don’t know if it is that I didn’t make it to last year’s soiree or that being a new mother, I don’t get a lot of adult interaction, but I enjoyed myself at last night’s party more than I can remember enjoying in a long time.

Steinbeck and a bizarre obituary were discussed; liquor was imbibed; good eats were consumed; friends were toasted and remembered. And a fellow picking on a banjo serenaded us. CS and I had the Last Straws, a dixieland band, play at our wedding reception; I was reminded of that night last night. And I got to hear “You are My Sunshine” and Christmas carols plucked on that banjo.

It was a joyous occassion. Taking maternity leave had the effect of allowing me to re-appreciate the great group of folks with whom I work. Damn, I’m lucky.

We decorated our Christmas tree tonight. We are now at the point that each and every ornament has special meaning. There’s the one given to us by friends in San Diego just after we were married, and the matching ones that have “Nola” and “Sunshine” engraved on them–my grandmother took her granddaughters to the mall one year and we all got matching, engraved ornaments. Somehow, I ended up with my grandmother’s, too.

Last year, my mother gave me a bunch of ornaments from when I was a child–ornaments we made as kids or received as gifts. There’s the one that looks like a gingerbread cookie and has a very real bite mark in it (yes, I was a naive child):

and the ugly sequenced mushroom I made with my other grandmother:

Then there’s my favorite ornament–the frog prince one:

This is one that “nests” a little something inside. After a horse-drawn ride through City Park’s Celebration in the Oaks some six years ago, CS got down on bended knee and told me he was just like that frog prince, needing a kiss. I kissed the ornament, he opened it, and there was my ring, nesting inside.

Even our tree topper is special, albeit a bit unconventional–it’s the Abominable Snowman with the star held gingerly in his fingers. CS and I saw him (he’s a stuffed animal that makes some sort of noise) in a store the year we were married. He is not intended to top a tree, but you’d never tell by how well he looks up there:

This year, we’ll add a “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament to the tree. And as the years pass, our tree will only get more crowded as Sun adds her special ornaments to it, too.