May the Christmas force be with you!

For those fortunate enough to be spared our annual holiday letter... here it is in blog form.
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Dear Most Important Person… or persons,

You are so special to us and that’s why I am not going to let you go through a holiday season without an automated mass mailing.

As you probably know, this year has brought many significant changes in our household. I stopped bleaching my hair. Steve bought new underwear once. And Kali learned to beg for ice cream with such stoic patience that only the thinnest stream of drool gives her away.

And of course I have not forgotten the biggest change of all. Ten words… BEN. As his arrival loomed closer and closer last March, Steve, Kali and I eagerly waited with the joyous anticipation of a meet and greet with jolly old Saint Nick. “He IS real,” we thought, “and we can’t wait to meet him.” When the day finally came, Ben was born with his hand held up to his head, cocked and ready to slap some sense into us. The trick was on us. I was a Trojan horse unsuspectingly carrying a little bundle of dynamite. And not only was our jolly old Saint Nick not bearing gifts, he was also a fascist dictator and we were his first captives. But very quickly we developed a nice touch of Stockholm syndrome and we’ve been having the time of our lives doing his bidding ever since. He even gives us time off for good behavior now, sleeping regularly and playing rapturously with his thousands of toys, and Kali’s toys too. I am convinced that our rocky beginning was merely due to a cataclysmic communication gap. Ben has shortened the divide with Kali as well. He laughs hysterically while she entertains him with her antics. Steve and I laugh too, but all the while we’re thinking in the back of our minds “please, Ben, let the court jester live.” Then Ben gets quiet, raises a hand and opens and closes his fist in quick succession which we are pretending we don’t understand to mean “tear out her heart.” But for all his sly maniacal smiles, his many adorable qualities far outweigh his bad. When we go to get him from a nap, he’s often waiting patiently sitting in his crib with a pacifier in his mouth, one in each hand and a few scattered out over the ground (we wonder what he’s using this target practice to prepare for), a belly laugh is easily achieved in many ways, raising or lowering his hand with a soup ladle, tickling his thighs, tossing him in the air, saying tongue twisters, or just showing him a tree can reduce him into a giggling mess. So indeed, he actually IS our jolly Saint Nick, only more of a genocidal Idi Amin type of Saint Nick. Or a misunderstood Wizard of Oz. After all, he has given us heart, courage, and a very happy home- there’s no place like it. He even gave us brains… albeit faulty ones- we’re clearly under a perverse mind control, ready to jump, sit, or lay down our lives for him at a moment’s notice.

Steve still works diligently… at keeping us all happy by making delicious protein shakes, pancakes, and salads. He changes many a diaper and dresses Ben in terribly mismatched clothing while I wait for him to finish so that I can do it over my way. And then he goes back to cyber space where his coworkers shower him with all the appreciation that I feel, but often forget to show. I miss him very much when he travels.

As for me, in my spare time (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) I sit with a drool cup under my chin while facing a corner and shaking uncontrollably. And then I run a little photography business which can’t really be called a business yet because I have a hard time charging people. But I have fun.

Kali is our goddess savior. As I mentioned earlier, Ben giggles hysterically as she runs around chasing things and entertaining him for a good ten seconds while I write emails, photoshop pictures, etc. They look like they’re having so much fun that Steve and I often stop what we’re doing, throw on red fez monkey hats, clang cymbals, dance a jig, and laugh until we can’t remember why we’re laughing. It’s a good life. Hope yours is too. Happy Holidays.

Love,

Steve, Ben, Kali and yours truly

Mi Familia Loca

Kind of like 'la vida loca,' but without the "she bangs, she bangs" part.

Dem guys

Be still my heart... behold the men who hold it, beating in the palms of their hands to do with what they want.

Love that kid

I sure do love that kid.

Oh yeah, he knows

Even Ben knows how cute he is. Here he is milking it for all it's worth with his other very cute cousin Anthony.

Too Sweet

Warning: Don't eat anything sweet before viewing the next few photos. It may send you into a diabetic coma. Or to be on the safe side... only view one photo at a time for good measure.

A Vanderbok Family Christmas

In keeping with the holiday spirit, I decided it would be great fun to drag all the West Coast Vanderboks down to the beach for a day of tedious and torturous holiday pictures. With sand up their bums, babies in and out of tears, and wind chapping everyone's hides we came up with one good shot of everyone. Hope your next few weeks of holly days are bright and merry.

When things go oh so very wrong

Game: What's wrong with these pictures?... in oh so many ways.













hints: Prompting Ben to pull Fat Bastard's finger while he's allowed to chew on a medicine bottle and then throwing toys on his back for Kali to bite off.

Post Script: Child Services is tired of coming around, so don't bother to call.