Edmonton Wedding Photograper | Wishing You a Merry Christmas!

Ok, so I am a few days past the official "Christmas Day". However, I am still going to send unabashed heartfelt Christmas wishes to all of you in blogland (and to anyone I meet on the street!). When I was a little girl, I remember there being 12 days of Christmas, not just 12 hours of Christmas Day, after all of the stress leading up to the big event of unwrapping and then trying to assemble, arrange and get rid of all of the dreaded pieces of wrapping and tape that all babies suction up better than any Dyson vacuum cleaner.

This was Bridget's First Christmas. I remember sitting on the couch with my gigantic belly last year thinking about how the next year there would be a little baby, about 9 months old, to join in the fun. Boy did she ever!

I have heard lots of people lament about spending hundreds of dollars on toys, only to have their child enjoy the box more than the actual gift. I did not have that issue! Bridget didn't really have a keen interest in the boxes. She preferred the little bits of wrapping paper the vacuum missed. 4 days after Christmas, I can't help but come to the conclusion that either my child was born with the eyes of a hawk, or I have a faulty vacuum. She is still finding the minute pieces of paper to put in her mouth and to scare the rest of us stiff.

I wish someone had put bubble wrap in my stocking. Wrapping her in it would seriously improve the condition of my heart.

There were Christmas miracles at our house too on Christmas morning. Something I never could have imagined. Having lamented for 3 months about the remotest possibility that Santa Claus may in fact deliver a "Rock Band" game to accompany my pet peeve XBOX 360, the worst thing happened. There it was, a giant box. I managed to make it until after the dinner dishes were washed, dried and put away, and I had taken the ceremonial 'After Christmas Dinner Nap" before it was unpacked, errrrr unleashed.

The noise ensued.

No one in any division of my family has ever claimed to have any form of musical ability. I spent 8 years of my life making my music teacher earn his meager paycheck by trying with great hope to have me learn to play the clarinet. In those 8 years I managed to learn the very high part of Amazing Grace. All of the neighborhood dogs hear it, the rest of the neighborhood closes their ears. But I digress...

This was to be NO exception.

I have though found my calling. After listening to all of the family massacre simple songs, I took my rightful place at the microphone. My eyes don't work quick enough to read the words speeding along the screen and my ears don't properly hear beat, pitch or anything else that makes a song a song. However, the "Rock Band" God's who live inside my TV have calculated me to sing Alanis Morisette's You Outta Know at 99%accuracy. Yes, your eyes are seeing correctly! 99%. That's 1% less than perfect!

So if you are looking for me in the coming weeks I will be rockin' out to this angry bit of perfection, attempting to get that other 1% of my rightful score!

I am sure at this point, the rest of my family is glad they are tone death- It might be softening the blow.



(This photo really isn't anything related to Christmas, but it was too cute not to share!)