Christmas is a special time of year. Not because of it’s religious significance. Which I agree, for many, is what the holiday is centered around. I am sometimes jealous of those who wrap themselves in the Christmas spirit by feeling the strength of their religion as a warm Christmas embrace. But it must be said, I am not a religious person. I never really have been. Okay, there was that time in high school when I was all about church. I went several times a week. I left the church when they wanted silent donations. (Code word for cash and checks, not change.) Oh, and there was the girl. She was the real reason I went anyway. I know, I’ll burn in hell. It is the risk I take.

So, we got a little off topic.

Christmas is a special time of year for me, and not because of religion, but because of family. The other significant reason to celebrate the best holiday of the year. We have traditions in our family. We have always had traditions. Before I was married, our family celebrated Christmas with a definite Norwegian bias. We are Norwegians on my Mom’s side of the family. My Grandfather was a good Norseman. We are proud Norwegians. Well okay, stop. I need to back that statement up a bit. My Grandfather was a proud Norwegian. I am more Norwegian lite. The reason I make this blasphemous statement is because there are two things that will not enter my mouth that are staples of the Norwegian Christmas diet. At least for us Laplanders.  1. Rommegrot and 2. Lutefisk. In my family, both of these involve sour cream. And let me just say that Rommegrot is the worst tasting dish I have ever had the pleasure of throwing up. Those crazy Norwegians think you will like it better if you put an almond in one of the Rommegrot bowls. The tradition goes something like this, the person who finds the almond gets a special gift that year. I call bullshit on this one. All I ever got was an appointment with the porcelain god and I DID find the almond one year. Come to think of it, it was the ONLY year I ate that crap. Special gift forgotten.  I had to hand in my full blown Norwegian card for a Norwegian lite model after that.

Thank god I married a German. Now we have brought some of the German traditions into our house during the Christmas holiday. We celebrate the Advent with the kids. Okay, not really. They get Advent calendars. Close enough…right? Oh and we celebrate Sankt Nikolaus day on December 6th. (Look it up).  We also have some German goodies to eat. And much to my dismay, we even open a few gifts on Christmas Eve. Contrary to my wife’s belief ( and probably yours) I believe Christmas is actually on Christmas day. I know. A novel idea. My wife and I have this discussion every year. She thinks Christmas is on Christmas Eve and I think it is Christmas day. Back and forth we go. Where it ends…… So we have found a compromise after several years of marriage. We do a little gift giving on both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Settled! The baby Jesus would be so proud of us.

So Christmas is special in our own little way. It has become a melting pot of traditions, both longstanding and newer. We eat Norwegian rullepolse on Christmas morning along with a Swedish tea ring. A shout out to the Swedes. Our Norwegian next door neighbors. We also eat Jimmy Dean sausage. A shout out to America! Bring on the pork. We do a lot of eating at Christmas time, and drinking.

Wait, come to think of it, I am part Irish too!  Where is my Guinness!

Jet is really a wonderful cat. We rescued her from a terrible home environment of torture and abuse. She spent the first 6 months at my house under my bed. A true cat ghost. But there in lies the problem. I think she really wants to spend the rest of her life thanking me for that rescue.

Keep in mind, she hates the other animals in the house. But not me. I cannot sit down on the couch and she rushes over to get pets. Yells at me, NONE STOP! Won’t leave me alone. I give her pets. She takes the pets. She wants……MORE PETS. Jeez. Leave me alone. I want to just spend some time watching T.V. without being harassed non-fricking-stop. LEAVE ME ALONE. You got your pets. I accept your thanks. Yes, you are a happy cat. I understand that. But, I have something to tell you…… I AM NOT A HAPPY OWNER. I’m taking out a restraining order on you. 5 feet away from me from here on out buddy. Not one paw closer. I mean it.

At least tonight.

Ever since I was a small child I have loved these holidays. Thanksgiving used to be about heading to Santa Cruz, CA and having dinner at my Grandparents house. It was a great time because they lived deep in the redwoods and it was almost like little red riding hood. We traveled over the mountains and through the woods to grandmas house. There house was warm with a fire and my grandfather always had a big hug for all of us. I loved those hugs. We would sit around and watch the football games and stuffing ourselves with Hors d’œuvres. After awhile I would always sneak into the kitchen to help my grandma cook. I loved helping and spending time with my grandparents. I would cap my kitchen time off by hovering over my grandpa, watching him carve the turkey while I made sure it was safe enough to serve with my taste tests.

My grandparents died when I was in my mid-thirties. I consider myself lucky to have had those Thanksgivings for so long. In fact I only missed one in my whole life. It was the year that I was in Ireland and I missed Thanksgiving. Ireland doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. No Pilgrims or Indians. I did call my grandparents house though. Everyone was there. I felt lonely. I really missed my grandfather’s hug that year. Thankfully it was not the last Thanksgiving with my grandparents. There were several more after that. I was at everyone of them.

Now we celebrate Thanksgiving at my house. We have 18 people coming this year. I think the kids are more excited than the parents. It really should be that way. They get to hang out with their cousins. I admit I am excited also, but it is a lot of work to get the house and dinner ready for so many people. Bring it on. This year I am frying a turkey AND roasting a turkey. I am a classic over-achiever. My wife is also working her bottom off to get things ready. I think we are ready.

After we get through Thanksgiving, we will march towards Christmas. I can’t wait. But first we have to enjoy all of the food and drink of the Thanksgiving holiday. I can’t wait for the food hangover that is Thanksgiving. Oh, and the turkey sandwiches the next day.

I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving too. Hugs for everyone.

Today I find myself thinking about you, my dear blog. When I first started writing the Dad2twins blog, I was fresh into parenthood. The kids were barely born and I was in utter and complete shock that I was a new father of not one, but two beautiful little girls. I dubbed them the Farty Pants Twins. I am Dad2twins. Together we are this blog.

The Farty Pants Twins are doing great. We continue to feed them. They grow. They want more food. We feed them again. They grow so more. A vicious cycle. The same cannot be said for this blog. If this blog was one of my girls, I would be in jail for child abandonment. Or worse, starvation or murder. So I count my lucky stars this is only the outlet for my parental rants. My ego. My alter ego actually.

So here I am. Still writing. Thinking about where to go with this blog. Do I keep doing what I’ve been doing? Do I ramp it back up again? There is so much to say and see and do. If you follow me on facebook you will know I am addicted to that new avenue of expression. For the rest of you who are not “friended” I need to think about you as well. As if you care. Do you care? I hope so. I actually do care. Really, I do.

Anyway, enough of the stream of consciousness. I promise my new years resolution will be to think about this blog more often. Hey, I’m a month and a half early on the resolution. That has got to be a good thing. Right?

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I am thankful you still read this.

Next stop…..College. I guess I better start saving some money now. Oh wait, they have dual citizenship in Germany. College is free there. Pack your bags girls, your going to college in Germany.

That is, of course, assuming we make it through kindergarten.

So anyway, here is my version and my daughter’s version of my version. Can you guess whose is who?

Last night was a BAD night. At 2AM my daughter woke me up because she was visited by a monster. She cannot describe the monster because she was to traumatized by the visit to describe the drive by. Needless to say, the visit didn’t just effect her, but dragged me into the dream as well.

So with that being said, we have new visiting hours at our house for monsters, ghouls, creepy crawly things, and the like. There will be no visits between the hours of 6PM and 7AM. None!

Also, if you would like to visit my girls, you will need to be pre-screened ahead of time by me. In other words, if you don’t look like this, you are out of luck.

Thanks.

A tired Dad2twins.

What is a Dad2twins to do?

I know, go visit Christine over at thebeanblog.com. She just finished thirty posts in thirty days. At least there is something to read over there.

I’m ashamed.