{{Crampy Ones}} It's about the only benefit I've found for age, I no longer have the cramps of doom.

Raq, Mal is such a cutiehead! I'm convinced if we ever got all the Buffista sprog in one place, the entire world would collapse under the critical mass of the cute and adorableness.

I'm going to make Christopher take Owen to see Santa. I'm kind of curious how he'll react. I'd like at least one Christmas picture of the two of them but it will mean fighting the crowd at the nearest shopping center.

I know people with insulin dependent pets, pets treated for cancer, dogs with hip replacements and I feel like a heel for not having the money or ability to deal with an aging, lovable but incontinent dog.

And I had ONE completely pain free day (Saturday). Pain's back (down the hip and leg). I have to call the doctor today and she's probably going to refer me to a surgeon.

Oh Cash, I am so sorry. I was hoping you'd get more of a pain break. I know it's hard, but please don't beat yourself up. Speaking as someone who has the insulin dependent cat and has had an older incontinent dog, they are NOT the same thing, even before you add in the kids and the back pain.

Oh Cashmere, I am so sorry. You don't need the stress of this sort of emotionally painful decision, while you're dealing with physical pain, and I hate that you're dealing with physical pain.

{{{{Cashmere}}}} Pain ~ma to you. I don't know how you deal with two kids in so much pain.

~ma to crampy Bitches.

Mal is so cute!!!

{{{Cash}}}

I'm so sorry -- about the injection not lasting longer and the dog and everything. I wish I was closer, because I could totally spell you with the kids (and get to nibble Olivia toes while I'm at it!) -- Sara and Owen could even entertain each other.

{{{Deena}}} Cramps O'Doom suck. So does not getting mail when you're expecting it -- especially the kind with Christmas bonuses included.

Sara went to see Santa on Sunday. We waited in line, and got up to the man himself -- and she decided that there was No Way she was sitting on the weird old guy's lap. So we waved and left.

And then she said, brightly, a moment later, as we passed by the line that was even longer now, "I think I will sit on Santa's lap now!"

::headmallfloor::

she decided that there was No Way she was sitting on the weird old guy's lap.

And then she said, brightly, a moment later, as we passed by the line that was even longer now, "I think I will sit on Santa's lap now!"

The girl's got good initial instincts. The Santa remorse sucks, though.

{{{Cash}}}, don't feel like you have to hold yourself up to anyone else's example when it comes to the dog -- it is a quality of life issue, for them as well as you, and old age hits animals hard and fast. All you can ever do is give her the best care you can manage for as long as you can manage it.

(The same give-her-the-best-care-you-can business goes for you too, incidentally. Seems like you need it right now.)

Poor Sara.

We go to the Sight Center's annual Christmas party every year. It's nice, there are lots of kids with disabilities--the only thing in common being that one of the disabilities is poor or no eyesight--and their siblings. All the kids get to sit on Santa's lap and the Center give their client children a nice gift that encourages the use of their sight, or learning in some way that works around their sight, and they give the siblings a present too.

The first year we attended they'd gotten a big gift expressly for the party, so the siblings got a nice present too. Each year since it's been a teddy bear, but Kara adores stuffed animals so she thinks she wins (which is all that matters). The bears are dressed by volunteers who knit, crochet or sew clothes for them. It's really nice.

She LOVES sitting on Santa's lap, and would gladly sit there for hours and just talk, "So, how's Mrs. Claus? Is Rudolph well? Do you have your sleigh parked nearby?" We have to remind her that there are an awful lot of kids waiting behind her. It's very cute because she always wants to make sure he's happy and she's shy about telling him what she wants.

(edited because my sentences make no sense)

Poor Sara.

Not so much. When we went back, she told Santa she wanted a pony.

Um...