One thing I love about my family is the annual tradition of tamal making on Christmas Eve. It's a little bit of work (that's why we only make them for Christmas or weddings), but a lot of talking, snacking and catching up. Every year we go to a relative's house and spread masa onto hojas. Someone else stuffs them with pork and sauce, or chile and cheese. Then they're set into a pot for steaming on Christmas. I'm going to make Ira a little tiny one. He won't be able to eat it, so I'll eat it in his honor.
Woo! Tonight I'm getting out. It's time for the fun christmas party. My sister is coming over to watch the brat so I can have a beer with friends and not talk about cloth diapers, poop, breastfeeding or sleeping schedules. That's what all my lousy support groups are for. Well, they're not really lousy. In fact, it's pretty reassuring to sit with other ladies once a week and talk about boobs and milk and have everyone completely interested.
Ira is doing pretty good. He's starting to get a lot heavier. He must be up to about 10 pounds now. All I know is that it's murder on my wrist and elbow joints. Leon thinks I have arthritis. I thought it was carpal tunnel, but the symptoms don't match up. Mang, I'm so sore. I have some mega-ibuprofen pills left over from the birth. I might pop a couple to kick this ache down a couple of points. I thought arthritis was an old people's condition. Does this mean I'm old, or was I just wrong about that?
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