There is nothing like some horrible photography to document a wonderful day.

These pictures are just plain bad, but I've never claimed to be a perfectionist or a photographer so feel free to embrace them or make fun of them - whatever floats your boat.

All Bode asked for from Santa was a light-saber, because four light-sabers in one house isn't enough.

 There is no shortage of crazy, messed-up hair in our house.  

Mia asked Santa for a detective kit.  She thinks that her teacher is going to let her stay in from recess and solve mysteries while the rest of the class is wasting their lives acting like children and actually playing.
What can you say to that except, "You might need to find a new dream, Babe, cause that's never going to happen."

 This is a true minister's family on Christmas morning:  Having to set the timer to take a family picture because Daddy has already been gone for two hours.  I can laugh about this fact of our lives or I can cry - I choose to laugh.

 I guess I was a bad girl this year because after yet another five jabillion pictures of these four, this is as good as it gets.  After this I went and banged my head against a wall for some stress releif.

 There is nothing like a Jedi and his Daddy.

 And finally, this is what unconditional love is all about:

Boppy dressed as Darth Vader trying to destroy his grandchildren.

Christmas, Chickasha style:

Which for my children means no grooming what-so-ever.  Mismatched pajamas, hair matted to their heads, teeth covered in high-fructose corn syrup - we're classy like that.

I'll have you know that shirt I have on has a holly leaf and a dove - that's as Christmasy as I get without being ironic.

 Remember my brother-in-law with the foot that was rotting off of his leg?  That's him (and my sis) and his foot is still there!

 A bear hug from DD is like a little piece of heaven (and a slight fear that if he hugs you any tighter you might be going there sooner rather than later - but still totally worth it).

 No dinner is complete without some booty shaking.

 I love bed-head present opening pics, reminds me of my childhood.

 If Yaya would not have whipped up a Jedi Knight costume, Bode would not have continued to exist.

What do you get this little girl for Christmas besides an agent and a recording contract?  A microscope and an experiment kit, that's what.

I just ran a brush through Mia's hair for the first time since Wednesday.  

I'd say that's what you call a successful Chickasha trip.

I can't hide it any longer...

I have felt it for years and it is finally time to admit who I really am - an 80-year-old trapped in a 34-year-old body.  Not only do I love waking up at 5 AM,  going to bed at 9:00 PM,  and eating dinner at 4:30, I have officially "joined the club," and once you're in you can never go back:

Yes, the highlight of my holidays this year has been my acceptance in the Harry and David fruit of the month club.

All you ladies out there getting fancy purses, botox gift certificates and pilates classes - you go right on ahead.  I'll be at home in my fuzzy socks eating pears.

I feel no shame.

We tested the limits of the "raw eggs cause salmonella" theory. So far so good.

The kids and I decided to make cookies for the neighbors last night.

About half of them actually made it into the oven, and less than half of those made it to the neighbors

 The consumption of raw cookie dough was in the dangerous levels, but my kids weren't screaming, poking, hitting, or glaring at each other so I just went with it.

 At one point they decided to make cookies in the shape of light-sabers.  The ended up looking a lot like poop, which thankfully, helped end the dough eating frenzy (for me).

One of the best thing about kids:  You can give ugly poop-shaped cookies to the neighbors and they actually think it's cute.

Team Loser

Last night, as a throwback to our childhoods, we went on a photo scavenger hunt.  There were four teams.  Technically, we came in last.

 Which is ironic considering my husband helped write the clues and had the answers in his pocket.  

He just couldn't bring himself to cheat.  

Although, I was sure able to bring myself to try and convince him to.

Yet another successful holiday party in the books.

I love this time of year.  Mostly for the great candy, but the great company is pretty good too.

The play is officially over and this is what I'm dealing with over here.

Mia busted this song out last night in front of about 30 college students that were at the house:

She held her best friend hostage for over an hour yesterday forcing her to act out Annie scenes over and over again.  She spends hours in her room every night acting out every scene from every act.  She is recording her own Annie album in Bob's studio, and she makes poor Bode scrub the floors while she yells out insults and commands (ok, maybe that has nothing to do with the play, but still).

It's detox week at the Lashley house.  So far, it's not going well.

Nerd Alert

Despite his unfortunate attire, Bode is now in to all things Star Wars.  He can think of nothing except Star Wars.  He dreams about it, sings about it, prays about it and sits on the toilet for hours and talks about it.

He is officially a four-year-old boy.

How awesome is my Grandma?

What on earth do you get all the cast members of an Annie play for Christmas?  Why, little orphan and annie peg doll tree ornaments, of course!

And how on earth do you do that when you can't paint and are spending every waking moment at said Annie play?  You call your Grandma, that's how.

My sweet Ahmo whipped these babies out in no time.  They are even personalized to each cast members hair color - how adorable is that?

All I had to do was add a little bow and ornament hook to the top and they are the perfect keepsakes.  I hope that they will remember this awesome experience each year as they add them to their tree.  I know we will.

Tonight is Mia's second-to-last time to be Molly.  The end is near.  I thought I would be so happy for it to be over, but you know what?  I'm actually kind of sad, and I'm pretty sure Mia is too.

If you ever come over and see 23 orphans and 23 Annies on my Christmas tree then you will know I got a little too sad....(and I may need a recovery program).