The Lindquist Christmas letter is a big deal to me. So much so that I/Faith wrote and re-wrote the thing more than Carter's got pills. I have no idea what that means, but my mom says it all the time so it must be true. Anyway, I wanted to include more Lindquisty-goodness in the letter, but my graphic designer slapped me and told me that I couldn't put my text in eight point font just to include more photos of a child that already has her face splashed all over the Interwebs. (That didn't really happen.) He did convince me to cut down on the number of pictures, but since I have this here blog thang, I can do what I want when I post it here. #winning (What? That's out now. Then I'll go with a classic #booyah.) So here's the Christmas letter with bonus pics/hyperlinks and a look back at 2011.
First Faith's firsts.
|First time cheering Daddy on at a bball game. (pre-I hate headbands and pre iPhone camera)|
|First swimming lesson. No, I will not admit you were too young/small for this.|
|First spaghetti, followed by "The Episode."|
|First Cubs' game in Chi-town circa the 3rd inning|
|First Iowa State Fair (for mom too).|
|First pigtails. Awwwwwwww.|
|First trick-or-treat as Little Bo Peep.|
|First time in a germ-infested play area.|
|And the biggest first of all. Your first BIRTHDAY!|
When we last left off a year ago, I wasn’t yet crawling and hadn’t even tried real food.
(Why didn’t anyone tell me about syrup!? Or Ranch dressing!?) Please don’t get me started on the cardboard that is rice cereal. I do love I-cream though. And cheese, but not together.
playing with Howie’s toys in the living room early one morning when suddenly mom screamed, “YOU WERE ON TV!” It woke up dad and made me cry.
Since my dad is a teacher, he thought he had the summer off. Yours truly made sure he
realized his job teaching intro to journalism, newspaper, broadcasting and yearbook is more like a 9-month vacation. He and I went on daily walks (yes, in the stroller. I just learned this skill, geez.) to check the water levels of the creek behind our house. Thankfully it never came over the banks. Dad also played nursery rhymes on his guitar while I danced (I get all my moves from my Papa Stevie in case you’re wondering).
Dad is coaching basketball again this year, but all the Varsity games start at my bedtime. I do keep up with the team through their Facebook page (duh, who isn’t on Facebook by now? Ahem, Granny Janny). It’s “CB Thomas Jefferson Boys Basketball.”
One other cool thing about Dad; he ran Dam to Dam, a 12.4-mile race in Des Moines this summer. Mom had to watch from the sidelines after she hurt her foot in an incident she likes to call “the slowpitch softball debacle of 2011” but she did run the 5K. The parentals both ran the Corporate Cup 10K together in Omaha in September. Mom hopes to run
12 races in 2012.
Speaking of the lady who gave birth to me, she drops me off at daycare during the week to go write for the Public Relations Department at the University of Nebraska Medical Center. She’s one thesis away from getting her master’s in Communications. She hopes to graduate from UNO next spring, but her loyalties will always be with her alma mater, Iowa State.
My claim to fame is going to be that my parents were at the game when the Cyclones upset #2 ranked Oklahoma State in Ames, Iowa. Mom and Dad rushed the field like they were college kids and sang “Sweet Caroline” with 50,000 of their closest friends. It was unforgettable, they said.
As for Howie, he hurt his back, or neck, (he still isn’t saying) this fall and was out of commission for 10 days. It was a bummer as I love chasing him and he loves eating all those vegitubles that “just so happen” to fall from my highchair. My parents laughed when I
uttered my first phrase, but really I’d heard them say it a thousand times: “Howie, NO!”
And me, well, I pretty much do it all. Eating with a spoon? Check. Drinking from a cup? Check. Blowing kisses bye-bye? Check. Animal sounds? Check. Sleeping through the night without a pacifier? Next question. I also turned 1 on June 24 and dominated my birthday cake surrounded by family and friends.
If you’d like to keep up on my every move, my overeager parents will probably blog about it on Life as a Lindquist. They sure do love me. And I love them. And, well, you. Merry Christmas from our family to yours.
p.s. in case you were wondering...