Tiny Santa’s friend, Tiny Santa #2 was given to Nanna as a Thanksgiving present. So Tiny Santa was getting lonely. He was excited to meet his new friend Tiny Albino Peanut. 
Oh Tiny Santa, don’t be silly. A peanut is not a good friend. I’m not done yet.
Eyes, scarf and arms make Tiny Snowman! Oh, the cool weather adventures they will have together.
The Afthead Christmas season begins with a trip to Main Street of my hometown. The four blocks are lined with trees covered in tiny white lights, dark until Santa arrives. He travels in the back of a truck waving to the kids, and when he reaches the beginning of a new block the lights magically illuminate.
This year it was cold and snow flurries painted the sky. My daughter and her friend were bundled three layers deep topped with Santa hats. Both of them believe completely in Santa, and while they know this is not the real guy, eight years of a tradition have made him special.
The girls call in unison as Santa passes.
“He saw us!”
“He waved at us!”
Because they are bigger and the crowds stayed home to avoid the cold this year I ask, “Do you want to go down another block?” They do. This year we see Santa four times and he sees us twice, by the girls’ counting. Only at the last block do I have to threaten, “Girls,are you really hitting each other? He is right there!” Their cold bodies extend for one final wave.
They leave singing a song they proudly made up on their own: “Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus right down Ma-ain Street.”
I have always loved Advent calendars: the kind where you open a paper door and see inside a window or door, the felt ornaments you use to decorate a felt tree, or the glorious ones of my childhood that revealed waxy chocolates. I love the anticipation they build for the season. I love the little excitement every day.
Now that I am a mom, I go a bit crazy over our Advent calendar. It goes up Thanksgiving night, which increases the anticipation quotient. Each day has a gift. Some little, like a mini candy cane, and some big, like a 1000 piece puzzle for the first day school is out. (We’ll spend two weeks putting that together as a family.) Some things she won’t like, clothes, but that gives us a chance to remember and practice polite “thank yous” before we get to the in laws on Christmas Eve. Some are tiny unexpected treasures she will love: a Duncan yo-yo the size of a quarter. We celebrate both Christmas and Hannukah at our house, so there is gelt and blue and silver markers on the 6th to celebrate the first night we’ll light the menorah.
Part of me feels guilty about the fancy calendar my only child gets. I couldn’t pull this off with two kids. Part of me knows that Advent is a real thing and I’m insulting people who celebrate the real Advent with my tradition. Part of me feels bad that I’m making the holidays even more materialistic. Really, I should have each day be a bonding activity, or a charitable act. Somehow I can’t make time to pre-plan holiday activities before Thanksgiving and I don’t have the Pinterest-patience to come up with 25 good deeds that won’t make my kid whine at me, then me yell at her, and both of us feel bad. I can manage to pick up a little something here or there throughout the year to fill a pocket in the calendar, and the effort gives me and her so much joy that I overlook my bad Advent feelings and keep the tradition going.
Tonight I pulled out the box where I stashed Advent gifts and started wrapping. I got to remember where I bought things and was surprised by an item or two. A few things she had outgrown and they went in the Toys for Tots box. Once all the gifts were wrapped and strategically placed – biggest gifts on the weekend and art supplies all in a row – I got to hang up the calendar. Tomorrow will be filled with excitement as she shakes, pokes, and squishes presents. Tuesday she’ll open her first gift. The only thing better than my Advent calendars growing up is making one for my kiddo.
Is there a 12 step program for this addiction? 
Tiny Santa says, “Please don’t stop yet. I need arms and a beard. I am a mere tadpole Santa still.”
Tomorrow, my friend. Tomorrow.
This holiday weekend, don’t let the spoon people get you down!
So much knitting gets accomplished on vacation. I found a darning needle in my “emergency knitting kit” in my carry on – yeah that’s a real thing in my life – so was able to remove the double pointed needles out of hat #1 for the younger cousin. I then knit a bigger hat for the second older cousin. Somehow I lost the picture of the second hat, but it was the same colors, slightly bigger with a different stripe pattern. Can you picture it?
With the baby hats out of the way, I moved onto my finger cramping knitting. I love making tiny Mochimochi Land toys when traveling. Nothing says “road trip” to me more than this image: 
Tiny needles and yarn? Sign me up. Since Christmas is coming I brought along my kit to make tiny Santas. I messed up the leg to body interface the first time but turned out a respectable tiny Santa the second try. His name is Verona Tinypants. 
Thankfully my aunt-in-law had a needle in her sewing kit smaller than my giant emergency darning needle so I could finish weaving in his octopus arms. In case you are wondering about the gorgeous fluffy base in the featured image, Verona is on the cat-in-law, Mr. Belding. Such a sweet guy! 
One more day of vacation left and I’ve knit all the projects I brought, except the other tiny Santa – the kit makes two. We’ll see if my hands are recovered enough to make one more tomorrow. His name would be Kaukauna Tinypants. 
New snow pants enable
Face first snow angels
And Calvin-esque small snowmen;
Hobbes, at home, will be jealous.
The joys of a vacation snowstorm.
I always take knitting when I travel, especially if there is going to be lots of car or train time. This trip we are driving all over Wisconsin to visit new baby cousins, so the obvious project to bring is more baby hats! This time the babies are boys though, so no fun poof and bow toppers.
The downside of travel knitting is that I always forget something. I’ve solved the “pattern forgetting” issue by taking a picture of the pattern. If I have my phone I have the pattern. Fingernail clippers work wonders for snipping yarn when you don’t have scissors. There are apps on my Kindle and iPhone for measuring. I haven’t figured out the darning needle replacement yet, but this may be the trip I have to get creative there. (I’m afraid it is in my backpack with my laptop, kindle, snacks, and “just in case I get puked on” spare clothes, which is sitting in my living room. That story is my next blog post.)
My daughter’s favored travel craft solved my most frequent issue: no stitch markers. It never fails that I cast on, start knitting in the round and ugh! No way to mark the beginning of the round. I can tie little yarn markers, but unless I have scissors or nail clippers I cannot cut my yarn. I usually don’t have those on the plane. Cue the tiny rubber band craft! My daughter loves traveling with a huge bag of them. She uses her fingers or a 4 prong loom to make huge ropes of rubber band weavings. Now the bands are not ideal markers. They are too sticky and can get trapped under stitches, but they are way better than nothing. 
The best thing about knitting baby hats is that they are done in no time. Off to start hat #2, once I find a darning needle hack. I don’t think 10 month olds should wear hats attached to pointy sticks. Anyone have an idea to help?
(I’m really digging the stitch detail in these pictures. I may do all my knitting photography in the plane from now on. The lighting is fantastic!)
Why yes, the new tiny cat is settling in to the Afthead household. Thanks for asking! 
Tomorrow she goes to the vet for her well kitten exam, and then we go on vacation. Tiny cat will not like either of those situations.
Oh yes. She has a real name, not just tiny cat: Adventure. Sweet dreams.
My first Thanksgiving at what would become my in-laws house. I didn’t know it at the time, but their son would become my husband and I would give birth to their first grandchild. Early family dinners are filled with such tension. I wanted to impress them. I wanted them to like me.
When I sat down, there was a marvel at my place. A soup bowl filled with mashed potatoes. At my home we serve our potatoes in a huge bowl that barely contains the almost 10 pounds of buttery mashed goodness, yet there is always bickering because everyone wants their fair share for the meal, and leftovers. A curse on whoever leaves potatoes on their plate Thanksgiving day. This pre-portioning solves all the problems. My in-laws are geniuses!
We pass the food and fill our plates. I take my fork and dip it into my potatoes. Not as good as my parents, but edible. I try another forkful. My future husband leans over and whispers, “Those are for everyone.”
I have double dipped my fork in the soup bowl of potatoes meant to be shared with seven people. Meekly I take a smidgen and pass to my left. Then I get the “gravy” which looks like pan drippings with giblets floating in it. I pass it on without dampening my dollop of potatoes.
It’s a wonder I stayed with him after that meal. It’s a wonder I ever went back for another Thanksgiving.
....thinking through my key pads
Where I keep my knit hats, my mommy eyes, and my writing muse
Inciting Event Blog
Becky Ross Michael: author & editor
A inward journey in this outside world.
Life as a mom of a child with a rare disease
A Space for Wizard Writers
and the Very Important Thoughts keeping her awake
Rants, Ramblings, and Regrets
Splendid architecture, the love of your life, an old friend... they can all go drifting by unseen if you're not careful.—Ian Mckellen
or how I came to love the other side of life
......becoming me again
Empowering women writers to submit their work for publication
Afthead 