Gold Pantsuit Optional.

DARN YOU, ANGELEYES!

Last night was a win. I had friends over, wore Real Clothing, drank sangria from breakable glasses...

...and danced like the key to ending world hunger lay on my [flailing] shoulders [and arms].

Our good friends at Ubisoft sent me a copy of ABBA You Can Dance for the Wii, (available on Amazon) and generously gifted me a [pivotal] mirrored disco ball with lights. Turns out, all my daughters' playroom needs to become a Studio 54-esque dance club are shiny lights. And for the complete removal of doll strollers, art supplies, and train accouterments.

This game comes from the award-winning Just Dance franchise and features 26 hit songs to dance to, sing along with (in the karaoke option!), perform as mini musicals, and enjoy along with live concert footage and actual music videos. Dance moves are depicted by rising figures on the sides of the screen, prompting players to sway, jump, and do crazy things with one's arms.

I was lucky enough to have some very tolerant- and ridiculously fun- friends come play. Besides being unaware that I knew that many people with ABBA lyrical acumen, here's what we liked:

Bringin' it. Also, yes, we have a giraffe.

-It's really, really fun. So fun that you barely need to let the sangria kick in before you're dying to jump up and dance.

-Four people could play at a time. This is clutch, especially when making it to Nationals on such group hits as Waterloo. (Okay, there's no "Nationals" in the game, but we were really that good. There ought've been.)

-I won the first round. (That's because a certain Liz didn't know her Wii-mote was on and she missed the first half of the song. She might not view this as a plus, but I sure do. I won!)

-Our friend Sara may actually be a member of ABBA. She won every single round and, when her ABBA avatar unexpectedly dropped to the floor and did a crazy arm-sweep, she didn't even bat an eye.

Things we questioned:

Back right corner. All you need to know.

-It took us a little longer than expected to figure out what the heck we were doing. Like how to get back to the main screen without restarting the Wii, what each upcoming motion actually meant, and how to figure out whom was dancing for whom. Actual dialogue: "I was following the brunette." "I was following the brunette!" "No, you're the dude." "Which dude?" And sure, a lot of this could've been chalked up to user error and/or my inability to "read directions."

-The song Angeleyes is awful and unfairly hard to dance to.

-Dancing ability is measured solely on one's right hand motions. Basically, you could be sitting down, but as long as the hand holding the Wii mote was doing the right moves, you could beat the person beside you who's taking a knee and/or giving it their all. For example.

-It was a general consensus that it wouldn't take too long to jam through all of the offered songs and it would be nice if songs could be unlocked after certain levels of awesomeness were attained. Some of the dance moves were repeated frequently throughout the catalog- which I personally had no problem with. Maybe I'll actually get decently good at them sometime in 2012. (Then- REMATCH!)

We didn't partake in the karaoke options (no microphones), and were momentarily charmed by the mini musical (oh, Butch), but spent a goodly three hours on the actual dance competitions. That's where the real joy is, even when you've never heard the song before in your life and/or you may have just accidentally kicked a good friend.

I'm gonna hafta go ahead and recommend this game. Very little actual skill is needed to enjoy this one, and it more than brings the laughs, entertainment, and toned triceps.

Just don't invite Sara. Not if you ever want to win, anyhow.

Thank you to Ubisoft for sponsoring this blog post. Please click here to learn more about Ubisoft. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective. All opinions are my own.

The New Normal- Christmas Edition.

Christmassed out.

I don't think 25 year-old Keely would recognize 31 year-old Keely, nor her way of celebrating the holiday season. Nor what she considers totally par for the course.

Mid-twenties Keel would don her best grey leather boots and mod minidress for a round of Christmas shindigs that featured precariously balanced martinis/vodka tonics, extra lime.

Early-thirties me considers it a night well-spent if she gets an after-dinner dance with both of her girls (and maybe even her husband) to the sweet sounds of The Vince Guaraldi Trio's Charlie Brown soundtrack. Any time I can bust out my mad Peanuts dancing skills is a gold star moment. Nora's got the arm thing down. Zuzu excels at the floppy head part.

Christmas treats used to include the mandatory evening out at Emilio's Tapas for the seasonal triumvirate of bacon-wrapped dates, baked goat cheese marinara, sangria pitchers. Lots of them. Lots of all of them, in fact. These nights would be late. Very late. Happily, cheerfully, sloshily late.

Mama K wears the same red hoodie (dating back to 8th grade, back when we wore things awfully roomily) to determinedly bake festive cookie-like vaguely reindeer-shaped things with her daughters. Even though she [most definitely] does NOT possess this skill set. Because two year-olds (and two month-olds) need this memory with their mother. This morning activity comes right on the heels of an excruciatingly, astonishingly sober, and painfully late night. The main players in this little skit included a slightly snarfy newborn, a little kid whose overnight diaper threatened to leave without her, and a husband who remained awake to bake cookies for his wife's party- the one for reviewing the new ABBA Wii dance game the following night, obviously.

Business as usual.

One thing that has stayed- painfully- the same is the number of awful, annoying, and atrocious songs that are played in mind-numbing repetition on holiday stations. I mean, come on, Sirius XM- you have access to literally thousands of Christmas and seasonal songs. Yet I still hear this combo once an hour: Dominick the Donkey (hee HAW), I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas, and- more recently- that ol' Spongebob classic, Don't Be A Jerk (It's Christmas).

They should just play Josh Groban's O Holy Night and anything by Mannheim Steamroller/Transiberian Orchestra (whom I'm not entirely convinced are NOT the same group. They might also be Manhattan Transfer).

And this afternoon? It's the traditional crafting of the Christmas paper chain while viewing Jeopardy.

I'm not even gonna pretend that one's new or different.

More Sibling Love And A Play Doh Rudolph.

Dragging Kids About Town.

The past few days have been great.

Unless you ask my children. Then, the time has been rotten.

For starters, we rocked Nora's world with the trifecta of terror: Santa, first haircut, and meeting new people.

We thought she'd dig seeing Santa, seeing as how she's been obsessed with all of the classic Christmas movies and telling everyone how KIND she's been. (Saturday morning she excitedly told me that Santa would even give her a treat because she's been so KIND.) But no. After standing in that line and being greeted by a positively dour Mrs. Claus, she lost her nerve. Zuzu was placed in Santa's arms and Nora reluctantly sat on his lap.

Nooope...

"Hi there!"

Waaaaaaail. She bolted. Susannah stayed put and even blinked happily up at him. He offered to take a picture with "the little one." (I'm sure she was a refreshing drink of water after the terrified children of the morning. By the way, Nora and Susannah were the tenth kids inside Santa's workshop that day. Poor guy.)

As we exited, Nora told me brightly- "I met Santa!" And then a moment later. "I was scared."

Frightened by the person behind me.

We remained at the Christkindlmarket because we had yet to get our mulled wine in a boot, obvie. Even when it began a torrential downpour, we stayed the course. For we couldn't find the booth with the miniature blown glass animals. (Never did find it, actually, but that sure as heck didn't stop us from trying for a goodly while.) Susannah was in the Bjorn and Nora in the backpack- 'cause that scene doesn't exactly encourage the stroller set. And nothing says the Advent Season like a fever brought on by one's mother's quest for the cutest glass frog.

Nora ate her lunch in the car so as to prevent her from falling asleep. Did I mention we kept her up past her nap for optimal Santa meetin'/crowd evadin' time? And the second she woke up from her later nap, we whisked her off for her first ever haircut? Good afternoon.

Is this what you wanted, Mom?

We went to Pickle's Playroom in Lincoln Square, because a) it looked cute, and b) I feared my own ability to not give my daughter a mullet. She chose to sit in a pink car and watch an episode of Dora for her big shearing- as you do. (It still felt wrong to even be cutting one lock of her hair- she was a cueball until, like, last Christmas. Why am I mocking the gods?) She was unsure of the spray bottle, the comb, the scissors, and especially the blow dryer. But when she found out that the haircut came with a free half hour in the business' stellar playroom, she was totally on board. So, ten minutes after the haircut, she was fine.

And now she has bangs. Which are completely adorbs.

After the trim, we stopped by a lovely Christmas party at P.J.'s coworker's home. So Nora got to meet new people- which, surprisingly, she was really rather good at that evening. (It helped that they had a good under-7 crowd.)

Naturally, she went to bed an hour and a half later than usual and- shockingly- slept until 10:30 the next morning. It was SO crazy that we actually got nothing done...because we spent way too much time announcing how CRAZY it was that she was still asleep.

Look at us smushing our children.

After breakfast for lunch, we went out to Home Depot and picked up what may have been their last Frasier Fir. (Place was seriously picked over. "Had a busy Saturday," they said. No kidding. There was our tree, some Charlie Browns, and a trail of mutilated garlands leading to the parking lot.) That said, our tree is boss. Made even more so by the fact that Nora carefully helped me decorate it- taking the time to first organize ornaments by shape and color on the floor (I am so proud). The smallish cup of "warm cocoa" she had ingested made her a little more forceful than normal whilst placing the decorations on the actual tree, but the overall effect is still pretty nice. And those suckers are ON THERE.

While we mangled the tree, P.J. magnificently Daddified the front yard with garlands, lights, wreaths, windows boxes, and power strips.

And where was Susannah during all of this? She was doing what she does best- just being. Being in a bouncer seat, being in a sling, being in our arms, smiling all the while. Pleased as punch to watch Nora bodyslam the tree, stoked to be bundled into the freezing cold, happy as a clam to sleep against me during her sister's events. She's just a bucket full of Christmas goodwill.

I'm fine. No, really. Fine.

All of which I squandered this morning during her two month checkup and the battery of four vaccinations. Nothing like watching a sweetly shy smile turn to despairing pain and betrayal.

I have quite a bit of trust-rebuilding to do this week.

Nora thinks I should say it with waffles. She may be onto something.