Ah, yes: that time of year that is second only to summer in its ability to test a mama's pain threshold: Christmas vacation! Because it is Christmas vacation, I have absolutely nothing to say. I mean, anything interesting or creative or slightly humorous has been totally sucked dry by my spawn in a manner of three days. I suppose I could tell you about the fights, the threats that certain children have probably been relegated to the naughty list, the emailed video that confirmed said childrens' placement on the naughty list, the resulting despair, sighs and moans...oh, and the dentist appointments. And the play dates. And the cleaning. And the dog barf. And the car wash.
But my GAWD I don't want to write any more about all that. Happily my parents - BOTH of them - are flying in tonight! At which point we will have one-on-one coverage for 80% of the children. That ratio is going to feel ridiculously decadent. So decadent that I wish I could start each day with eight mimosas and a foot massage.
Ah well. If the next one has the deliciously plump pillow thighs that THIS one has, all the foregone mimosas will be worth it, of course.
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