Am I the only one feeling like there is a 40 lb turkey loaded on my back? The pressure is worse than a Mammogram by a rookie. The countdown to Christmas... tick tock tick tock... my biological time bomb is kicking. And the question is: will I be taking anyone else down with me this month?
Santa asks the toddler what he wants for Christmas: "a pink DS". The toddler is a boy. Ok, the pink thing stinks, but a DS at 3 years old? Santa is bringing him a green Leap Frog. With a note. About how pink is for girls, and DS's are for bigger kids. Grow up.
It's 10pm and I haven't had a nap or a martini today: the tween wants to start decorating. She's helpful like that. She's got the energy level of Tigger, but left alone she has the destruction level of a surprise tsnunami. Don't you have some homework you forgot about? A test tomorrow? We can decorate the 24th.
I am just finishing the online shopping for the 25 nieces and nephews, just a few moments after getting pumpkin guts on my shoes because the rapidly melting squashes on the porch were clashing with my half done outdoor Christmas decorations - and when I kicked the pumpkins behind a bush, my foot went through one. Merry Halloween.
Will it all get done? I know it will. But not by me. By my evil twin.
She's the one who yells funny things at the kids, like "It's Christmas, for chrissakes! Stop fighting and sit down and watch another Christmas movie so I can wrap all these damn presents for you ungrateful, naughty monsters!"
She's the one who pushes in front of old ladies at the grocery store because she needs to get the last eggnog.
My evil holiday twin is within me and her Armageddon is the month of December.
May you all beware.