...Or why I never get a damn thing done...
I wake up this morning ready to roll. It's my first day of vacation, and I am determined to Get Something Done. The house needs to be picked up, some bills need to be paid, and presents wrapped (ALL of them)! If I have time, I want to get to that newsletter I was going to write--the one that used to be The Christmas Chronicle, but will now be a New Year's Greeting.
I got to sleep until nine. What a treat! Matt and Ben are up already, watching television. I decide to nip this in the bud right away. We can't have them doing that all day. They turn it off as soon as I ask and decide to build a fort out of blankets and pillows in the family room. Full of Christmas spirit, they are singing, "Fa la la la la, la la la la." How cute! I sneak in to have breakfast with my blog.
I don't get much written, though, before duty calls. My little boys are quite proud that they can get their own breakfast, but today they need help because the cereal bag isn't open yet and the milk is too full for 8-year-old muscles to lift. No big deal, Mommy will grab that for you. While I'm doing that, though, I notice the bags of assorted candy, paper decorations, green and red pencils and plastic junk left on the counter from yesterday's school parties. I sort through and sneak some of it in the garbage.
Oh, that reminds me. I still have my bag of stuff to sort through. A middle school teacher doesn't get much, but I should take care of that now. The phone rings next, of course, and fifteen minutes later I am looking at my cold tea and toast, and I haven't begun a single thing on my "To Do" list.
I finish my journal entry and hear those voices singing "Fa la la la la," in the other room. I resolve to get back to work.
Start by picking up the house. Can't throw away cans until I empty the can bag. Can't clear off the counter until I bring in the recycle bins. Can't throw in a load of wash until I put away the clean ones taking up space in the baskets.
A voice cries out desparately from the kitchen, "Who threw my reindeer in the GARBAGE?!"
Mommy panics. Dangit! I got nabbed! "Um, it must have fallen in, Sweetheart. But, um, the googly eyes fell off and we lost the nose. So now all that's there is a brown paper cone."
Matthew is appaled! "It's a REINDEER, Mom!"
"Fa la la, la la la, LA LA LA!"
Ever onward! In the midst of folding clothes, though, I stop to answer the door, bring in the mail, and referee two arguments between my sons. Putting clothes away necessitates my clearing the pile of Christmasgifts out of my closet and dragging my kids upstairs to clean their room.
Teenager wants to join the sing-along, "Don we now our GAY apparel!"
"Cut it out!" Mommy yells.
"I know!" is the sheepish answer. Followed by an evil little giggle.
My mother calls. Can we come over tonight so she can give the boys their tree ornaments BEFORE Christmas? Of course we can. There's an hour chopped off the day, so now I really need to get my act in gear!
I hear the voices upstairs, changing the words to the song, "Poo-py, poopy, poopy, pa-ants. Fa la la, la la la, la la la!"
"Hey, you two, cut it out! Sing the song right!"
I head in to vacuum the family room, but get no further with the pillows and blankets all over the floor.
"After we pick up the blankets, can we watch TV?"
No way. They are going OUTSIDE to play in the snow! Mommy will finally get some wrapping done.
First there is the endless wrapping of children in snow gear, though. Once they are cleared away, I get brave and pull out some little kid gifts. I lock the door so that they will have to knock to get in, giving me time to hide the loot. YES! I am LOCKING my children OUT of the HOUSE!" Give me another Bad Mommy award. It'll look great with my collection!
But outside is never, truly, outside.
Knock, knock. "Mo-om, where are the sleds?"
Knock, knock. "Mo-om! Benny threw a snowball at me!"
Knock, knock. "Mo-om, I need new mittens."
Knock, knock. "Mo-om. Why are you locking the door?"
It really doesn't matter--nine presents later it is raining wet snow and they are ready to come in. Sigh!
Mommy caves, "Do you guys want to watch TV?"
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