You might want to revisit the warm and the fuzzy in Christmas: Parts I-IV.
This post is about the flip side of idyllic scenes such as this one:
This post is all about what I haven't yet said (at least publicly).
If you can relate, all the better. if you can't, well--just don't say anything, m'kay?
I confess:I still haven't picked up our Santa pictures. Or the Easter Bunny ones for that matter. Hey, at least they're paid for...
I confess: I am riding around with four packages to be mailed, packages containing holiday-related homemade gifts. Hey, at least they don't contain food, right?
I confess: I threw away two batches of cupcakes before finally getting it right. I should have known there would be a problem with any cupcake recipe that had "skinny" in the title.
I confess: Despite the cupcake challenges, I baked more for this year's Christmas party than I have ever baked in my entire life. And, none of it was healthy. In fact, my guests might sue me for elevated risk of heart disease if they knew how much butter and sugar was in some of that stuff.
I confess: I wasn't the best party host at our annual Christmas get together this year. I was distracted and it wasn't from the wine or the sugar.
I confess: While my hostess skills were lacking, I was a decent referee, janitor, and Christmas tree stander-back-upper, and intermittent conversationalist. While guests nibbling on Christmas Crack and other super-sweet concoctions,I often found myself just trying to keep the kids from injuring our guests as they chunked Christmas ornaments over the balcony.
I confess: I re-gifted--to my own kids. Last year, my mom gave Emily a stroller. Since it was a little big for her then, I put it up and forgot about it. This year, I wrapped it back it and let Santa take all the credit.
I confess: I refurbished a gift from last year and gave it to the kids--again. Last year's kiddie table and chairs from IKEA took quite a beating over the past year, including one attack where it lost a leg. With some wood glue, putty, and paint, the table and chairs looked almost new again. I then painted the top of the table with chalkboard paint.
I confess: I love chalkboards. Always have. Except now I love them for different reasons. Most of those reasons have to do with the ease of clean-up off of hard surfaces when compared to crayons.
I confess: my kids have too many toys, and I haven't helped the situation by naively opening another package. But...
I confess: all of these loose toys are exacerbating
I confess: the biggest culprit is that %$#@ train set! We've completely reassembled it four times. We've ordered more Sure Track clips. Short of screwing that thing down, we've tried it. If we don't screw it down, mommy's screws are going to come loose.
I confess: I've even considered hiding the train table while they nap, but I knew it would break Drew's heart. the sacrifices we make for our children...
I confess: I have absolutely NO energy left to take down Christmas decorations, but I've already hidden every Christmas book I could find. No Jingle Bells in June this year.
I confess: I've experienced the elation of a clean house three times since Tuesday. I've also experienced the agony of defeat just as many times since Tuesday.
I confess: I ate brownies all day long on Thursday. I had to eat brownies because I ate all the chocolate- covered pretzels on Wednesday.
I confess: maybe I should have let Drew eat more of those M&Ms from his stocking after all. Maybe the chocolate would curb his predilection for, um...okay, even for a confessional post, this is hard to admit--boogers. Today, at nap time, I was doing my best to ignore him so he would go to sleep when he pipes up, "Mmmmm...that booger was good! I ate it all gone!" As I muffled my gut-wrteching laugh in a pillow, I thought, "Well, that's one way to get my attention, Drew."
I confess: Marty gave me real diamond earrings for Christmas/anniversary, but I am too afraid of losing them to wear them. Seriously, give me a good pair of CZs any day.
I confess: I might not want to wear the earrings, but I don't want to take off these pants my mom gave me. Tone my core with no exercise and a plate of brownies? Yes, please!
I confess: I bought into the American Girl marketing campaign hook, line, and overpriced outfits. During my recent trip to NYC, we visited American Girl twice. After observing the phenomenon firsthand, I decided we had to be a part of the madness.
I confess: I bought Emily the boy-girl Bitty Twin set. They look just like Em and Drew--right down to the blonde hair and pig tails!
I confess:the American Girl marketing team is genius! Want people to buy more? Make twin dolls! Duh. Anyone with twins knows twins= double the cost.
I confess: I could probably made Emily just as happy with one doll instead of two. Why do I say that? Since Christmas, she's only had interest in the girl doll. She takes the girl everywhere and leaves the poor boy home alone. Um, Emily. Sorry. As a twin mom, you have to take both babies with you...