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Browsing Tag: Christmas

Of Course There’s Rum in There

How are you doing, you guys? Are you hanging in there? I’m sitting in the waiting room of my daughters’ gymnastics class right now, trying to get the last words of Book #2’s first draft on paper (one week behind schedule. TURBO WRITING: ENGAGE), and my head is just a muted mess of worries and to-dos and plain ol’ tired. I’ve one son who still doesn’t sleep, and one daughter who’s been struggling with nighttime anxiety and nightmares since September. We’ve gymnastics and basketball and Christmas children’s choir and parties I haven’t rsvp’d to because I can’t figure out how exactly I’m going to squeeze them in. The American Girl doll beds we ordered for the girls arrived smelling like mildew, and I kind of just don’t feel like going through the trouble of sending them back, so Merry Christmas, kids, we’ve skipped coal and gone straight to mold! Respiratory distress, ahoy! We threw a surprise dinner for my mom’s birthday last Saturday that went off almost perfectly. Almost. Because whenever you…

So Full of It

We’re doing such a good job, I think. We don’t buy lots of toys for our kids. They’re content with what they have, I say. We regularly weed out toys they don’t use or have outgrown and give them away. We are so anti-establishment, I think. Take that, consumerism, I think some more. We are above you. And then I realize how a) annoying my brain is, and b) I’m full of shit.My mother saw the kids the other night–David was out of town, and I’m wrecked with a cold, so she and my aunt called to say they were driving over to help out for a bit (having super nice retired folk who live within an hour radius of your house and are either related to/love you is a lucky, lucky thing). She was sitting with them, and she leaned over to say, “Now, girls. I know it’s early, but I’d really like it if you could give me some ideas of what you’d like for Christmas soon. Like, within the next couple of weeks…

‘Tis the Season

I had about five ideas for posts that were about funny things, cute things (Quinlan said to me the other day, “Your boots are UGLY.” And then she must’ve seen the look on my face, and added, “I didn’t say your body was ugly. You are non-ugly.”). But the last couple of days, when I’ve been rocking Cian in his room before bedtime (the child is almost two and still likes to be held before he goes to sleep. Isn’t that awesome?), I’ve found myself in tears like a weirdo, silently sniffling, hoping nobody walks in and notices (and here I go telling you about it. Swift, Leah). See, here’s the thing. I had what I’m fairly certain was an anxiety attack in the car the other night, just driving with the girls in the back seat, preoccupied and worried and scared because I always feel like I’m drowning. Some of you know the drill: heart racing, chest tightening, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. It was fun. Santa Stress, you’ve succeeded. But there I was…