I write this post taking full responsibility for the shit storm I have managed to get into. That being said it is my blog and I'll cry if I wanna. I have written blase posts regailing you with stories about my lack of progress on the Christmas front. Yeah well Dual Mom, you're fucked now because the blinders have come off. As I sit here in my living room, sans tree, sans presents, sans decoration, sans everything really, I have come to the ugly realization that the Christmas fairies aren't coming to do all these things, the tangle of lights on the patio aren't going to hang themselves, oh and yeah, my kids really do give a shit that THERE IS NO FUCKING TREE IN THE HOUSE. Who knew?
I'm hyperventilating as I write this post. I have a paper bag on my right and a bucket to throw up in on my left.
I just got home. FOURTEEN hours after leaving the house for work this morning. Exam written, board meeting attended, kids were even fed (it's debateable whether the food they consumed was actually nutritional, it was food, shutthefuckup). Tomorrow is Christmas concert night, which will mean a 16 hour day from the time I leave for work in the morning until I get home for the night.
So I need to make a list. There is so much to do I'm not sure if doing this will drive me completely over the edge thereby forcing my kids to call in reinforcements in the form of the men in white jackets and a one way ticket to crazyville. But here goes nothing.
So tomorrow I need to work all day, but somehow get out and pick out a fucking tree. Tree does not need to be perfectly shaped. Tree does not need to be the precise shade of green. At this point needles wouldn't even be a deal breaker. Tree needs to have a trunk, that's it. Drag tree (by myself) into the house and get it into the stand. Take daughter to concert. Feed kids. Oh need to get groceries in order to be able to feed kids. Get groceries before getting tree because tree won't fit in trunk with groceries in it. So take groceries home before getting tree. Don't forget Christmas concert.
Shopping. Recycled plastic bags are not appropriate gifts for children. If I don't get out shopping that's all I have to wrap and put under the tree. That or tampons. Don't pretend you didn't know I was mother of the year. Oh yeah, buy wrapping paper. Make fudge for staff reception, peanut butter balls, raspberry squares, fudge for gifts, scotch cookies, date squares. Check baking list because you're forgetting something.
Decorate tree? No I need to do that tomorrow, I can't wait until Thursday to decorate tree. Oh yeah, need to get boxes of decorations out of the shed. This will involve much cursing and probably physically harming myself when I'm accidentally crushed under the bbq. I'm sure the kids will come looking for me eventually.....when they get hungry. Wrap presents.
Oh yes, let's not forget that I agreed to host a party on December 23rd. Who does that? Dual Mom, that's who. The queen of delusion who thinks that fucking Christmas FAIRIES exist.
Seriously, where the hell did December go? There must be someone I can blame for this shit storm beside myself?!?! Anyone?
So tell me, what do you have left to do? Please keep in mind if you say nothing, I'm liable to drive a rusty screwdriver into my jugular, just for shits and giggles. If you point out that just LAST week I was posting about how I was going to frolick in a field of sunflowers, how the whole world was my oyster and how I vowed to be relaxed as a drug whore on bennies, I will bitch slap you...just sayin.
Send more wine.
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