Crazed In the Kitchen: A Mommy's Twelve Days of Christmas   

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

A Mommy's Twelve Days of Christmas

A Mommy’s Twelve Days of Christmas

(Let’s just start with Day 12, shall we? You’re welcome.)

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my family gave to me…

12 people in our house on Christmas  (But just one bathroom)

11 toy cars in the bathtub (Boys, why? Why?)

10 marital arguments (Dirty dishes go in the dishwasher, not the sink. There is no Dish Fairy. Love you! Is it time for you to go back to work yet? )

9 straight hours of sleep for Mommy (Hey, a mama can dream)

8 episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba on the DVR (Probably not to be watched all at once. Probably.)

7 glasses of wine for Mommy (What? No…Of course not! More like three! Okay, maybe four. After bedtime, of course. Almost NEVER for breakfast.)

6 dropped calls to grandparents on Skype (“Hi…” “Love…” “Merry…” “Just call my cell phone, we’ll put it on speaker.”)

5 diaper creeeeeaaammmsss(We’ll find the winning combo someday. But it’s coming out of your inheritance…)

4 pounds of chocolate (Mmmmmm Dark Chocolate Mint Frangos. Those things are like crack for chocoholics. Totally worth the calories.)

3 meltdowns in Macy’s  (Two for William, one for me)

2 potty training accidents (If peeing all over the floor and wall next to the toilet can be called an “accident.”)

And one dumb cat trying to eat our Christmas tree (Newsflash, feline genius: it’s fake. Stop. It.)

1 comment:

  1. Dropping in because I noticed that you're now following my blog (thank you!). Girl, who *are* you?!? You are speaking my language. Well, except the whole cold winter thing. I'm originally from San Diego, now in the High Desert. My husband, though, is from Waukegan. He feels your pain (not that he minded today's cookout with friends).

    Can I just say that I'm kind of jealous regarding your son's "accident." No really. I have a son who's now 18. Let's just say his wall incidents were not always contained in the restroom. *shudder*

    About the rash, I do not joke when I say that vegetable and olive oil have saved my girls' parts. We use a dedicated hienie/gynie bottle of one or the other that never makes its way into the kitchen. We apply at night and let the magic work. No freaking clue why it works, it just does.

    So... now that I've written a novel on your blog, I'll just mosey along. But you're not getting rid of me completely. I'm your newest follower. And not because of that whole "You followed me so I'm following you" crap. Love your blog!

    Happy New Year


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