Christmas is finally over....only 362 more days until my next nervous breakdown.
This year was supposed to be the best Christmas of my adult life. I can't say "my whole life", because nothing will ever compare to the year that my father gave both my sister and I each our own TVs for our room and even though we shared a room,we told our shithead of a stepfather that he couldn't have one for the family room (hey - the jerk had spent several years telling us that only mindless idiots watch TV. We sure didn't want to be responsible for him lowering his standards, did we?)
We started off Christmas Eve, as always, by going to my father's house. The Queen was decked in her prettiest red dress, the boys in their red turtlenecks. My in-laws were staying with us, but because I had threatened to hold my breath until I turned blue, we were all still going to my father's house.
By 5:00pm, The Queen was running a fever. Out to the CVS we go for Children's Motrin. Give her a dose and change her name to Velcro! She clung to Brad wimpering and whining....and woe to anyone who came within 3 feet of her!
Christmas Eve with my father is simple: dinner, exchange presents and drink lots of wine. Christmas morning was typically open presents from Santa and then to my mother's house.
We started opening presents at 5:30pm and by 5:32 both boys were done opening their gifts and compaining "is that it?". Nevermind the fact that "all" they got that night from their grandparents was a Wii, 2 Wii games and the Pokemon BattleDome. Four hundred dollars worth of gifts and Santa hadn't even arrived yet! Little shits!
A little too much wine later, we arrive home and enter "sticker hell". You know - when your kids are at that age where you have toys to assemble and the stickers are labeled "A" through "ZZZZ". Yeah - try putting all those on about 8 different toys when all you want to do is go in to the bathroom and vomit.
Which brings me to another question: when the hell did I become lactose-intolerant? Why is it that one glass of egg-nog or 2 bites of cheesecake has me running for the bathroom? Is this God's way of saying "you may think that kids keep you young, but I'm giving you the stomach and bowels of your 85-year old grandmother! " I actually got excited when I got a flyer from Giant about Lactaid now making lacotse-free EggNog. I figured - buy it, add a little rum and all is good! Of course, the Giant Flyer never told me that no Giant outside of the Cocoon neighborhood carries that Egg-Nog.
Which brings me to another issue - WHY is Giant sending me ads for Lactaid?
But I guess that has to wait for another day....after I bitch about the clusterfuck that was Christmas day.
