Ho ho hold me

I have a major case of Christmas/writer’s block. I am associating the two with one another because HOW ELSE do you explain my simultaneous inability to a) type a single thought, or b) get my shopping done. It’s maddening – MADDENING I TELL YOU – like I have some sort of brain fog clouding my every move. It’s not that I’m short on thoughts – NO NO NO – in fact at this point I have so many thoughts there is a backlog, a traffic jam, a jumble of ideas all scrambling to get out of my head before I go crazy so I have to apologize for the verbal diarrhea I’m spewing with this post but I just need to get some of the crazy out and clear room for the more functional thoughts that REALLY need to come forward so I can finally embrace the Christmas spirit and GET SOMETHING DONE. Sorry for all the yelling.

On a lighter note, I made rice krispie wreaths yesterday FOR THE WIN.


Nevermind that I caught my kid picking her nose right after she molded a wreath. Dang kids are gross sometimes. After a thorough handwashing I assigned her to berry application instead.

Until then my only holiday baking had been helping my kid with her Shrinkie Dinks, WHICH incidentally are just as rad as I remember them being in 1981.


Check out this cute Christmas tree filled with teeny tiny ornaments!


My daughter loooved them. Pretty sure Santa will bring some in his sack. Er.

On the holiday decor front I hit a stumbling block when I opened our stockings and found this one:


Who the hell is Nora? Last year at this time I was 9 months pregnant with a child I had intended to name Nora. But we changed it at the last minute, in part because I could not – COULD NOT – get past my annoyance that a couple on the show Parenthood had a baby and named it Nora and stole my name. Dumb, I know. I have issues. Anyone know a Nora who needs a stocking?

Speaking of stockings, I find it interesting that I feed, clothe, bathe and care for two children every day of the year, but for some reason when I see their names on stockings hanging over the fireplace it hits me like a ton of bricks that, “Holy crap those are MY kids!” Parenting is so surreal sometimes.

Sheesh I’m feeling better already. What else?! WHAT ELSE can I get out of my system?

Did I mention that my now almost-1-year-old has never – NOT ONCE – slept an entire night? I looked in the mirror this morning after a night that entailed two dead tired sessions of rocking/coaxing/begging her back to sleep and thought, “Who is that tired old hag?” That’s me!

I am a creature who loves to sleep, as per my pre-children love affair with naps. This year of no sleep is taking a mothereffing toll on me. I love my baby more than I ever dreamed I could, but c’mon kid! Give it a rest!

But today I decided I’m tired of being a victim of being tired, so despite my fatigue and sluggishness I just exercised for the first time in eons. WATCH OUT WORLD.

Before we had kids I had brief period of fitness in which I went to the gym every morning before work. When I came home, I was HYPER and PRODUCTIVE and a MANIAC all hopped up on endorphins. My husband referred to it as my version of Roid Rage.

As I am typing this, I am fueled by a case of this Roid Rage which will surely be followed by a painful crash so I better wrap up this wonderful – AWARD-WINNING – post before I hit the wall.

Also I think now I understand why some people say blogging is like therapy. THE END.