Alrighty then. I am still sick. I am better, but oh so weak. I am well enough to do a few things and then I am sapped and need to rest. Emily says that when she grows up she is going to become a scientist and invent the cure for the common cold.
She has ulterior motives. We haven’t decorated for Christmas yet and I am, like, 4 weeks behind schedule.
There are boxes from UPS and FedEx piled higher than me in our entry way because I was smart enough to do all of my shopping online. Unfortunately I am too weak to walk them downstairs and too weak to unbox everything and hide and/or wrap them. So they are going to stay there taunting me.
Apparently I am feeling well enough to have a major panic attack from everything I need to do to make the season Merry and Bright.
Oh! And then this Sunday (you know…tomorrow) is Emily’s surprise party.
And we don’t have those stupid, idiotic favor bags yet. Tyler says we should give the kids a twenty and be done with it. Right now, I think that idea is brilliant.
And I have to make a cake. It can’t be store bought because I brainwashed my child into thinking that my cake is the best because it is made with love. (although it totally is the best… and cheaper)
And we need to see Santa and do Christmas cards. And wrap and bake and possibly shop some more.
Can I cry now?
I am going to take a deep breath and take a cue from Scarlett O’Hara and I will think about all of that tomorrah.