The season, or subzero weather, is wearing on me a bit. At this point, it's like, hurry up and bring on the fun part already.
For starters, I don't think I can listen to the "chickamunk" song one more time. Again.
My child burst out the eff word today. She must have gotten it from The Grinch. Or Daddy. All are on the naughty list.
In an email I got from Healthy Toys.org, I learned the ballerina Barbie my kid wanted (and I gave in on) has a dress tainted with a high level of mercury. Thanks, Mattel. Scrooge you.
After schleping through the store to find a less toxic cheap plastic crap item, I arrived at school late to get the kid. At this point the Ghost of Christmas Past arrived. The Kiddo looked up and said, "Mommy, my stomach hurts." Next thing I know, we're both covered in barf. This would be the second year of the last four she's gotten stomach flu just before Christmas.
I am wondering, as I type, just how long until my Christmas Present of stomach flu arrives. Could it possibly be when the 20-plus people invade our house for dessert tomorrow? Oh, joy.
Still, could be worse. I watched the clip on the news of people walking out of a closing GM plant, all jobless. Crashes, deaths, mayhem followed that news item.
We're together, warm, healthy (mostly). What's there not to be grateful for there?
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