My presents are still unwrapped in the train room. I still haven’t peeked. I’m twitching now, but I haven’t looked.
I think the dog has more to unwrap than my husband.
My husband added an electric razor to the Tall Kid’s gift haul and now I have a tic in my left eye.
I need to remember to charge & sync SK’s gift tonight after he goes to bed so it’ll be unwrap-and-go on Christmas morning.
I miss my Dad unbelievably. This will be our third Christmas without him.
I miss my Mom, too, though we’ve gone at least a decade of Christmases without her. (She’s still alive. She became a Jehovah’s Witness.)
Came home from my shopping this morning warm and fuzzy with the knowledge I was DONE. Then I remembered my brother-in-law. Crap. Crap crap crap.
There will be, I think, eighteen kids fourteen and under at the family Christmas Eve gathering tomorrow night. And it’s a “dry” family. No happy eggnog.
And now I’m off to run around like a madwoman some more.
1) You have my admiration. I couldn’t have NOT looked. I would use the look thru my eyelashes technique to remove all guilt.
2)The dog is cute. What else needs to be said?
3) Don’t have kids so I don’t have to face them growing up OR charge their presents.
4) I miss my sister so I can relate. Holidays are hard. Know that you aren’t alone and I’m here with you.
5) I don’t get the JW’s. I’d miss my mom too.
6) Amazon Prime will get a gift to you by tomorrow for $3.99. Worth it not to have to leave the house.
7) We are a dry family too. Trust me. We are armed and nuts enough without adding alcohol into the mix.
Nothing says you can’t spike your own eggnog! We’ve got an ice storm predicted, so we’ll be hunkered down Christmas Eve.
I am very impressed with your fortitude!
And Charlene makes a good point. I’m sure they sell rum in pocket-sized bottles.
Still haven’t peeked. At this point I’m starting to wonder if he’s going to put them under the tree in the bags they came in.
While reiterating my position on my husband’s cruelty in not wrapping and the agony of not looking, TK—who went shopping with him—said, “Don’t worry, Mom. Wouldn’t be worth it.” Not sure how I feel about that. Gee, did you buy me potholders?
I’d be afraid to spike my eggnog. I have a VERY, VERY low tolerance for alcohol, so wouldn’t THAT make for fun Christmas memories?
Remember the year Shannon danced on the buffet and then passed out face first in the Death by Chocolate?