Sunday, January 6, 2008
Sorry I've been out of touch for so long. I started back to work in the middle of December and things have been sort of crazy since then. Everyone's fine but we're all tired and a little cranky and the holidays damn near killed us all. It was hard enough to adjust to our new routine of me going to work and Steven caring for all three kids solo during the day, but then a 4 day trip to my parents' house for Christmas really threw things off kilter. There were endless visitors and parties and missed naps and I felt like I had to be up Logan's butt 24/7 to make sure he didn't break anything or set anyone's house on fire. Or steal anyone's keys. Or eat the plastic decorative fruit. Or chug-a-lug someone's abandoned cocktail. Or climb someone's Christmas tree. Or jump on someone's glass table. Or hug-tackle any of the other children. Or manhandle all the bowls of nuts/candy/eggnog.
Christmas was stressful this year.
And then, with Christmas almost over and visions of piling everyone and everything into the minivan and taking off for New Hampshire dancing in our heads, Logan had to fall on the stairs and bust open his lip. A split lip makes a lot of blood. And an overtired and oversugared little boy who has just split his lip makes a lot of noise. But the bleeding stopped fairly quickly and something shiny or furry or bouncy caught Logan's attention and he was fine again. Of course, I nervously retraced his steps and wiped up the bloody fingerprints he left on my aunt's walls and floors. And then I think I had a glass of wine to calm myself and in that amount of time Logan managed to completely drench himself by sitting in the bathroom sink and turning on the water full force. Yes. He is such a buzzkill.
So, we changed him into dry clothes and threw all our loot and all our kids into the minivan and headed out on our long trek home. I insisted we use my phone's GPS to get us home - and I will never use that goddamn thing ever again. It took us through the heart of Boston and we did not get home until midnight. We left at eight. It should take about an hour and half . . . you do the math. Yeah. Steven was LOVING me and my crappy GPS while we were sitting at a standstill in Boston for two hours on Christmas night. Good times, good times. Logan cried and screamed. Emma cried and screamed. Molly cried and screamed. Steven peed in an old Dasani bottle. I quietly wept in the front seat.
Isn't Christmas magical?