Count Down Continues

Two days a counting people. Or at least that was the update from the office Count Downers to Santa's arrival this morning. This has really been a fun year for us. The kids are at such a great age for this whole Santa thing (not being Christian the religious aspect of x-mas doesn't even come into play for me, lol!). And I can't even begin to explain how effective threats of landing on the naughty list have been (for the kids, too! ;) If you've never seen it before, consider buying the Elf on the Shelf and revel in this new way to blackmail your kids into behaving!

Besides baking the shit out of my kitchen, my one nod to Christmas tradition is to force my kids to watch Christmas movies every night in the lead up to Christmas Day. A is particularly enamored of the Grinch (cartoon, not live action) and begs for it nightly. J prefers Rudolph or Alvin and the Chipmunks (Hubs bought the Christmas DVD set, how 80s are we??!!). C likes to switch it up, but last night was my night to pick. So we watched my all time favorite Christmas movie, the Nightmare Before Christmas.

Hubs is back from LA. He got in late last night, so I haven't had too much time to talk with him since I had to work today (although I did come in late since I have to close tonight). But I don't have to talk to him to know that while he was out drinking and gallivanting with the drummer from Fleetwood Mac (really!), I was having equally exciting experiences like this one:

C leans over and farts on A's head.
Both laugh hysterically.
J: *indignantly* Ew! That is gross! Mom! Make her stop fawting!
C farts again.
A laughs so hard he knocks himself over.
J: *in a whiny yell* Stop fawwwwwwwwwting, C!!! *suddenly burps, looks surprised, then all three laugh hysterically*

Or,

Picture this: you're calmly shopping in CVS. Your children are distracted by a colorful makeup display, so you are free to quickly browse the aisle when suddenly your youngest son starts screaming bloody murder, screaming like someone has gravely injured him. You rush over to see what the matter is and notice a bright red substance on his mouth. You worry that it is blood, that he may have bitten his lip, when you suddenly notice the bottle in his hand.
He has eaten nail polish.
I repeat, your son has opened up a bottle of nail polish and decided to eat it and now has a tell tale nail polish mustache that incites all people within the relative vicinity to stare at you like you are the worst mother ever
...also, he is still screaming and has drooled nail polish onto your coat.
...He takes after his father.

In retaliation to life in general, I have decided to start following this creed. I hope you will all follow suit and not fall into the trap, as I did, of not giving a cunt suck.