And Now... Real Life

It's very tempting, at this time of year, to think about Christmas all day long. And sometimes it feels like I do. I make lists of things I need to buy. I string up lights, and more lights. I watch holiday specials and put them on for the boys. I listen to the music while I write cards. But as much and I love sweeping up pine needles and trading wish list emails with family members, real life intrudes.

I still have laundry. I still need to make dinner. I still need to get on the treadmill.

And we still get sick.

I am not sick. I am merely very tired. So tired. So tired, in fact, that I couldn't think about anything else beyond how exhausted I was when I picked the boys up from school, and again when I took them to gymnastics.

No, the boys aren't sick, either. It's Steve. Steve got sick over a week ago, and I knew it was serious when I got out of bed (I sleep in Sundays) and Steve told me he had made a doctor's appointment. Steve. To the doctor. Steve had been to the doctor exactly once since I met him, and that was when he almost cut his finger off in the lawn mower. (OK, twice if you count getting the stitches removed.) So when he told me he had made an appointment, and on a SUNDAY, I knew it had to be bad.

And he's still sick. I mean, in some ways he's better, but it's been over a week and his voice is gone and he can't hear anything because his ears are clogged so I have to YELL everything TWICE, and he's been coughing like a creature is going to start climbing out his throat, which is gross.

I have no idea why this makes me so tired, but it does. You would think he'd be the tired one. Huh. How 'bout that.

Anyway, today I helped the kids put the finishing touches on the teacher gifts we're making. See, this time of year people give gifts to their kids' teachers. But when you add up the gym teachers, the sunday school teachers, the storytime teachers... for three children. It adds up. Even a small box of chocolate per mentor skyrockets holiday costs. And not everyone appreciates chocolate.

So this year, we are making our teacher gifts. We are making salt dough ornaments. A highly salted cookie dough, some cookie cutters, paints, glitter.... I'm even punching a hole through a small photo of the boys to write the "Happy Holidays" on. It's cute, more personal than chocolate (not as yummy, though) and costs a lot less.

I didn't get this idea on my own, by the way, which brings me to todays link, and one of my childhood favorites: Arthur's Christmas Cookies. Boy, I always felt so bad for Arthur. Nothing ever seemed to go his way.