It is bedtime yet?

I'm taking more and more after my mother, most often by necessity.

This morning, I've already made my bed, walked both big kids off to the bus, let the dog in and out (which actually involves going out with her, tying her out, undoing her tie and letting her in as the new house's yard isn't fenced), done breakfast, started the dishwasher, started a load of kid laundry, given Damon a haircut and a bath. I'm pooped.

As I was making my bed, I was musing about the places you love the most being the places you seem to spend the least amount of time. I love bed. I love sleeping. Yet it feels like my poor bed is a long lost friend. Most nights I fall into it and mutter, "yay! Bedtime! My favorite!" or something along those lines and Dada laughs at me.

But then I got to thinking about camp, and how there is, quite simply, never enough time spent there. We were only there for 3 days this year, over July 4 weekend. That's not nearly long enough to survive on for someone who started counting down the weeks until camp the day she got home from camp! There might need to be an intervention, and soon. We missed the Epic Fall Getaway of our Dreams; the third one was held this year but wasn't well advertised. I am really, really missing both the people and the physical place.

I suppose that has something to do with the fact that I've been running on almost empty for about a month now. The week before Thanksgiving Dada came home after a week out of town and a Saturday spent at an auction to find me curled up on the couch in tears because I was just so pooped out. Then the madness of Thanksgiving and all the wonderful blessings it brings hit. We had a houseful, 18 people, and it was wonderful. Then the germs hit.

Liam started coughing on Thanksgiving morning. By Sunday afternoon, I knew I was in trouble. We all stayed home Monday, even Dada, downing cough syrup like it was going out of style. Dada made it back to work Tuesday, the kids all went back to school Wednesday, then Thursday I got a call "to please come get Damon as he is not himself" when he spiked a fever and slept from about 2 minutes into the car ride home, all afternoon, all evening, and all night, when he wasn't coughing his brains out. I dragged him to poor Dr. Jon Friday, but I could already tell he was getting back to being his normal self. Sure enough, Dr. Jon said he'd be coughing less hard and feeling way better by the same time next week. I don't think I heard him cough at all last night...

I am feeling better, too, though I am still coughing. So is Carrie, who's been fighting it off and on for a month now. There is just not enough sunshine to keep me healthy in Ohio in the winter. Bah.

And, Mother, as I stated on Facebook, I find it completely ironic and cruel that we were all healthy and fine until we started taking the vitamins you brought us! Further proof Shick was right to save four years of his and return them to his mother. Pbbbbt.

Anyway, it isn't even 10 AM and I'm ready for a nap. Alas, there are more Christmas decorations that need A) found and B) displayed. As well as never-ending laundry, the dishes that need hand washed, etc.

We are very much looking forward to Dada taking this Friday and next Monday off so we can spend some time with him and not be running around like total nuts. I've gotten a handle on the Christmas shopping, though I'm pretty sure cards won't be happening, once again. As much as I'd like to bake up a storm, I just don't have the energy yet. I did, however, bake a chocolate cake with buttercream frosting all from scratch yesterday. We had friends over for dinner, so thankfully we only have half of the cake to finish ourselves. It is YUMMY.

Be on the lookout for how you see your Savior this Christmas season. He's always with you, but may you find Him in unexpected moments and encounters! Be blessed!

Comparison shopping

 

This photo, above, is Damon. He's four and a half and in preschool.

 

This photo, below, is Liam's preschool picture.

 

And this is Damon, four and a half, asleep in the big chair. Some of you already saw it on Facebook.

 

Dada's decided we really need to start writing their names on the backs of photographs since they look so much alike.

 

Ha.

 

Who has printed out photographs!?

Sausage

Our sweet Zita brought this outfit from India for Liam many years ago. In cleaning out Damon's closet recently, I thought we'd give it a go:

 

If ever a cheeseball were mated with a sausage, this would be the end result.

Karma is a righteous pain in the...

I must apologize to my parents. I was That Kid. You know, the embarrassingly picky one who wouldn't eat. Who sat, forever at the dinner table because parents were taught to not back down, to not negotiate with terrorists, to enforce the eating of everything on one's plate. So I sat.

And sat.

And sat.

And now, guess whose child(ren) sit and hope the food fairies will come spirit away whatever offense sits on their plate?

*siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh*

It must be gratifying to see things come full circle.