I needed to run 19 errands today (okay, give or take 10) and we got to three (the gas station doesn’t count). Someone, I’ll just call him Mr. Fussypants for the purposes of this post, wasn’t having it. He screamed at the top of his lungs at each and every place we went today thoroughly embarrassing me and making me sweaty. He downed two bottles in nothing flat because they were the only things that seemed to keep him happy on our big whopping 90 minute outing.
I’ve had it, he’s had it and I still have a million things to do.
With just two weeks until Christmas, I’m at the point where we all get (I hope I’m not the only one?!) where I hate the holiday season. I hate the rushing around, I hate the traffic, I hate the pressure (mostly self-induced), I hate being sick for the fourth week in a row (!), I hate the rain and cold and stupid drivers and long lines and decorations and over the top cheeriness and greeting cards (even though ours are done and very cute: Happy Holidays!) and I am just wishing it were July!
I am taking a deep breath and counting to 10 and you, my darling baby are taking a much needed nap.
I am looking forward to your aunt Leah being here tomorrow night. Not only is she a wonderful source for comic relief, but maybe after a few laughs, I can have her watch you for a couple of hours and escape to get some of my holiday crap done. 🙂
The best is yet to be?