I can’t believe Christmas is almost here. Again. Breathing down my neck. Whispering in my ear. It says, “Spend money. Alaina needs three thousand toys, new pajamas, a pony, and a partridge in a pear tree.” And the sad part is that I obey like a trained dog begging for a biscuit. Not to mention that my FIL has his birthday on the 7th, my nephew’s birthday is on the 12th, Shannon’s birthday is on the 20th, which is also the same day as my sorta-anniversary (our dating anniversary). Then of course there is Christmas, then my dad’s birthday on the 30th, and then it’s Alaina’s birthday January 16th. Can we say GIFTING OVERLOAD? Sweet Jeebus.

Luckily, I have most of my gifting already worked out because I am so super neurotic like that. Shannon I think I’m all done shopping for, Alaina has more than enough gifts in the gift closet but that won’t stop me from buying a bunch more. I have no idea what to get my FIL… but shouldn’t that be Andrew’s problem? He’s not my dad. And it’s not so much that I just don’t care as it is that I am not a man, not this particular man’s son, and don’t have any effing CLUE what he would want. Not that it won’t end up my fault on the day before when we have no card, no gift, and still no clue. Because, you know. I am WIFE. It’s my “job” put on my little apron and bake pies and tend the wee ones and write cute notes on birthday cards. And be a mind-reader. And expert gifter! What? I became telepathic when I said my vows. Didn’t you?

In other news, today I mopped the floor. A lot. A WHOLE EFFING LOT OF FLOOR MOPPING. It takes a really long time to clean the floor when you a) are infected with a kicking fetus who is also pissed that you dare bend over, b) mother to an almost two-year-old who wants to know the golden, sparkly secret surrounding The Great Mysterious Bucket, and c) a little bitter because your husband is fishing and you are having a spectacular day alone with factor a and b. After I mopped, I did some dishes. Then I sat down and hoped that I could just sleep. Alaina took that opportunity to poke me in the eye, because I am no use to her if I’m sleeping on the job (and really, the nerve of me).

Then Andrew came home and made a mess in the newly cleaned kitchen. (Insert murderous laugh here.)

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