I’m going to be so thrilled once Christmas is over. THRILLED. Not because I’m a Scroogey McGrinchpants (although, that may also be true), but because the strain of Christmas shopping and Christmas dinner and Christmas wrapping paper and Christmas sparkle may kill me. And because my in-laws are dead set on us going to Andrew’s grandmother’s on Christmas day. It’s a two hour trip there, and back. Frankly, I don’t want to go. I’m six and a half (oh, the half totally counts and don’t you defy me) months pregnant and I just want to lay on the couch and take pictures of my baby toddler (tear) playing with her new kitchen. Also, Alaina is going to be pissed when we remove her from her beloved new toys to make her sit in the car for a couple of hours, then spend a bunch of time with people she’s only met maybe once (Andrew’s grandmother and aunts). Wee. Excitement.

My other current gripe is that there are no good baby names in the world. In the WORLD, I tells ya! Andrew is uninterested with helping to name baby the second since I was such a lovely woman last time and pointed out why each and every one of his suggestions was horrific. He’s not completely detached from the naming process; he vetoes every name I come up with. It’s almost enough to make me stop caring and just name her Toaster Oven or Rainbow Sunskittle. Almost. Alaina’s name is just so perfect, so perfect for her and so pretty. How can you manage to do that twice?

On the agenda for the rest of the afternoon is gift wrapping, house cleaning, and baby wrangling followed by Christmas decorating, and possibly even more cleaning. Followed by some much-needed cajoling with the wonderful Shannon, who is delivering garland for my stair rails because she rocks. Maybe I’ll even make some brownies for us to stuff our faces with while we decorate. Fa la la la la, chocolate is the answer.

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