And you thought I wasn't going to post about Winter Break....

Winter Break, Day One:
Kids get up at 7:01 AM and proceed to complete everything, and I mean everything, I had planned for the entire week in less than three hours.  Like Chinese water torture, this is the beginning of a very long two weeks.

I am scared.

Winter Break, Day Four.  Christmas Eve.
I throw caution to the wind and decide to give haircuts and shower all the kids.

And then make sugar cookies.

Don't those look familiar?  They all found a home.
On my ass.   

And bake a cake.

And with a final loss of all reason, I decide to destroy the remaining parts of my kitchen by making gingerbread houses (yes, that was plural) with all three kids.

And then we went to Sam's Club.

And right about then is when I lost my fucking mind.

Winter Break, Day Five.  Christmas.
Alex gets up at 5:07 AM and pukes three times from excitement, nerves and all the pent up anxiety associated with the Holy Day.  This continues through the noon hour.

I give up on cooking any fancy dinner and order Chinese for the family.

Alex finds his App gift card and is done with presents.  And I do mean done.  He opens all other presents under protest.  He did, however, smile at the Lego sets.

By two PM, Alex insists Christmas is officially "closed for the season" and starts to take ornaments off the tree.  I decide to help him.

Winter Break, Day Six.  The day after Christmas.
I realize I have stopped fixing my hair or caring about it since break started.  I made the mistake of looking in the mirror in broad daylight and realize I needed to tweeze my chin and eyebrows.

Do the chin, skip the eyebrows.  

Kids have exhausted all fun from any, and all, Christmas presents and are begging to watch recorded How it's Made programs and Barbie princess DVD's.  I find the remote faster than I ever have in my whole entire life.

The TV remains on all day.

Winter Break, Day Nine.  I think, I don't know.
I have stopped shaving my legs.

Kids have resorted to playing "How to kill the baby without mom seeing," but the game inevitably falls apart when they turn on each other.

Kids decide to mix in used Gracie diapers with the laundry to see if they can recreate a diaper explosion in the washing machine.   I find the diapers.  They fail.

At some point during break I realize the kids are taking their nightly shower and listening to my running music.  This includes selections by LMFAO, David Guetta, The Crystal Method and Deadmau5 to name a few.  Not a single one of these songs is appropriate for kids.  They are now asking what, "Passion in your pants" means,  "Where the neighborhood whore lives" and last but not least, "Why would someone flick your switch?"

I tell them to go ask their father.

As an added bonus Alex is now perseverating on The Elevator Song by Junior Sanchez.  And yes, "Just like an elevator," is the ONLY thing they say in the whole frigging song.  And the beat never really drops.  Screw you Junior, screw you.

Winter Break, Day Eleven.  New Year's Eve.
Eat a whole other batch of cookies and four doughnuts for breakfast.

Still not shaving legs.  Have not gotten to eyebrows.

Counting down till school starts.

Start my period.  That explain a lot.  Start chewing this like candy.

Send the kids to bed at their regularly scheduled time and decide to explain the concept of New Years in the morning.

Threaten to gut anyone like a fish who wakes me up or thinks its funny to call the old married people at midnight.  No one calls.  

Winter Break, Day I don't know.
Start to rely heavily on what's in this box:

Thinking of placing an ad on Craig's List or E-bay:  Slightly used uterus for sale.  Dependable, regular and sheds monthly.  I still have to work on removal and shipping but you get the idea.

Realize I know almost all the words to Barbie, Princess Charm School.  As an added bonus I know how a fake eyeball is made, how pizzas are mass produced and how aluminum ladders are made, among other things.

The countdown to school is almost over and I'm beginning to miss all our time together.

How's that for irony?