That is it. That pretty much sums up my day. I spent all last night moving furniture. I guessed since it is how many day before Christmas that I should put up the tree finally. I started moving furniture. I think I may have found Jimmy Hoffa's hideout under my couch, but that is besides the point. I started picking up some of the clutter and tried to put it in my Monica closet. I realized I have no more room. With all my furniture in the middle of the room, I started cleaning out my storage closet. I found my box of pictures. I had to go through them. Long story short, I gave up getting the living room straight, by promising myself the minute I got up this morning I would finish, at around 2:30. After being asleep all of 5 seconds, Baby Boy decided it was snack time. I think I racked out about 3:30 to be awaken to Big Girl and Baby Boy playing in my bed about 7:30. I tried to convince him he needed to go back to sleep, with somewhat good results. B.G. played in her room. B.B. wakes up crabby. I spent all morning listening to him bitch at me about everything. He takes a nap, in my lap, as always. I realize I have not only not wrapped my parents gifts, but I haven't loaded the pictures onto their SD cards. That takes me forever. I finally make it to the post office about 2 to find it closed. I had to use the kiosk while the kidlets enjoyed the echoing of the post office vestibule. Off to Walgreens where B.G. decides not to listen to a damn thing I say and B.B. tries to jerk everything off the shelves and won't keep his shoe or sock on. i had no less than 4 people stop me to ask where his shoe is and "oh, his poor little foot is going to get cold". I really wanted to say, I know. That was my plan, maybe his foot will freeze and fall off, that way he might slow down some. We finally make it home and I take my ass out into the freezing cold to drag in the Christmas tree and ornaments from our storage building. B.B. screams the entire time I'm going there. I get it all in and am now suffering from 3rd degree frostbite. He decides he needs another nap, B.G. wants to watch cartoons. I am now trapped in my chair and being tortured by Spongebob, her new obsession. He wakes up after about an hour or so. I start dinner, to him screaming. While doing that I put up the tree. I have to move furniture yet again. I move our floor lamp, where me being the genius I am, doesn't think to remove the glass light cover. The lamp tips over while I'm struggling to wiggle it by the wall and the couch. The glass hits our mantle and shatters all over the floor. He chooses this time to want to come into the living room. He screams until I get it cleaned up. I get the tree up, while he continues to scream, and half the damn side isn't lighting up. We eat. I'm not feeding him fast enough. He screams through dinner. I get him ready for bed, baby girl takes a bath. He decides he isn't tired anymore and wants to play. He pulls hair, hits face, shoves his binky in my mouth, all for the sake of not sleeping. It is now 11:00 and he has finally crashed. I still have to figure out what is going on with my tree and get the kitchen cleaned. I'm tired, I am grumpy, I just want to crawl into bed; which is now covered in clothes that I got started folding, but he decided he was tired of my room and started screaming, yet again. I give my poor tree 2 days before A). Baby Boy pulls it down on himself or B). my fat ass cat climbs up it, gets stuck, and brings it down to the ground.
Fuck it, I'm going to bed!