We took five days off for Christmas spent 4 of them running our asses off like crack addicted monkeys and then crashed hard the day after Christmas. I think I slept until 2 in the afternoon and went back to bed around 8pm.

The thing is, I’m STILL exhausted. I’m burned out. My mom had offered to send us on a trip right after Christmas and the way I am feeling right now, I couldn’t be more happy about turning her down on that one.

Christmas was quiet, low key and very quiet. I’d love to regale you with wonderful, warm, heart-felt stories, but quiet frankly, I’m at a complete loss. Just feel very relieved that I am not telling you all about how a certain unidentified child forgot three Christmas presents at home that were supposed to be taken to my mother’s on Christmas Eve, or how when a certain husband and son went home to retrieve the three presents they only came back with one, or how I ruined the monkey bread this year by trying to jazz it up with orange zest, or how I didn’t see my sister on Christmas Eve but she was kind enough to pop by for twenty minutes on Christmas day.

See what I’m saying? You aren’t missing out on much.

At the moment I have two twelve year old girls running amuck, a nearly 4 year old trying to keep up with them, a 16 year old who is currently stomping on my last nerve by playing the drums in the garage for hours on end, and a wicked case of heartburn complete with intermittent vurps. Not to mention that I am now back to work to try to tie up a few loose ends before embarking on another 4 days off where I will attempt to put together a birthday party for Maggie who turns 4 on New Year’s day.

Bring on the freakin’ New Year because this one, so far, is not ending on a particularly high note.