There is a reason I ride the wave of crazy while I’m in the groove. When the wave crashes, it’s gone forever. There are no presents under my tree. I have no idea what I’m getting Michael for Christmas. I think we have a turkey in the freezer for Christmas Eve with his parents?
All I know for certain is that my house is gorgeous and the Christmas cookie party was a success. In fact, the tables covered in sprinkles are still taking up real estate in my living and dining rooms, and there is chalk on the fireplace. Zero yannos given.
Why does no one include this in the consequences of having sex?
You know the list: Syphilis, babies, men you have to explain where to find the clitoris, Genital Warts, the wet spot, etc. All valid concerns when you are talking about sex.
I say hi to Michael’s friends. I pay attention to who picks up Michael’s friends, and what their parents drive. I know so and so gets picked up by grandma, and little Johnny’s parents split the responsibility of drop off and pick up.
I’m also pretty familiar with who blocks the sidewalk, but I won’t go there.
Don’t get me wrong, I get it. I remember Michael’s first birthday party.
For those of you who don’t know me… that’s a big deal. I am absolutely one of those girls who very much enjoys her group of friends and that’s it. My friends are swell and they tolerate my nonsense. Most of them even appreciate my stellar grooming habits. I never imagined I would meet some pretty fantastic moms because my child asked to go to Billy Bob’s birthday party, and to the park with Joe Schmo.
File social lives under ‘things we do for our kids that we are sometimes okay with’.
The cake pops, though? The happiest, mintiest mistake to make its way through my kitchen in quite some time. Hang tight for the details.
Do a girl a favor and pin this Christmas cookie party!