Fine, I admit it.
I’m not a morning person.
So I wasn’t totally pleased when I heard Tommy shouting “Merry Christmas” at the top of his lungs on Christmas day. Then I felt guilty because shouldn’t parents think that their kids are adorable? But at that moment, I didn’t find Tommy adorable at all, in fact for a brief second I considered yelling, “Be quiet, it’s too early!” I didn’t though. No, I knew that because it was Christmas that there was a good chance that he’d be up early. I just didn’t think he’d scream the house down.
“MERRY CHRISTMAS, MERRY CHRISTMAS!” Tommy bellowed again.
I groaned and pulled the pillow over my head.
Great. That was Natalie. When she’s up, she refuses to go back to sleep. “Mommy, where ARE you?” she sang out.
Where was Tom? Why wasn’t Tom shushing the kids? Why can’t I have a husband who tiptoes upstairs, places a finger to his lips and whispers, “Let’s be quiet so Mommy can sleep?”
He was probably playing Call of Duty with the headphones. I hate that game. Sometimes I have visions of myself hurling it out the window and saying, “There! Now you have no excuse! Take out the flipping trash!”
“MOMMY? MOMMY?” Now Natalie was pissed. And I didn’t want her to be pissed on Christmas day so I reluctantly pushed the covers off of me.
Dear Santa…all I wanted for Christmas was to get some sleep...
“Oh, there you are, Mommy,” Tommy said innocently when I emerged bleary eyed from my room.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Natalie said and rushed into my knees. I nearly toppled over.
“Can we go look at presents?” Tommy begged, clasping his hands under his chin.
“Presents?” Natalie repeated. “Presents?”
Presents? Oh right, presents. Because it was Christmas.
“Yeah,” I croaked out.
Tom was just getting off his game when we came downstairs.
“Oh, hi!” he said, surprised that I was up so early. He leaned over to kiss me and I hissed, “Caffeine,” in his face.
I need caffeine to be pleasant in the morning. It’s a shame that I don’t drink coffee. I get my caffeine from diet drinks and chocolate.
“Right,” Tom said, knowing exactly what I needed. He returned a few seconds later and pressed a diet Dr. Pepper in my hand. Bliss. I cracked it open and took a big gulp.
“Soda is bad for you,” Tommy said as he dug through his stocking.
“Soda helps Mommy be nice,” I explained, taking another sip. Mmm, delicious aspartame.
Lucky for me, Tommy didn’t press it since he was distracted by all the stuff.
By the way, this is how the room looked like before Santa came:
And this is how it looked when he left:
And by HE, I mean ME, because Tom totally went to sleep before I set everything up. He did wake up early and put the dollhouse together but still. Rude.
We got to opening presents:
Yup, she still loves her creepy Yo Gabba Gabba show.
Help! We can't find our floor!
I'm still half asleep and holding the reusable bags my Mom sent.
After we opened presents, I had it in my head that I'd make a big breakfast. I figured it was time to branch out from having cinnamon rolls from a can. So I made eggs, sausage, toast and bacon on a skillet.
See, normally I make bacon in the microwave. But I figured since it was Christmas that I'd do it on the skillet.
Cooking bacon on a skillet is just awful. The grease kept popping on me so I kept yelping and saying, "The bacon is being mean!" and Tom went, "What do you expect?"
I think I overcooked the bacon because when Tommy took a bite he claimed that he nearly choked on it.
And remember when Tom wrapped up this gift and I had no idea what it was?
Want to know what it turned out to be?
Tune in tomorrow!