The past couple of weeks have been insanity on crack in this household.
The Things have been high on candy canes for about, oh, a month now. I'm waiting for the insulin downer. Should happen any day from December 26. I'm thinking of enroling them into the local methadone program with all the other three to nine-year-olds.
The Return of the Zombie Housewives has returned to all Kmarts and Big W's near you. In the toy aisles it's a total moshpit of body-odour, pram riding sugar junkies and the possible homicides (who knows WHAT could happen if you reach for the last Battle Blade or Trash Pack).
This is the time of the year when parents around the western hemisphere share many WTF moments. For example, what is with Trash Packs? It's kind of like a smurf renaissance but uglier. Hideous little plastic monsters in their own lime green bin. That's it. But the kids LOVE them and if you have any chance of being "with it" you've got to "have it". If Thing One doesn't get a Trash Pack for Christmas he will advertise for a new family. Landfill, that's the only word that springs to mind.
Speaking of new families, that is exactly what Thing One suggested we get Thing Two for Christmas. Nice.
A little spat over who gets the TV remote results in sibling trafficking.
Yes, I've got real charmers in this household.
Watching tele the other night (one of those classy neighbourhood dispute/hidden camera/thank-god-it's-not-me programs) and I said "Hey, is that person in the green top a man or a woman?"
"Woman," replied Thing One.
"Gahd. Looks like a man," said I.
"YOU look like a man," Thing One proclaimed.
Needless to say he is getting a new school uniform for Christmas.
On another occasion I was snuggling up to Thing Two on the couch:
"Are you going to look after Mummy when she gets old and demented?" I asked giving him a smooch.
"No," he replied.
I repeated the question thinking he must have surely misunderstood.
"No Mum," he said again.
"Because you're not going to get old."
Ah bless. He is getting six Trash Packs for Christmas.
In other news The Madness is set to continue well into the next year. Actually, I will probably not see anyone except my Things and Humphrey (sometimes) for the next four years. (Great, does that mean I can grow my whiskers and live on Fruchocs?)
La Charlotta is going to Law School as of February. Yes, insane, I know.
I'm terrified, excited and feeling utterly ill about it all at the same time. Excited because I love a mental challenge, terrified because the workload is insane and ill because I'm wondering how I can continue being The Bestest Mother In All Christendom whilst learning about torts and contracts and terrified because, well, I don't like failing. So, I'm going to give it a crack or "suck it and see" as Humphrey so eloquently put it.
Wish me luck my lovelies. I'll be in an out and all around over the next couple of months and I want to wish all of you the Very Best Christmas In The History of The World. XXXXXXXXXXXX