Last Wednesday, after I got over myself in front of a large group of people, Matt and I took the kids out to see Toy Story 3 Disney on Ice. We went last year but this time we got to bring Eve with us. You know, because we let her out of the bubble this Christmas. Even though she and Natalie couldn't sit still and I was ready to go before intermission, it was still nice to be miserable as a family. I'm sure the person who got hit in the head with Eve's Dum Dum was ready for us to leave, too.
On the way out, Daniel decided to book it up the escalator, which was going down, and I could only turn around and walk up it just fast enough to keep me in the exact same space. I didn't want to press my luck and move any faster for fear of me having some kind of accident which would result in me losing a tooth. (Hey, my feet are big, I trip easily and often. But that's a whole 'nother post.)
Thankfully the attendant stopped the escalator after I had been doing the running man for about 60 seconds. I'm not sure why it took as long as it did to push that button other than the fact that I looked like a Fly Girl or a complete idiot chasing after my son and it was entertaining to the person in control of that button. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure I didn't look like a Fly Girl, although I can do the Roger Rabbit like no other white girl you know.
I hate it when my kids make me inadvertently exercise. Note to self: It's Christmas; I really should stop with all the hate.
Santa has absolutely no idea what to bring Eve.
Me: Eve, what do you want Santa to bring you?
So, yeah. I hope Santa gets that figured out before Christmas Eve. And it's pretty cute that Eve now refers to herself as "Christmas Eve" and "Christmas Me." I just wish she'd stop referring to me as "Dum Dum!" People are starting to stare. I don't want to be judged at Wal-Mart.
Natalie danced in a Christmas parade on Saturday morning. It was cold- like, penguin-cold. Well, the kind of penguins that live in the cold, not those weird ones who live in New Zealand. You're not real penguins and you know it.
We bought Daniel and Eve lots of hot chocolate and baked goods while we waited for Nat to dance on by us. Not so much that they were hungry, but to make me feel better that I didn't dress them warmly enough.
That evening, Matt and I went downtown to see A Christmas Carol which was pretty much the best (only) musical comedy adaptation of the story I've ever seen. From where I was sitting, the actors looked like Larry David, an old guy from EastEnders, and the king from the Burger King commercials. I don't want to know what they look like up close because you haven't seen A Christmas Carol until you think you've seen it starring the King.
Sunday was the day I figured out that 8 hands in the kitchen do not mean you will get holiday baking done 8 times faster. I want my kids to have happy memories of baking Christmas cookies with Mommy, which is why I let them in the kitchen, not because I really want the help. I can handle, and even admit to enjoying, one child at a time helping. But three kids, all fighting over the step stool, racing to the mixing bowl, well let's just say that I just had two cavities filled without Novocaine and it's a toss up as to which one is less painful. Mostly because if three kids are fighting over a stool, Mommy is somehow going to get stabbed with some sort of kitchen utensil.
Oh no. I just referred to myself as Mommy twice in the previous paragraph. I don't want to be *that* Mommy who talks about herself in the third person. Mommy should really just say what she wants to say to Mommy's face instead of talking behind her back.
I think I might just let the kids start calling me Christy after this post is through.
Today we had some weather. Schools were delayed. I like delays because I like sleeping in. Then the schools closed. I do not like closings. I just like sleeping in.
The kids started out playing make-believe. They alternated between He-Man and Jesus. It was only a matter of time before the two worlds collided and Skeletor tried to take on Mary. Mary just gave birth in a manger to our savior; she doesn't have the time or interest to care what the hell secrets Castle Grayskull is hiding.
We watched some Christmas movies, including Frosty. Daniel cried at the end when Frosty melted. I wanted to comfort him and let him know everything was going to be okay, but I couldn't, because I knew Frosty would be back in Frosty Returns, which is the all-time worst Christmas movie, if not worst movie of all time. And I'm including most David Spade movies in the rankings.
Then we turned on Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. My only question to Hulu is: why so many Ketel One commercials during a kids' show? They must have known it was a snow day.