So yesterday something unplesant took posession of my oldest child and turned him into a raving, cracked-out lunatic. From the time he stomped out of the car (and deliberately on to our shrubs) until he went to bed (an hour early) he was a mess. Christmas does this to him - to be fair, every change of routine does this to him but Christmas is an extreme change of routine so we get extreme behaviors.
OK, today he comes home and appears to be in a much better frame of mind. (Good thing because rumor had it that Santa was ready to have a bonfire with all of Will's toys... just kidding... not really). But he can't find his backpack. He's been looking for it for about 30 minutes. He thinks someone might have stolen it out of our house. He also thinks that his brother may have taken it (which would be within the realm of probablitiy had his brother not been in a highchair eating during the time his backpack went missing).
It's 5pm now. He still needs to find the missing backpack (because he has homework he has to do) and put away a load of laundry for me (part of his unfinished business from yesterday) before he can have playtime. Meanwhile, Mr. Cubby napped for about 30 minutes today and is approaching melt-down mode. And I still feel sick from the virus.
The other thing that's killing me is that I've got to finish (start) making a dollhouse for my neice. Due Date: Dec. 24th. And all I want to do is sneak off to bed. My dream is to be allowed to sleep until Christms morning at which time I will awake, refreshed with bright eyes and a clear complexion dressed in a soft blue princess gown of some kind, music playing softly - perhaps a harp - to find my children scrubbed and dressed in handsome matching outfits, peaceful and quiet, being attended to by my mom who has decided to move in with us. That would rock.
Post Script: Backpack was found in carpool mom's van and recovered. Dollhouse was finished on Christmas Eve about 1 hour before it had to be under the tree.
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