Christmas may just be my favorite holiday. The problem is that it is basically a full-time job preparing for it. Between the decorations, the gifts, and the meals, women are burnt out by December 24.
It took everything in my human power to get my Christmas cards done this weekend. Last week, we endured 25 minutes of absolute hell to get two children aged two and one, to sit for the 1/16 of a second that my shutter takes to open and close on my super bad-ass camera. By the time I was finished, I was sweating, GP was cursing, and I was ready to put my kids to bed still wearing their holiday best. I’m never trying to fly solo with my photography skills again. I’ll be calling my photographer friend real soon. Thankfully, there were a couple salvageable photos to get a card. Mostly of Bones, which sucked also, because then my card didn’t look very balanced. You have to have equal numbers of photos of each child alone (seriously?! I know I need medication for my OCD). Anyway…. final product:
I know- model children, right? Notice how the sweaty, slightly plump mom is NOT in that picture. Yes, I’ll save that post for another day.
Friday night, I baked fudge. In MASS quantities. Saturday, I baked cookies. I promptly packaged half of them for my sister. She’s a toothpick and can handle a few good cookies. She always loves a few of my Peanut Butter Kisses and looks like a fashionista while eating them. Yes Sister, we love you.
Anyway…. I still had a bunch left over. I was wondering if I could maybe have them last until Christmas Eve when I give everyone massive amounts of chocolatey goodness. Instead, this is what I found tonight:
Seriously? Who stole my cookies?!?!
Please don’t ask why I’m wearing new mom jeans next week. Cookies- We are NEVER getting back together.