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3 more sleeps

To be honest, I am not sure if I am really prepared. And also is it really Christmas on Saturday? I’m feeling a little unnerved by that.

Usually I am more organized. I always send cards out on time, I make a lot of lists (which annoy my husband), I get a little whirlwindish. This year I am the Queen of Lackadaisical-land. I am halfheartedly mailing Christmas cards. I am feeling slightly detached from all of this.

And at the same time? Super involved in it for Vince’s sake. Multiple attempts to see Santa, lots of shopping, many hiding places around the house, tons of lights, tree up since pre-Thanksgiving, too many singing animals and one ‘Santa Paws’ aka ‘Kwismas Dog moobi’.

It’s almost like I am two separate people.

Tomorrow is my last day of work this week. It’s been a LONG week so far. Working in the type of industry that I do, this time of year is a time of desperately needy people who NEED to have emergent surgery for issues that have been plaguing them for months. Mostly because they have met their insurance deductible. Forgetting, of course, that hundreds of other people have had the same brilliant idea way earlier than them. It’s just weeks of constant arguing and really crappy attitudes.

Ugh. Ok, enough of a mope Jame!

Tomorrow can’t come fast enough though.

Anyways. Mope finished. I do deserve a high-five for mailing my Canada packages out in time (or so Edward says anyways).

I have half of my presents wrapped and all my shopping done. I am 3/4 finished mailing holiday cards. I have successfully visited Santa with my son. I am going running tomorrow (and by writing that down, that means it’s true).

This evening, V turned to me and said “Mummy? Tell Santa am I good boy.” Wow. An almost grammatically correct sentence. “Well honey, if you can be a good boy, I’ll tell him”.

“Mummy. Am I good boy” (This is how V says ‘I am’). But sentences like these are often followed by complete and total out of control bad boy behavior. And, in this particular case, by Vince’s new favorite sentence:

“Mummy? Am I poopin’!!!!”

“You are?”

“Yes!! Need change!”

Damn that makes me laugh!

Oh V-monster, how I love thee. You cannot help but lift my spirits with every little thing you utter…

3 more sleeps, my sweets. Santas coming!

xoxo a.m.

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Listed

It’s always interesting when you learn things about yourself through your spouse and children. Isn’t it?

The last time my Mum was visiting, she revealed to M that I had always had this funny obsession with pre-planning my meals. When I was little, I would literally eat dinner and plan the next meal while swallowing. and saying things like “This is delicious, but you know what would be awesome next time?”

M laughed so hard when my mother shared that lovely little family tid-bit with him.  I don’t think it was much of a surprise to him though, but apparently quite funny. We all know I have my little quirks. (If you aren’t familiar with them, they are as follows: cleaning too much, too much planning, poor arguing skills [quite embarrassing actually], making lists, making lists of the lists I have just made… obsess much?)

M has now started saying things to me at 6:30 am like “Jame, I really can’t even think about food right now” “Jame, I’m eating eggs, can we not discuss dinner?” “Jame. Jaaaaaaaaaame. Stop.” “Jame, takeout?” Me: “Ok! But what kind of takeout? How do you feel about Thai?” etc etc.

I have stopped talking about it which, I admit, is really hard for me. I need to talk about dinner with someone. Anyone. Ok, I can think of at least 1 person I would never discuss it with, probably because I would only hear about all of the dinners she has made for the past 25 years and their pros and cons. Ah!! Makes me crazy.

Anyways…

So last week, during one of my spin class nights, M put V to bed. This time he climbed in with him. We are about 2 or 3 weeks in to “big boy bed” territory. This means that every night is an adventure. Usually we try to lie in bed with him for a few minutes before ‘night nights’. He has taken to saying to me “Mumma too? Mumma too?!?!” when we head to bed, wanting me to lie with him. If he would not wiggle,I would probably be sleeping there every single night.

Alas, he wiggles. Too much energy. Can’t keep himself still. Even during sleep.

That particular night, he elected to try a new approach to bedtime. No books, he just crawled into bed and told him stories. And apparently they “had a chat”. Per Daddy.

I guess during that chat, V started chatting back. And apparently this is what he said:

“Eggs?”

Waffles?””Apples?”

“Bananas?”

“Pancakes?”

“Cheese?” “Juice?” “Milk?”

He was planning breakfast.

It warmed my heart to hear it. After almost 2 years of looking at my little man and seeing pretty much nothing that reflected me (just a clone of Daddy), my genetic code is showing!

Yes child, plan your breakfasts, just like your Mumma… I will always, with love, support your planning…

xoxo Mumma (and a.m.)

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