laborofwonder

Where Whine Meets Wine

My 12 Days of Christmas


The other night as I was counting down the hours until our house filled with guests, my hubbyman was out running around doing some Christmas shopping with his brother. (I should note that he did take Littlest with him and was doing so because we were trying to surprise the kids with the arrival of their cousin. Seeing their uncle seemed like  it might give away that surprise, so hubby went out and about while I stayed home and finished preparations.) While I was running around  like a chicken  with my head cut off, I found myself singing my own version of “The 12 Days of Christmas.”  And I’ve continuously had it in my head since, so I thought I would share. I hope you enjoy them, or at least can find the humor in it.

On the first day of Christmas my true love left with me…

a great big pile of laundry

On the second day of Christmas my true love left with me…

two dirty toilets

and a great big pile of  laundry

On the third day of Christmas  my true love  left with me…

three cranky kids

two dirty toilets

and a great big pile  of laundry

On the  fourth day of Christmas my true love left with me…

four poopy diapers

three cranky kids

two dirty toilets

and a great big pile of  laundry

On the fifth day of Christmas  my true love left with me…

five huge meltdowns

four poopy diapers

three cranky kids

two dirty toilets

and  a great big pile of laundry

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love left with me…

six hands a’clinging

five huge meltdowns

four poopy diapers

three cranky kids

two dirty toilets

and a great big pile of laundry

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love left with me…

seven movies skipping

six hands a’clinging

five huge meltdowns

four poopy diapers

three cranky kids

two  dirty toilets

and a great big pile of laundry

On the eight day of Christmas my true love left with me…

eight dishes breaking

seven movies skipping

six hands a’clinging

five huge meltdowns

four poopy diapers

three cranky kids

two dirty toilets

and a great big pile of laundry

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love  left with me…

Nine dozen cookies baking

eight dishes breaking

seven movies skipping

six hands a’clinging

five huge meltdowns

four poopy diapers

three cranky kids

two dirty toilets

and a great big pile of laundry

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love left with me…

ten guests a’eating

nine dozen cookies baking

eight dishes breaking

seven movies skipping

six hands a’clinging

five huge meltdowns

four poopy diapers

three cranky kids

two dirty toilets

and a great big pile of laundry

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love left with me…

eleven words a’cussing

ten guest a’eating

nine dozen cookies baking

eight dishes breaking

seven movies skipping

six hands a’clinging

five huge meltdowns

four poopy diapers

three cranky kids

two dirty toilets

and a great big pile of laundry

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love left with me…

twelve bouts of screaming

eleven words a’cussing

ten guest a’eating

nine dozen cookies baking

eight dishes breaking

seven movies skipping

six hands a’clinging

five huge meltowns

four poopy diapers

three cranky kids

two dirty toilets

and a great big pile of laundry

Go ahead and have this playing while you read through it again so you can really get the feel! And enjoy!

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Santa: The Good, The Bad, and The Creepy


Santa-lovers beware, this post is not for you. My husband hates Santa. Simply put, he creeps him out. I’ve tried to reason with the man, but for some reason my arguments never seem as valid once they become audible. None the less, these are a few of the statements we’ve each spouted to prove our own thoughts’ validity.

  • He watches them while they’re sleeping! I’ve always wanted a way to watch them when they sleep and actually get some sleep myself- now I have that! Now I’ll have someone awake and watching, in case some old creep would try and break in. (hey, wait a minute…)
  • He knows when they’re awake- I’m pretty sure neighboring countries know when our children have awoken. So really, the North Pole isn’t that much of a stretch.
  • You can get your children to behave by spouting a simple, harmless lie. Behaving children? Check. Tricking them? Check! Lying to them? Double check! All the parently attributes I’d hoped to pass down to my young, impressionable children.
  • Bringing your most precious gifts (your children) to sit on the lap of a strange old man with a beard, who may or may not smell like a liquor cabinet is not weird at all. It’s flat out creepy.
  • Santa (and his consumerism) helps the economy! Your kid whispers what they want most in this world to a “santa.” Leaving you to buy every toy it could’ve possibly been, just so you can keep the faith alive.
  • I’ve always wanted my children to find good role models in life, you know someone that will teach them useful tools for their life. Santa does that. If you want your kid to have the best teacher for B&E’s- he’s your guy. Same goes for if you’d like your children to reach expert-level in the Peeping Tom world.  (Seriously, all the facebook status updates in the world are not enough, he actually has to see you.)
  •  I googled Santa and came up with TONS of websites dedicated to pictures of creepy Santas. And they were definitely creepy. I think I could smell rum on a couple of them.
  • There’s a Santa and Mrs. Clause speedo run all over the country every year. I think we can safely add Mrs. Clause to the do not watch list.
  • He turns sweet, wild reindeer into prancing, flying slaves who perform his manual labor.
  • When asked if he’d like to meet Santa, this was Big E’s response: He’s not real. Me: So you don’t want to meet him? Big E: It would be kinda creepy to meet someone who’s not real. (He’s got a point.)

Case adjourned.

If Santa would just hook up with social media things could be different. We’d be way less freaked out by someone who just twitters your tweets and pokes your posts… eh, maybe not.

photo credit: ilovecoffeeyesido

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