Thank God its over.
I've survived Christmas.
Sorry I haven't been around - I got horribly sick - came down with bronchitis two days before Christmas. I'm still wheezing in a most attractive manner but feeling better. May as well get you up to date on what you've missed.
Christmas Eve - we spent about four hours at my mother's house. I was stressed enough to eat glass. The girls were fine when we arrived, then I watched Sara take a look around at all the faces in her face, she frowned, her eyes welled up with tears, and went hysterical. I finally had to say (in a nice way) "can everyone take a step back and let her breathe while I change her fucking diaper?" It got worse from there. Luckily my mom is closeby and we were able to get the girls down close to their regular bedtime. They went to sleep, and stayed down the whole night. whew. Everything stayed in the car because DH and I were so exhausted.
At this point, my kitchen looks like a bomb hit it. There's dishes stacked up, I haven't had time to wash bottles, and DH tells me to leave it, and keeps reminding me that we have to "get up early to leave".
...now, let me state here that in spite of my easygoing, free-wheeling demeanor, I am an anal-retentive hussy at my core, who must have everything her way. I decide to just say "fuck it" and go to bed.
Christmas Day - the day I've been dreading. At this point, I'm praying that there's some disease left in me, so that I can spread my contagion throughout my BIL's house. DH leaves in his car to go get the evil two-headed monster, and I'm packing diaper bags, trying to get myself ready, feed the girls, and then pack them up to leave. They're screaming, I'm dripping in sweat.
Thankfully, they slept the entire two-hour drive. We arrived at BILs house around 1pm. The girls were fine. I fed them lunch and then put them in their swings to nap. No napping. The bitches would not nap. Instead they cried their asses off. I could not get them to sleep, nothing I did worked. DH did his best to help, but we were both getting stressed out. At some point, DH suggests that maybe we just take them home. He says he's "embarassed" - and I'm like "get over it. be part of the solution or you're part of the problem"
Finally, I got them to sleep. But then a whole new nightmare begins. It's almost 4pm, and no food has been served. These people are NOT in a rush to get things going. They're opening gifts, they're farting around...there are at least 3 different meals working in this kitchen, and I never ate breakfast because DH said we were "in a rush". I begin a slow burn, and consider eating baby food.
6pm - Baby S wakes up right before dinner gets served (lets point out that I've been there for FIVE hours with NO FOOD). I feed her, and she's sitting in her swing, happily chatting away. My niece is in her face, shreiking. And as you might expect, the meltdown began. I manage to shove my food down my throat and begin to pacify my hysterical daughter. Then Baby D wakes up and I begin to feed her. Before I know it, its 8:30. I'd wanted to be out there by 7pm!!
So, back at the party (I, as you've figured out, am not partying at this point) they begin to serve coffee and dessert. By now, both babies are screaming, crying and inconsolable. I tell DH "start rounding up the wagons, let's get the hell out of here". He gives the word to the two headed monster...and what do you think they did? Come on, you've been around long enough...
They sit down, and proceed to pour coffee. Auntie has been waiting for her pumpkin pie, and by god, she's gonna get it. Oh, she was gonna get it all right. At this point, I'm making purposeful efforts to disguise my hatred and disgust. I tell DH that I'm packing the girls up and leaving. DH goes into a diatribe about how his nieces never acted this way, and why were the girls so poorly behaved? I sigh deeply, and try to explain to DH that they are BABIES, that they don't have the buffers that we do and cannot handle things like new faces, new places, and several hours in the car, and get stressed out. That crying is a babies' only way to communicate and so that's what they DO. He says, "its because they're in the house too much. maybe you should take them out more often". I whip around and hiss "and maybe you should go FUCK YOURSELF." I step out into the cold, and feel triumphant. How dare he or anyone tell me how to handle my children? Eat me.
Again, the spirits were good. The girls slept the whole way through the ride. I called my parents, they met me at the house and my mom helped me get them down to sleep. They slept the whole night.
DH came home after dropping off the evil bitches. He was over it and so was I.
Today, the girls were in a great mood. They were home, they had their swings, they had Noggin, and all was right with the world.
Except that Baby S will NOT eat her chicken baby food. Tomorrow is another day.
Sidenote: I've been pretty Scroogy this year, but on the way to LI I was listening to Christmas music and found myself singing to myself. And it made me happy. It was the most peaceful two hours I've had in a month.
Jiggity-jig/he-haw/its Dominic the Donkey....
jiggity jig to all you mo-fo's. Smooches.
Sorry I haven't been around - I got horribly sick - came down with bronchitis two days before Christmas. I'm still wheezing in a most attractive manner but feeling better. May as well get you up to date on what you've missed.
Christmas Eve - we spent about four hours at my mother's house. I was stressed enough to eat glass. The girls were fine when we arrived, then I watched Sara take a look around at all the faces in her face, she frowned, her eyes welled up with tears, and went hysterical. I finally had to say (in a nice way) "can everyone take a step back and let her breathe while I change her fucking diaper?" It got worse from there. Luckily my mom is closeby and we were able to get the girls down close to their regular bedtime. They went to sleep, and stayed down the whole night. whew. Everything stayed in the car because DH and I were so exhausted.
At this point, my kitchen looks like a bomb hit it. There's dishes stacked up, I haven't had time to wash bottles, and DH tells me to leave it, and keeps reminding me that we have to "get up early to leave".
...now, let me state here that in spite of my easygoing, free-wheeling demeanor, I am an anal-retentive hussy at my core, who must have everything her way. I decide to just say "fuck it" and go to bed.
Christmas Day - the day I've been dreading. At this point, I'm praying that there's some disease left in me, so that I can spread my contagion throughout my BIL's house. DH leaves in his car to go get the evil two-headed monster, and I'm packing diaper bags, trying to get myself ready, feed the girls, and then pack them up to leave. They're screaming, I'm dripping in sweat.
Thankfully, they slept the entire two-hour drive. We arrived at BILs house around 1pm. The girls were fine. I fed them lunch and then put them in their swings to nap. No napping. The bitches would not nap. Instead they cried their asses off. I could not get them to sleep, nothing I did worked. DH did his best to help, but we were both getting stressed out. At some point, DH suggests that maybe we just take them home. He says he's "embarassed" - and I'm like "get over it. be part of the solution or you're part of the problem"
Finally, I got them to sleep. But then a whole new nightmare begins. It's almost 4pm, and no food has been served. These people are NOT in a rush to get things going. They're opening gifts, they're farting around...there are at least 3 different meals working in this kitchen, and I never ate breakfast because DH said we were "in a rush". I begin a slow burn, and consider eating baby food.
6pm - Baby S wakes up right before dinner gets served (lets point out that I've been there for FIVE hours with NO FOOD). I feed her, and she's sitting in her swing, happily chatting away. My niece is in her face, shreiking. And as you might expect, the meltdown began. I manage to shove my food down my throat and begin to pacify my hysterical daughter. Then Baby D wakes up and I begin to feed her. Before I know it, its 8:30. I'd wanted to be out there by 7pm!!
So, back at the party (I, as you've figured out, am not partying at this point) they begin to serve coffee and dessert. By now, both babies are screaming, crying and inconsolable. I tell DH "start rounding up the wagons, let's get the hell out of here". He gives the word to the two headed monster...and what do you think they did? Come on, you've been around long enough...
They sit down, and proceed to pour coffee. Auntie has been waiting for her pumpkin pie, and by god, she's gonna get it. Oh, she was gonna get it all right. At this point, I'm making purposeful efforts to disguise my hatred and disgust. I tell DH that I'm packing the girls up and leaving. DH goes into a diatribe about how his nieces never acted this way, and why were the girls so poorly behaved? I sigh deeply, and try to explain to DH that they are BABIES, that they don't have the buffers that we do and cannot handle things like new faces, new places, and several hours in the car, and get stressed out. That crying is a babies' only way to communicate and so that's what they DO. He says, "its because they're in the house too much. maybe you should take them out more often". I whip around and hiss "and maybe you should go FUCK YOURSELF." I step out into the cold, and feel triumphant. How dare he or anyone tell me how to handle my children? Eat me.
Again, the spirits were good. The girls slept the whole way through the ride. I called my parents, they met me at the house and my mom helped me get them down to sleep. They slept the whole night.
DH came home after dropping off the evil bitches. He was over it and so was I.
Today, the girls were in a great mood. They were home, they had their swings, they had Noggin, and all was right with the world.
Except that Baby S will NOT eat her chicken baby food. Tomorrow is another day.
Sidenote: I've been pretty Scroogy this year, but on the way to LI I was listening to Christmas music and found myself singing to myself. And it made me happy. It was the most peaceful two hours I've had in a month.
Jiggity-jig/he-haw/its Dominic the Donkey....
jiggity jig to all you mo-fo's. Smooches.
posted by scrappintwinmom @ 11:37 PM
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