Santa likes socks and underwear
Happy Christmas to you all! Or Bah Humbug, if that's your preference. I don't judge.
All of my holiday merrymaking, such as it was, happened yesterday. I picked up Book from his dad's house on Wednesday, so we all got up Thursday morning and opened the pathetically tiny little pile of gifts that marks the umemployed single parent. The kids were still very happy and excited. I was hungover myself. I'd spent the previous night up until 5 a.m. (!!!) chatting with a friend of mine and drinking my homemade wine. I'd intended to have one glass, but by 5 a.m. I'd had two and a half very large glasses of very strong wine. Yeow, 9:30 a.m. was NOT pleasant.
After we did the thing at home (and I took a Motrin and tried to rehydrate), we all headed over to my mother's house for the Christmas (eve) thing there. I got loaded up with lots of "pamper me" kinds of gifts, which I suppose have to serve as a substitute for the man who's not here to pamper me. The kids got some toys and all of those "essentials" that grandmas always gets them for Christmas.
She always labels her gifts, "from Santa," so Book remarked, "Boy, Santa sure likes to give us socks and underwear."
Mom replied to him, "Well, he knows that's what you need."
We ordered a Christmas dinner (pizza) and then took Book back home to his dad's.
Today, I was still in recovery this morning from my excess drink. Either the wine is very strong, or I just don't bounce back the way I used to. Maybe a combination of both. Maybe I'm getting old.
I took the girls over to their dad's to do their Christmas thing there, and when I got home, Pooh was getting ready to take off to go to his dad's for dinner. So I spent the rest of the evening alone.
I did get a surprise phone call from Italy. F was back home visiting his family (he lives in Switzerland), but he wanted to give me a call to say "hi" and give me a little comfort knowing that I was home alone on Christmas. It was nice of him. No one else did.
All of my holiday merrymaking, such as it was, happened yesterday. I picked up Book from his dad's house on Wednesday, so we all got up Thursday morning and opened the pathetically tiny little pile of gifts that marks the umemployed single parent. The kids were still very happy and excited. I was hungover myself. I'd spent the previous night up until 5 a.m. (!!!) chatting with a friend of mine and drinking my homemade wine. I'd intended to have one glass, but by 5 a.m. I'd had two and a half very large glasses of very strong wine. Yeow, 9:30 a.m. was NOT pleasant.
After we did the thing at home (and I took a Motrin and tried to rehydrate), we all headed over to my mother's house for the Christmas (eve) thing there. I got loaded up with lots of "pamper me" kinds of gifts, which I suppose have to serve as a substitute for the man who's not here to pamper me. The kids got some toys and all of those "essentials" that grandmas always gets them for Christmas.
She always labels her gifts, "from Santa," so Book remarked, "Boy, Santa sure likes to give us socks and underwear."
Mom replied to him, "Well, he knows that's what you need."
We ordered a Christmas dinner (pizza) and then took Book back home to his dad's.
Today, I was still in recovery this morning from my excess drink. Either the wine is very strong, or I just don't bounce back the way I used to. Maybe a combination of both. Maybe I'm getting old.
I took the girls over to their dad's to do their Christmas thing there, and when I got home, Pooh was getting ready to take off to go to his dad's for dinner. So I spent the rest of the evening alone.
I did get a surprise phone call from Italy. F was back home visiting his family (he lives in Switzerland), but he wanted to give me a call to say "hi" and give me a little comfort knowing that I was home alone on Christmas. It was nice of him. No one else did.
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