Help me Rhonda

This picture pretty much sums up our Christmas experience up at the cabin. The children had toxic levels of sugar in their bloodstreams, and that with the combined arsenal of weaponry they acquired as Christmas gifts this year, equated to a very Lord of the Flies experience. The adults were so lazy that the only time we left the comfort of our recliners was when the cherry chocolate box ran low or for a caffeine emergency that required someone to venture to the fridge. Needless to say it was lovely. But boy am I paying the price this week! Detox is painful, and  we are still trying ever so slowly to acquire some much needed structure and normalcy. We even had chicken taco salad for dinner last night - instead of pie. The children looked at me with beady little angry eyes and attempted to stab me with utensils while demanding that I produce a plate of fudge and some homemade ice cream instead. I ate the salad. My children cried on the floor under the table. Baby steps, baby steps. 

Every year my incredible mom locks herself into her sweatshop and sews like a crazy lady getting paid 2 dollars a day- in order to produce adorable jammies for the grandkids. I have put in an order for one of these robes in my size - because they are so darn 1960 adorable that I feel like maybe I could finally be a real housewife who irons her husbands shirts or even mops the floor on occasion because I truly believe it has the magic ability to turn me into Doris Day. The little girls wore these for 5 straight days and I don't blame them. (sidenote: I am not actually sure that we even own an iron.)

After these adorable gifts were produced, the little boys were promptly given their pajama gift - which was the ever-popular red union suit complete with buttoned bum flap. We squealed with joy watching the tiny boys run about with their tiny legs and big bellies squeeeeezed into the outfits.

It was all fun and games until the MEN opened their gifts. Oh dear. An audible gasp was heard throughout the room. My husband is the portly gent on the left  - I will let you stare in horror as I was forced to, only days ago. During the joyous holiday season, no wife should ever EVER be privy to such a sight. My brother is the smiling lumberjack in the middle. Something tells me he likes his suit. He is proudly standing full frontal towards the camera, daring anyone to NOT look at his outfit. Thank goodness we are now all safely home, wearing normal pants and doing our best to rid our minds of the lingering memories of the giant red man suits. However, this picture will haunt me. Forever. 

I hope you all had a lovely holiday week. Im off to sort through the toy room of death that is piled high with toys and boxes along with attempting to tackle the nearly 2 tons of laundry that we brought home. If you don't hear from me soon, send a search party and have them armed with some type of legal stimulant (for me) and also some type of candy (or they'll never make it past the children.)

xoxo

Christy