There *is* still a wreath on the front door.

So here it is. My post-Christmas beef.

We knew all that sweetness and light, all that family togetherness, all that Kumbayah crap could only last for so long. It’s now 3 days past, and I’m wondering who thought it was a good idea to have two weeks off from school for the holidays? Some sadist, I guess.

Anyway, don’t get me wrong…we had a great Christmas. I have pictures to prove it.

Pictures of the kids coming down the stairs to see what Santa had brought for them.
Pictures of the delight on their faces when they saw their new Wii.
Pictures of them unloading their jam-packed stockings.
Pictures of Santa’s bootprints, and the empty glass of milk and plate of cookies. Pictures of our traditional chocolate chip pancake breakfast.
Ones of Daddy opening presents.
Some of Uncle Rob (Phil’s brother), who had flown in on Christmas Eve to celebrate the holidays with us.
Pictures of the kids opening present… after present… after present.
Pictures of … Littlest Pet Shop, Legos, Barbies, Bakugan, army guys, a ‘Bop-it’, books, jewelry, Webkinz, movies, and more.
Pictures of Daddy and Uncle Rob boxing on the Wii.
Ones of the kids driving MarioKart.
Pictures of Davis ‘helping’ Libby drive… right over the edge of a cliff, I suspect.

And out of all of those pictures… not a single damn picture of me.

Typical.

It’s like I wasn’t even there for Christmas morning. And I have to admit. I was a little pissy about it after I uploaded all the pictures. And I have to admit… my husband heard about it.

He felt bad. He promised to do better about grabbing the camera and snapping some pictures of me with the kids. He even offered to ‘stage’ some pictures of me so that I’d have some for my scrapbook page about Christmas morning. But considering that we took down every vestige of Christmas yesterday, I wasn’t going for it. (He pointed out that there *is* still a wreath on the front door.)

It’s partly my fault. I *do* hate having my picture taken. And I have learned that I just have to hand someone the camera, and say, ‘take a picture of me with the kids. Now. Lemme check it… okay, I hate how my neck looks in that one. Take another one… and leeean over just so…’ Gee. No wonder no one offers. ;)

But honestly, having one crappy picture of myself for the scrapbook is better than looking like I ran away on Christmas Day.

Because of all the days I’ve considered running away (and there have been a few), Christmas would NOT be it.

It would more likely be some random day…just some random Tuesday after an entire weekend of dealing with my kids acting like crackheads due to their days-long sugar buzz (courtesy of their Christmas stockings), listening to them bicker over who is ‘next up’ to play bowling on Wii, and white-knuckling it, knowing that there is still a whole week left before school re-opens.

Just a random Tuesday. Any old Tuesday.

I mean, hypothetically, of course.

Of course. ;)