Fellow pedestrians, take heed.

As you pass me on the street, and if you care to look my way, you may glimpse a woman swathed in a zip-up comforter, strolling a smiling 9-month-old and holding the mittened hand of a chirping, blonde 4-and-a-half-year-old. You may mistake her animated grin for Christmas cheer, but look more closely and you’ll see traces of madness in her eyes.

Because she’s had both kids home for FOUR DAYS STRAIGHT and she’s about to LOSE HER GODDAMN MIND.

OK, she…I mean I…I can’t keep up this third person schpiel. Though foisting myself into the third person is part of the dissociative madness she/I is exhibiting, for the rest of the post, I shall refer to she as I.

Got it?

I. I am in dire need of a solo vacation.  On a very remote desert island.

Now lest thou thinkest I am a complete and total grinch, I will admit that I’ve had moments of great joy over the past few days. Take today, for instance. Mere hours ago, the two kiddilies lay playing on my bedroom floor together (a Christmas miracle!), B giggling while the boychild attempted to smother her with a blanket.

A rare moment of peace

The boychild even agreed to take rest time after his lunch, listening to an old CD from his Music Together class. The umpteen Music Together CDs he owns are, by the way, an inescapable reminder of how FEW music classes I’ve taken his sister to. Which I’m sure she’ll remind me of one day. When she’s 14, painting her nails black and hissing at me to “get lost.”

And this morning, the boychild and I made a Gingerbread cottage.  Though our cottage reminds me of some kind of acid-trip induced hallucination, we both felt pretty proud of ourselves.

Our gingerbread creation

But people, I am zonked. Brain dead. Losing my noggin’.

I unreadily admit, I am starting to understand why Scrooge hated Christmas. The nail biting over which presents to buy and the damn menu planning and the cooking and the endless wrapping and the thankless sound of “But Mommy, I don’t want that! I want it THIS way!” and I swear if I hear one more “Why?” I am going to commit hari kari with a very pointy candy cane.

The good news is, while zonking out on the sofa the other night, I happened to watch an amaaaaaaazing film with one of my all time favorite actresses: Tilda Swinton. It’s called “I am Love” and I’ve stolen the title of the film as the title of this post to A. remind myself to count my blessings and B. because I’m too bloody tired to think of anything else.

Thank you, and good night.

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