Mersmas Eve

I went running this morning with my moon shadow.

I had seriously considered just staying in bed, but I'm so glad I didn't. It started off my day right. I had to close out 25 well, maybe not excitingly, but well. So the house is clean, the Christmas presents wrapped, most of the Christmas cards addressed, the boys bathed and in bed... and I celebrated at the end of it all with Little Women, biscotti, and coffee. The Man is at work helping out at the front gate and having loads of fun with it, I'd guess. He made sure to scrutinize my I.D. card when I came on base earlier. One can never be too careful.

The truth is that I've been wanting to blog all week, but Monday and Tuesday were Mayhem. And Wednesday was recovery and rest day. And now today I'm thinking about a few different things:

• I've been entertaining myself this week by giving orders to Little Man to the tune of "The Twelve Days of Christmas". Try it. You'll like it. Plus then you don't have to remember the real words. Which one was the drummers drumming?
• Boys tell it like it is. When they introduce you to their stuffed animal lions they make sure to warn you not to get bitten and then they show you where the pee hole and poop hole are. Also, when you try to figure out why their little brother is sobbing desperately, they inform you calmly that they "ate Tiny's fingers."
• Littles sings his own version of "I Love You a Bushel and a Peck". In his, it's: "I love you a bushel of crap." I refuse to take any credit for this whatsoever.
• Foosball does wonders when it comes to teaching three boys their lines for the Christmas play.
• I didn't want to jinx this, but Tiny has been fairly regularly sleeping through the night since I switched him to his fleece Christmas footie pajamas. He will wear those for the rest of his life now. Even when it's the middle of summer and his toes have popped through the footie part. This also forces me to keep up with laundry as there are only three sets of pajamas, and the idea of a night without them brings me to tears of terror.
• I checked the weather this morning before leaving on my run and duly noted that it was cold enough to send a sane person to the gym, so I grabbed a pair of gloves on my way out. I wiggled my fingers into them as I walked down the driveway only to realize I'd grabbed Josh's gloves, not mine. The fingers flapped while I ran. 
• We spend almost every afternoon at the playground. At first I thought this was because I am an awesome mom who wants to provide fresh air, exercise, and happiness for my children. Then, I thought it was because Littles is extremely persistent in asking and I am a pushover. Finally, I figured out that it's because if we're at the playground, the boys can't destroy anything around the house. So far we're at three broken ornaments, and I have no clue how it hasn't been more. In their defense, I just about shattered African baby Jesus this morning while I was dusting. It was a close call. 

On that note, I need to go to sleep so I can get my beauty rest before my big date with the boys tomorrow night. The plan is to take me some place snazzy that still has high chairs...and is in town. It could happen?