Goodbye, Christmas! Don't Let the Door Hit Ya Where The Good Lord Split Ya!

It’s done.

WOOHOO!

I wrapped, I curly-bowed, I baked cookies, I made a standing rib roast, I watched Elf, I watched White Christmas (I’m sorry, dumbest movie ever. If any man suggested that I ‘count my blessings’ via song I’d probably slap him), I stuffed stockings, I got the mantle finally decorated, I made au gratin potatoes, I drove the kids around to look at Christmas lights, I made sour cream mini muffins, I made cinnamon rolls, I did a billion loads of laundry, I dealt with one more round of vomit, then I changed the bed again, I watched at least 10 hours of Dr. Who, I visited with all of my family, I visited and didn’t roll my eyes once at my sister-in-law with the velvet lined cooter (because why the hell else would my brother put up with her shit), I made sure the kids had visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads, Oh! I watched some Nutcracker on Ovation, I even got the dog a new bone.

Stanley and I spent Christmas Day together with the kids.

He got really drunk (as usual).

And kind of chatty (which is unusual).

After the kids left the table we sat drinking wine (he had already had about a bottle while cooking) and he told me all about the girlfriend and how it might have a future, but might not..hic. She doesn’t like our arrangement because she’s not comfortable at the house because of my stuff…hic. She doesn’t have kids because she doesn’t have a uterus… hic. (Wait what?) He said he thinks that I should just keep Al as my best friend and go on Match.com and find a local boyfriend. Then he said,

“Scuse me”

and stumbled away from the table into his room where he passed out for 3 hours.