Confessions of a Tired Mama, Episode 3: Holiday Version

I confess: no, I know that everyone is a complainer. Even if you think you're not, we all have our own ways of complaining. It's just a matter of how you do it. This also coincides with the southern phrase, "well, bless your heart". Or giving someone a compliment and then saying "but... ________".  There are ways to "hide" your complaints or your digs, but they are still negative. It doesn't matter how you spin them.

I confess that sometimes when things get emotional we find ways to cope that may not be like everyone else's. There is no right or wrong way.

I confess that I'm super proud of Cameron these days, see that name?!

I confess that I get OCD about Christmas shopping. Once I start I need to be done, quickly.

I confess that I love, Love, LOVE how my boys wrap around my neck when they hug me. like really hug me. It's hard when it usually comes at drop off and I need to get to work, but I soak it up and remain about 5 minutes late. #sorrynotsorry 

I confess that when Cameron really cries, like really cries... he still cries like me. Poor guy. 

I confess that Tim went a little nutty with the outside decorations this year, and continues to talk about how we'll add to it next year. Three things: I don't want to see our electric bill. I thought we agreed that we didn't need inflatable yard art.  I love this man.

I confess that Cameron has gone a little over a week without a pull up or an accident and that Payton is sleeping without a pacifier - BOOM! PARENTING WIN! MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME! Where's my award?

I confess that I'd like to base our Santa visit on the best looking Santa. (sounds rude, doesn't it?) However, I'm not on the ball enough to follow through with that plan. Plus, when you get gems like this, it really doesn't matter how authentic Santa looks.

I confess that I'm planning a Christmas party with myself:  baking, cocktails, holiday movie, wrapping & string, lights & music -- it's going to be awesome. Tim can come, too (although I know he'd rather not).

I confess that I love how loud my children are. I know it's not always appropriate but it shows how excited they are for every little thing: the waffle they are about to eat, the Mickey Mouse decoration our neighbor has up, the yellow school bus that we pass on the street.  We don't raise "mouse-y children".