What I Need is a Christmas Miracle

What makes those three short weeks between the Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks even better?

Sick kids.


Side note: I entered red cross on door into Google and got hundreds of these images FROM PINTEREST! Why are people pinning this image?

Paint a red X on my door because enter ye not lest ye contract the plague and suffer a horrible fate.

Loony got it first but he is so stoic that we didn’t realize what was going on until Scratchy got it. Poor kid.

He had a high fever and body aches and perhaps his first really bad headache. It completely freaked him out.

He lay in my bed with tears in his eyes asking if he could see a doctor … at 9PM. I knew his temperature wasn’t high enough to be serious but I could see that he was really scared and needed some reassurance to get him though the 30 minutes it would take for the ibuprofen to kick in.

I ran over to my neighbor’s house (he used to be our pediatrician until he retired) but alas, no Eben. As I headed home I ran into Dr. Ken who had a to-go pizza in his hands.


“Ken! You’re a doctor! Would you do me a favor and convince Scratchy that he isn’t dying and that he should drink some water?”

Ken went upstairs and sat at the side of the bed, asked important doctorly questions and talked Scratchy into eating some toast, drinking some broth, and giving the medicine some time to work. And he reassured him that he was going to feel better real soon. And he did.

Thanks Ken. I owe you a hot pizza.

So Scratchy stayed home from school for a bunch of days, then Itchy got sick but he didn’t have the decency to do it on a Thursday when we could take advantage of the weekend, he did it on a Tuesday and pretty much stayed home the whole week.

Sick 10 year-olds are much easier to deal with than sick infants, no doubt.


A sick baby is miserable and mad. A sick 10 year-old will get pho with me.

But I seriously need this interval between stupidly long breaks to recharge my batteries. I mean, we just spent forty-eight fucking hours in the car together driving across country. I NEED SOME ME TIME!

I need time to be alone and not deal with constant demands, incessant talking, tuneless whistling, people looking over my shoulder when I write, and stomping feet all over the house. I just need some quiet for chrissakes!

This is going to be my life for two weeks once the holiday starts and I need a little break.

I think it goes without saying that holiday cards are not happening (again) this year. And those nifty albums that I send to my relatives are going to be late.

I can’t get anything done with kids all over me. Not unless I let them fuck around on devices all day which makes me feel like a shitty mother so I pretty much spend all day yelling at them to read a goddamned book or help me clean the house.

It’s really fun.

I tried to be all Christmassy and get the kids to decorate the tree which means that I let them fuck it up and then I redo it.


There is this crazy bitch nice lady at the gym who loves Christmas so much that she has a countdown to Christmas app on her phone.

Nuts, right? I KNOW!

I like to stop her on her way to the showers and quiz her on how many days are left until Christmas. I also like to mock her sadness after Christmas.

The other day I saw her deep in conversation with someone (both were dripping wet at 6am because they had just been swimming outdoors because they are triathletes – I told you she was crazy) and I just butted right in and said, “Decorate my house, bitch!” and she was like, “I’m in!”

We started texting.


Let’s just say that it never happened. I even offered to pay for the reindeer that someone might reposition to make it look like they are humping.

What I have to ask Lindsey is this.


While I have a lovely tree, I won’t be decorating the house. I decorated the Poulet Rouge, however. I strung it with lights. Wanna see?

That’s Radish, roostering it up a zero-dark-thirty because Radish doesn’t give a fuck, he crows when he wants.

At least the girls are putting out. Look what someone laid for me yesterday!


That is a double yolker, my friend, and when I get a double yolker, I always make a wish.

Do you want to know what I wished for?


That is a Maine Coon kitten. Look at the size of those paws! And that muzzle! Only 12 more days until Christmas. I’d like him in orange.

Why do I need another cat?

For one, my “friends” keep posting shit like this to my wall …


What kind of friend torments me with images of cats I will never have? All of them apparently.

Honestly, unless you have a solid plan to get me one of these, you really have no business posting this shit to my wall. Unless you decide you are going to stop drinking alcohol and want me to show up at your house with shirtless hot, young men bearing martinis. Because that’s what it feels like.

And secondly, I need more of this in my life.


Bates’ ass, on my chest, first thing in the morning. That, my friend, is a slice of heaven.

My WordPress is so slow right now. It’s intolerable.

I had more to say but I can’t take it anymore. Here are some pictures.

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5 thoughts on “What I Need is a Christmas Miracle

  1. Um hope everyone gets better soon and they aren’t incubating your flu for Christmas day..And Liv?! Don’t lust for THAT size maine coon.. it would eat both scratchy and scrotes, and possibly, Loony, the chickens and half of a small third world country! I hope you find holiday peace in all that madness! :*

    • Upon further inspection of that Maine Coon cat, I can see that it is a trick photo. The person holding the cat is freakishly small, like a child that happens to look like an adult unless they have freakishly tall counters. Mine definitely don’t come up to my armpits. FAKE!

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