I did it, my friends. I bit the bullet and braved the frenzied mall. I knew it would be crazy going over there, but I did it and now 99 % of the shopping is finished.
(The only thing left are gift cards for the teachers, which I can get at the grocery store. Along with wine and chocolate. For medicinal purposes only.)
Rob took the day off so that I could go out on my mission without the children. No matter what he bought me for Christmas, I don't know if it can be trumped by the luxury of not having to unfold a double stroller, change a diaper in the mall bathroom, or stop every half hour at the pretzel stand.
And just when I thought that the little ember of Christmas cheer that I had managed to kindle was about to be snuffed out by sheer rudeness, I came home and went to bed only to be awoken by a little blond two and a half year old singing this in my ear:
I case you don't recognize it, that's the chorus of "Go Tell It On The Mountain."
My little Bun, who six months ago didn't even call me mom, has been trotting around singing this for the last two days. It's not very clear, but he is light years ahead of where he was.
And he has single-handedly brought me back from the brink of wishing everyone a hearty Bah Humbug.
Thanks, Bun. I needed that.