I’m lucky I have kids.

Otherwise, this Christmas,  I would be sulking about my bills.  I would never leave my house.  I would be wearing my fleece toile pajama pants and men’s hoodie for days on end- using only my dog’s sniffing and humping of my crotch as an indication that it may be time to shower.  I would be watching Tivo’d episodes of The Sing Off over and over and over while eating raw cookie dough and dreaming that Nick Lachey is humping me when it’s really just my dog.

Instead, I’m ignoring my bills.

I’m baking my cookie dough (most of it, anyway.)

I’m NOT having virtual sex with Nick Lachey.

I’ve been getting dressed in pants that have zippers, wearing bras and putting on shoes that aren’t Crocs.  I’ve been wiping the eye boogers from the corners of my eyes and blotting the bags around my eyes with concealer- you know- getting all fancy. 

All of this… to watch 120 kids- one I’m told was mine and I suspected only because of a large forehead that she inherited from me,  peeking out from the 4th row, racing through Silent Night, Joy to the World, and Jingle Bells.  And to watch 4 year olds on bleachers screaming singing  Jolly Old Saint Nick while picking their noses, waving to parents, and a paranoid little boy on the end who kept lifting his Reindeer sweater exposing his belly and convinced that his ”barn door was open”.  And to listen to a 5th grade band play the beautiful sounds of the season that strikingly resemble the screeches that the geese that fly over my house and shit all over my sidewalk make.

Sacrificing my stretchy band waisted pants for a couple of hours is the least I can do, literally, to help create Christmas memories…  since this is the only photographic proof of our  Christmas Pageant 2009 circuit…

Merry Christmas kids- your mom sucks!