This post could also be called "Why I am Exhausted." Haha.
These pictures just show our family living our regular life and in no way represent the frenetic pace that has dictatedour my existence this month. It's probably good that I don't have too many of that kind of photo, actually. They certainly wouldn't be flattering of me.
These pictures just show our family living our regular life and in no way represent the frenetic pace that has dictated
Pictured below: A carefree little girl on the kindergarten playground. Not pictured: The chill in the air, and also a very frazzled mommy who spent her "day off" in sweats, thinking about all the things that needed doing, but not having the capacity to do them.
Pictured: A silly boy who made a marshmallow snowman with elephantitis.
Pictured: The remnants of a candy raid, the contents of which were intended for Christmas stockings. Not pictured: The naughty children who performed it, and the rest of the bed belonging to ME. Did they think I wouldn't find the wrappers under MY pillow?
Pictured: Christmas gifts for elementary school teachers. Not pictured: The Starbucks gift cards we bought for the middle school teachers, and the smile on my face when this project was done.
Pictured: Garry hanging new Christmas lights on the house. Not pictured: The 19-degree mark on the thermometer.
Pictured: A sample of spectacular light displays in Colorado Springs. Not pictured: The screaming, fighting children who clearly did not appreciate their parents' attempt at holiday cheer.
Pictured: Cute stuff I found online for Primary binders and the bulletin board. Not pictured: Hours and hours and hours and hours of making all kinds of rosters and tables and documents for Primary teachers and leaders next year. Hours and hours, I tell you. Next year will be so much easier.
Pictured: Frozen fog. Not pictured: The sixth-grader who asked me to venture out in such weather to bring him another container of frosting for his gingerbread house extravaganza at school.
Pictured: The yummiest Oreos EVER. Not pictured: The 14(ish) stores Garry haunted trying to find them for me, and my darling friend April, who found them for me first. (They're a Target exclusive, in case you were wondering. Go. Now.)
Pictured: A door full of happy Christmas greetings from around the country (and a couple international ones, too!). Not pictured: Excellent memories with each person on the door.
Pictured: A near-empty spool of thread. Not pictured: The pillowcases I finished making with just a few feet of thread left.
Pictured: A gallon of milk with a Christmas Day expiration date. Not pictured: Its three companions, which were all consumed within the week.
Pictured: Some dishes I'd love to have. Not pictured: The perfectly good set in my kitchen cupboards.
Pictured: One laughing husband covered in powdered gym sock (aka parmesan cheese). Not pictured: The table, floor, and other children he covered with said powder when the lid spontaneously popped off while he was shaking it.
Pictured: A small someone refusing to be an angel (hahaha!) in the ward's nativity reenactment. Not pictured: Tyler pulling the tablecloth at breakfast and simultaneously overturning four cups of hot chocolate. Also not pictured: The slideshow Garry and I created for said party. If you so desire, you can download the file here. It's fun, although most of you won't recognize anyone but us.
Pictured: The remnants of a gift wrapping session on my bedroom floor. Not pictured: My Excel spreadsheet that keeps track of gifts.
Pictured: The stash of wrapped gifts in the attic. Not pictured: Me, gingerly walking along the rafters, making sure all gifts are present and accounted for (they are).
Pictured: One and a half measures of "O Holy Night," upon which I was penciling in a tenor part. Not pictured: The cute couple I want to sing it.
Pictured: A beautiful sunrise, as seen from the park across the street. Not pictured: The two little girls asleep in my bed, whose thrashing feet kicked me out.
Merry Christmas to us! And if you made to the end of this very long post, Merry Christmas to you, too.
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