I bet the kitchen in this house is clean...
I need a glass of wine and to not listen to the goddam Nutcracker anymore. Its been Nutcracker central here since L went on that field trip, and now she wants a leotard for Christmas. I just can't listen to it ONE MORE TIME. I am sure I'll turn violent if I do.
Check out what I did today: I was Susie Homemaker on 'roids. I stripped the beds and washed the sheets, I returned some rainboots, went to the supermarket, decorated a gingerbread house with L and my mom, made two batches of orange/almond biscotti, and a casserole. Its a god-awful casserole too, but I love it; broccoli, left over turkey from Thanksgiving, and a can of Campbells cream of mushroom soup mixed with mayonnaise and curry powder. Awesome. Rob hates it, and I don't care. He'll eat it and like it, and then he'll clean the kitchen.
My kitchen is now a mess. I've complained before that my house is small, but the size of the kitchen doesn't really bother me unless I've got a couple of things going on in there like I do right now. The biscotti are cooling on a wire rack right next to a pan of water that was used to steam the broccoli, my to-do list is sitting on the toaster next to a damp dish towel and an advent calendar, Leila's lunchbox is in the mix, next to a zested orange and my sunglasses, and the kitchen table is covered with dry gingerbread house "glue" and grated coconut. This is the time of day when I just want to turn my back on the whole mess and go to bed early. The sheets are not back on the bed yet, though, and I still have to melt some chocolate and dip the biscotti in it.
I honestly don't understand how the alpha moms do it. In the immortal words of Sissy Spacek in Coal Miner's Daughter, one of the best movies ever made, I'm about ready to die. I am reading a really good book right now, not a vampire book (although I'm fairly certain I had a sexy vampire dream last night which may or may not have included Daniel Day Lewis) and tomorrow I'm going to sit on my ass and read it. Bored Housewife has done enough. I do need to make one more batch of biscotti tomorrow, though, but after that, its all ass-sitting, all the time.
But now, I have to leave you kind people and return to the kitchen, where I've been all goddam day, and create some order where there currently is none. Leila's teacher wants all the parents to make two dozen cookies for the holiday party so the kids can have a cookie exchange, and if I can't change her mind on that I may have to kill myself.
Moms make the cookies so the kids can have a cookie exchange? Is that teacher on crack? Although I sort of love how her plan flies in the face of the "sugar Nazis" who rule most schools in Marin.
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