08 January 2016

Christmas Celebrations

We celebrated Christmas.  It went something like this:

We went to see the lights at Temple Square.  We rode the train.  It was cold, but we were prepared.

I got cool mittens from Lithuania and we got to talk to the big Lithuanian iggy.

We drove to Garland and since we picked up Uncle Jason we got to take this cool picture of the three of us in the back seat.

Here are all of the Binggeli grandkids except for Preslee. Preslee was there, but was laying on the floor of the living room playing.  You know, she she's like 5 months old and not quite ready to sit at the table.

Despite the frigid temperatures, the kids had to take a few trips down Grandpa's snowy slide. 

I tried to take picture of the kids in their new Sunday digs, but that proved to be a challenge.  Here are the best attempts.  I particularly like Molly's sad-little-orphan-mourning-something's-death face in the Christmas tree picture.

We tended Beau one day.

We went bowling to celebrate Uncle Willie's 21st birthday.  Unfortunately, he was not able to attend.

We spent some quality time in the basement

Boogity Iggity Stressed Out Mamma!

What do you do late on Friday nights?

I fix my blog and watch Sara Bareilles videos on youtube.  She has a bit of a potty mouth on the youtube, though, so sometimes I skip around.  I like this one.

I may have had a mini meltdown tonight.  You know . . .  the usual . . .  kids spilled "warm hot chocolate" all over the living room floor; the black ink suddenly goes out in the printer and my ever procrastinating husband tells me I shouldn't have waited until the night before I needed to print something.  Those two things were the icing on the cake, the straw that broke the camels back, the final straw, the moment when all the crap hits the fat . . . you get it?!?

I did what any rational thinking lunatic mother would do . . . I yelled, I spanked, I yelled some more, I may have sworn a Hoover/Boulder which was then repeated by a 5 year old while giggling, never taking me seriously . . . and then I left, by myself, to Walmart (for ink).  Grrrrrr . . . .

I came back.  I apologized.  I put Jack to bed (Molly was already out cold).

The Utes won while I was in Wal-Mart.  That was good.

I worked all day giving a test that kids may or may not have done well on.  I should have been super productive while they were testing, but really it's hard to be.  I only took away one phone dialed up on a math website during the test.  There were probably others I missed.  Sophomores act like I've ruined their lives and eaten all their stake when really all I want to know is if they've learned anything.  Tests are part of life.  Get over it.  I helped a girl after school for an hour or so.  I think she'll pass.  She said she hasn't passed math since 8th grade. This might be the term!  

We stopped for gas and slushies.  We came home. I shoveled the tire marks in the driveway to prevent major ice paths.  I left the rest of the snow for James to blow.  I fixed dinner, put snow clothes on one kid and started Rescue Bots for the other kid.  I started a load of wash, went through the mail, balanced the spreadsheet checkbook to see if we have any money (I'm $40 off, by the way, but didn't have the patience to figure out why), and then tried to print the basketball score sheets that I need for basketball tomorrow morning.  

Stress gets to me.  I have chest pains that I haven't had in years.  I worry about stuff.  I worry about other people's stuff.  I feel like my brain is filled to capacity with things I am supposed to do, keep track of, pay attention to, worry about, not worry about, take care of, not take care of . . . blah.  

I, I, I  . . . . that's what this blog post is sounding like while I write this, so I may just delete the post.

I am very grateful.  Some days just get to you.  The Lord knows what we can handle.  I guess what I am handling is what I can supposedly handle.  Other people I know have other crazy stuff going on.  I don't want their stuff.  I'll take my own stuff.

Hey . . . Look at Neil Young with a beard.  It hardly looks like him.  He should have had a beard his whole life!