The offspring are driving me bat shit crazy and I have no idea how I will survive until January 5th when they go back to school. At this point I will be happy to make it to December 26th when we ship them off to their grandparent’s for three days.

This is what I envisioned for the last few days before Christmas: The offspring and I cuddling on the couch sipping hot chocolate. The fireplace is on and snow is falling. We are watching all the children’s Christmas classics, especially Santa Claus is coming to Town which I still love even though I’m 41. Chloe is on my lap and it is quiet, serene, and calm. All the cookies for my Christmas Eve cookie platter are baked, the gifts are wrapped and artfully stacked under the tree, and the house is clean and free of clutter. A pine candle is burning and when we’re not watching Christmas shows, we have the stereo turned to the holiday music station.

This is what really happened:

I finally wrapped the four presents that have been sitting on the dining room table collecting dust since I brought them home from the mall a month ago. The offspring wanted to help so it took 3 hours instead of 15 minutes.

I made two dozen sugar cookies (one batch with egg and one without) that the offspring and Dave polished off before I could get them frosted.

We made an emergency trip to the walk in clinic for Lauren’s sore throat because I was worried she was getting strep again and we would be without antibiotics on Christmas Day.
While at the walk in clinic (at Dahl’s) the offspring managed to put the following in the cart while I was looking for cleaning supplies and butter: One box of cookies, 2 donuts, a brownie mix, and tiger print earmuffs.

Lauren has said “mom” no fewer than 235 times and the top of my head is close to blowing off.

My house is still half dusted and I haven’t started vacuuming. Someone did something bad in one of the toilets.

I have 3 dozen more cookies to make and everyone will be threatened with their lives if they touch them.

Matthew is watching endless DVR’d episodes of Drake and Josh and Full House. He has also discovered the movie Home Alone.

Lauren keeps asking me to send supplementary e-mails to Santa because she has thought of a few more things she’d like.

I am drinking endless cups of Sugar Cookie Sleigh Ride hot tea, instead of wine, because I ran out of weight watcher’s points days ago.

The kids and I still need to make reindeer food (oatmeal and glitter) to sprinkle on the lawn Christmas Eve. Chloe will eat it all the first time she goes outside so there will be sparkly little puppy turds all over the yard for the next two days.

I went to my second Weight Watchers weigh in today and I’ve lost another 2 lbs. I was pretty confident the scale would show a loss because the chest strap on my heart rate monitor had to be tightened this week (which means my boobs are already shrinking) but my ass is exactly the same size it was when I started WW and that is UNFAIR. However, thanks to J.Lo and Kim Kardashian, my honkytonk badonkadonk is a little more accepted these days. It will never be as small as I’d like though, because when you’re pear shaped like I am, your upper body will always be smaller than your lower body. It sucks wearing jeans that fit my butt but gap so much in the waist that every time I bend down to tie my shoes, the world can see my coin slot.

I don’t know what got into me today because not only did I PUT ON A NAMETAG, I fully participated in the totally gay meeting. And it was AARP city there today. No one but me and 4 chubby retired women (I had a vision of myself at a WW meeting 20 years from now and I was so traumatized by it I almost drove over to Jenny Craig). But then I remembered the tabloid photo I saw of Kirstie Alley the other day and she looks like she ATE Jenny Craig. And I heard alcohol is not allowed on Jenny’s program and that is just WRONG.

Once again I stayed within my points allowance but I didn’t do very well moderating my red wine consumption (shocker!). I did not get to go out for a greasy hangover lunch on Sunday at Ruby Tuesday like Dave did which pissed me off a little. It’s my own fault though as I do not remember anyone holding the offspring for ransom and forcing me to knock back a bunch of cabernet sauvignon.

So far I feel pretty good on WW. I think I can go the distance if I keep following the program. It’s not as FUN as eating and drinking whatever I want but unless I want to look like Kirstie Alley’s twin, I don’t have much choice. And when January 1st rolls around, I’ll already have made good headway on all those resolutions.

According to the MSN homepage, the full moon tonight will be the biggest one of the year as Earth’s natural satellite reaches its closest point to our planet. The moon will rise this evening around sunset, no matter where you are.

Yay! A loophole to explain my vile behavior this week. I have the most horrible PMS I’ve ever experienced in my entire life and now I can blame it on the lunar cycle instead of MY cycle. They say there is no proof a full moon makes you crazy but they are WRONG. Plus the barometer is all over the place and that alone can mess with your mood. Everything happening at the same time is creating a perfect storm of pre-menstrual psychosis. Consider yourself warned.

I’ve gotten some relief this week from exercise. I need all the endorphins I can get to help balance my whacked out hormones. But when I got ready to work out on Wednesday, I discovered my ipod was dead because Matthew left it on all night. I was forced to listen to FM radio on Lauren’s Hello Kitty boom box. And our treadmill is such an incredible POS that it moves forward when you’re walking on it and unplugs itself every ten minutes. What that happens, it feels like someone has yanked me backward really hard by my ponytail. I felt just as bad when I finished Wednesday’s workout as I did when I started.

A couple years ago my friend Stacy told me about a pill her doctor prescribed that was supposed to help alleviate PMS. I made an appointment with my doctor and got a prescription for my own Mother’s Little Helper. I followed the instructions and started taking it 7 days before my next period.

By the time Aunt Flo showed up, I felt like my world was being filtered through a giant marshmallow. I was sitting in a big pile of “I don’t give a shit.” My anger was gone and so was most of my personality and sense of humor. I’d rather have PMS than feel like I’m walking through life underwater. And P.S. Eli Lilly? If you’re going to make a pill that treats PMS, make sure there are no sexual side effects. I’m a 41 year old housewife in her sexual prime and I don’t want anything messing with my mojo.

It’s not that I’m all Tom Cruise about pharmaceutical drugs. It’s just that I don’t think swallowing a synthetic pill developed by some freaky poindexter in an industrial laboratory is the solution I feel the most comfortable with. I tried it and didn’t like it.

It would be great if there really was a magic pill for PMS that didn’t have a bunch of undesirable side effects. I certainly need one this week. But until they get it right I will just have to deal with it like everyone else. But be careful tonight. You don’t want to get your head bitten off by a werewolf, or by me.

Amy was telling me the other night that she and her mom went to Kohl’s and Target and both stores were packed with holiday shoppers. Then she proceeded to tell me she and her mom kind of LIKED it that way and didn’t mind the Christmas crowds. I think they both had a big fucking cup of crazy for breakfast because I find nothing more annoying than shopping during the month of December. Mostly it’s because I have no patience whatsoever.

I can’t stand how long it takes to complete my shopping transactions. God forbid there are more than two people ahead of me in line. Then, when it’s finally my turn, the retail employee wastes more of my time asking for my phone number and zip code. And NO, I don’t want to save 10% today if it means I first have to apply for your shitty credit card.

This is the conversation I had with the employee running the cash register at Pottery Barn:

Her: Will this be credit or debit?
Me: Debit
Her: And can I have your e-mail address?
Me: No.

She wasn’t very friendly to me after that and didn’t seem thrilled when I asked for a gift box. If I had been in a restaurant and she was my waitress she probably would have spit in my food.

I need e-mails from Pottery Barn like I need a hole in the head. In fact, I had to block them as a sender because they inundated my inbox with so much crap I got really annoyed and cursed myself for giving them my e-mail address LAST December. And P.S., Victoria’s Secret, Barnes and Noble, Amazon, Pet Smart, Kmart, Banana Republic, etc…. YOU’RE ALL BLOCKED!

We had Chloe embedded with a microchip so if she ever ran away and someone found her, they could scan her and find out who she belonged to. I want to have my debit card number micro-chipped under my skin so I can just wave my arm in the general vicinity of the cash register and not have to enter my PIN or sign anything. Transaction time: 20 seconds.

The other day Brooke and I were in Brighton and it was taking the salesgirl a really long time to ring up Brooke’s purchase. She was so slow I was almost embarrassed for her. Then, completely oblivious to her own inefficiency, she proceeded to tell Brooke and I the story of the history of Brighton. I left Brooke in the store and went out into the mall because I wasn’t positive I could control myself. I often fear a sudden onset attack of Tourette’s that might result in me saying out loud what I’m thinking in my head.

Next I had to go to Abercrombie and Fitch to get my niece Genevieve a gift card. I never shop there because at 41, I don’t think I really fit into their demographic and there are plenty of other places I prefer to shop.

FOR GOD’S SAKE, WHO IS IN CHARGE OF VOLUME CONTROL AT ABERCROMBIE?

When I walked in the music was so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. There were two teenagers behind the counter and one of them was helping an old lady. I walked up to the other one and SCREAMED that I needed a $40 gift card. She SCREAMED back at me to ask if I wanted a gift box for it. I SCREAMED “YES!” and was thankful this transaction process was actually very quick. I looked at the poor old lady next to me and noticed she was having trouble communicating with the other Abercrombie employee. My God if my ears were bleeding hers had likely suffered permanent damage and she probably had to buy a Miracle Ear on her way out of the mall. I like my music loud and I’m pretty sure I do plenty of damage by turning my ipod up as far as it will go when I’m working out but this was a total assault on my senses. I grabbed my gift card and got the hell out of there.

My last stop was Scheel’s because I wanted to get Dave a North Face coat for Christmas. Whenever Dave wants to buy me a gift he finds a salesperson, tells them what he is looking for, and then finds a comfortable chair to sit in while THEY shop for me. I decided to employ his method.

I walked up to the first employee I saw. His nametag said Lance and I told him what I was looking for. He led me over to the North Face display and started showing me some of the coats. Dave was right, this was so much easier than doing it myself.

I was a little confused about the correct size to buy when I noticed that Lance and Dave were about the same height and build. I asked Lance to put the coat on and give me a little twirl. Fun! Kind of like my own Ken doll. I had no idea Scheel’s employees were so helpful. I thought about having Lance try on the whole men’s North Face clothing line but that seemed a little excessive. I thanked Lance for all his help and walked to the cash register to pay.

I was done shopping, for that day anyway. It was a pretty successful trip to the mall. I bought several gifts and did not have any altercations with the Kiosk employees I hate so much. I’ll probably have to go back at least once more to finish up. Maybe Amy will go with me.