Just Desserts

MMmmmmffffrrh.  Tejlk sjsk  skdl pwoe.

Oh, sorry, I was eating potato chips.  I have SO much Christmas junk to eat, I don't have time to stop.  There's caramel corn and cookies and candy cane bark and something made of almonds coated in sugar, and that's just what I see from here.  Oh, and the bag of Clover Clubs keeping me company.  I needed something to cut through the sugar, and I thought grease would do the trick.  Last night for dinner, I heard myself telling Ptolemy that he had to eat a bite of his deep-fried bean burrito before he could have egg nog.  This was while his mouth was full of orange sticks.  I just feel like I'm asking too much of my kids.

That's why I had fudge for breakfast.  I had to.  There are so many goodies crying out to be eaten, and I'm the only one around here who likes walnuts, so the fudge was solely my responsibility.  It's a big job, being in charge of consuming all these confections, but WE CAN DO HARD THINGS.  The hardest is when someone brings a plate of something really good, something you just KNOW the kids are not worthy to eat.  It's just tough hiding in the garage eating all of it yourself so that the unwashed masses don't snarf up a handful of See's chocolate or a big block of artisan cheese without thinking how good they are.  Moms have to make so many sacrifices.  It's cold in the garage, but those gifts must be properly enjoyed.

I have a stash in my car, a stash in my closet and some really chocolatey things in the pantry on the top shelf.  I could ask my family to help me enjoy all these neighbor gifts, but they do so much already.  I'm just trying  to be a good mom.  *sigh*  We take on so much.  And we get so little recognition.  Just once, I'd like someone to say, "I've seen how much fudge you were able to consume in less than twenty minutes.  And after you ate that whole plate of cookies, too.  I just want you to know, I think you're doing a great job."

Sure, other moms know how hard it is, but their mouths are full too.  They can't take the time to praise me for my efforts, especially since they're hiding out in their garages, tirelessly chipping away at their own pile of divinity.  And Scott just doesn't understand, although he did try last night to drink a whole quart of egg nog and polish off some peanut brittle, just so I wouldn't have SO much to do the next day.  Thanks, honey.

Well, I'd better get back to work.  I have a big tub of white-chocolate-covered popcorn that I don't want my kids to have to worry about.  I just want it to be taken care of when they walk in the door.  I even have plans to make and consume a batch of nanaimo bars.  I guess I'm an "Extra Mile" type person.  What can I say?  I'm a giver.  You're welcome.