Three kids + fighting + screaming = bleeding ears

So Christmas was lovely and fun. The kids had a blast, and I've been busy drooling over and buffing and loving the new set of cookware I got. I know. Cookware. But it's some kickass Wolfgang Puck cookware, and it's heavy-bottomed and oven-proof and SO SHINY.

Things are slowly getting back to normal here, but I'm sure all won't be completely right until Big D goes back to school next Tuesday. Seriously, who starts school on a Tuesday? How weird is that? And why won't he quit making Smella shriek at the top of her lungs all day? And why won't she fucking NAP so I get at least an hour reprieve in the afternoon?

The mutha effing tree is still up, and I have no idea when I'll have time to take it down. Oh, sure, I could do it during the day, but the husband is at work. That means I'd have to do it all by myself. He's the one who usually hauls the boxes in and out of our storage shed while I carefully and lovingly pack the boxes up. From the couch. In the warm. So you can see where doing it alone would be a problem.

So there's my attempt at blogging again. I know, right? Lame. I promise to post something substantial and brilliant later. At least by Friday. Yeah. Or something. I have to go caress a stock pot now.