I finally finished. The day before Christmas everyone's gifts are done. Yeah, doing a home made Christmas -or what turned into a semi-partial home made Christmas because for the love of macaroni this is taking me FOREVER - was a total DRAG.
I don't care how poor we are next year, or any year for that matter, everyone is getting a store bought gift, even if it's just socks or underwear or I don't know, an 80's poster from Goodwill, whatever, YOU BETTER LOVE IT.
And now my Christmas gift to myself is actually going to bed before 3 AM and, of course, a lengthy sit at the computer to catch up on all the blog reading I missed.
Because I totally deserve it.
The crappiest part about all of this? My kids will probably love their cheapo store bought stuff way better than the stuff I made. Even if I put hours and hours of labor into them, and also some blood because I poke my fingers a lot, which sounds gross, ok, I wiped off the blood, but still, and also I put my soul into these gifts, ok, no I didn't, but I want to sound like I'm giving them really great stuff that they'll probably look at once and then toss, ugh. But hey, atleast it's all done.
Here's some more useless Bastow Christmas FYI: we're totally jipping our youngest child. She's 7 months old, she won't care. And we'll take lots of pictures by the other kids' stuff and tell her that she has always been treated equally when she's a teenager and yelling, "That's so NOT FAIR!!!" I doubt she'll believe the pictures though, and she'll probably scream and slam the door anyway. Because that's just in the teenage job description, right? Plus I feel like screaming and slamming doors can be quite therapeutic on occasion. Also, yes, I am immature. (Like you couldn't already tell? Hi, welcome to my blog.)
Except that the one gift we were going to give her, aside from a shirt (ooooh, exciting) was going to be from Santa and it never showed up in the mail. Which really stinks. I would like to just shrug it off and go, "Oh well, she's only 7 months old, plus she'll get it in a few days." Except that SURELY the other kids will notice. And we're trying to keep the Santa magic alive for our 5 year old and how do you explain that Santa forgot the baby's toy and had to mail it two days later? That doesn't sound magical at all.
So we'll be going to Walmart tonight. On Christmas Eve. Like total dweeboids. Oh except that this is the day that my husband usually waits to shop anyway. Because he's Anti-Captain Prepared Man. And likes to fly by the seat of his pants at the very last possible second. I'm surprised they ever let him be a boyscout, doesn't their motto have something to do with being prepared? Because he should have failed that part. Good thing we don't live in the woods?
And there you have it. My in-laws will be showing up any minute and there is a cheeseball calling my name.