Industrious Sloth Mother

So last weekend, while one of us watched TV (not me), the other one put up all the Christmas lights:  both the tasteful white ones and the lurid colored ones that one of us (not me) prefers.  For all that I have a reputation for being the cranky and difficult one in our relationship, I seem to be something a pleaser.  No wonder I don't feel one bit guilty about asking him to make me a latte every morning.

Saturday afternoon several things happened:  some neighbors came and took our piano (No one practiced.  Ever.  I am a failure as a Tiger Mother, ok?  I am the opposite of a Tiger Mother.  I am a Sloth mother.  And I wanted to rearrange my living room, which necessitated getting rid of the dusty piano.) 

We made some cocoa to bring to the Christmas Tree farm, where we spent a couple of hours finding the perfect, albeit 30% too large, tree.  The larger Hooligan also seems to have found some poison oak.  Hopefully the itching will not distract him during his math test tomorrow.  After that, The Man Who Lives In My House made chocolate fondue, which we brought to a fondue dinner party.  I don't know what I was doing, probably re-arranging furniture.

Sunday morning we had to get up early for the Larger Hooligan's soccer game.  Apparently it was epic (that means good).  The smaller Hooligan and I stayed home and made christmas ornaments out of buttons and wire.  Then our friend Keri and her daughters came over and we walked through the alleys gathering green stuff to make wreaths.  We spread all these boughs and branches all over my dining room and went to town with clippers and wire.

Keri kept wanting me to show her exactly what to do, as if there were a correct way.  Ha ha, that is funny.  After a while she found her groove.  Check out her wreath:

Meanwhile the children were becoming hungry and pesky.  The Man Who Lives in My House And Makes Me A Latte Every Morning saved our sorry sloth mother asses and took them to the bagel shop for a sandwich.  He brought us sandwiches, too.  And made us a press pot of coffee.

 He really is nice. And our house is full of festivus-ness.