A Christmas Party

3am.
That's the time the party officially ended.
No worries though, I was only up since 7am.
And didn't have a massive pre-party meltdown on my husband.
Nope.
That didn't happen at all.

So here I am, prepping all my festive ingredients.
For a festive day. Snapping away for Instagram and generally loving life.

Until the batter started....sticking.
To everything.
I kept staring back at the ingredient list in disbelief.
Surely I had left something out, right?
Why is the dough flinging all over the place.
Why is it so sticky?!

I am violently trying to beat this dough into submissions because I NEED to make these cookies.
They are my grandma's...rest her soul.
Two hours later I had cursed the high heaven's and everyone else in the neighboring rooms.
WHY IS THIS SO HARD! THEY ARE COOKIES!

Mark stupidly opens his mouth...."do you HAVE to make them? You've wasted a lot of time already."
I stare at him, with wild eyes and cookie dough splattered in my hair...

IT'S TRADITION!
LEAVE. ME. ALONE.

I realize it's closing in on noon and the house still needed to be cleaned, lasagna assembled, and I need to book it to a hair cut appointment, before my cousin showed up at 4.
There is cookie dough on EVERYTHING. The kitchen is a disaster and my to-do list doesn't have a dent in it. THESE are the days I wish I'd taken off a day from work to lessen the party day stress.

Mark, after firmly being berated for an hour....left to clean any portion of the house that I wasn't in.
We make amends after I realized I am turning into my mother.
Mrs. Pre-party meltdown herself.
Damnit.

I apologized.
And cried a bit.
And we got back to work.

I finished wrapping the last gift before zipping off to my hair appointment. And I swear to Jebus, it was exactly what I needed. I felt this literal weight lifted off my shoulders...as six inches of dead hair fell to the ground. I love my stylist and I love my new do.

The party was a blast. Our family is weird and loud for as small as we are.
The kids ate all the candy and ran around like they were tops spun off a counter for six hours.
We laughed and danced and drank until the wee hours of the night.
I totally forgot I had been on my feet for twelve hours already.

And we wrapped up at 3am, and because my internal clock never stops, woke up at 7am, per usual.
I was still drunk.
And confused.
And kept dropping things.
It took four hours to clean up a minimal mess from the party.
It should have taken 1...max.

But alas, we spent the day laying around and eating.
I finally started to feel like my normal self around 6pm last night.
Being hungover as an adult sucks guys.

And then....THEN!
Last night I am hoping to hit the hay early and get a nice full 8 hours of sleep.
Until I was abruptly woken up because our bedroom light was on.
It was so bright.
I am moaning to Mark to turn off the light, assuming he got up for work and hit it by mistake.

He pauses...."I didn't turn it on."
I open my eyes barely and see him darting out of the room.
Tia...ALL the lights are on.
And they were.
The TV was on, our street light was on, the garage lights were on.
Everything was on.

The power went out and yet...our lights went on?!
Thinking back to about it now...it's weird. Like, really weird.
Like Potergeist weird.

I do remember waiting until all the lights went back off (remember we had not switched on any lights at this point, therefore could not just turn them off...the switches were all in the off position)
hopped back into bed and mumbled that if there were chairs stacked up in the corner, we should be concerned. And that was it.

So that was our weekend. Fun and weird.
How was yours?
Oh and PS- We STILL have not watched one single Christmas movie.
I KNOW.
But we did watch Get Hard...and that was inappropriately hilarious. I highly recommend.

Happy Monday and thanks for reading!