Why is it that the end of the year sees me rendered unconscious by 8.00 pm every night?
Really, as a stay at home mum or as I prefer to be called, domestic goddess, one day pretty much blends in to the next so it seems strange that I am so bloody buggared come Xmas.
I can hardly blame the festive carousing that used to happen pre spawns of Satan, the most exciting night out for me these days is a stroll around the block to look at the Xmas lights. Considering it doesn't get dark here until 8.30pm and I make the kids do an olympic style speed walk to make sure they stick to their schedules and are in bed by 7.30, it does seem kind of pointless. Nevertheless, routines are there for a reason right? ...right?
Spawn #1: But Mummy, I cant see any lights?
Me: well, its because its not dark silly billy
Spawn #1: So why are we going for a walk to look at the lights?
Me: Shut up and eat your no sugar, no fat, no taste soy icecream
Schedules, Routines, Timetables, must stick to them, musnt get kids out of whack, cant let them stay up and eat shit or they'll be a mess tomorrow, stress stress stress
No wonder Im bloody exhausted.