I Am One Sugar Cookie Away From the Nuthouse
The entire month of December has been an exercise in gluttony for me. About the time I realized that I could not possibly hope to work full time outside of the home, care for Hugh and the children, shop for Christmas gifts, decorate the house, bake our usual goodies and find the time to take good care of myself, I tossed my carefully planned diet and exercise plan out the window and entered a life of sloth.
Falling down the stairs didn’t help either; not only did I end up with a bruised ass but, my back was in a bit of pain and exercising really wasn’t an option even on the days that I did manage to entertain the thought. Add to that the siren call of the holiday junk food and you a recipe for disaster. And, since I have denied myself nothing, I’m relatively certain that my blood type is now Sugar + instead of A- which has left me feeling sluggish, bloated and, above all, grouchy as hell.
Unfortunately, since we have been together 24/7, the children have suffered the brunt of my crappy mood. I have managed not to inflict physical harm on either of them so far but their constant squabbling is pushing me to the edge and I cannot be held responsible for what I might do if I have to referee one more fight over the TV remote. Or, over whose turn it is to take the puppy, Rowdie, out. Or over who gets to eat the last spritz cookie with the green sugar sprinkles.
OK. That one isn't much of a fight; we all know that I'm going to eat the last cookie.
It's a vicious cycle.
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