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Can you all see me? No? Then you don't know that I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen with my eyes glazed over thinking about the endless amount of yuck I have to do. All of which I am profoundly gifted at shoving aside so I can take my sweet little munchkins to play at the YMCA for a bit. Oh, or blog about it.

I'm so thankful that I have children. Even though they are the cause of my cellulite and wrinkles and gray hair and the never ending pee puddles on the toilette seat and the source of strange sticky doorknobs and why I never see a day without the washer running and why I spend so much time asking, "Who did this?" and geezo, I better stop there before I change my mind about being thankful for them.

They also keep me from being a complete scrooge this time of year. Their glee and overflowing enthusiasm for all things Christmas keeps me on pace for the traditions that I worked so hard to set for them. Making cookies, buying gifts for those less fortunate, reading the Christmas story, playing Christmas music, decorating, crafting and spending an inordinate amount of time together. My children crave all of these not to mention buying each other a special gift and sneaking it home to wrap.

I've been trying to write our Christmas letter for awhile and I find myself staring at a blank screen with the little prompter thingy flashing, waiting patiently for me to type the first letter. I just can't think of anything nice to say and so, as all good girls do, I'm saying nothing. I finally decided that a card was good enough and was ready to print them when my husband said, "But, what about a story?" I retorted with, "What do you want me to tell people? This has been a year to remember. Clay's mother died, my grandfather died. Merry Christmas!" For some reason those two events coupled with a bunch of family bleckiness and the never ending housing question has sucked the funny right out of me.

I finally remembered an event from my childhood that involved an advent wreath and a can of Pledge. That's probably what I'll write about. I'll share it with you if I can stop circling the sides of my temples with my index finger and making some sort of whoo-hoo-coo-coo noise long enough to pull myself together.

Until then, I hope all of you that frequent this page are enjoying the Christmas season and if you need cookies, we have plenty.