5293984: Number of times I threatened destruction to all Nerf guns.
5293984: Number of times a Nerf gun bullet has sailed past my head.
5293984: Number of times I cursed the person who bought those blasted Nerf guns in the first place.
17: Number of small children under the age of 11 at Grandma-mama’s house on Christmas Eve.
17:11 Ratio of children to adults at Grandma-mama’s house on Christmas Eve. It was kinda loud. Present opening was chaos.
32548847: Number of times I have referred to myself as Jabba the Hutt because of all the holiday "overconsumption".3: Number of belly rolls I discovered this morning (not counting back fat).
688676649: Number of times Xixi walked over to me, eyebrows knitted in concern, with her miniature princess dolls and asked me, “Mama, tan you do dis?? I tan’t do dis myself!”
688676649: Number of times I have put on ¼ inch-big high heels that belong to Ariel, Cinderella, Belle, Aurora and Princess Jasmine.
450: Number of my mama’s homemade tamales that I’ve eaten (not counting green chile and/or green chile with cheese).
48333985: Number of times I have stepped on a very sharp cookie cutter in the shape of a star and muttered a curse word under my breath.
590384776: Number of times I have fantasized packing up all these Christmas decorations and saying good riddance.
7813: Number of times I heard moaning, groaning, the sucking of teeth and heavy sighs when the chil’rens couldn’t get their new Guitar Hero to work on their PS2.
397: Number of times I have yelled out in exasperation—“No shooting each other in the face!!”
3: Number of Jabba the Hutt naps I took on Christmas day.
83475639903740: Number of times I had to refrain from slapping the taste out of chil’rens mouths who complained that they didn’t get everything on their Christmas list.
4: The number of movies I saw over a four day period...but I only paid for two.
626373: Number of times I have worn black yoga pants and furry boots without washing said black yoga pants.
25958476347994847: Number of times I resolved that I had to reform my Jabba-ish ways….yell less…love my family more…stop sweating the small stuff…be more sweet to my husband...enjoy this Christmas while my the chil’rens are still young and at home…and retire those poor black yoga pants.
