But I'm a good sport, and if nothing else, I'm fairly decent at keeping my promises, so I said- what's done is done and went to buy more wine. Because obviously I make great decisions while drinking. And then we picked her up around eleven that day to run some errands and get home to bake. And apparently make mustache pops and cake pops.
You get together everything that you need or could possibly ever need to get things going. Eleven year olds have about the attention span of
The baking is going good by this point. You've got a crap ton of energy and are in a good mood. You're mixing and baking at such a fast rate that when the kid asks you if she can eat all of the sugar, you agree, because let's be honest about the fact that you're kind of an alcoholic and have already started drinking the half a bottle of wine in the fridge.
You take a small bathroom break and when you walk out you see that the kid is standing in the living room, listening to Taylor Swift, throwing around the dish towel like she's Raphael from the Ninja Turtles. You ask her what she's doing and realize that she's so jacked up on sugar that her eyes are as big as tea saucers. It's also at this point that you decide to crack open your second bottle of wine. I can literally feel your judgement on me right now.
By now the kid has come down off of her sugar high and you're stuck finishing the cookies, because she wanted to watch Captain America. Nevermind the fact that you want to watch Captain America, oh no, you're the adult so finish the damn cookies, make pasta, and frost the snowmen cookies, bitch! Also, you may or may not ask your Momma and Aunt if the tiny snowman cookies that she made look like little penises or if you're just slightly tipsy. PS, they looked like little penises and you frosting them white probably wasn't the best idea.
By this level you're lucky you even survived. Especially if you hate the holidays, because you're a big, fat, fatty Grinch. Aka me. Now, you've cleaned the kitchen and you're sitting on the floor with your feet on the oven door, drinking the rest of the wine out of the bottle, sending pictures to your friend of your burnt hand, because you just knew that was going to hurt in the morning. And you finally peel yourself off the tile, go take a shower, and go to bed. Only to wake up at four the next morning with a sinus infection.
But guess who's awesome and totally still the favorite?!