The Week After Christmas, also known as What Do I Do With My Children

Christmas. It's over. My tree is still up, as are my handmade stockings and a conglomeration of penguin decorations, my choice of porcelain decor.

I could really care less about that.

There are piles of Christmas carnage still lurking about the living room. Tissue paper and small pieces of Scotch Tape threaten to adhere themselves to you as you trespass on their carpeted territory. Giant trash bags full to the brim of cardboard boxes and crinkly bags block the path.

I could really care less about that.

There are quaking towers of gifts. Board games to be shoved into a closet. Clothes that need to be washed and wadded up into respective drawers. Edward's new shirt placed haphazardly with his Snuggie and scarf, which teeter precariously near the Black Hole Of Kearsie's Craft Corner Wherein There Is No Rhyme Or Reason.

But I could really care less about that.

Nay.

The week after Christmas is dedicated to One Thing. I call it "What Do I Do With My Kids For A Week And Why Must School Be Out For The Love Of God Almighty Help Me".

What to do with your kids whilst you work full time? And so does your Hubs? And your in laws are entertaining the other grand kids all week and will most likely agree to watch them but you know in your heart of hearts they are thinking, "Really? After being with your children 24/7 the last week? Are you for real?" At least, it feels like that when I get the guts to broach the subject.

So, I struck a deal. One child will stay with the in laws while one child goes to work with me. And then we switch kids. It seemed a genius plan standing in my mother in law's kitchen. However, reality is often genius turned stupid.

So today, my oldest child, Emma, is here at work. She brought her Bag o' Distraction with her, which contains her newest stuffed animals that "need to be scratched" every few minutes, a book, and the accoutrements to her new iPod Nano.

Thus far, she has shoved her new stuffed wolf into my face with various bits of verbal interruptions:

*Momma, isn't she cute??
*Momma, she wants you to scratch her belly.
*Momma, can I get two more of these so I can have a Momma, Daddy and Baby?? Will you buy them? Why not??
*Momma, isn't she cute??

Her book I cannot persuade her to quietly read. It is "boring" and "might give her a paper cut".

Her iPod is already out of battery as she has videoed the entire office, one bit a close up of my face I plan on deleting when she's out of the room. Because, hello, it's not the best take of me. And before you go all critical on me, her iPod has so far taken about 19 videos of me from the weekend. I think I am recorded enough. Until 2012. Or when I Lose The Weight. Then, I'll renegotiate my time table.

Currently, she is banging her rolling chair into mine for the 15th time in 2 minutes. Which really, isn't her fault as it's hardwood floors in an old building that tend to slope a tad. And it's SO MUCH FUN to roll. I just happen to be in the way.

She has also told me at least 37 times how hungry she is. I relented on the "No Candy Before Lunch" rule about 2 hours ago and had to endure the chomping and sucking sounds coming noisily behind me. I also had a brief moment of insanity and when she said "Momma, open your mouth" I actually did, indeed, open my mouth as I typed something legalish and importantish and proceeded to pucker my mouth in revolt as the sour flavor of whatever candy the Receptionist gave her hit my tongue. I might not recover.

And just think, I only have 5 more hours to go.