I'm fried.

Just really fried. Like, I don't feel like getting out of bed ever fried. (OK. Maybe to smoke and grab a beer, but that's it.) I'm just tired. It's just that time of year, I guess. The holidays, the gifts, the money spent on gifts, the kids, the husband, the house. I look forward to Christmas Day every year, not because of the celebration itself, but because it means that all of the preparation leading up to that day are over. Usually, at that point, whatever isn't done isn't getting done, and if someone doesn't like it, they can kiss your ass.

Although I LOVE that we have so many wonderful people in our family, and that we all live close together and can celebrate our holidays, I HATE that I'm buying for 8 bazillion people every year. And I HATE that everyone asks me what to get the girls and I tell them, and then when I go to buy them their gifts, I realize that I've given all of my ideas away and I'm left buying them random crap. I HATE no matter how hard I try every year to get ready early, it never works out that way. And as much as I adore hosting Christmas at our home for my side of the family, I HATE the preparation leading up to it. And I HATE the drama that inevitably comes out of everyone else feeling the same way I do and taking their stress out on each other.

Don't get me wrong... obviously, there are thing about this time of year that I love. Many, many things. And when all is said and done, I'm not like, Mrs. Scrooge or anything. But right now, I'd really prefer to just curl up in the fetal position and not wake up until New Year's Day. And I truly, truly mean that. I need a vacation. A long, looooong vacation where I talk to no one except my husband and children (and even that's debatable). Prozac anyone? Because I think I need some.