Dear Faithful Readers,

I got a site meter report today that said 15 of you suckers are still checking to see if I'm breathing....

( pause )

Yep. Still breathing.

For the life of me, I can't think of a thing to say. Did you have a Happy New Year? Ours was awful. I try every year to put together a little lame New Year's Eve "party" together for the kids and I was having a horrible grouchy day. I made lot's of appetizers but the kids made me mad about something (I can't even remember what) and I yelled at them till they didn't want to party anymore. I made them some Mock Perseco Punch, Charlie and I had one glass of the real thing and I got so sleepy I think I went to bed around 10:00, right after I put the Little's to bed.

We went to my brother's for the first week of the Christmas holiday and we spent some time with them and tried to say hello to all our friends. It just made us homesick for Houston. Then when we left there was a dog tragedy at his house that's too sad to talk about.

We had a good Christmas and it was the first year out of the last three, that Ace didn't cross his arms and pout when he saw what he got for Christmas. And since that was my one and only goal, I can say Christmas was a success! I got all four of the kids these hilarious footed pajamas- hilarious because they came in sizes for the big boys too. But I swore an oath to the fifteen year old that I would not show a picture of them in their pj's on the blog. That's the only way I could get him to put them on. It was totally worth it. Remind me to post it when he moves out of the house. It's actually really cute and charming, but when you're fifteen evidently everything your mother says is stupid and annoying. That is, unless she's talking about a driver's permit or at least didn't spit on you when you said the word's "driver's permit" in her presence.

Teenagers suck.

I can say that because I know he's saying the same thing about me. I know I suck. I make him get up. I make him get up on time. I make him get up on time and sometimes comb his hair. Every once in a while I have the audacity to suggest he might want his jacket because it's cold outside. Frankly, I don't know how he lives with me. I say things like, "Do you have any homework today?" and "Don't you think you should get out that clarinet once in a while." I'm a total bitch.

Now the five year old. I'd like to be able to stick him in my pocket and take him everywhere I go. And most days he thinks he can fit. I try to remember that the fifteen year old was five once, and that I didn't want to let him go to school, and that I cried all the way home on the first day. But the only thing I can think about is that I'm scared that they all suck when they turn fifteen and I know that they will, because when I was fifteen I perfected the half-eyed stare, with an occasional eye-roll thrown in for good measure. They come by it honest, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

Melee' got a DS for Christmas and it came with the game, Brain Age. It is the most fun! We all fight over the dang thing. Charlie rules at the fast math game, but I can remember words like nobody's business! And although he has the top scores on most of the games, I'm really good at counting stick people as they run in and out of the little house. I'm even playing Sudoku, which I would never even try to understand before, because it looks too much like math.

Math sucks.