This morning I drove the kids through the gray, rainy morning and dropped them off at school with a small spring in my step. I'm starting to get the old holiday spirit going. This is manifesting in strange ways this year, since I'm not so interested in holiday gift buying or sending cards to our loved ones or hanging the lights on the house.

No, I want to bake cookies. Lots and lots of cookies. And maybe make some candy too. I think my body has adapted to an overload of sugary treats after the weekend we just spent.

This weekend, we celebrated my youngest daughter's seventh birthday. Let me say that again: my baby. is. seven.

I know you're thinking it - daaaaang, Jenny looks AMAZING for having three kids, the youngest of which is seven. And you know, it's true. These dark circles under my eyes bring out the blue. I'm thinking I need a nap, and possibly a week at a spa.

We started off on Saturday with a lunch at In-N-Out, followed by a trip to Powell's Sweet Shoppe. The plan was to get ourselves to a Christmas Tree Farm to hack down a good'un, but the rain was relentless, and we were in a borrowed car, so I just couldn't bring myself to face a muddy trek up and down hills and then besmirching leather interiors with pine sap.

Wow, am I the poster child for the anti-earth-friendly lifestyle, or what? Burgers, artificial food coloring and sugar galore, killing helpless trees and driving around with leather seats. HEATED leather seats.

Toasty butts rule.

No tree was harmed (yet) because the rain wouldn't quit. So we headed out to visit with my mom and sister. They presented my youngest with an adorable purple sweatsuit outfit and a bubble gum machine, which made her head explode with happiness. Back at our house, we ate honeycomb and chocolate covered caramels and waited for the kids to get to the inevitable sugar crash.

As a side note, I've had a splitting headache for two days, and was chalking it up to PMS or whatever, but reflecting back, I think it is totally a sugar withdrawal.

My youngest woke well before dawn on her birthday, and crawled into my bed for a few snuggles. As always, and this is so weird, but WHATEVER, we both woke right at 6:29, the exact time of her birth.

She wanted to open presents right away, so that's what we did. After donning the kid necklace and bracelet and clutching her new pokemon stuffed animals that she wanted so so bad, she leaped up to go play pokemon games with her siblings, and I got up to make some coffee.

We puttered around for a few hours, and then began to get ready for our trip to San Francisco. Months ago, I had purchased tickets to see Ovo, Cirque Du Soleil's new production. I bought the tickets, printed them out, and put them aside. And I had it in my head that the show started at 2, gates opened at 1.

At 11:55, I pulled the tickets out, put them in my purse, and glanced at the time. Gates opened at 12, show starts at 1. Holy Craperoli.

I started flailing my arms like pinwheels, creating giant gusts of wind that combined with my panicked bellows to GO GO GO OMG GO GO GO to get everyone in the car. We live about 1 hr and 15 minutes from the show location, and we were going to be late and I was freaking out, all because I'm a dummy and didn't get the times right.

I have been suffering from some pretty gnarly seasonal allergies this last week, and I took a benedryl earlier in the morning. By the time we reached the freeway, I was slumped over in my seat, snoring and gasping my way to San Francisco. I woke just as we pulled into the parking area.

We parked quickly, stumbled into the entry tent, and were shown to the right entry area. The usher had us wait for a break in the show, and we quickly entered our row of seats... only to find that two of our seats were occupied but a nice couple. We plopped the kids onto our laps, and waited until intermission, when the other couple realized they were in the wrong seats (you think?) and moved to the other side of the tent. I don't even know, man.

The show was magical, and the kids were all enthralled. All in all, we missed about 15 minutes of the show, and while I regret that, it could have been so much worse. Afterwords, we took the kids to the Rainforest Cafe on Fisherman's Wharf, and ate like little piggies. Although we've been to Rainforest Cafe a few times over the years, my newly crowned seven-year-old had no memories of it, so it was extra special.

I slept all the way home. And then I got the kids ready for bed, and fell asleep on the couch. And then I went to bed and slept all night, and I've been sleepy ever since. I think it is a culmination of the last few weeks of congestion, which makes it impossible for me to use my CPAP machine, and probably some pent up stress from work, and my sister's illness, and thinking about cookies and not having any cookies, and maybe the whole NO TREE AND IT IS NINE DAYS UNTIL THE MAN IN RED ARRIVES thing.

And it's raining again today. Maybe this is the year we break down and get a fake tree. Or maybe we can just decorate the dog.