All I want for Christmas is you

So, I've been working outside the house for about six weeks now.  Six weeks of raising the girls, running my little business, and working six day weeks at the new job.  Six weeks of "wait...where am I supposed to be right now?".  Six weeks of "how did these bags under my eyes go from overnights to no way that'll fit in the overhead compartments?".  Six weeks of making this our new normal.  Six weeks of ithinkwecanithinkwecanithinkwecan.  

Each day, I leave the girls a note on the table welcoming them home and/or reminding them of the rules.  At the end of each note, I tell them: I love you more than.....  Could be coffee, or sleep, or clouds in the sky.  They get a giggle out of it and it softens the blow of "don't get into the cookies" or "don't go through my closet".  About two weeks ago, this started: 

That's my bedroom door.  Covered with "you can't understand how much I love you mama!!!!!!" and "smuch smuch I love you" and "I love you more than all the stars in the whole wide galaxy".  Maya started this all on her own and they now add to it every day.  Kind of makes the whole raising kids thing seem worth it.

Anyway, last week, I left a note telling them to write down their Christmas lists for me.  Knowing there is almost no chance I'll be able to fulfill any of their wishes this year, I was a nervous wreck when I got home that night.  We are still getting on our feet, and the idea of letting them down breaks my spirit like nothing else.

More than half of Sofia's list is books.  I love my little book nerd!  The iPod touch isn't going to happen, but I applaud the nerve it took to include it on her list.

I love that Eva's is so polite.  All those thank you's makes the list more bearable.  And, the "saftey stuff" request with the skateboard is adorable.  Maybe if she had spelled please correctly she would've gotten the dog.....nah,  but it was worth a shot, I suppose.

Then I read my Maya's.

This kid is breaking my heart.  Six weeks and she is no closer to accepting the new job than she was the day we sat down and cried about it.  Six weeks and she still begs every single day for me to come get her from school.  Six weeks and she still "forgets" her glasses almost every day so that I have to make a special trip back to her classroom.   Six weeks and she still hates my new boss.  Six weeks and all she wants for Christmas is for it not to get to seven weeks.

"I don't want to go either, love; but you have to eat.  So, I have to earn the money to buy food!"

"I want you more than food!!!"

"You like sleeping inside, right?  I have to earn the money to pay for our house."

"I want you more than our house!!"

So, I guess I'll be buying a cotton candy machine with the money I earn not fulfilling the rest of her Christmas list.