Check Prices Before You Buy
This site is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.
I was thumbing through recipes for gingerbread cookies, pumping milk, cooking sweet potato mash for the baby, and thinking of a dozen other tasks that needed doing, when out on the lawn there arose such a clatter. I dropped my widget on the table, tore open the shutters and throw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow…
Oh, screw it. My new ward was fighting with the goblin twins.
There was no moon. Only blood on the mangled snow along with hats, gloves and boots flung off by three tussling boys.
I sucked in a deep breath to yell at them, and the milk bottles harnessed to my chest by the pumping machine clanged together. I wasn’t dressed for outside eyes. My nursing blouse barely covered me.
I leaned my forehead against the cool window. My head hurt. My chest hurt. I hadn’t showered in days. Christmas seemed more like work-work-work, than ho-ho-ho this year.