We're nearly approaching what I like to (non-sarcastically) call, "the most wonderful time of the year." You might assume that I'm being snarky when I say this, because I love snark like I love peanut butter, but in this case, I'm dead serious.

I'm unabashedly unashamed of my love for the holidays -- I rock out to my Christmas music all year round, I plan and plan and look forward to the holidays more and more with each year that goes by.

However, that doesn't mean my plans go awry each and every year.

Now, it's safe to say that I have the immune system of a tree frog. Come to think of it, tree frogs probably have better immune systems than I do, but that's neither here nor there. The point is, my immune system took a crap on me shortly after I was born.

That means that seventy percent (okay, eighty) of the time, I'm sick with some bug or another. Generally speaking, these bugs don't slow me down a ton - I'm great at faking it until I make it (to the other side of the death flu) because, well, life doesn't stop when I get sick. Unlike the Man Cold, which I'm pretty sure is the most deathly form of illness... EVER. Makes me GLAD I'm not a dude.

Anyway.

Life doesn't slow down even if I feel like curling up under a blanket with a humidifier and some Green Death Flavored Nyquil.

Especially since I've got three kids.

Dear Lunch Lady,

You don't know me, but I love you.

And not even because of that awesome Adam Sandler song about Lunch Ladies and Slop-Slop-Sloppy Joe. I love you for being you.

I also love you for feeding my son.

Why? Because it means that I don't have to. And for that, Lunch Lady, you have my eternal love AND devotion. I may even write you into the will, presuming I had one, which I don't, but don't lose the sentiment. You're doing the world -- and this parent -- one huge favor.

When I was a small lass, I was gifted a Wonder Woman training bra. Not, mind you, because I actually required a bra, but because it made me feel all super-special to finally wear one. I wasn't exactly a late bloomer, but it did take me awhile to develop in the chesticle area.

I'd never been a huge fan of superheros – I was always a Smurfs kinda girl, and while I appreciated that comic book people liked the idea of people with superpowers, I simply didn't get it. Not to say I didn't watch Saturday morning cartoons with the best of 'em, just that they never quite did it for me in the same way that they did for other kids.

Which is why my own kids are positively baffling to me.

I had it all figured out.

Which, according to the way my life goes, means that things were bound to go awry -- which, of course, they did. Halloween is one of my favorite holidays (besides my birthday, President's Day, and that one day school's out in October). It was also the one SINGLE day I got to dress my children the way I'd wanted to. The rest of the days were theirs -- this one was MINE.

I even knew what I wanted them to be. Just one of them, mind you. I don't go in for the matching costumes in the same way my kids do.

I had it all planned out. I earned it, after all. That back labor, fourth-degree tearing, and a full three years (not consecutive) with children on my breasts meant that I should have my way. But alas, they have all eschewed my grand plans.

Not a single one of them wants to dress as the Land Shark for Halloween. "Disappointed" would be too light a term ...

I've never been particularly good at reading the fine print, which is something I'm working on, because, well, that's sorta important for things like "assembling furniture" and "signing stuff."

It's not always easy for someone like me, who goes 827,264 miles a minute, but I've been working like mad to make sure that I take some time to stop and be in the moment. My therapist says that's healthy.

And if I'd bothered, on Saturday night, to stop and smell the proverbial roses, I might not have ended up in this situation. Which could've saved an awful lot of whining and complaining.

Oddly, though, not from me.

You know what I like about fall? Almost nothing. Sure, the leaves are pretty and the air is crisp and blah blah blah. Mostly, fall, now that I'm OLD means that the harsh Chicago winter is on its way to make my life hell. I mean, who wants to get up each morning to have their boogers freeze in their nose before they've finished their coffee? Answer: Not me. I'd prefer to wait until AFTER my first cup before I deal with freezing boogies).

Alas, I digress.

This time of year, everywhere you turn (i.e. Pinterest, which is designed, I believe, solely to make me feel bad about myself), someone is touting a fun! new! fall! activity!

Not me.

But here's a list of fun fall activities that even us haters can enjoy. (But not really.)

To those of you who read my blog, Mommy Wants Vodka, you know that I'm in the process of a divorce. In fact, just this very weekend, I moved out of my home of seven years and into a one-bedroom apartment of my very own.

On the one hand, it's an exciting time, and on the other, change is HARD, yo.

The most important thing for me is not, "Do I have a working coffee maker?" but "How can I make this adjustment easiest on the kids?" I've spent more time thinking about that than I've ever spent despising John Mayer or mayonnaise (unrelated, of course) combined.