Some Sundays are quiet. Peaceful. Restful.

Mine… was none of those things. Mine came with cult promotions, mechanical chaos, toddler Christmas explosions, questionable online shopping decisions, and a wine emergency so dramatic it deserves its own documentary.

Let’s begin at the top.

 Hailey’s Glitter Promotion (and My Cult Status Upgrade)

Hailey officially became the JV Winter Guard leader, which I’m pretty sure means I’ve also been promoted in the Color Guard Cult hierarchy. Do I get a badge? A parking space? A glitter-infused secret handshake? A seat at the sacred round table where they plan spirit weeks 14 months early?

I don’t know.

But I do know I’m proud of her and slightly concerned for myself.

Leadership comes with responsibilities, and I’m hoping none involve sacrificing anything in a blow-up pool filled with glitter. Because I’ve cleaned up glitter before. That stuff has survivor skills.

🚲 SoulCycle: Research or Attempted Murder?

In the name of “immersive research for my upcoming book,” I attempted an at-home SoulCycle class.

Let me be clear:

If I were actually in menopause right now, someone would’ve died today and it would not have been me.

Every move felt like a hate crime against my body. I am thankful I was seated the entire time, because if that instructor had told me to stand up on that bike, I would’ve ascended straight to heaven or committed a felony. No in-between.

But hey research is research.

 Harper: The Tiny Christmas Joy Explosion

Meanwhile, Harper is out here living her best Christmas life.

This child wakes up every day vibrating with joy pure, unfiltered, Buddy-the-Elf energy.

She squeals.

She gasps.

She points at every twinkling thing like it’s the first star she’s ever seen.

She’s been my little pocket of magic all season, and honestly, she makes me want to buy every single “merry” thing that crosses my path. If self-control were a muscle, mine is hanging on by a thread. A festive one.

 Jeep Surgery & Sensor Shenanigans

The morning was spent elbow-deep in Thomas’s Jeep situation stupid temperature sensors, stupid wiring mysteries, stupid connectors that were absolutely designed by someone who hates families.

But Kris and I teamed up:

My problem-solving brain + his handy hands = a fighting chance.

We think we’ve got it figured out. If the correct parts actually arrive tomorrow, we might have this thing running smoothly again. Assuming, of course, the universe cooperates and no more mystery wires pop out like jump-scare villains.

 Friendsgiving Potatoes: My Love Language

The afternoon? Potatoes.

Not just potatoes but my ooo-so-yummy, make-you-forget-your-problems potatoes for Hailey’s Friendsgiving. One of the rare dishes that makes me feel like a top-tier mom and not someone who forgets why she walked into a room at least 8 times a day.

They’re warm , comforting, and disappear quicker than my patience on Spirit Week.

 Online Shopping I Definitely Didn’t Need

Naturally, once the potatoes were done, I immediately sat down and ordered things for our upcoming trip that we absolutely did not need… but absolutely had to have.

Listen, joy is joy.

It counts.

 And Then… The Wine Saga. The Lambrusco Crisis. The UPS Betrayal.

Before I wrap this up with a little grace and a little magic, I need to issue a public plea:

I am on the hunt for Cavicchioli 1928 Sweet Red Lambrusco.

My favorite. My comfort. My “mama survived another week” sip of sanity.

And let me tell you about the UNHOLY trilogy of chaos that has unfolded over this bottle:

Attempt #1:

UPS says I wasn’t home.

Camera footage shows them attempting delivery to my neighbor across the street… while I was literally talking to the driver about the other packages he handed me at my door.

Attempt #2:

Same thing.

A whole wrong-house encore performance.

Attempt #3:

The company I ordered from won’t help. UPS won’t help. Apparently I’m supposed to stand outside for a 5-hour delivery window like a raccoon waiting for discarded French fries.

I can practically see the wine. I can almost taste it.

But because the driver keeps visiting the Wrong House Universe, no one will hand me the bottle.

So here’s my call to action:

 If you see Cavicchioli 1928 Sweet Red Lambrusco anywhere near Royse City, Rockwall, Greenville, Dallas or if your cousin’s neighbor’s mailman knows a guy please let me know.

A woman can only handle so many glitter rituals, Jeep surgeries, toddler Christmas tornadoes, and UPS shenanigans without her sweet red.

 Ending With Grace

Tonight, after the chaos, the laughs, the sore muscles, and the potatoes, I sat in my beautifully decorated home with twinkling lights glowing, Christmas magic humming softly around me and felt it:

Grace.

Love.

The fullness of a busy, blessed, beautifully chaotic Sunday.

This is my kind of peace.

This is my kind of magic.

And if someone could also track down that Lambrusco, that’d be excellent .