Why you’ll never get “holiday tips” from grayhairedmom.com
“Every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas’ on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.” Ebenezer Scrooge
Alright, I’m not that bad, but I do admit that I watch How The Gringe Stole Christmas and A Christmas Carol every year and lose all respect for both of them when they so cravenly bow to peer pressure in the final act and turn into happy christmas-loving fools.
Is it because I’m an atheist? I don’t think so. I don’t even like the holidays in a secular, gift-giving, non-denominational way. Dave does enjoy the holidays in a secular, gfit-giving, non-denominational way, so we decided to celebrate Festivus every year. It’s good, goofy fun and a total excuse to make a nice meal and buy each other gifts.
But with the little guy in our lives now, I have had to accept that, at least for the foreseeable future, I’m going to have to suck it up and act “as if” I fucking LOOOOOOOOVE christmas like no one’s business. (And please let me assure you, by christmas, I mean the holidays, all the holidays, whatever holidays you got, I’ll celebrate.)
Here was my vision for this past weekend:
My best friend Colleen and I were going to take F to a mall to see “Thomas the Tank Engine” and “Santa’s Village.” We’d do some shopping and get that perfect picture of my happy, smiling child sitting on Santa’s lap. Later that evening, D and I would put up our beautiful tree and sit around singing christmas carols and sipping hot homemade cocoa. My sister-in-law and F’s three cousins were going to Skype with us while they celebrated the first night of Hanukkah. I’d make cookies. It was going to be like an Andy William’s Holiday Special around here.
What really happened:
Thomas the train was a disaster. He was not a train, but a big, plastic mold of Thomas’ face that kids could stand next to for ten seconds after waiting in line for two hours. And no, I did not think that the “real” Thomas was going to be there, but when you advertise a “Thomas Meet and Greet” event, I expect more. Santa was sullen and angry because he was forced to sit next to the Thomas display. No one was on line for Santa, and I think he was really annoyed at playing second fiddle to a big plastic cut-out Thomas face. Who can blame him, really? My baby took one look at “jolly old St. Nick” and screamed. This is the best of the pictures the photographer took:
He never calmed down after Santa-gate, so Colleen and I had to ditch the shopping and drive an hour back home. But we still had the tree to look forward to, right?
Five sets of lights, the one in the middle doesn’t work at all. The uppermost and bottom strands blink, and the other two don’t. Nice. The tree is crooked and nothing D nor I do can correct the tilt. Might as well burn a batch of cookies.
But first, let me throw in a quick load of laundry. What I forgot was that a plumber had come by earlier to fix a faucet in the slop sink in the laundry room, and he had moved the drain hose from the washer. I didn’t notice until an hour later when I heard this kind of strange running water noise. Yep, the whole laundry room and half the rooms on the first floor were flooded. D and I spent the next two hours wading around in ankle deep freezing cold water trying to clean up the mess. Fa la la la la, la la, fuck me….
With all that going on, we missed the Skype call, so no Hanukkah joy either. And maybe it was the wading around in the ice-cold water that did him in, because D has been sick since then. Wiped out and out of work for 3 days. He never misses work.
On the other hand, this also happened:
That look on his face, well, it’s nothing short of a Festivus miracle to me!
Happy Whatever to you all, and to all, a good night!
Next time: Are you his nanny?
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