I’m overjoyed that Christmas is over. Not to sound all scroogy about but I might do an Irish gig in celebration of the holidays coming to an end. At first I really didn’t want to be that Debbie Downer and blog about the catastrophe that was my Christmas day but then I thought if I share my life here then that includes the good, the bad and the ugly.
I love Christmas and all it represents. I truly do. Jesus’ birthday, a time to be with friends, family, extended family, new friends and family, parties, white elephant, pictures, games, food, oh yes the food! But the older I get the more responsibility gets dumped on me and I’m left feeling like a pile of doggie doo by December 25th. My responsibility doesn’t differ from any other parent’s but maybe my attitude about it stinks more than theirs.
On Christmas Eve the kids and I went with the Boy and his son to a Christmas Eve party that lasted approximately 4 hours past my children’s bedtime. Luckily their good attitudes showed up and we had an excellent evening together. We spent the night at the Boy’s parent’s house (the kids and I slept in our own room so spare me the emails, texts and calls – MOM) and woke up early Christmas morning to exchange gifts and drink hot chocolate. It was an incredible time, minus the unprecedented rain, sleet and hail storm that hit that morning. It wasn’t until I heard the loud thunder that I remembered the kid’s car seats were still in the Boy’s truck….. We started making trips to the car to put our stuff up and got completely drenched. As I ran to the truck to get the car seats I tripped and landed knees first in a puddle. Awesome. This is the moment where my attitude began to take a steep dive into Negativeville. I get up and continue running to my car at which point I almost tripped again but this time instead of falling I catapulted a booster seat clear across the street and it too, landed in a puddle. The recovery of my bad attitude isn’t looking so good at this point.
The thing about Christmas parties, gatherings and other events is the kids never want to leave. Giving the kids a 5 minute heads up that we have to leave soon is like pushing a tantrum button. I finally get my moody, didn’t get enough sleep and woke me up to damn early children into the car to head to my brother’s house for my family’s Christmas. (Side note: all this excessive traveling on Christmas day is nothing similar to the romantic comedy of Four Christmases. It’s much more like the battle scenes from Band of Brothers)
Before we hit the highway to my brother’s house I knew I had to stop for gas first. Keep in mind the rain is pouring down like a monsoon in Florida during hurricane season. The wind is blowing in every single direction. I get out, swipe my card and then I’m instructed to see the attendant. Gah! I run inside getting further soaked and ruining any possibility of looking decent for Christmas day. At this point I was aiming at just not looking homeless. The attendant swipes my card and sends me on my way. I begin to pump my gas for about 5 seconds before it stops… I press the lever again and 7 seconds later it stops. It was one of those evil ozone friendly pumps that you have to hold at the perfect angle or else it refuses to do its job. Usually these pumps put me in some weird yoga position and the pump only works when I have my right leg lifted like a pissing dog and one hand on top of the other with one eye closed. I end up looking like a blonde ostrich balancing on one leg trying to serve coffee. Only on this beautiful Christmas day the wind was blowing about 97 miles per hour and the rain was hitting me in both directions so my hair was in my face leaving me blind to the already impossible pump and getting me even more wet.
I finally get enough gas and we pull out onto the highway. My body is tense, my hands are at 10 and 2 and I am focused on not hydroplaning or being scooped up in a wind tunnel. Then the questions begin. Who wrote jingle bells? Why is Rudolph’s nose red? What if I got an alligator for Christmas? What if it rained Kool-aid? Mom did you hear me? So naturally I begin to lose my Schmidt.
Once we made it to my brother’s house it was fine. The kids had a wonderful time with their cousins and got a lot of amazing gifts. Even on the worst of days or holidays we always walk away truly blessed whether my attitude stinks or not.
Although, when I got home that night I had this magical plan in my head to take a hot bath, get in some warm jammies and drink some wine and watch a Christmas Story. So I get home, get my shower, get my jammies, get the wine… then realize I didn’t have my wine opener. Fail.