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.