- Most people who know me recognize my neurosis about house décor. I like browns and creams and whites and I basically would live inside a restoration hardware magazine if I could squeeze myself inside of it. So imagine my sheer delight when my mother makes stockings for my children covered in snowmen and santas with more sequins than a Vegas showgirl. Now the kids want to display the wretched things. Which I allow, only because “it’s the season of giving” and “it’s all about the children.” But I’m slowly dying inside. The birth of Jesus does not translate to green sequins. It does not.
- My daughter is hosting a History of Tea party whereby she is doing a lesson for all the guests on the influence of tea around the world and in various cultures, and when I told another mom about it she was like “my daughter’s not really into tea.” People are weird. Who isn’t into tea? I told her to just “pick a chai and come anyway” but she looked at me like folks round here in Texas don’t throw culturally-themed parties involving spices. Then I told my yoga friend and she was like “that’s awesome we’ll bring along china from my grandmother as a special surprise (and how will we choose the tea?)” and this is how I know who my friends are.
- I bought an Advent calendar so the kids would have something to look forward to every day leading to Christmas but kept forgetting to buy little gifts for it so I ended up ripping open Halloween candy packages and stuffing M&M’s inside the little slots and my daughter was like “you have got to be kidding me.”
- I am purchasing a handmade gift off etsy and I’ve been communicating with someone named Armen with a last name longer than my shoe size who tells me “Hi here is link for payment” when I emailed him regarding dimensions and I’m wondering if I’m actually buying a bomb and I’m on the FBI watch list now and all this time I thought it was just an engraved wooden box.
- Somehow in a strange twist of mistakes I ended up being the chairperson of both my son and daughter’s Christmas parties and I’m put in the hard position of choosing a favorite child. Or at least that’s the way their eyes looked when I told them. Then my daughter said “no problem you can just set up a big screen and video chat with us in the classroom” which is kinda brilliant. Except she goes to a classical school where they study roman history and medieval architecture and don’t have any computers.
- “But the burlap stockings with the little spring of holly leaf is so much prettier!” I say. No one listens. They want to know if they can put up COLORED LIGHTS . They must hate me and wish me dead. It must have been all those times I made them eat Brussels sprouts.
- Speaking of food, I roasted acorn squash with dinner and in the middle of every squash was pooled up liquid gold with all that melting of the of butter and maple syrup and brown sugar but my kids wouldn’t touch it. Because BROWN SUGAR bleugh and SYRUP disgusting and BUTTER gross and squash that ends up tasting like HEAVEN yuck and then after dinner they wanted to know if they could have a cheap store-bought cookie for dessert. I worry about the long-term success of their future given their current poor decision-making abilities.
- Last night I didn’t want to do dishes because I don’t have a spouse and it’s just me so I was all “stick it to the man” and “I can do whatever I want” like Miley Cyrus but then I woke up to all these nasty dirty dishes in the sink so sticking it to myself was dumb. See (7) above and now it all makes perfect sense where they get it from.
- I may have slightly insulted the elf-on-a-shelf by calling it “an utterly stupid invention; honestly I have enough things to move around my house; whoever invented that damn thing should be given a mental exam; how did that thing catch on to begin with” just to be told by the mom I was talking to outside the school pick-up line that she was “really into it” and set her alarm at night to get up and move the elf around to the various elfish places. So that happened. I decided to smile, nod in an understanding way, and compliment her boots. That’s my default most days.
- My boyfriend’s daughter spent the night at our house and I was like “would you like some tea?” and she was so excited that we were tea drinkers and I then crossed the line to bring out all the various teas and asked if she wanted some sugar in a British flair and “it’s awfully good with cream” and my internal radar was like TOO MUCH. YOU ARE SCARING HER. IT IS ALL TOO MUCH.
- So we visited the boyfriend’s family for the Thanksgiving holidays in Pennsylvania, which was lovely except our hotel caught on fire and we were evacuated so all my clothes were stuck back in a suitcase by a firefighter and smelled like molten ash so my boyfriend’s mother ended up washing my unmentionables in her washing machine. Sadly, this is my life and it doesn’t sound all that weird. My girlfriend on facebook was like “well at least your house wasn’t hit by lightning like it was a few years ago.” Now you see why I don’t get rattled when my daughter’s all “Halloween candy in our advent calendar?” Yeppers bell peppers, kiddo. Deal.
- This year I decided what the heck / give in already / let the kids put up whatever tree they want (upstairs) so they decorated it with glittered pinecones and put a peppermint Christmas tree on the top and they taped extra stockings to my work desk. I told them I thought it was beautiful. Maybe I’m growing up. I think it’s because I eat squash and get loads of sleep and don’t set my alarm to move ridiculous elves around.
Drink some tea. Get some sleep. Glitter it up for the holidays.