December 23, 2005
Okay, so the house is finally decorated. I started it last night, and finished it up this afternoon. Yup, I’m aware of the fact that it’s only two days before Christmas, and all of the “good parents” had their houses decorated weeks ago. I’m a terrible person, and I am scarring my daughter for life by not putting out brightly colored poinsettias earlier in the year. Fortunately for me, I’ve learned to live with the guilt, and am quite comfy in my defiance; so to all of you that are convinced I’m turning my little one into a hooligan by not donning a Santa hat and hanging lights from my ears in Mid-November, please feel free to kiss my anus.
Now I’m left with the issue of gift wrapping. I hate gift wrapping more I can adequately illustrate using mere words. Suffice it to say, there are few things in this world that can put me in a coma faster than taping brightly colored paper ( proudly featuring an old fat guy dancing around a reindeer with a severe cold) to boxes of crap I didn’t want to spend money on in the first place. Don’t get me wrong, I love to watch little one’s reaction when she opens gifts. She squeals with delight and jigs about with the new plaything she’s just been given, which of course gives me that warm and fuzzy “happy Mommy” feeling. Five minutes later, the object that caused Puddin’ to convulse with sheer ecstasy is now on the floor in the corner of her bedroom never to be glanced at again until she has her own children. My short-lived “Happy Mommy” fuzzies are replaced with the dread of realization. I have just added to the pile of things I live in constant fear of; yes that’s right, I have a deep-rooted fear of Puddin’s toys.
Let me explain to you why that is. First and foremost, I am on crutches and likely will be for the rest of natural life. (I’d explain why…but I really don’t feel like it at the moment. Speculate your hearts out, internet!) As such, Puddin’s toys are a very real hazard in my world, causing me to nearly lose my life on a daily basis. There is simply nothing more thrilling than inadvertently placing the tip of one’s crutch onto a toy equipped with wheels. Frankly, I believe it tops bungee jumping for both the thrill and the danger factor. Many has been the time my life has flashed before my eyes as I careened down the hallway on the hard plastic back of Mr. Snoogles. Fortunately, my daughter’s concern over the situation eases the pain. As she looks down at my sprawled body on the floor with tears in her eyes, she utters words that would melt any mother’s heart; “You hurt Mr. Snoogles, Mama. He’s crying!”
The problem is that my loathing of gift wrapping has led to a shameful procrastination of wrapping duties. As it currently stands, I have several gifts in the closet that require a mother’s loving hands to properly dress them up for the holiday season. Tragically for these gifts, mother’s loving hands would rather be holding a cigarette than taping elves on paper to brightly colored bracelet making kits. In the true spirit of the holiday season, I’m seriously considering putting the presents under the tree completely unwrapped, and then just telling little one that Santa had a hell of a lot on his mind and couldn’t get around to it this year. Unfortunately, given that Pudding knows exactly who Santa is, I’d still get in trouble for the oversight…I remember fondly the good old days, when I could happily blame that fat dude for all of my holiday negligence. I long for those days…I really do.
Even the cat is happily getting into the Christmas spirit. This morning I found a box of sea shell chocolates half way across the living room. Though a valiant attempt had been made to open the box, the cat was not afforded the time he required to complete the task at hand. As such, all the chocolates were still thankfully in tact, and completely untouched by cat lips. (I was greatly relieved by this news, as chocolate and Bailey’s are truly the only things that get me through this ‘oh so joyous’ holiday season. Frankly, the happiest Christmases I’ve spent are the ones that have rendered me blacked out under the Christmas tree.)
Soon enough, all this glitz and commercialism will be safely behind us as we boldly face the challenges and tribulations of yet another year. The hubbub of the season forgotten for another year, we will bravely raise our glasses and make promises to ourselves and others that everyone knows we are not going to keep. Gym memberships will be bought in large quantities as many nurture the dream that one day they will one day re-capture their ability to see their toes. I, on the other hand, will be eating New Year’s dinner left-overs in vast quantities in front of the television set. What’s the point in even trying to fool myself?? Given I’m on crutches, the best I can really hope for is muscular wrists and armpits…and the creation of both of those will only be aided by an increase in body mass.
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