It’s the season -and grade – of Santa. My 2nd grader has been asking me if Santa is real. His friends at school don’t believe anymore.
Anyway, I obviously told him he is absolutely real. Then he asks, “yea, but the ones at the malls taking pictures aren’t real, right? They dont have real beards.”
I concede, “Right, those are his helpers. But you know what? You never know where Santa will show up. If I were Santa, I would sneak in and do the pictures in random places. That way, a kid could be meeting the real Santa and get an actual picture with him and never know it.”
He liked that idea a lot. It was a magical parenting moment. One of those times the planets align, and the stuff your saying off the top of your head actually makes sense and works.
So today was the day we all get set to go meet & get a photo with local santa. On the way down, I told the kids to think about what they are going to ask Santa for. My son immediately says, “Mom, I dont need anything. I have a good family, and that’s all I need. … I mean, I would like some toys, but I dont NEED anything.”
I was shocked, needless to say.
I told him how surprised and proud I was of him and that answer.
He looked pretty pleased.
So we drive down, find parking, and i’m rushing to get to the Santa hut before the crowds. I’m surprised we are second in line! We prep and primp, walk into the little Santa hut and we see Him! I grab my son and gasp, “Do you see his beard?! It’s rrrrrrreal! I think you got the real Santa!”
There was no settling him after that. He was beside himself. He was so convinced, he told me the candy cane Santa gave him even looked different. It tasted different too, evidentally. After eating the whole thing he whispers to me, “mom! i feel stronger now!”
as we were going to the car:
“Mom, we so totally got our picture with the real Santa, huh?”
2 hours later: “Mom! we like totally met the real one, right?!”
And on the way back from shopping & Santa, my son tells his sister, “Gemma, you should have told Santa you didnt want anything because you have a great family and thats all anyone needs… and then he’ll bring you a TON of presents!!”
bells went off in my head.
“Do you believe thats true, or are you saying it to get more gifts?”
“For the gifts.”
Just when you think you’ve gotten through way down deep to the good stuff, BAM! Reality hits you right between the bells.
We are in the new place now and things are going great. Despite still living around boxes, everyone has adjusted fabulously.
During our first move day, a few neighbors came over to introduce themselves, and I had an inkling of panic that i’d screw up the whole first impression thing
-apparently there’s only one first impression to screw up –
My husband was with me, and for whatever lame reason, i have less verbal diarrhea when he’s with me. I did manage to stick my foot in my mouth once, but in general it was poo-free. Today, however, was my first solo flight with one of the neighbor ladies. I spent the drive to the store after our conversation shaking my head and imagining kicking myself in the ass.
I think its a clinical problem at this point.
I have realized there is actually a point in the conversation when the other person has realized they are embarrassed for you. This woman has had this look twice now. Once during the neighbor introductions when she was kind enough to give us an advent calendar for the kids, and i was so flustered i said something to the effect of, “thank you, that is so nice! they will be so excited since i refused to add to our amount of ‘stuff’.” To which she apologized for complicating our move.
I tried to repair the damage, but I usually just end up making it worse.
So today she offered us some dog treats and invited us to a last minute Christmas party they are having. I have no idea what i was blathering on about, but I saw ‘the look’ and just tried to seal the pie hole before it got worse. Its like some latent social awkwardness. As i age, it gets worse. The good news is that she continues to come around so either she’s incredibly tolerant of awkward anti-socialites, or she is beginning to appreciate watching me squirm, im glad I have a chance to redeem myself. Lets hope the increased amount of people around us and the presence of my husband and kids dampens my need to blurt and say any random facts or tidbits that pop into my head.
In general it seems i’ve reached the limits of my tolerance for stress. I have felt pressure to create some sort of holiday cheer in the house so my kids arent shocked and terrified when the jolly fat man in the red suit pops by to drop gifts down the chimney. We got the tree up a few days ago, and today i plugged in 2 of our inflatable lawn dudes. I had to move a mountain of boxes off the porch first, but i did it. I also made beef stew in the crock pot and brownies! My husband nearly keeled over when he walked in the house today. My response was to bite his head off when he suggested I let our son have a brownie on the way to OT tonight.
All of the things i still need to do tackled a natural response of, “I’d love to, but they havent finished cooling off yet.” and instead allowed my impulsive nonsensical emotions bulldoze him after trying to cut a not-yet-cooled brownie and it turned to mush. My reaction was to laser-beam him with my angry irrational wife eyes and comment on how I was stupid to attempt it.
One of my other personalities followed that up with, “what’s up? whats wrong?!” to my wise husband who apparently is so practiced he just feigned “nothing…i’m fine”.
I reflected on the long drive to occupational therapy that it seems my tolerance and limits have been reached. All the things i was hoping to have done and complete by now. The move in, the christmas shopping, the house prep, the move out of the last place, our spa has stopped being useful, i have nothing prepared for my son’s teachers or support staff, how many people do i have to give something to, can i make the brownies in time and will it be ‘enough’.
My brain is now acting out on my behalf. If you know me and/or are in my vicinity, i apologize for whatever i may say or do to piss you off or offend you.
Oh yea, and Merry Christmas!
ps. i have been repeatedly appreciative the last week that i never began the Elf on the Shelf nonsense. That f*cker would have sent me over the edge weeks ago!
We are in the new house… barely. Its at the stage where the major stuff is in, the TV is up, the furniture is mostly placed, but we still dont have cable/internet and the clean vs. dirty laundry piles are unclear.
You know what goes great with this? A department
Christmas Holiday winter party! Yes, squeezed between unpacking, contractor appointments, laundry and dishes, i want to squeeze my rear end into holiday party attire.
My husband says they keep reiterating the dress code is casual. ‘dress as you would come to work. nothing fancy’ Think anyone would mind yoga pants, a dirty t-shirt sans bra and some comfy socks and crocs?!
Afterall, thats MY daily work attire.
NooOOoO, I have to find jeans that fit and look like they were bought for a date night and not painting the house. I have to find a clean-enough shirt that doesnt hug the Michelin Tire rolls. And shoes that arent crocs or flip flops.
I’ll choose the bright side and appreciate that im not home unpacking and doing stairs endlessly. I’d say im looking forward to cocktails, but it’s only beer & wine 😦
If only I had unpacked my flask..
Damn. Looks like someone forgot to grab the Weight Watchers scale. Maybe i’ll pick it up after stopping for Mexican food.
Hmm.. I think there’s a holiday coming up. Oh yea! Christmas. No need to purchase gift boxes or bags this year. Gonna wrap gifts in packing paper and box them with Home Depot moving boxes.
Tasting dust on your tongue all day cuts down on the snacking habits
Counting daily aches and pains puts me to sleep. Comparing how many less i have each day is soothing
How badly do i need to bend over to pick something up off the floor? How far can I kick it before getting to the door/trash can/garbage bag/grocery bag/fast food bag
When picturing myself in the master bath soaking tub, i am chin deep in bubbles with candles and soft light around me. Apparently i am also 120lbs and 5ft2 in my head. In reality im 5’11 and 2nd fat roll deep in bubbles with my boobs freezing and flopping in the wind. The soft light is the glare from the vanity lights. In reality i feel like an oversized toddler waiting for my mom to come wash my hair.
When picturing myself soaking in the bubbling hot jacuzzi, i never anticipated the burning rash that would cover parts of my body the following day.
Why dont people move more often? It’s a hoot!
I hear people say things after moving like; “I managed to unpack all my boxes over the weekend! I’m all done unpacking!” and I imagine they moved with one box and one suitcase.
Or they accomplished it because they live alone.
That must be it!
I have found a whole new area of inadequacy in myself. Well, to be fair, I have a handicap. Namely Mr. Sarcasmica.
Mr. Sarcasmica alone takes up 3/4 of our new three car garage. The man has an entire video game museum that is moved from place to place. It’s a carnival complete with sideshow mutations that would make PacMan turn blue and roll over.
The woman we bought the house from had lived here with her family for 19 years.
She had not accumulated half of what we moved into it with!! The worst part is the amount of ‘stuff’ we have is a result of downsizing over the past six moves. Four of those six were state-to-state moves.
Four of those moves were the holy grail of moves: corporate.
For those of you who don’t know, corporate moves (the type we did) consist of a moving company coming to your house, packing up your shit for you, loading it all onto a truck, moving it, unloading boxes (and in one case, unpacking the boxes) and leaving you to organize it yourself. As little stress as possible. This move has been all on our own, and we are TERRIBLE movers!
We found a beautiful home in a seemingly ideal neighborhood. We desperately want to make a good impression. The first day we had a UHaul parked, three sets of neighbors came over to introduce themselves and bring gifts! I was so surprised and hopeful this truly appears to be a perfect place for us. I picture the friendliness to continue until the day one of them drives by or walks up to the house when the garage is open. They see the amount of boxes and just run screaming from the packrat freaks.
As it stands now, we are finally into the new house, but we still have ‘leftovers’ to clean up at the rental. We have the nasty job of going in and picking up all the single socks, underwear, and legos that managed to work their way beneath the beds, couch, & desks. The random tupperware that was lodged at the back of the shelves and behind the trashcan. The dust bunnies that have turned into abominable allergy snowmen and then reproduced into clans of them all about the house.
We only lived there 18 months!
After three days of packing and moving ourselves, one day with professional movers, one UHaul breakdown with my husband and 7 yr old in 30 degree weather, resulting in three hrs of overtime for said movers (due to their equipment stuck in the UHaul) and one day in front of us for movers to return and finish the job so we dont have to sleep on mattresses on the floor again, we are nearly back to some semblance of normalcy.
We are at least six months from, “All the boxes are unpacked!” (which translates to an actual time frame of 17 months)
So for those of you out there who manage it in one weekend, I say pashaw. If you aren’t moving with a museum of unwieldy, out-dated, miscellaneous paraphernalia valuable to 2% of the population, you are lightweights!
(and can I come live with you, please?!!!)