Can I start off by saying that the overall feel of Christmas was indeed magical. When I think of Christmas day, I will remember the magic. The girls excitement running down the hallway to see what Santa brought. Brennyn riding her rocking moose. Kaya’s gaping mouth. Brennyn grabbing the new baby stroller straight off and tossing the actual present that sat inside it. Like full on, ‘Get the hell out of my way stupid box, I have some stroller pushing to do!’ Kaya almost crying she was so excited at her Barbie horse and carriage. Brennyn’s “BABY!” with immediate snuggles after opening that ‘stupid box’ she had thrown down only moments before. Kaya’s first peek at a present she was opening, then the mad dash scramble to get it open. Kaya’s heartfelt, full eye contact, big snuggly “Thank You Mom!” as I tucked her in that night for bed. Presents and Santa ever popular, but so too, the Spirit. We got spoiled but we also got the point; family, love, sharing, giving, gratitude.
Thank god for that. Because if I take a moment to itemize the events of the day, as I shall do here, it would appear to be a complete and utter failure.
5 10 Disasters of Christmas 2010
(My top 5 all too quickly turned to 10. I’m drawing the line there.)
10. Baking cookies Sucks. End of story.
9. Xmas Tree Crash! Yes, the Xmas tree came falling down. On me. While I was alone. Fortunately Bal was in his office on the other side of the wall, so after a few failed “Help! I’ve fallen and can’t get up…” attempts, I hold the tree up with my back and one hand while banging the other hand on the wall until he finally decides something may be up. Like 15 minutes later. Or maybe it just felt that long. At any rate, he rescues me, we get it back up as not straight as it was before and with only a slightly fewer decorations on the tree than all the ones Brennyn had already stolen off.
8. Kids Who Sleep In. Seriously, what child in their right mind sleeps in on Christmas morning? Apparently mine. Normally, on every other day of the year, they wake up between 6:30-7am. So Christmas morning comes and I wake up at 6am. Giddy. Like I am the 4-year-old believing in Santa. I oh so patiently wait until 6:30am. Nothing. 6:45am. Nothing. 6:50am I play Angry Birds. 7am nothing. What? So I go pee. That’ll wake them up! 7:02am. Nothing. Well, Brennyn is just starting to wake, humming in her bed as she does. Normally she’ll do this for 15 minutes or so before the real awakeness begins but I run in there deluding myself into believing they are both awake and playing games. Brennyn looks over at me with one eye and rolls back over. Kaya doesn’t budge. Seriously children? I scoop Brennyn up anyways and bring her to bed. 15 minutes later, Kaya decides to saunter in.
7. Snowglobe Can’t Be Put Back Together Again. Brennyn got a snowglobe for Christmas. Since no sane person would ever give an 18 month old a glass toy that you’re supposed to shake, I can only assume that my mother is insane. I am good at deductive reasoning like that.
So anyways, it lasted all of half of one day before it was a shattered glass mess on the floor. No duh.
6. Midnight Mass-less. We are not church-going people. Bal’s family, is. So Bal asked if his mom wanted to go and she said yes and they found out Midnight Mass was indeed at Midnight and they were all set to stay up late and go. Later in the day, when Bal was upstairs and it is just me and his mom, she asks me if the girls are staying up too or if we’re waking them up.
Oh. Bloody. Hell.
“Ummm, well, they’re not going.” Crickets. Fucking loud crickets.
“Cuz umm, they’ll be miserable and crying and not happy in the morning and…” She doesn’t nod or smile or empathize. She just stares.
I. Am. So. Going. To. Hell.
5. Santa Not So Smart. Santa got me a key finder. Since I have spent the better part of this year searching for my keys, oh shit, I’d better fess up, tirading/stomping/storming/tantruming for my keys, you may think that Santa is one helpful, wise fellow to grant me such a gift. Only the key finder is activated by whistling. And I can not whistle.
Next year please be advised, I will need a Clapping Key Finder. Or a Cursing one. Or a ‘Riley! Go Lay Down!’ one. Or even better, a ‘NO BRENNYN!’ one. Maybe the dog walker or the handless dude could use my whistling one?
The Non-Whistler who still can’t find her fucking keys and now runs around like a madwoman blowing a lot of hot air in hopes of an accidental whistle occuring. XOX
4. Drunk Assembly. Of the two big presents Santa was bringing, one was a Rocking Moose. Santa tosses a box of unassembled parts into our house, and Daddy has to build. Daddy is not impressed even though Mommy warned him this was going to happen and to please make sure he had the right equipment and patience to assemble on Christmas Eve while full of food and drink. Apparently Daddy has had too many drinks however, because Daddy picks the wrong screw to screw and it goes through the seat and now we are screwed. We have a Rocking Moose with a big ass crack on its seat. A Plummer Rocking Moose then. Sigh.
3. Cursed Castle. After the moose crack and curse words and Bal telling his mother to stop talking and me to stop looking at him ‘like that’, Bal has another drink. Only then do I tell him, “Okay, time for the castle!” Have you ever seen a bald, brown Grinch? Come to my house on Christmas eve friends.
So anyways, another box of unassembled pieces, another string of curse words ensues. After many failed attempts, it is complete. Only then do we understand why this was on such an amazing sale. It is total, utter, CRAP. Quite honestly, it is the worst piece of craftmanship I have ever seen. Esthetically speaking, it is gorgeous. Practically speaking, we could not keep it together with just a Mom and a Dad (albeit a Mom and a Dad with drink in them) together. How the hell would this stay up with a 4-year-old and a Brennyn monster? It wouldn’t.
So after many, many more curse words, the castle is taken down, shoved back into the box and back into the closet. Fortunately, there are enough presents that Kaya would not even notice a missing castle.
2. D.U.I or Dinner Under Investigation. Ummm, what can I say about dinner. It was the WORST dinner of all time.
Traumatized by the nights building and demolishing, Bal lost his mind I suppose when he set the oven at 325 degrees to cook the turkey. So he took it out and it was, of course, not done.
But everything else was.
So the turkey goes back in and by the time it comes out, our veggies are mush, the girls are starving and miserable and I require vast amounts of wine to get through the rest. The rest where Brennyn refuses any food that isn’t pink lemonade because I gave her pink lemonade to distract her from the delayed dinner and well, that was a revelation of deliciousness and I think I’ll stick to that thank you very much. At least she wanted it though since Kaya, Bal’s mom and her friend the nanny refuse to drink it because I had mistakenly thought an addition of cranberries to add some festive spirit to the drink might be, oh fun, not the revolting ruination that it apparently was. Then our Filipina guest literally turns her nose up at the turkey, and will only eat the chow mein and empanadas they had made the day before.
And oh my god, do not even get me started on the stuffing. The dog wouldn’t eat it, that is how bad it was. My mother, the insane one you will remember, put the fear in me while telling me she didn’t know how much seasoning to put in, but to make sure it is A LOT. Okay then, A LOT it will be.
Which is when I learn that her A LOT and my A LOT are A LOT different.
Turkey dinner without stuffing is just not the same. The next day, we buy stove-top stuffing for my leftover turkey sandwich. Sadly, that stuff is almost as bad as my A LOT stuffing.
1. Top Spot goes to the moment when maybe, there was kind-of, sort-of this scenario whereby my mother-in-law is called racist. By me. Oh shit.
Brennyn and Kaya got baby dolls for Christmas. Brennyn’s is an adorable little brown baby. Brennyn ADORES it. At any rate, from the moment it was open, the MIL commented on it being brown. “Oh, it is a brown baby” “Brennyn you have a brown baby” “There is your brown baby” “It is a brown baby” Over and over and over again. She said it disparagingly and all day I was confused as to why. Then the other lady came down and they started joking and laughing, with my daughters, about the Chinese baby. It was the way it was said, the way they were laughing and getting my daughters involved, that I became pissed. Honestly, it was a heat-of-the-moment situation and I do not know exactly what I said but I do know the word ‘racist’ spurted out of my mouth. Something along the lines of “No thank you. She is a beautiful baby. There is no being racist in my house.”
I am so completely confused at why this ‘brown’ baby is such a big deal since, hello, look around everyone, you are all brown! I don’t know. I am at a loss.
At any rate, yah, that was my disaster filled Christmas. Fortunately, I am able to laugh about almost all of it. Almost.