With the joy of the season, comes the frantic, hectic hell that is life for women everywhere this time of year. That doesn’t mean men don’t feel stressed during the holidays. Oh wait, yes it means exactly that, since Christmas is a WOMAN’S burden. “Burden” isn’t a very festive term I know. My husband would be more than happy to do anything I asked of him, but due to my sick need to control everything, the man is rarely asked to lift a finger. This black hole of shopping, list making, cooking, cleaning and wrapping despair, was dug by yours truly. So I need to shut up, suck it up and get on with it because…
…the holidays are jam packed with “memory moments” and I don’t want to miss any of them.
It’s cliché and obvious, but these times go by in a blink of an eye. Our children won’t remember if the boughs on the banister were perfectly hung or if the napkin rings at Christmas dinner all matched. They WILL remember dressing up like elves in the basement, skating on the backyard rink and putting on a “Christmas Musical Extravaganza” in the living room. This is what matters. Screw the napkin rings.
I’m glad I was able to dig myself out from under the pile of Christmas paper, ribbon and tape (which I cannot find the end of by the way and it’s making me nuts!) so that I didn’t miss these precious family moments:
Precious Moment #1 – Devil Zone: I really built up the whole family tree decorating thing. We baked cookies (the absolute shittiest cookies ever I might add), listened to holiday hits and hung the ornaments. The six year old was duly impressed. The three year old, not so much. She was happier to remove the ornaments and hurl them at the dog. Poor Roger takes a lot of abuse. He finally had enough and ended up trying to blend in elsewhere.
Finally I couldn’t take anymore “Peek-a-boos” from beneath the tree and confined DD to her highchair where she could observe without wreaking havoc.
After she tried to eat a bell from her hat, she went for some “quiet time” in her room. When her face suddenly appeared mere inches from the lens of the surveillance camera in her room we bolted upstairs. This is what we found.
This was not the Norman Rockwell holiday scene I’d envisioned. At this point, my son was busy at work hanging a sign from his little sister’s door. I had to squint to make out the words. “Devil Zone.” Hahahahahaha. She may be a little devil but she’s also the sweetest angel ever.