I Shall Call This One “Someday”

Because…..

Someday, I will have time to make a dent in this 6-inch thick GMAT prep book.

Someday, I will have a day off of work.

Someday, Evan will go back to school.

Someday, Zach will start speaking and stop doing the whining/ grunting/ pointing thing.

Someday, this house will be clean. And neat. And organized.

And I will finish the 1000-page book I started reading out of a lapse in my sanity. Because for some reason, aside from GMAT prep, working like a dog, the questionably Aspergian high maintenance oldest child and the terrible-twos toddler, and all of the other shit I have to get done, I thought I would have time to read the damned thing.

Someday, I’ll relax.

Or maybe finish the apps for grad school.

Or maybe eat a dinner that is home cooked because we had time to cook.

Someday, there will not be sheer chaos in this house.

Someday, I will finish the 50 gazillion blog posts I have started about the different things I wanted to tell you all about but have not have the time to finish. On our Christmas. Or our anniversary. Or Evan’s progress and Zach’s delay.

But not now. Because right now, the tv is blaring, Zach is screaming because he doesn’t have the words or ability to tell John he wants apple juice. I am waiting for a phone call from the developmental interventionalist because I am finally worried about Zach’s speech delay to do something about it. And once I get the call, I have to go through the gu-wrenching possibility that my treatment during the pregnancy did something to him just when I thought it was all okay. And it is finally snowing outside, mixed with a bit of rain and freezing temps that are sure to make my commute a living hell.

And right now, I have to go to work. Again.

Fuck.

Holidays

It’s cold outside. It finally is starting to feel a little wintery. Thanksgiving is next week, which means Christmas is right around the corner. I’m not sure what is going on this year, but it seems as if everyone is rushing the holidays this year. Stores and local businesses were blaring Christmas music immediately after Halloween. My neighbors, who usually grace us with their tackiest of tacky decorations, are already in full swing. There is a countdown on the board at work–X number of days left. The trees have been up for weeks now, and stores have all of their Christmas decorations on full display.

I don’t usually buy into all of this. Last year, I didn’t even put up a tree. Our only real holiday tradition has only ever been going to visit John’s family. Even for the years I have had to work Christmas, this has been the case. For those years, we would just celebrate early or late, depending on my work schedule. This year, things are a little different.

For some reason, I am feeling a little Clark Griswold-ish. I want the family Christmas.  I want to bake cookes with Evan. I want the tree, and the surprises on Christmas morning. I want wreaths and garland. The problem is that I want those things…NOW! It really is far enough away from my norm to be bizarre. I’m not sure what is to blame. Could it be that the stores rushed me? Or that John and I will have been married eleven years as of Christmas Eve? Maybe it is Zach, and that this will be the first real Christmas he will be able to enjoy. Or the difficulties we have had with Evan that make me want to be close to these three guys in my life. Regardless, I just want to be here with them, We’ll put up a tree, bake the damned cookies. I’ll hang stockings with my babies. There’s no fireplace, but we can burn candles and make this place smell like a pine forest. Of course, John isn’t on board for any of this. Well, he is and he isn’t. I’ve tried twice now to get him to go with me to a store to buy a new artificial tree already. (Thought about a live tree this year, but the thought of Zachy eating pine needles doesn’t do it for me.) Of course both of these attempts were shot down. I plan on trying again today, but he insists that we are to wait until after Thanksgiving. (Side Note: I bought a turkey this year, for the first time in many years–for our little family.) He’s right. hat has been the tradition for both of us growing up. After the dishes are washed and leftover turkey is put away, you’re supposed to watch a Christmas special–most likey Rudolph–and trim the tree. But I want to do it now. Not next week, but now.

I just want to be with them. Only them. I don’t even want to buy gifts for anyone else. Just them. What is wrong with me?

>No Longer a Believer

>

Picture the scene: I am sitting on the floor, playing with Zach and asking him (though I know he won’t answer) what he would like for Santa to bring him for his first Christmas. Evan, who is sitting beside us, erupts into giggles. I ask him what is so funny. He doesn’t answer at first, but after some prodding, he whispers, ” We have to keep up appearances, you know, for Zach.” I ask him what he is talking about, and his reply was, “Zach still believes.”

So we started this whole conversation in which my 9-year-old baby boy confessed that he no longer believed in Santa. When I asked him where all of his Christmas presents come from, he told me he knows I buy them. “Not Daddy because he doesn’t work”, he said. I first tried to deny this, then told him that the money I earn is Daddy’s money, too. That Daddy works taking care of him and of Zach so I can work. He bought this, but still denied Santa Claus.

“Mother, do you really expect me to believe that one man goes to all of those houses, all over the world, in one night??? It would take him all night just to get here from the North Pole.”

First of all, “Mother”????? When did I stop being Mommy or Mama and start being Mother??? Secondly, I tried to explain that Santa is magic, to which I got this reply:
” No way. Magic is just an illusion. And besides, like I said, he couldn’t posibly get to those houses. He would have to travel at the speed of light and no human can do that.”
It became apparent that I was not going to win this one. And then I became sad.
My baby is growing up too fast.
It isn’t that I am so distraught over Santa. I am sad over the loss of innocence. The loss of wonder at the holiday season. He will no longer give that little gasp of surprise and have that little spark of amazement when he sees the gifts under the tree on Christmas morning He won’t hurry to the plate of cookies left for Santa, just to check if they had been eaten. And for him, from now on, Christmas will no longer be magical. He’ll know I worked to pay for those toys. He’ll know John and I stayed up late wrapping them for him. He may even say he is too old to visit Santa and get the cute annual low-quality photo we get to chronicle that year’s holiday season. I can literally see him grow in those photos over the past nine years. And because we are not a religious family, Christmas will just be about gifts.

(Image: Evan at 2 years: when he still believed, when I was still “Mommy”, when Christmas was still magical, and his innocence was still intact.)

>The Snob’s Worst Nightmare

>I am a snob when it comes to holiday decorations. If the person I am about to describe sounds like you, I apologize in advance. Know that I am talking of the people who take it to the extreme. Every year, John and I do this thing. We will pick a day that has been particularly stressful or otherwise difficult, and we will go on our annual Tacky Plastic Christmas Parade.

Let me give you the history of this. Just a few years after my mom’s death, I was still having a difficult time with the holidays. I had befriended a girl who ended up being the one who introduced me to John, and one day I was feeling rather down.
“I know what you need, Andi,” she said. “You need to go on a Tacky Plastic Christmas Parade!”
We all loaded into her small pickup truck, and cruised the neighborhoods of Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky and laughed our asses off. I think I may have even peed a little bit. Laughing, of course, at the people who fill their lawns with the most amount of the tackiest Christmas statues and decorations one could imagine. Mismatched lights thrown haphazardly over bushes. And a few years later, the enormous inflatables. One or two of these is fine. This is something different altogether. But when you live in a run-down trailer, there is probably something better upon which to spend your money than an inflatable that is indeed bigger than your home.
So how do I decorate for Christmas? A tasteful wreath on the door. Maybe some candles inside on windowsills. Possibly a Christmas tree in the front window. Garland on the front porch railing. If I put up any lights, they are always white, placed precisely, and both are put up and taken down in a timely manner. Tasteful.

Of course th phenomenon of tacky holiday decoration has not stopped at Christmas. Nooooo. They do it for all sorts of holidays. And since I live in a duplex, I fall victim to the tastes of others.

So I wake up from my nap today after working a 12 last night to find my neighbors coating the front lawn–the shared front lawn—with that fake spider web shit. And they had the nerve to ask me if they could put my patio furniture–tasteful wrought iron patio furniture–in the back yard so they could put some tacky ghost he whittled out of wood in the front. And they are rigging up a fake dead body to the tree. And have a giant plastic fake spider they are putting on the house as I am typing ths. I cannot take it. I am going to die. And I have a feeling our house is going to be on the Tacky Plastic Christmas Parade this year.