The trademark signs of the holiday season are here – festive multicolored lights, crowded malls, smearings of Santa, and Salvation Army donation buckets. I’m not as ready as I’d like to be, and I’ve decided that’s because we missed the Christmas Parade. That particular weekend starts the ball rolling for our family it seems – the tree comes out, decorations come up, the shopping ensues, and I’m normally on the ball enough to have something new for the gang to wear to our festive outings. You know the look – patent shoes and sparkles, holly-jolly sweaters, or at the very least a healthy dose of red and green.
We missed the parade this year, so now I’m all ass-backwards.
My home is decoration-less, short of the four Christmas ornaments I bought last week that were left sitting out on the table. They aren’t decorating the place as much as they’re reminding me I’m not on the 8-ball. I have my in-laws coming for dinner Sunday and you’d think that would be motivation enough to cheer the place up holiday style, but I’m finding all kinds of other things to do instead. I’d like to say it was essential tasks keeping me from getting it done. I have been, in fact, scrambling to get an Arts Grant submitted – which really was a lot work – but I can’t really use that as an excuse anymore, since I signed, sealed and delivered the package yesterday afternoon.
I’ve moved on to smaller and way less important distractions – like darning socks. I did four last night. Can’t toss perfectly good socks away…nope. It’s not like we don’t have a million other socks, or a Wal-Mart within driving distance. But faced with doing a major clean and then decoration renovation of the house – I chose darning.
I need to get good tidings and cheer infused into my veins somehow, so decided the next best thing to the Santa Claus parade for a seasonal boost was the children’s Christmas party at my husband’s work. There is no way we could walk away from that event without a little elf-spring in our step. I haven’t bought that festive wear for me or the kids yet, so I figured I better give my hubby a call and get the date so I can shop next week for something that works. I placed the call to Will this morning and sent him on a quest to find out when Santa comes to the station.
Tomorrow. He comes tomorrow, and the pre-paid party fee was due November 10th. Suddenly I don’t feel like such a clod for not erecting the faux- fir tree yet. So he had to grovel to the administration staff to let our kids come. Having been part of the holiday party committee in the past, I know how much they hate him right now – with two kids potentially without presents at the party. That kind of shit drives organizers nuts – holiday cheer or not.
Now I have to go buy the presents for the party so my kids don’t think they got the snub from the man in red. I have to wrap them, deliver them to the station and hope that tomorrow the kids don’t notice they are getting a gift different than standard “12-year boy” and “8 -year girl” packages. I also get the task of carefully selecting something as good as what the rest of them get (so my kids don’t feel ripped off), but not too good (so all the rest of the kids don’t feel like Santa plays favourites – which is why I am doing the shopping instead of my husband, who would A: really only thinks of his own kids’ happiness – both a gift and a curse; and B: get something ridiculously inappropriate because he now feels guilt for being a holiday clod.) Ah yes – the rush of Christmas.
We’ve strayed from the path of holiday traditions, and I think it all started by missing that damn parade. We’ve gone off the rails, and it’s only December 2nd. Note to self: Tis’ the season to be jolly.