Dan has taken the two older boys downtown this frosty morning, to see the store windows, check out the ice rink, and – ack! – buy me gifts. I thought we had agreed NO GIFTS. I was floating along in my sea of delusion, confident that I did not have to worry about gifts for Dan – who is awfully difficult to buy for, by the way. He informed me that the gifts are from the boys. Oh ok. So really I just have to come up with gifts from the boys for their dad – who is awfully difficult to buy for. Oh, and yeah, we did buy his parents a kitchen table and chairs from Ethan Allen but we have to buy them gifts from the boys. Why oh why does he do this to me? Doesn’t he know I am crazy enough all on my own? I don’t need any more help reaching optimal craziness. And I don’t have a free day this entire week, because my Thursday hours got switched because the library is not open at night this week. In the two hours since the boys woke up this morning (I was about to say, since I woke up, but I was up and down all night with a trying-to-poop baby) I went from looking forward to decorating the tree and baking this weekend, to freaking out and stressing over presents that two hours ago I DID NOT EVEN KNOW I had to buy. Tonight is the Perfect Family Christmas dinner (not to be confused with the Christmas Eve Extravaganza of Seven Fishes – really, tuna salad SHOULD NOT COUNT); then the festivities really gear up: Primo’s preschool Christmas party, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day dinner, the “Girls’ Luncheon,” and then in between all this, we are planning to wrangle all eleven grandchildren up to some portrait place on the busiest shopping stretch in the city the Wednesday after Christmas to have a picture taken. Now I say, the two newest are MINE and I could not care less, lousy mama that I am, whether we have a family portrait with them in it. Also, the dress code this time? Red, white, and denim. Gag. The first family portrait we all wore our yucky white Perfect family crest sweatshirts. The second one we all wore white shirts and khaki bottoms. In truth, we looked like a Gap ad, except we were all about twenty pounds too fat. This time, it’s my sister-in-law’s favorite disgusting color scheme, red, white, and blue. My kids happen to wear a lot of red because the woman who kindly ships us boxes and boxes of her son’s outgrown clothes has a penchant for red. But none of my children look particularly fetching in red. And both of my older ones are chin-lickers. So their faces are all chapped up. So I am going to have to break out the Cover Girl.
The bright spot in all of this? Last night, I thought we were out of rum, because I finished off the gallon last weekend at Primo’s birthday party. But lo and behold, in our cupboard, was a fifth of rum that we’d bought at the beach this summer and decided to bring home with us instead of leaving it for our hosts’ son and fifteen of his best friends to gulp down. Hallelujah and glory, glory, we are NOT out of rum. Is it bad that I am thinking of rum at ten a.m.? Yeah, I kinda thought so.
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Here are some catch-up photos.
Primo’s snowman. Identifiable only by the carrot.
Segundo’s snowmen. Identifiable only by the carrots.
My newest mug, is it not so cool?
Cookie cutter décor in my kitchen.
Stockings not quite finished for the boys, except Primo’s, but hey, I’ve had close to five years to finish his.
For God's sake, woman, what is WRONG WITH YOU? Quit taking pictures and FEED ME!
Primo’s snowman. Identifiable only by the carrot.
Segundo’s snowmen. Identifiable only by the carrots.
My newest mug, is it not so cool?
Cookie cutter décor in my kitchen.
Stockings not quite finished for the boys, except Primo’s, but hey, I’ve had close to five years to finish his.
For God's sake, woman, what is WRONG WITH YOU? Quit taking pictures and FEED ME!
7 comments:
HA!
K is taking Youngest shopping for me today -- for a gift for me...
and I have already out-gifted him!
Just call my mother if you need rum at 10 am - she's always available to remind you that 'IT'S NOON SOMEWHERE!'
I hope it helps to say know that you are not alone. This whole Christmas thing drives me batty. Some days are good. Some days are good and bad. Most days are all bad. Thank goodness Christmas only comes once a year.
Snowman one looks like somebody made a snowman, then buried him up to the neck to die a cruel death. Too cool.
I collect old cookie cutters also. How do you hang them? Do you bring them down to use them?
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
And alcohol helps too.
...have i told you lately that I love you? BB, please know that the zillions of messages I've left for you are NOT guilt-trips. I can say this for you: You are doing great--even though it may not seem like it! Anyone who takes a picture of a crying baby has a bit of sanity, because taking a picture is a minature pause in life. Any fool can take a picture of a baby sleeping--it is the artiste that can bear its tears for the sake of the art of blogging. So I am sending you lots of deep breaths--and enjoy the rum for me--I am so ready to be off these pain meds so that I can have my Bacardi and Coke!! It's five o'clock somewhere!!
kirzduab: a curtsy doo-op, whatever that may be. People all over the nation are enjoying the Sound of Music tonight...
Oh my goodness. The family portrait sounds HIDEOUS! Ah well. Enjoy the madness.
Here are some suggestions for "passive aggressive" giftage:
1- Something(s) for the house, in his name. F'rinstance, a new coffee table, garage door opener, etc.
2- An accessory to a hobby of his. If he is into wine, Reidel tasting glasses are always a hit. So are subscriptions to magazines, esp. if these are UK magazines.
3- Actually let the BOYS pick out the gift. If the gift is a dud, he'd have to be an awful jerk since his own sons chose it.
I know whereof I speak as I am monumentally difficult to shop for (in fact, only Poppy has me pegged) and every year I practice saying "Wow! A quesadilla maker/shoe polisher/beard trimmer! Just what I always wanted!"
Just a thought.
-J.
I think Joke's right: Let the boys make or choose. How about having them create a painting or something just for Dan, and framing it for either the house or his office?
This week will fly by, and whatever you get done will get done, and whatever you skip will get skipped. And no one will have dies because of it, and then Christmas will be over.
You'll be fine.
Darlin', you've already done the hard work--finding us as your friends. I totally agree with what both Joke and Gina said. About tonight, if you can't come, DON'T SWEAT IT. Or, if you want me to kidnap you, just use the magic password, which is "ala peanut butter sandwiches, ha ha ha ha!"
Gina's right: you'll be fine. In twenty years your kids will be saying, "Mom, I can't believe you actually got us dressed up for those pictures--how did you do it?" Well, maybe in thirty years. But any kid as cute and thoughtful as Primo and Segundo (and I don't really know Terzo's personality yet but I imagine he'll want to be just like his older bros) will be like that, in thirty years. (I think sooner, but I didn't want to get your hopes up.) Mwah!
beowgit: what you say when someone offers to read beowolf outloud to you, especially as a bedtime story
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