Part of the teacher gift this year
I still have several gifts to purchase, and just received word that the main gift I ordered for my husband several weeks ago will likely not come until next week. What the what? I received a shipment notice early last week, so, logically, it shoudl be here already. I received the other item in my order over a week ago. Why bother ordering early? (okay, okay, so it wasn’t that early, but it was still single-digit December.) Needless to say, I have to hit the store tomorrow.
I wish it were as easy as it seemed for my daughter’s teacher. I made bracelets for her teacher and teacher’s assistant (and took pictures because I wouldn’t mind recreating them…I always say that the best gift to give someone is something you would like to keep for yourself (but, obviously, don’t), unless someone has their heart set on something that you find really repulsive. Another post, another day). We also made a frame for her teacher, which had crayons all around the border (and ended up really cute for a teacher gift, I think), and gave each of teh hall monitors a bag of hershey kisses (had the earlier incident occured, well, earlier, it would have been helpful. I have lots of LBS. of those things around the house now).
So..we head to my in-laws and a family friend’s house for Christmas Eve, meaning tomorrow, my day consists of the following [deep breath]:
1. Finish baking. Not just cookies — Lord knows that the nine or ten varieties I already have done are in no way enough — but cakes/pies/tarts…something else for desserts on Christmas day.
b. Help the kids decorate their gingerbread house. My daughter did a really good job on one when she was my son’s age, though she was also much more patient than he.
III. Shop for gifts (see above).
4. Finish my eldest’s Christmas stocking. It’s dangerously close, so much so that I could just put the back on and be done. But I don’t want to do that.
Oh, and maybe I shoudl work a little on the younger ones, just so there is something to tack to a regular stocking until I finish theirs.
E. Make a couple of presents, because I’ve thought of things to make, but not to purchase for some.
6. Wrap presents. I mean everything. Except for those that already went to my brother and his family. They were wrapped in teh wee hours before packing them up to ship.
7. Fix the start from our tree. It won’t light this year, and when I tried to open the door on it to get the lights out, the stand for it came off. Go figure.
H. Find something suitable to wear for Christmas Day. I will say that I’ve been back down to my regular size for a while following baby three, but my shape isn’t quite teh same as usual in all areas, and I wore the one dress I know fit me to a wedding about a month or so ago, and I keep forgetting to bring it to the cleaners. And I refuse to wear slacks (yes, slacks) on Christmas.
9. Clean my house. No, noone is being hosted here, except Big Red himself, but girlfriend just needs to vacuum and sweep. No breaks from the kids this week…none.
X. Sleep. I’m not very good at that lately. Well, I’m a champ at sleeeping, not so much with actually going to sleep. Hopefully that will change after Christmas.
Speaking of…off to bed. I have to rest up!
The children are all nestled snug in their beds (well, one may be reading) for a little nap after getting back from running some errands and coming home for lunch. Let’s just say mama could use a glass of vino.
Kids are kids, and it seems that the only place that they were on 100% don’t-touch-anything behavior was the one shop where there were no less than three screaming children having a fit on the floor. I felt so badly for the moms, and told one of them I just had the same sitation in the supermarket 5 minutes before…which makes me think the terrible two’s are accurate for boys, and the girls provide mental anguish later in life. I digress…
Fast-forward to Michaels, where they seemed to be fine until right before we got in line. Bags of Christmas candy in the aisle, candy on the counter…that place is littered with the stuff by the checkout. And it’s all at kid-level.
My two-year-old proceeds to say he wants a treat, runs and grabs a bag of Hershey Kisses, and tears it open before I can get to him. He didn’t get to any of the candy, but the bag was torn. (Peanut gallery passers-by chimed in with a much appreciated, “tell her you need it, not that you want it!”) Guilty conscience that I have, I head to the checkout and tell the lady I’ll pay for it (while he grabs one of those stinking eye-height truffles by the counter…which was already unwrapped by some other kid and put back. Luckily, the man behind me verified to the cashier that it was already open. Have I mentioned that several of the casiers at the local store are not very friendly? ‘Cause they’re not).
Now, it’s happened once or twice in my life — well before my children came along — that something has been broken or fell off of a precarious shelf when I was looking at something, I’ve brought it to the counter, let them know what happened, offer to pay, and am told that they just damage the item out of the system. Easy, since I’ve seen a LOT of damaged items left to rot on a sales floor. So, it’s not so much that I had to pay for the bag of candy, it was that:
1. She said, “well, what am I going to do with it?” With a little bit of ‘tude.
b. Apparently, Michael’s sells Hershey Kisses for $5.99/bag. Come again? $6 for the same bag I can get (and did) on sale for $1.50 before any coupons at CVS?
I’d have felt better about it if the response was even just a sorry about your luck, or even no comment at all. I already had them with me in line, just shocked at the price for the things. But clearly I was not in a mood for attitude on top of it with a baby in a stroller, a little girl who checked out before me who insisted on puchasing her own stickers for a chain letter she received (it was a cute letter, but we spent a lot of time carefully picking a pack that her little friend would especially like), and a little boy who was having hulk-like cravings for chocolate.
Anybody want Hershey Kisses, come to my house. I have lots.
My birthday was last week, and I think I’m not along when I say that I’m not the only one who has to sit and think for a minute when someone asks my age. I figure once someone’s married and has kids, keeping tabs on that sort of thing are the least of their worries.
My husband ratted me out to our 4-year-old and told her my actual age. A could of years ago, i asked how old she thought I was, and she told me 22. Last year on my birthday, she said, “you’re 23 now, right?” I didn’t want to discourage her addition skills, so I applauded how smart she was and said that was exactly correct…if I were 22 the year before. What’s a few years, give or take?
Fast -forward to last night, when I was watching A Chipmunk Christmas, the same one from when I was young, and mentioned to said 4-year-old that it was teh same one I watched when I was a little girl. Her response? “Oh, how is it still in color?”
Then she laughed.
This morning, I was in my usual rush of getting the kids out the door and my daughter to school. I’ll preface by saying nothing of the day was all that bad, just one of those frustrating combinations of annoying circumstances. My mind was wandering to thoughts of what I had planned to do tonight (adult time of drinks then Christmas shopping), and what has just recently come up, preventing my guilty conscience from doing said evening out: the high school Christmas concert, featuring two of my neices. (It’s not that I don’t want to go, it’s just the Murphy’s Law-esque timing. I mean, how often do I have plans to go out sans kids…really?)
As thoughts of what I wasn’t going to do were swirling through my head, it wasn’t until I was almost to the next town that I realized that I drove right by my daughter’s school. And so the day began.
After I dropped her off — 8 minutes late — I returned home and thought the rest of the day would be smooth. Then I remembered that I left her school library book, due today, on the counter. My son decided to take a nap, so I should have known then that something was off. It did make it easier to get in a shower, get my youngest fed and dressed for her 3 month pictures, and head out the door to get my oldest from school, so there’s that.
We went to Target for the pictures, and I’m already having buyer’s remorse for picking the wrong shot, but we’ll see once it’s printed. We’ve been in this house for over a year, though, and the first portrait that has been on display was this year’s Christmas picture, put up just a few days ago. Okay, maybe it was yesterday. So no harm, no foul on that one, I guess. There have been no less than three holidayportraits, two birthday portraits, and one family portrait since we moved in. Not a one has made it out of the envelope.
The nice thing was that I ran into a couple of people that I knew this morning and caught up a bit, but the quick trip turned into a not-so-quick trip, because I had myself on repeat: “come on…come on…now…let’s go…I’m leaving…” A couple of times, I tried to get out of sight to see if it would make any impact. No. Darned the toy department and those kids who drop little pieces of things as they’re going through the store. Target should put my kids on payroll for janitorial services. “Someone was piggy and dropped this…”
Then, another *quick* don’t touch anything trip to Michaels, to get one or two things to finish-up (read: make) the Christmas present for my daughter’s teacher. God bless the man who let me in front of him in the super-long line. It only let me skip ahead by one, and they opened more lanes right as it was my turn, but still…so nice!
Parking lot havoc this time of year drives me crazy, especially when someone is waiting for the space I’m trying to get out of, nnot leaving me room to actually exit said space, lest someone else swoop in and get it. Yeah, that happened on the way home.
I come home to find a note in the door that the internet repair guy, who was scheduled to come yesterday, was here (see earlier post). I must have just missed him, because the rain had not yet soaked the sheet.
Then we had lunch.
So…I haven’t written in a while, and, even now, I’m on borrowed time. Literally.
My internet service has been down since Sunday, so I’m borrowing someone’s unsecured wi-fi from the neighborhood. Not sure who’s, but thanks! If it weren’t for the, albeit weak, signal, I would have been in quite a pickle, especially for my actual for-pay job. Which brings me to my next point.
Thanks, ISP! That $60/month is really paying off, especially the uber-reliable fiber-optic connection, which has resulted in at least a half-dozen (conservatively speaking) service calls in the past year. I especially like sitting for days waiting for service to come fix it. What about those who work in an office? I’d be even more ticked if I had to take several well-earned vacation days, just this week, to wait. And wait.
So far, service went out Sunday, I called Monday and was told they didn’t need in the house but would call ahead if they did. Instead of missing an appointment for my kids, I went, and, naturally, someone came during that hour. Called my husband’s cell, not mine, which I left for the service ticket, so were long gone by the time I got home to let them in. I called again that afternoon to set up for the next day, was told they would be here between noon and 5 (“because they go home at 6”), and…nothing. I had to pick my daughter up from school today, so imagine my surprise when there was a “sorry I missed you…please leave a cell # with customer service when you call back” note in my door when I got home. Seriously? It’s been five days now. And I left my cell number. I have no other number to leave. And the company has done this before, but actually never showed up for several days, after several calls letting them know that noone has been showing up. And they don’t issue credits to the account. Fabulous!
The shame is that the repair guy(s) who routinely come to our house are very nice and helpful. The phone reps? Another issue, apparently.
We’ll see what happens tomorrow.
My husband went out tonight for neighborhood poker night, so my grand plan was to put the kids to bed, maybe crack open some wine, and watch a movie. Well, the kids are in bed, but the rest did not quite go to plan. But I did catch up on Glee, so I have that going for me.
The rest of my plan will have to be carrie dout another day. I love Christmas, and everything about it, and there is one movie that we happened across the first year we were married — Recipe for the Perfect Christmas.
I try to at least catch some of it each year, and my husband just rolls his eyes. It doesn’t have any great plot, isn’t necessarily Christmas-y, other than the time of yesr in which it is set, and I would most definitley consider it a chick flick. I don’t know that I would watch it, other than Christine Baranski is in it, and I’ve really liked her since she was on that show with Cybill Shepherd about 15 years ago.
Okay, okay…I do like bad movies, so I probably would watch it, anyway.
My eldest is too smart for my own good. Yes, MY own good. Last week on the way to school it was, “is Rudolph real?” I over analyze a lot, and said that, while I’ve never seen him because he leads the sleigh while I’m sleeping, it only makes sense. Light bulbs haven’t been around forever, so it wasn’t until fairly recently that Santa would have headlights on his sleigh, and before that, what else could he have done in the fog and snow? Rudolph is the only logical answer. I asked if she believed he was real, and she just gave a simple, “yes.” Maybe I should have asked that first. See what I mean about too much info?
She has also been asking from a very early age, what gifts came from whom at random times throughout the year. (When I say “early age,” I mean very early. As in, she’s only 4, and this has been a regular thing for at least two years.) My husbands diverts all questions to me, as I have a mental file that keeps tabs on every detail so all the magic stays intact for as long as possible.
After we left out shoes, said our prayers, and gave goodnight kisses on the eve of the Feast of St. Nicholas, he came after all were alseep, and the filled shoes next to the doors went unnoticed during middle-of-the-night bathroom breaks until not-quite-6am hours of the morning. The kids were thrilled, to say the least, going through their boots –I was informed that by leaving boots out, they may get more since there is extra capacity. Last year, I was told sandals were the way to go because there are no confines to the space — and then I heard the question: “Is St. Nicholas Santa Claus?”
In short, a week or two ago I was asked a similar question, and related it to St. Nicholas celebrating his feast day with treats, kind of like when kids bring cupcakes into school, or people celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. Then, he’s the guy who celebrates Jesus’ birth in a big way come Christmas. My son said something almost simultaneously, so I was able to dodge the question on the morning of the 6th. Lucky for me, it hasn’t come back up since.