Humbugs! Humbugs Everywhere!

     Just over a week until Christmas. At this point, I almost cringe, writing the word "Christmas". I have lost count of the times this holiday season, that I have been yelled at, threatened, taken to task, admonished, and coldly informed that this is completely inappropriate to say. What if people are atheist? They do not want to hear about "The Holidays"


     Oh, goodness. I have honestly felt myself stumbling, when I start to say "Have a great Holiday Season!" or, "Are you ready for Christmas?" or any such thing anymore. I am so tired of getting yelled at, or shamed for it. Tell me I have offended you by trying to shove "My religion" down your throat ONE. MORE. TIME. Yikes! I am pathetically happy when people say it to me first, now.


     I started off cheerful! I did. I was so into the spirit of the season. The excitement. The Advent season. Anticipating the kids' excitement. The decorations. The tree. The shopping and baking and warmth and happiness! The music, the TV specials and the magic that goes with the entire season.
     We begin with "Kriskindls" Where everyone in our household draws a name, and then you have to be extra nice to the person who you draw. As well as in general.


     I haven't seen too much extra niceness in my house. Also, George figured out how to exploit it shamelessly this year. He drew Joe's name, and has promised to buy Joe the worst things he can find, if Joe does not do exactly as he orders.


     Decorations? Meh. My kids could really not care any less. Excitement over the Christmas lights? Nope. The music? Absolutely not. Please change the station. The tree? Not really. The excitement and happiness and peace and goodwill and helping out? Not happening. TV Christmas specials? They would rather watch the Food Network.
     I took the girls to a Christmas show, up in Buffalo. Kaila was somewhat impressed. Lexi, not so much.
     I am not sure Bearded Man is aware that Christmas is next week at all. He really has yet to acknowledge it.


     This week, I took two days off, to launch "Operation Ninja Santa". During which, I started my day off as any normal workday. I donned my scrubs, and left at my usual time, then went Christmas shopping instead. Day one: I wore my Christmas Scrubs, and headed out, Christmas music blaring in the minivan. I headed to the store I knew would be open at 7:30 am, and headed in.
    
     I had deliberately chosen weekdays, and gone early, because I did not want to deal with crowds and lines and chaos. I wanted to shop in relative peace, and not feel rushed. So, minding my own business, I grabbed a cart and started to shop.
     It was not very long into my arrival, that I heard "Security scan in section whatever" over the PA system. Vaguely I wondered who was being checked out, and continued on my way.
     I was in a toy aisle, when I noticed the woman. She was standing at the end of the aisle, arms crossed, glaring at me suspiciously. She had no shopping cart, no basket, and there was no indication that she was shopping. She was staring at me challengingly.
     When she began to follow me thru every single aisle and section, I realized that I was the security threat I had heard over the loud speaker system.
     WHAT? REALLY? For heaven's sake, I was wearing Christmas scrubs and behaving perfectly respectfully! Do I look shifty? Or thuggish? Or suspicious? What on earth?
     The woman followed me thru toys, sporting goods, books, crafts - where she leaned on the craft counter chatting with two employees, as they all chatted about what time their shifts ended - footwear, seasonal and office supplies.
     I honestly did not want to confront her. I figured there was no way it would end well with me. It was clear that it was thought that I was getting ready to rob the store blind. So, I shopped with a scowling woman following me none too subtly. So much for shopping without aggravation. Clearly my Christmas scrubs did not convey "Harmless Mom, shopping way closer to Christmas than she ever has before, and is trying to cram it all into two days". Instead, it appears that I conveyed "Psychotic suspicious thief who will probably attempt to wheel an entire cart full of goods right out of the store and should we call the police now, so they can be stationed at the doors." It was offensive, actually. So, day two: I went to my sister, and got a haircut. When in doubt, blame the hair. While sitting in front of my sister's obscenely bright lighting in the salon, I discovered I was pale and pasty and had bags and circles under my eyes. Maybe I had conveyed a desperate mom look? So, this morning before coming back to work, I took vitamins and decided to try the evils of tanning, to maybe get some color into the complexion.


     Also on Day 2: I told the kids I was staying home from work, sick. That way I could wear normal clothes and head to Buffalo to shop. Update: I am still not completely finished.
      Another update: Approximately 4 hours after I purchased an entire set of books for Kaila - she took the first in that same set out at the library. I told her the book was bad and inappropriate and that she was NEVER allowed to read such drivel, and to return it immediately. I think the terse admonishment of taking out such terrible trash to read might have worked. If she's reading it, it's in secret, because it does not appear she has touched it since. Had I not mentioned it, she would have had the entire series finished before Christmas. Desperate measures and stuff.


     This weekend, I had planned to bake things. I even started looking at recipes so I could decide what I needed to add to the shopping list.
       That time needs to be spent cleaning the house. Today is day 2 that I have left the house without a coat, because I cannot find mine. Which seems to be a trend around here lately. I have lost: My vehicle keys, glasses, socks, 2 coats and, apparently, my mind. Anyhow, I have decided that this weekend might be better spent getting my house in order and finishing up the shopping and wrapping. Santa will probably end up with Oreos. Again.




     Back to work again, after 4 days off, we had all chipped in for a few sub platters and brought in dishes to pass, to celebrate Christmas. About an hour after lunch was finished, a completely disgruntled employee from Buffalo crossly demanded we let him in, and shouldered through the door of the clinic with a Christmas lunch from the powers that be, up in Buffalo. He unceremoniously dumped it on the break room table, and stomped back out again. We hesitated to say Merry Christmas to him, either.


     While out and about shopping, I also noticed: there are no bell ringers! No Salvation Army pots, no people standing at the doors of the local stores. Nothing.


     This past weekend we DID see two men riding horses up and down the road, singing Christmas Carols. No one seemed to notice. Most of our town didn't even put up Christmas lights this year.


     Not going to lie. This has really dampened my enthusiasm for the entire season.


     Also, Flashlight, the cat, was running from Turbo, the dog. During the chase, the Christmas tree was knocked over. The dog seemed terribly repentant, and clearly felt just awful about it. The cat was smug and seemed to feel that this was richly deserved. Anyhow. Our tree topper angel, with us for nearly 20 years, and every Christmas that Bearded Man and I have been together, no longer lights up. When your angel refuses to light up, you may as well resign yourself to just getting through the rest of the season as best you can.


Christmas Eve, we will go to church. Joe will be Joseph in the Christmas pageant this year. George has decided to sing in the Children's Choir. And, if the weather and energy hold, the girls and I will pick up my sister and her kids and head to Buffalo for midnight mass, and to hear the amazing choir beforehand. Hopefully, it will help get everyone into the magical place that seems to difficult to find this year.


     Ah well. Peace on Earth, Goodwill toward men. We certainly could use more of it.

The Chaos Theory

    When we were younger, my Dad, a Meteorologist with the National Weather Service, would talk sometimes about the Chaos Theory. Where, one small thing can happen on the other side of the planet, which, thru a series of events, can turn into a major event or catastrophe halfway around the world.


     Nothing quite as dramatic as all that, but, how did my house turn into a zoo?


     We began with Flashlight. The cat. Who has never been particularly thrilled with most other animals. Except fish, because they are scrumptious when eaten fresh out of an aquarium.


     Then came Buster, the dog. An anxiety ridden thing who is self appointed protector of the kids. No one will ever raise their voice to them, they will not fight, argue or get rough with each other, without Buster intervening, and, anyone who walks within eyesight of the house at anytime is clearly out to murder his entire family, and we must all be alerted immediately. The poor creature is a wreck most of the time, trying to protect this ungrateful family of stupid people who willingly allow potential murderers into the house on a fairly regular basis. The Mail Lady will eventually be the death of all of us.


     Almost by accident, came Turbo. Who loves all people, and would love nothing more for every single person in the entire world to come to the house and have a wonderful time, and take what you need, including the kids, and can I show you where the valuables are kept, new BFF????


     Then, this summer, we were given lots of guppy fish. Who love nothing more than to produce even more guppy fish. Which will probably mean a larger fish house in the fairly near future. We love nothing more than to hear the excited voices of the children announcing that "Three more look pregnant, Mom!"


     The week before Thanksgiving, Joe came home with a note. The note indicated that his class had taken on all sorts of small assorted animals from all different geological habitats, for some Unit they were studying. Apparently no one was willing to come in and deal with these animals thru Thanksgiving vacation, so, it was decided they should be raffled off Chinese Auction style. The note mentioned that no children would be able to participate without signed permission from parents, and breezily assured us that these animals were easy to care for, food for them was readily available at Wal Mart, and that the children were aware of how to care for each animal.
     Joe was thrilled. His very own pet. He begged. He pleaded. He guaranteed he was able to take care of whatever he brought home. He was certain he could win one. He already had a plan. I signed the paper without much thought. What were the odds? A few animals, lots of kids - there was a very small chance he would bring anything home.
     Wrong. Joe had a plan. What possessed me to underestimate my brilliant kid, I have no idea. But, Joe had no doubt that he was coming home with SOMETHING, and he did, indeed, have a plan. He waited until all the other kids had put their raffle tickets into the Chinese auction bags. He then did a walk thru, inspecting the bags, and then putting his tickets into bags that had either no tickets, or, very few. Thus guaranteeing himself a new pet.
     We now own a frog. Or a toad. I don't even know. His name is something along the lines of "Mr. Adorable Awesome Frog Dick" because, my children insist that all our pets must share our last name. And someday, when they are all grown up, I will absolutely sit at some holiday meal and share every single one of the pet names that they have had throughout the years, and they will finally appreciate why Mom closed her eyes and shuddered after every single new pet name announcement.
     Anyhow. We found out that Wal Mart does NOT, indeed, carry frog food - aka - crickets. Live crickets. The amphibian needs live things to eat.  So, I located a pet store, and we went in search of a frog/toad appropriate tank and crickets.
      Where, along with crickets, we found every single sort of pet any kid could ever want. There were fish, (saltwater and freshwater) turtles, frogs, crabs, crabs with painted shells, chinchillas, hamsters, and, birds.


     "Mom." began Lexi, "I have never had my own pet. Ever. Every time we tried, they only wanted Kaila. Now we have all these animals, and I am the only kid without a pet. Can I please have a bird?" So, next up: a bird.


     Meanwhile, the crickets are not happy about being frog food. They have demonstrated their displeasure in a pretty startling way.
     Every time they are thrown into the frog tank, they immediately launch themselves into the water dish and die.
     "Mom. Is it NORMAL for crickets to kill themselves?" wondered Joe.


     The frog is onto them though. Now it grabs the crickets before they can get to the water dish.
      Also, the frog seems to me to be a little on the malevolent side. Every time I look at it, I get the impression it would murder me in my sleep if it could. (That being said, it is currently residing next to the fish aquarium in the boys' room) It seems a little creepily threatening to me, but, I could be wrong.


     To wrap it up:


      School pets =


     Joe pet =


     Frog =


     Trip to pet store =


     Crickets to feed and house =


     Birds =


     Back the first pet, Flashlight. Who probably thinks these are all her Christmas presents.


Cause and effect and all that.