Taking a Pass

So…I’ve been absent. *ahem*

I did have the flu. A brief bout.

And then I had: The Christmas Play. Ok, plays. Plural. Now, the Christmas Play is always a big event, but I’m told the Welsh take particular pride in theirs. Honestly, Broadway musicals are probably opened with less rehearsals than what go on at my kidlings’ school, although our budget is basically nil – the backdrop projected on a large sheet hung at the back of the assembled stage, on which the kids wear no shoes, lest their lines be drowned out by the echoes of heavy feet.

Still, every year, I never fail to be amazed at what the teachers can wring out of Reception, Year 1 and Year 2 children – basically, 4, 5 & 6 year olds. This year, many of them had solos – including my Pea, who FORGOT TO TELL HER MOTHER that she was going to do this.

Of all the ages, this is my favorite, as it always turns out to be a true nativity – the King, off to the side, slightly bored but armed with a dagger, making stabby motions at the audience…or his trusty camel…and then the trusty camel stealing said dagger, and doing the same….or the Roman soldiers, comparing their costumes on stage. There is always the one child who knows EVERYONE’S lines, and either mouths them, or glares at the child who has forgotten theirs as if mentally projecting the words from her mind to theirs; and of course, you must have the one child who sings blissfully unaware that he is one or two words behind everyone else.

And that is just the littlies – Boo had his own play, as did the Years 5 & 6. ┬áLots of dress rehearsals, two nights each of performances…and lots of rehearsals.

Needless to say, all this effort generally reduces the my children to exhausted, whining, monsters that I have before me now. And I’m so fed up, so burned out with the bickering and back-talking, I’m ready to take a pass on Christmas.

I know I’m not the only one. And I love Christmas – really love it – but I just can’t get into the spirit this year. Not even the presence of a really fake tree – meaning no needles to vacuum, nothing to water – so nothing to kill – can perk me up at this point.

Even Alfie, our damn shelf elf, isn’t doing his job…or working his magic. Hmmm. I wonder if someone handled him when I wasn’t looking??? Nah, if they aren’t afraid of my threats, why believe a plastic-headed Elf.

And seriously, it’s hard enough to remember to move his merry little ass, but when you’re lacking in spirit? Let’s just say that the PG-rated locations are all that I find amusing these days. Seriously, The Bearded Iris is my HERO. When I’m cranky, this is what I do:

Which the Hubs finds highly inappropriate, but I don’t much care. My kids are still innocent….

Listen, if I can’t have a little fun with it, I’d completely lose interest – I mean who could find the motivation when I have days where it takes 45 minutes to get your daughter into the bathtub, followed by one HOUR of “I don’t have anything Christmassy to wear”, and “I don’t know what I want to wear”, and “I want you to help me” (which loosely translates into “I need you to listen to me piss and moan”)…just so you can shlep everyone to go into town to pick up the turkey that you will cook Christmas Day (only to have the 5yo ask for a hot dog because she doesn’t like YOUR turkey “it’s not like what we have at school”), all the while the 5 yo is melting down about having to walk, because: “My puffy coat is pushing down my tights”. WTH?

Yes. So…bickering, poking, punching, whining, screaming….holiday spirit? Not so much.

Today, a fellow mom saw me dragging ass through town with my two, looked at me sympathetically, and said “They tend to get better by Boxing Day”.

Oh, joyous words.

* * * * *

Anyway, I DO have Pea’s singing debut on my iPhone, so that whenever she really cranks it up, I can remind myself that on her good days, she really is an angel.


  1. I still love watching her sing. Think the angel will wear off on her. You should hope.

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