The sound was a thwap and a roll, hollow plastic bouncing and traveling across the floor. My new Christmas tree balls were this moment’s entertainment. The “ball balls” were being extracted from their big clear box and thrown while I hurried to put my laundry away. Although that’s exactly why I bought those, I underestimated the little monkey’s reasoning skills.
Every day is jam-packed with holiday fun.
Not unlike any other day in my life, I’ve been cramming the carrying out of Christmas details into the tiny time slots when I’m kid free. I got started early! Then stalled. And then the holiday started to close in on me and every other person in the free First world.
No one to impress but me, I knew I had time. But the tree had been lit and yet naked for a week. On the heels of the Christmas ball shot put incident, the unearthing of ribbon and tinsel garland set off a playing frenzy with Fiona dragging the garland around screaming “Mine, Mine” while the cat chased and pounced on the end. I’m not accustomed to the toddler mayhem yet. I like my holiday decorating to be quiet thinking time for me. Ha!
Today was cookie making day as well. My son and husband conceived that cookies would be Eamon’s offering to the school class party. I apparently was no where around for this important strategy tete a tete because I am no cookie baker. And alas, Pilsbury’s Sugar cookies with embedded Christmas tree designs that you just cut and bake were all gone from the grocery store’s refrigerated section. So I talked myself up into helping Eamon make chocolate chip and sugar cookies. From scratch.
I hate baking because I’m a cook. Exact measurements? And a toddler who refused to eat her dinner and is now milling around your feet and now falling off the step stool knocking sprinkles everywhere? Call them disaster cookies.
I was feeling generally hostile and irritated and pulled out just enough patience to have Eamon do most of the work. And yes, for her sake and mine, I sent Fiona out to Dada who was doing train garden setting up.
I enjoy my domesticity straight up. I am good with all the ten million details of Christmas but I just want to do them alone. No I don’t want to ever bake cookies with the kids again unless they are well-behaved young adults. No they won’t ever be decorating my Christmas tree unless they’ve proven to have tree decorating abilities. And yes, I will totally take advantage of their cute art project creations to make gifts for people at Christmas and cash in on their one absolute contribution. Creative mindless fun. The rest of Christmas is serious business and better left to the professionals.
Merry Christmas to all you perfectionistic special event planners and decorators otherwise known as moms across the world. You’ve given enough. Take a seat and enjoy the event because it’ll be over in a blink.
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I’m no cookie baker either but points on all the distractions. I would have given up! Happy, Merry Christmas!
Glad to know there are other proud non-bakers in the world. And you know there’s no surrender, no defeat when it comes to making Christmas spirit gosh darnit.
Merry Christmas to your husband and kitties!
I’m still baking cookies, Shalagh, but the tree is finally decorated. Boy, Fiona is getting so big and looks adorable wrapped in garland. I could just picture the whole scene with the cat pouncing on it. It sounds really sweet actually. I hope you get some down time to put your feet up! Have a wonderful Christmas!
Thank Amy. There are no more cookies and the tree is as crunchy as it usually is at this point. Tomorrow is the Decorations post. I was very tickled by the kid/kitty shenanigans. Merry merry to you and yours.
‘Until they are young professional adult people, I would rather do it myself’… outward perfectionism in a nutshell.
Yes, absolutely Adam, I do not pretend to not be perfectionistic and the quote is “well-behaved young adults’. Didn’t you hear? It’s OK to be not OK.