A Christmas Miracle

Christmas-Schmuckstmas 

I am a little grumpy about Christmas, so far.

First, it is because I am seeing so many blog posts about Christmas coming up on my Reader now and I am feeling a little left-out, as I am so not ready for it yet. This time last year, I was so hyped, because we were going to be at home, at the beach for a holiday, all with family so it was such a treat. This year, as I stand upon the cusp of hosting my very first Christmas with people invading arriving at my space, instead of the opposite, I am stressed. And when I am stressed, it hits my bowels and my ‘Noels’ hard.

It would be funny if I could point my finger and say, “Look! Satanic Christmas Tree!” But I haven’t seen anything as remotely silly this year. No, we have Santas who are fired for saying Ho, Ho, Ho, which isn’t funny, its sad. Ridiculously PC-sad.

Of course, there are nicer things I should dwell on: Christmas Card Challenges and Oxfam generosity (we’re up over $100!) for one.

Is anyone else feeling Scroogy? There’s Grumpy Old Men and Grumpy Old Women. I’m calling attendance for another club: the Grumpy Seasonal Citizen (GSC).

Anyone crafty enough to make buttons on Photoshop, or a similar program, can feel free to take that up and make one from it. Then tell me so I can slap one up too!

Happy soul, aren’t I? Just about ready to light a pyre and do a dance to the effed-up spirits of times past. [I wrote this about a week ago - just FYI.]

But No! NO! I am joyous today. For I have witnessed a miracle, my friends.

Yesterday I left my children at the gym crèche. Oh, no I didn’t?. Yes I did.

I wasn’t worried about my son, although I did fear my daughter would eat through the plasterboard in order to come find me on the treadmill, and then toss that thing aside like a wrestler and stand in front of me with her thumb in her mouth and mumble, “Mum. I want a snack. Let’s go home.”

But no, it didn’t play out like that. I returned after 45 minutes to see my children happily eating a banana each and then – get this – when it was time to leave, my daughter yanked her hand out of mine and said, “Mum, I don’t want to go yet.”

Well, I was amazed and came THIS CLOSE to French kissing all those lovely attendant women there for taking such good care of the kids.

I will return. Oh, yes.

It was a damn tasty treat, I must say.

Pass the Bonbons! Light up the trees! Let’s party! Let’s get drunk and slur the words to Silent Night together! Let’s eat the food we leave out for Santa and give ourselves indigestion for the rest of the week!

******

Thank you all yesterday for your comments both here and privately sent. I am touched, and thankful. I’m still sore, but I can live with it (but that said, if I have to ‘live with it’ for long, I WILL be back there, front and centre, to find out what the hell is going on.)

And – hey! – feed readers! I’ve got Twitter up and running over here. Come over occasionally and see what pithy things I can say in 140 characters or less.