Scary Mommy's Guide to Surviving the Holidays (7 page)

BOOK: Scary Mommy's Guide to Surviving the Holidays
7.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

20

HOW TO BUY A CHRISTMAS TREE WITH A PRESCHOOLER AND A KINDERGARTENER

by Kim Bongiorno

1.
 Select the first below-thirty-degree day of the year to do your Christmas tree shopping. Make sure your husband is MIA because of work, if at all possible.

2.
 Pick your three-year-old daughter and five-year-old son up from school. Tell them you have a BIG SURPRISE.

3.
 Bring them home, make both pee without removing all their clothes, rebundle them, and grab snacks and water, all while batting away screeches of delight and nagging inquiries about the surprise. (“Is Santa here? Are we getting a cookie? Are we going to the airport? Is
Max & Ruby
on? Are we going to the LEGO store?”)

4.
 Get them back in the truck and buckled in.

5.
 Try not to go deaf during the drive to charity Christmas tree
sale.

6.
 Park.

7.
 Pull out camera, gloves, and measuring tape.

8.
 Hop out of the truck, swinging open the back door with a made-up song about how HUGE a tree you're gonna get this year.

9.
 Look over shoulder.

10.
 Realize tree sale doesn't open for another three hours.

11.
 Get back in the truck.

12.
 Drive weeping children back home.

13.
 Unbundle children, placate them with another annoying episode of
Max & Ruby
in the family room for her,
G-Force
(for the thousandth time) in the basement for him.

14.
 Console.

15.
 Hug.

16.
 Wipe tears.

17.
 Bribe.

18.
 Beg for mercy, swear they can buy the biggest damn tree in the place if they just. Stop. Whining.

19.
 Wait three hours.

20.
 Make them pee (again).

21.
 Bundle them up (again).

22.
 Put them in the car with snacks and waters (again).

23.
 Call friend to meet you there.

24.
 Drive to charity Christmas tree sale (again).

25.
 Confirm they are open, seventy-five times.

26.
 Tell children you need two Very Special Helpers to pick out the Christmas tree.

27.
 Explain to the three-year-old that no, you can't buy the wooden sign in the shape of a tree OR the tree painted on the side of the trailer.

28.
 Watch three-year-old stomp her foot over inability to buy trees that aren't actually trees until some old dude who works there and has experience with ornery grandchildren distracts her.

29.
 Lose the five-year-old amidst the trees.

30.
 Find the five-year-old.

31.
 Ask for the tall trees.

32.
 Lose the three-year-old while walking toward the tall trees.

33.
 Find the three-year-old.

34.
 Gently remind children that if they run off again they will
not
get a Christmas tree, or presents, or joy.

35.
 Silently pray you don't have to actually follow through on
that.

36.
 Feel a twinge of guilt asking two old dudes to heave some nine-foot-tall trees up so you can inspect them before choosing one. The trees. Not the old dudes.

37.
 Endure the sobs of your five-year-old, who is insisting he
“HATE that tree, MAMA” and wants one of the stacked and bound trees not on display.

38.
 Watch three-year-old try to spear herself with a wrought iron tree stand.

39.
 Act all excited about the tree you've chosen in an attempt to round up unruly kids, asking old guys to hold it up to take a photo of the kids in front of it.

40.
 Watch the kids both start crying and yelling that they want different trees while running in opposite directions.

41.
 Tell the frightened old dudes, “We'll take it.” Force smile.

42.
 Watch five-year-old stop crying quickly enough to maneuver himself behind the high school volunteers who are now trying to chainsaw the tree trunk.

43.
 Grab five-year-old.

44.
 Lose sight of three-year-old (again).

45.
 See friends coming.

46.
 Find three-year-old when she dashes from behind a display of Douglas firs to join her friends.

47.
 Finally see the kids cheer up when all four of them start making fun of you in unison.

48.
 Walk away from annoying kids to pay for tree.

49.
 Try not to pass out at the price of a nine-foot Christmas tree.

50.
 Distract kids with piles of leaves while high school boys take foooooreeeeeveeer to tie the tree to the roof of the truck.

51.
 Tell the kids, “It's time to get in the truck!” and watch three-year-old refuse to go home with you.

52.
 Have no problem allowing friend to drive three-year-old in her car back to your house because she's a pain in the ass anyway. The three-year-old. Not the friend.

53.
 Get five-year-old in truck.

54.
 Watch high school boys climbing all over car, seeming unsure of what they are doing.

55.
 Offer to help.

56.
 Be told,
“I
totally
know what I'm doin', man.”

57.
 Contemplate the meaning of being called a man, again. Make New Year's resolution to not get mistaken for a man.

58.
 Accidentally give the high schoolers the $20 bill instead of the $10 when tipping.

59.
 Curse under your breath in the car about the ridiculous overtip.

60.
 Have five-year-old with apparent supersonic hearing ask what that word just meant.

61.
 Tell him it was an accident. “We don't say that word.”

62.
 Have him tell you, “But you just did.”

63.
 Change the topic.

64.
 Drive home.

65.
 Open garage door remotely, almost pulling in with a tree on your roof.

66.
 Slam on brakes so as to not crush newly purchased tree or garage door trim.

67.
 Park car in driveway, wait for friend to meet you there.

68.
 Go directly into the house for wine with your friend—I mean, to let the kids play or whatever.

69.
 Eat, drink, play, drink, eat more, chat, let the kids play more—oops, did we almost finish that whole bottle of red wine?

70.
 Break out some serious gingerbread man decorating skills.

71.
 See that it's time for your friend to head home.

72.
 Ask her to watch kids for a minute.

73.
 Walk out to the driveway with shears in hand.

74.
 Cut off the ties on the tree, climb up on rear bumper, and yank with all your might and 160 pounds of pure aggravation to get tree off the truck's roof.

75.
 Wonder whether the tree actually weighs more than you.

76.
 Be glad the driveway light isn't working so none of your neighbors can see you making an ass out of yourself in public, again.

77.
 Drag tree into garage.

78.
 Send off your friend.

79.
 Bathe kids, dress kids, read to kids, kiss kids, tuck kids in.

80.
 Soak up the silence of the house for exactly thirty seconds before getting back to some serious Christmas business.

81.
 Get tree stand and floor mat from the massive piles of holiday decor in guest bedroom.

82.
 Set up tree stand and floor mat in family room.

83.
 Return to garage.

84.
 Drag nine-foot-tall tree by yourself through the garage, up the steps, down the hall, through the kitchen and down the steps to the family room.

85.
 Take a deeeeep breath and heave the tree upright into the stand all on your own.

86.
 Do all sorts of funky yoga poses while turning the mile-long tree stand screws into the tree so it doesn't fall through the bay window/into the fireplace/onto your frail and exhausted body.

87.
 Shove the tree into the center of the room, cutting off all netting.

88.
 Tentatively poke at tree a couple times to ensure it is stable.

89.
 Water tree.

90.
 Sweep.

91.
 Sweep more.

92.
 Remember how much you hate pine needles.

93.
 Again with the sweeping.

94.
 Take a shower, scraping sap off on your hands and brushing pine needles from your hair.

95.
 Pull out all the tree lights. Think,
Screw it, lights will wait until morning
.

96.
 Watch Bravo.

97.
 Go to bed.

98.
 Wake up pretty darn sore.

99.
 Shower, prep breakfast, get the kids' school backpacks ready, lay out their clothes, write down your to-do list.

100.
 Get the kids out of bed.

101.
 Crankily rub aching lower back while following the kids downstairs to the kitchen.

102.
 Be stopped in your grumbly tracks by their momentary silent awe as they first see the Christmas tree all set up.

103.
 Almost get knocked over when hit with two running hugs
from delighted kids.

104.
 Grin genuinely ear to ear thinking about how much fun this is.

105.
 Wrap half a dozen strings of lights around tree without falling off ladder.

106.
 Let the kids hang a big box full of ornaments you love dearly and have had for years, barely cringing whenever (yet another) one crashes to the hardwood floor.

107.
 Crank up the holiday song mix you created and dance while your little elves put their finishing touches on the most beautiful tree you've ever seen.

108.
 Even if all the ornaments only go about a quarter of the way up.

109.
 Forget about the sore back, the sappy hands, the mild hangover, the pine needles, the lights that need to be hung outside, the shopping list, the enormous Christmas to-do list hovering over your head, and the general state of disarray of the house around you and only see a sweet rosy flush of excitement on the two most important people in the world as they bask in the simple joy of the holiday season.

21

SUCK IT, SANTA

by Julie Lay

Dear Santa,

We need to talk. Your fat jolly ass is really becoming a pain in mine. In order to keep up the ruse of you existing and all, I am being held hostage to a toddler's irrational demands.

You see, whenever we enter the holy land that is Target nowadays, every awesome shiny thing up in there becomes something we should “ask Santa for.” And if I don't pony up said shiny things from “Santa” on Christmas Day, my daughter's childhood will be ruined and she will be doomed to a life of working the pole.

All because of you.

Well, Santa, your ass owes me money. A lot of money. And I am booking a flight straight to the North Pole to collect.

You see, Santa, we both know that you are a deadbeat mythical figure, but my doe-eyed toddler doesn't. She thinks that you are all magical and shit and that you can fart Cookie Monster keyboards and Barbie dolls.

I, on the other hand, know that you are just another way
for our kids to milk us for even more plastic crap under the guise of “holiday spirit.” I'm just lucky that my kids don't know the wonder of the iPod touch or Wii U yet. Now, that is some naughty shit, Santa. Also, because you are too lazy to make an appearance more than one day a year (DIVA!), you hire alcoholic homeless men to sit in fancy chairs and act like they are you at malls all over the world.

Seriously? You couldn't find a few guys with white beards who didn't smell like a mix of sewer water and Mad Dog 20/20 to play you? Every time my daughter sits on one of their laps I have to hose her off with a bath of penicillin when we are done.

And it is so not cool that you sit at the North Pole all year, getting shitfaced with elves while I am stuck here at home doing your slave labor. Not only do you not make any lists, let alone check them twice, but you also don't shop or pay for any of the items requested by the boys and girls on said list. But, come December 25, your overweight ass sure does shimmy down my chimney, eat all of my cookies, and pop back out just so you can take all the credit.

What the fuck, Santa? I had to drive all over God's green earth and Toys “R” Us just to procure that limited-edition dollhouse that my toddler just had to ask you for, and you can't even cough up the change to pay for it? But I have to say it was from you? That is some bullshit. You must have some kind of airtight union contract that allows you to sit back and reap all the benefits of gift-giving while us drones at home do all the manual labor.

Suck it, Santa. I want my money back.

Oh yeah, and can I have a pony? I've always wanted one of those.

BOOK: Scary Mommy's Guide to Surviving the Holidays
7.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Marriage With Benefits by Kat Cantrell
Chains by A. J. Hartley
Reparation by Sawyer Bennett
The Count From Wisconsin by Billie Green
Dancing in the Darkness by Frankie Poullain
In a Good Light by Clare Chambers
Sphinx's Queen by Esther Friesner
Innocent Darkness by Suzanne Lazear