Best Intentions

It was in the 50's today and I decided that it would be a good idea to take down the Christmas lights while we still had a chance before bad weather strikes again. We're expecting pretty bad storms and then a drop back into the 30's tomorrow. This plan would have gone over better if our whole family wasn't sick.

The little ones are finally getting over the flu. MJ is down and out and I can feel the faintest tickle in the back of my throat, so I know my turn is coming. But weather like this is very rare in the middle of winter, so I told MJ I could take the lights down by myself. He objected. I pointed to the couch and out the door I went.

All was going well. I figured I would leave the icicle lights for MJ, but I could get all of the bushes and trees done. I was working on the last tree and I quickly figured I was going to need something to help me untangle the lights from the upper branches. I went back to the garage to look around. I knew when MJ put them up, he had used a special hook on the end of a pole, but if we still had it, it wasn't in here. Something caught my eye and I turned and decided that this would work instead- a paint roller attached to a long pole- perfect!

I gently raised the end with the paint roller through the branches and looped it around the light strand. I gave a gentle tug and...nothing. The branch had a tight hold on them and they were wedged in a comfy little fork. I looped through the lights again and tried lifting them up. The branches moved, the lights didn't. I decided to try going for the end of the lights strand at the top of the tree. I couldn't unwrap my roller from the lights. I twisted and turned and pulled.

Crap.

I let go of the pole and took a step back. The roller and the lights were hanging from the tree. Just as I was about to go back and try again, a hoarse voice from behind said,

"You're kidding me, right?"

I began laughing and asked MJ, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," he said. He came over and within two minutes had the paint roller and lights out of the tree. I knew he wouldn't be able to let me take down the lights alone- it's a Man's Job, after all.

"My hero," I said, and dramatically batted my eyes with hands clasped under my chin. "Would you like me to help you with the ones on the roof?"

MJ looked from the tree to me and then to the two-story roof of our house. "That's okay, I think I can manage."

Anticlimactic Christmas

All of the presents are unwrapped and the tins that held cookies and fudge are already washed and stored away. For weeks I've run around getting presents for family and friends, planning the dinner menu, and enjoying parties at school and with friends. The big buildup that comes before Christmas is like taking a deep breath and holding it, then the day comes and it's over before you know it- very anti-climactic, and I sit on the couch and think, huh, why did I get so worked up over this? But it's the same every year.

The night before E had trouble getting to sleep- he was too excited. So MJ and I had to wait until 1am to put presents under the tree. Bright-eyed and bushy tailed both boys appeared at my bedside at 6am ready to rip into the bounty that "Santa" had left under the tree. What took hours to wrap took minutes to tear through. Afterward, the boys looked at us and asked, "Was that everything?"

I know two kids who will NOT be getting as much for Christmas next year.

Once we got past the ungratefulness, the day was very quiet and relaxing. MJ and I helped E and C put their new Lego sets together. We played more video games than we should have and ate way too much junk food. MJ and I cooked dinner together and it was just as good as the holiday meals we used to travel to WV for.

By the days end we had one son with a fever and one well on his way to joining his brother in Sickville, a Mom with a bellyache due to too much turkey and Hershey Kisses, and one husband who was winding up a marathon of zombie shooting on the X-Box 360.

With New Year's closing in and MJ's birthday arriving soon after, I'm reluctant to take down any decorations until then. Packing everything away makes me sad and cold weather isn't as much fun without a Christmas tree. I want to curl up on the couch with a blanket and my new layer of holiday fat and hibernate until spring.

Things We Learn From Peter Griffin

I remember being 8 years old and running around our neighborhood with no parents in sight. There was a great place we called the "Dirt Pile", and it was just that. A few empty lots in the back of our neighborhood where three huge piles of dirt had been bulldozed and left. Trees and brush had begun to take over the hills and they resembled an oasis in the middle of a desert. Of course we were forbidden to play there- and of course we played there anyway. That day, many years ago, there were three of us playing in the little valley: me, my brother, and his friend Mike. I had learned a new phrase recently and was trying to use it every chance I got. To every statement or question I would answer:

"No shit Sherlock."

I knew if my Dad caught wind of my potty mouth he would switch me until I couldn't sit down for a week. When my brother threatened to tell, I reminded him:

"You tell on me, I'll tell Dad I saw you and Mike setting fire to your GI Joes."

First rule in sparring with siblings: you always keep an inventory of dirt on them.

I was cursing, but I was smart enough not to do it in front of my parents because there would be consequences.

Fast forward to December 10, 2010. I picked the boys up from school and told them I needed to return a movie.

"Will it take long?" E whined in the back seat. he was in a hurry to get home to play X-Box.

"No, it will only take a few minutes," I said. "Need I remind you this is the movie we rented for you two."

"Can we stay in the car?" C asked.

"Yes," I answered, knowing I could park directly in front of the Redbox. (Movies for a buck? Seriously? Who uses Blockbuster anymore?)

"Thank Christ."

"What did you say?!" The children were scared. As I repeated the question, giving them no time to respond, my voice had reached a pitch that only dogs could hear.

"Where did you hear that?"

Silence from the backseat.

E finally piped up, "We heard it on Family Guy Star Wars."

Oh, crap. The Family Guy Star Wars episode. It was my idea to let them watch it on the way to WV over Thanksgiving. MJ had objected, but I'd watched it before and assured him that there was nothing really bad in it. If he got wind of this little gem the kids picked up, I'd never hear the end of it. Already when he would catch me watching Family Guy after the kids were in bed, I would feel ashamed as he rolled his eyes and sighed. I'd resorted to quickly changing the channel when he came into the room to HGTV.

When we got home, I had a long talk with the boys about appropriate language and told them they would not be allowed to watch the Star Wars episode of Family Guy again. Later that night, once the whining died down, I heard the boys snickering in the living room.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

E immediately pointed at C, "C said a dirty word!"

I was livid. We had literally just talked about this. I would have been smacked in the mouth for saying dirty words. My Dad jumped all over me at the mall once for saying 'freakin' -and I was 13, not 6. I told C, "That is it. Go to your room and bring me a dollar from your bank and we're going to put it in a Swear Jar. Every time you say a bad word, you are going to do this. If you have no money, you will have to write an IOU and whatever money you get-allowance, birthday, whatever- will go in the jar. Now go."

C stomped upstairs to retrieve the money.

While he was out of earshot, I asked E, "What did he say?"

E leaned close and whispered, "ASS- teroid."

Ah, Christ.

Away in a Manger

Christmas came early this year- for me anyway. My husband, wanting to make up for the Great Bath Towel Gift Debacle of 2009, or Towel-Gate, as I like to call it- was busting at the seams to surprise me with my present. He knew he had selected the perfect present this year, however.

MJ is a practical man who picks out practical presents. I should feel lucky after talking to friends, to get gifts at all, but it's hard to feel excited when your husband presents you with a pillow for your bed or pots and pans. Christmas is a time for wants not needs. Pile on top of that the fact that exactly 1 minute after he purchases my gift he is positively flitting around the house trying to make me guess what it is. I almost always do and instead of denying it or playing it off (MJ is a horrible liar) he stomps his foot, gets angry, and says, "You're no fun. You always ruin the surprise." To be fair- the bath towels were a complete surprise. Did I mention, BATH TOWELS?

This year was no different as I spied the Willow Tree boxes in his home office while searching for some scotch tape.

"Oh, ho, ho, what do we have here?" I asked pulling the box from under his desk.

"You can never let anything be a surprise." MJ huffed.

"So, let's see the rest of it!" I had been asking for the Willow Tree Nativity for years to no avail. MJ had finally come through with a completely impractical gift. As I unwrapped shepherds, wisemen, and Mary with Baby Jesus I wove tales of how this would be passed on in our family for generations. Then I got to the last box...

"Where's the manger?" Let it be known, along with my requests for the Nativity, I had printed pictures.

"You never showed me a manger!" MJ feigned shock. I knew that he knew that he had seen a picture of the exact set that included a friggen' manger.

"Where is baby Jesus going to rest his weary head?" I asked, holding Mary out for his inspection. "Her arms are going to get pretty tired lugging Christ around all day."

"I got the rest of the figures for you, just set them on top of the cabinet. It will be fine," MJ said rolling his eyes. "You're so dramatic."

"I'm dramatic?" I asked, "Well, let me clue you in, oh husband of mine. The song goes, "Away in a MANGER, not Away on a DESKTOP."

"Yeah, well, it also said he had no crib for a bed." MJ crossed his arms and looked mighty satisfied with himself. I'm glad he was happy, because he wasn't winning any sexy-time points.

"FINE- I will arrange my white trash nativity on the freaking cabinet and all will be MERRY AND BRIGHT." I stomped out on another Christmas song reference- hey, why stop now.

I knew I was being a brat, that was predictable. What was also predictable- MJ getting online and ordering that manger.

Sexy-time points reinstated.