The Magic of Christmas

Is it already Thursday? That's too bad. Was trying to “sleep in” on my little school holiday but Baby Elspeth is lying here singing really loud and ruining it. I just realized that she sleeps in her shoes. Whatever shoes they are. She loves shoes so much that she doesn't take them off to go to sleep. Should I yell at her at night to make sure and take off her shoes? Prolly not. Who cares. I guess. I mean, I hope God or the pediatrician doesn't care.

So today we're going to gather all our inner resources and go look out for Christmas clothes for the children, with the children. The three little girls already have little silver sparkly dresses, so it is the more difficult matter of Elphine, who isn't going to want silver sparkly, and the boys, who are surprisingly fussy when given any choice at all. I'm not in the habit of giving choices. “You'll like this, won't you,” I say sternly, my brow furrowed, trying to indicate to the child that they had better well like it because we're all tired and the little girls are lying on the floor about to start screaming and so we really don't want them to quibble about anything, especially if everything already goes. E.s.p.e.c.i.a.l.l.y.s.i.n.c.e.e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.a.l.r.e.a.d.y.g.o.e.s I explain through clenched teeth.

Maybe it will be super fun and everyone, including me, will have a fun time. I always love the end result. All the children sparkly and shiny in beautiful clothes, staring angrily at me and crying as I try to get that one perfect picture, just one, of them all looking equally angry at the same time, for the top of my blog. It's the magic of Christmas.

Yesterday we, Matt's mom and I, sat down to watch White Christmas, which I love very much, as the children whined and cried about wanting to watch some other kind of something. “It's a war movie,” we explained. “See, the bombs are just about to go off.” They eventually gave up and went away, when the singing became to much for them.

So much of the joy of parenting, for me, is gently exsasperting my kids and then forbidding them from fussing. It's one small way I hope to prepare them for reality. You have your great big beautiful expectations and plans, and all the adults around you are prepared to make all your dreams and hopes come true…well, some of them…but only after you have squirmed and suffered just a little bit. And don't complain, because the Isrealites complained in the wilderness and lots and lots of them died. So don't complain!

The sadism and manipulation helps me get through the long bleak stressful Christmas season. I hope you all understand that I'm mostly joking. 90% jest. For real.

So anyway, hope you all have a lovely day carrying on in whatever manner you like best.