Christmas is finally over. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas (the idea of it, anyway), but working retail for eight years (two of which were spent as a store manager of a specialty retailer) has conditioned me against it. The holiday spirit can be a great thing, but I've seen a lot of greedy Grinches (usually more of them than Santa's elves). I'm not free of blame.
On Christmas Day, after everyone had left the house except me, my husband, and the kids, I was bored and ready to get out of the house. I wanted to get wings or stop in a store for a bit. Anything to get out of the house. It's messed up. Granted, I live with my in-laws right now while we wait for our short-sale house purchase to get completed (that's a whole other story) so that might have something to do with my cabin fever.
Truth be told, the day did go well. My daughter got some great presents and my mom really cleaned up (I got her a new wireless printer and digital camera). My son is under a year old so he was just excited to see the family together (and get his hands on any wrapping paper not monitored by an adult). Even still, it can be a little disappointing when you're an adult. It's great watching your kids open presents (except for the whining about "how do I do this? I can't make it work!" and other delightful childhood quandaries), but one of the mildly depressing things is when you give better gifts to your parents than they give to you (which can happen as early as teenage years depending on their "Give-a-Shit" meter). The other part of that is if it's because of monetary reasons, which is depressing on its own because you may be forced to admit that things for your parents might not be as financially good as you had believed (or wanted to believe). The other thing you have to accept when you're a parent is that you are a second-class citizen to your parents. It's all about the grandkids, WHICH IS HOW IT SHOULD BE. That's probably the best part, actually. Knowing how much your kids are loved.
Wow, now that I've thoroughly depressed and cheered myself up, I'll move on to the day after Christmas. If you work retail, expect to work on this day. The funny part was how nasty the weather was and how little people wanted to be out in it. We did half the business we did last year. The store was empty for the last 45 minutes we were open. It was kinda awesome. The best part is that I was off work today. Why is that great? Because the weather was good and everyone who would have gone out yesterday, apparently went out today. I know this because my store manager called to ask me to come in early tomorrow just in case the onslaught of shoppers continues.
To continue with today, I should relay a story of what just happened with my kids twenty minutes ago. Let me set up a little background. My daughter is from my first marriage. Her dad sees her for a day or two every two weeks, which is fine because it means I have her the rest of the time. My son is teething and hasn't ever truly slept through the night. We let him cry for fifteen minutes tops and then check on him. My husband is out picking up food. The baby is crying over the monitor. He sounds upset, but I let it go. My daughter is concerned. She keeps asking if I can check on her brother, which is very sweet since she's five. It's been fifteen minutes and he doesn't seem to be letting up. I don't know the status of his feeding since my husband fed him last. I leave my daughter downstairs on the sofa coloring a picture and take a bottle upstairs. He's hungry, sort of. My son suckles with his eyes closed and I know he's going down, but I still plan on singing to him to reinforce the things that go along with bedtime when I hear screaming. I mean, I-fell-down-the-stairs-and-both-my-legs-are-broken screaming so I take the bottle out of the baby's mouth, set him down gently and tear down the stairs as quickly as possible. What do I find? Does my daughter have broken legs? Blood pouring down her face? Nope, she wanted help coloring. We had a chat about when you scream like that. Yep, parenting. It's about the little things.
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