Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Everyone telling you be of good cheer . . .

This is the most wonderful time of the year. I truly believe that. However, it can also be the busiest and most stressful. All fall, I've been eagerly awaiting the holidays season, certain that the bub would be so much more excited and delighted than he was last year. And, he has been. He loves watching Christmas Eve on Sesame Street, pointing to pictures and figures of Santa and saying "ho ho," derailing the train that runs around the base of our tree, kissing his Big Bird and Cookie Monster ornaments good night, and playing in the snow. I anticipate a lot of smiles to come, but I find myself, this year more than ever, feeling an intensified sense of hope/pressure to maximize the holiday experience. Isn't it my job to help the bub start making Christmas memories?

Newly-Made Holiday Memory #1
So the holiday plan for today was simple: go downtown to see dad's new office and then have a nice holiday lunch as a family. I gave it my all. I got the bub all suited up in his gray flannel pants, his turtleneck, and his choo choo holiday sweater vest. He not only agreed to wear the double-breasted little British boy wool coat my mom bought him but also wore the matching, velvet trimmed hat that went with it. I left in plenty of time but then found that the garage in my hubby's office building was full. I am not that familiar with the Chicago Loop (the business-type area downtown where the hubby works). Tedious story made short(ish), I had to drive around for thirty minutes to find another garage, frustrated by one way streets, aggressive pedestrians, and my own lack of geographical prowess. I call my hubby twice--illegally because I have again "misplaced" my hands free--to get some recommendations (not to bitch though, I'd never do that) and he doesn't pick up. But we make it.

After a small tussle solved by a pack of fruit snacks, the bub is secure in the stroller and we're heading to the office. As we head to the 28th floor, the bub drops two fruit snacks, the last two. I pick them up and have every intention of handing them back to him, but I want to wait until we're out of the elevator and out of sight of the guy who was in it with us. I'm not sure why I cared what this stranger thought about my "two second rule," but I did. Unfortunately, the bub did not know my game and started crying for the snacks. The hubby meets us outside the elevator doors and finds the bub transitioning into a mini-meltdown. The bub pulls himself together though and then parades through the office. We're not there long, but the bub manages to throw about a hundred business cards around daddy's office and nab a rice krispie treat from the office pantry.

Due to the parking delay, my dream of a sit-down lunch in a restaurant with cozy ambiance and some holiday decor was not destined to come true. We tried three places with no luck and settled for the most expedient option. That's right, I got the bub all dressed up and paid $19 to park for a holiday lunch at McDonalds. NTB. Granted, he does love the food, he dug the Strawberry Shortcake figurine that came in his happy meal, the price was quite reasonable, and we managed to nab a table near the Christmas tree. You've got to love a tree decorated with McDonalds gift cards and chained to the wall (would someone really steal a four foot Christmas tree from McDonalds?). Can you believe I forgot to take a picture?

Newly-Made Holiday Memory #2
Last Friday afternoon got particularly long. In the interest of passing the time and trying to be a supermom, I found a sugar cookie recipe and discovered that I had the necessary ingredients. The bub and I made the dough and a nice mess, and then I realized the dough had to chill. So, it chilled and when Saturday afternoon got long, the bub "helped" me cut out the cookies. I baked several dozen cookies cut from miniature holiday cookie cutters and even made some icing. And then, I put the cookies in a plastic container and placed them on top of the microwave. They have remained there un-iced ever since. So tonight, the hubby says, "Are you going to ice these?" I answer honestly, "No." "Why not?" he queries. "Well, have you tasted one. They're not good. They're salty." That's right, too salty. Not too hard or too soft but too salty. The hubby samples a few and then says, "You know what these taste like . . . those Tostitoes with lime chips." Enough said. NTB.

3 comments:

Actchy said...

Holy crap this post is making me laugh out loud. I actually think you're doing an A+ job making Christmas memories for your family. One of my favorite holiday recollections is the year when the only way my parents could get our tree to stand upright was by tethering it with dental floss to various points on the bay window behind it. The absurdities of life make for the best stories.

M said...

I think next year is the year. Three is a turning point for the whole Christmas magic, I applaud your efforts and your ability to laugh about it. We'll keep the Cincinnati train display in the rotation as well.

Steph said...

I thought the Christmas outfit was just adorable, as is the Bub! He's such a happy, smiley guy! I was totally impressed at his ability to deal with 63 other people in a tiny little house!

 
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