This isn't like me. I like to be prepared and aware; two steps ahead of schedule in the case the unexpected arises. This is also the first year my kids BEGGED me for money. They know that I stick to a strict "Want/Need/Wear/Read," one "big" gift from Santa and a stocking full of goodies. Y'all. I struggled. HARD. Sure, I was able to knock out the needs, wears, and reads... but they just want money. That's it. It's taking the magic out of my parental duties. And knowing they just want money? What is the fat man supposed to do with THAT??
Two days ago, Little discovered where I'd hidden their gifts. Granted, I found MY gifts every year and would sneak peeks under the edges of Christmas paper. I have never liked surprises, they made me increasingly anxious and I needed to know what kind of reactions to have. But Little? Little is different. He was just built that way. He opened the HVAC closet door, found a package with his name on it and unwrapped his "Want" gift while I was in the next room. My baby, the last kiddo to really show any excitement (in his own way) towards Christmas? He opened the one gift I was super excited about giving him; the coveted "My Partner Eevee" Pokemon animated over priced piece of plastic. Because it was underwhelmingly overpriced, I bought Eevee AND Pikachu. Because what's one annoying toy when you can have TWO annoying toys??! Through my tears -- shut up, I'm hormonal -- I managed to get an apology out of him for opening his gift before I could fully appreciate his glee and an agreement that mommy could wrap Pikachu back up and he wouldn't open ANY MORE gifts before Christmas.
This kid. He didn't know any better and he didn't know what he'd done. But it broke me. It could have been so much worse, and it really wasn't that terrible. I think it was knowing that those stupid plastic Pokemon were ALL he wanted and honestly, were the only toys I got him. This is a kid who's harder to please than he looks. I mean, for the last 6 years of his life I had to keep tabs on which Beanie Boos he already had as he collected a menagerie of animals, but specifically those big eyed creeps. There were Beanie Boos, small plastic animals (think Fisher Price Little People style), visually altering fidgets, light up toys, musical instruments... But Pokemon were his first REAL "special interest." I don't want to get into what special interests are for autistic kiddos, so research it yourself. It's a nightmare if you're not in the least bit interested and have a hard time faking interest for the sake of keeping the peace. But it's also mesmerizing to see his brain categorizing and digesting every little bit of information he can find.
Today I went on my lunch break trek to find Santa's gifts. I applauded myself for making it across town in under 15 minutes WITH holiday traffic, and as I sat through a third green light cycle at the turn going into the shopping center containing my beloved Target, I watched as a beat up Hyundai started merging into my lane with absolutely NO notion that she had any idea that uh... well... I was already in line and barely moving. She ended up dislocating my front bumper and fucking up my wheel well, but surprisingly good old Florence (my beautiful ruby red 2017 Nissan Pathfinder) survived the damage with nothing more than a glorified "flesh wound" that will need a bit of front end body work, but we were able to walk/drive away with no issues. Raise your hands in praise, y'all, because Mama ain't got the money to be throwing around for Uber or hitching rides. Florence was purchased as a fix to my major car fixing budget. I was able to power through Target as I mapped out where all three items were while waiting for the Cop to write up the police report. I was in and out of Target DURING THE HOLIDAYS in under 30 minutes AND I was only 10 minutes late coming back from my lunch break. Thank heavens for small miracles.
I really am grateful that nothing terrible happened when shit could have gone sideways a multitude of ways these past few days. Little didn't unwrap or destroy everyone's gifts and Florence drove away in (mostly) one piece and it was an obvious error on the other driver's part... I just. I'm trying so hard to not slip into the seasonal funk. I feel like I'm holding on tight to this rope and the skin on my hands is on fire trying not to let go. So, if any of my kids ask what they can get me for Christmas, here's my semi-selfish adultish Christmas list in no particular order:
- Florence needs to be detailed in/out with Little's seat sanitized and spit shined.
- I want a full body deep tissue massage that leaves me feeling like a glow stick that's been popped and shaken up real good.
- 3 nights alone on a beach. Ok, maybe not ALONE alone. I can have a visitor to tuck me in each night or to fetch me drinks.
- The house cleaned top to bottom with a hoarder version of Marie Kondo to organize all the things.
- A week off from work while the kids are in school so I can work on my mental health.
- Insurance that actually PAYS for mental health help.
- Anything from Tiffany & Co. I'll even settle for a receipt or empty shopping bag.
- Art supplies. I know that's vague, but I'm not sure what kind of supplies I need. I lost ALL of my art from my young adult years when we moved out of the "Divorce House." I've got some supplies still, but not my printmaking tools or fire hazard heap (paper scraps for collage work.) I want to work on some art, but at the same time, my carpal tunnel is over there leaning against the wall filing her nails sayin, "really girl? You sure about that?" And honestly, I just don't know. Maybe I'll start slow and just start cutting paper and see how the scissor work affects me.
- A fucking nap. Jeez oh man, just let a girl sleep. Uninterrupted. No Little body slamming me 20 minutes into a good doze, no MMA happening in the next room when Little decides to play superheroes with Big. No Middle getting sassy and waking me up out of spite. I need these kids to work together to just let me rest.
- A personal chef to feed these children.
- $1000 loaded on a grocery store gift card to make up for the BS these kids have put my pantry through. Little ate EIGHT yogurt tubes yesterday while I was at work. EIGHT. His good bacteria levels are probably ON POINT right about now.
- A Torrid shopping spree.
- A shopping spree, period.
- Another nap.
- On a beach.
- With a cabana boy to appear with every snap of my fingers.
- A mom can dream.
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