It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
2005-12-21, 1:12 p.m.

Yes, you and Katie can walk the two blocks to S0nic. But it�s freezing out, so you need your big coat and gloves and a hat.

Yes, you need to wear a hat.

You haven�t had a shower this morning and your hair looks horrible anyway, hat hair is the least of your worries. You have to keep warm. You can NOT get sick at Christmas.

Put. The. Hat. On.

NOW.

Make that noise at me one more time, young lady, and you�re grounded.

The headband covers only your ears. Wear. A. Hat.

You are not leaving the house until you have on a hat.

If I drive over to S0nic to check on you and you�ve taken that hat off, I am driving your butt straight home and you will be grounded. You had better thank God that I haven�t grounded you already for your attitude.

I cannot afford for you to get sick now. We are leaving tomorrow. You have to stay well, you cannot get your grandmothers sick.

I don�t care whether you want to or not, we are going. Tomorrow.

PUT. THE DAMN. HAT. ON.

I have at least five more years of this. Joy.

Oh, they�re back. Wearing hats.

Yes, I know I gave you only $6 for S0nic.

HOW did you pay for $11 worth of food?

Yes, I�ll go by after while and pay for the rest of it. (In quarters, the only cash left in the house, and including a nice tip, because the server paid for the rest of their feast.)

*sigh*

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On a good note, I have a spiffily running car.

The guys at the shop commented on how they don�t normally have to fix such things on a newer car. I told them that it had been backed into last Christmas, and they said THAT explains it. Nearly all of the big repairs were residuals from last year. Invisible stress fractures, something knocked a quarter-inch off kilter, and normal wear and tear took it from there. There is no way to recoup anything from the lady�s insurance company, but everything�s fixed, and once again we have a great car.

I love my car.

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Daughter had three friends over yesterday evening and together they invented a version of War, called Spoon. Each hand, the loser has to eat a spoonful of their concoction, which was made of Cool Whip, Tabasco, lemon juice, Easy Cheese, and Worcestershire.

No barfing, but an awful lot of choking and spitting, and then four teenagers scrubbing a kitchen without a single complaint, because I fed a spoonful of the stuff to the one kid who won every round. Amazing how well they listened after that. Think you can mix it up and not take it? MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

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Tomorrow the kids and I head for SC, with Hubby coming on Saturday, for my mother�s annual Christmas Eve drop in. That means it�s time for Mama�s annual Christmas Eve Drop In Preparation Angst, Eye-Rolling, Comment-Muttering, And General Daughter Annoyance. The phone fun has already begun.

Mama: WHEN ARE YOU COMING? I need you to get my house in order! (Translation: I haven�t thrown anything away in 73 years and I have more furniture than six families put together, you have twelve hours to make it ready for the cover of S0uthern Living.)

Me: We�ll be there Thursday.

Mama: WHAT TIME? I need you to get my house in order! I have to make cookies and my candy and S.O. wants to make a cake. (Translation: We plan to make a big ass mess in the kitchen and you can clean it and everything else, no problem.) And what time on Saturday is Hubby coming? He isn�t planning on getting here after the party�s started, is he? And you are coming back by after Christmas (we split the time between Mama and MIL) to help take down my tree and put everything in the attic, aren�t you? You have to come by, you told me you were coming by, but I probably can�t count on you and I�ll end up just having to hire somebody to do it like I do for everything else because you can�t come and help me (Yes, Mama, I live just 350 miles away, I�ll be over in a few minutes to help you look for that paper you can�t find/ bring in the groceries/ winterize the back porch/ ad infinitum).

Then we get to my favorite part, The Helping Out With Christmas Check.

Mama: Did you get that check I sent you?

Me: Yes, thank you, but I was planning to give it back to you.

Mama: No, go ahead and cash it, I want to help you out with Christmas for the children, and you bought those other gifts I needed.

Me: Are you sure?

Mama: Yes, go ahead and cash it.

Me: ::::::::::wait for it::::::::::::

Mama: I had my van looked at and it has (1,2,3,4,5,6.....17,001...)things wrong with it, I can get away with not having (#745) fixed for now but when I do it�s going to cost around $1,000, I don�t know where I�m going to get the money, I have so many bills, I�m trying to get things paid off but I just don�t know where the money�s going to come from, I am so afraid of getting behind....

:::::::::::::::::::continue in this vein for 38 minutes:::::::::::::::::::

Hubby has always said that my mother is so high-strung that if you could pluck her, she�d twang. He is also a master at the art of disappearing so he doesn�t have to put up with it. Rat bastard. If he shows up late on Saturday, guaranteeing that I will hear about it until The End Of Time, I will grant him sole custody of her in our divorce, and the kids and I will live incognito somewhere in Canada.

Maybe Australia.

Or Europe.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Merry Christmas.

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