CONFESSIONS OF A FACEBOOK FAILURE: Year 2
Day 18: Merry Friggin’ Christmas Folks!
In the wild rush between this and that and here and there, I heard an uncharacteristic whisper from my little people, signifying plans and preparation for the buttering up before yet another radical request.
I braced myself.
Butterer #1: “Mommy. I love when we make those candy cane reindeer. They’re just the best! Can we please make those for my class for tomorrow? Please?”
Butterer #2: “Oh please Mama. Me too? Can we make them for my class too? Please Mama.”
My Sane Inner Voice: “No!”
My Mama Inner Voice: “Well…we have a few seconds before the next this and that. I could simply swing over with my herd of little angels (I am sure they won’t melt down like maniacs as we cruise past the multitude of “Buy Me” Mountains, that are the infrastructure of Christmas coated “convenience” stores), jump in and grab the supplies lickety-split (I am sure the lines won’t loop and loop and loop around the store, giving me flashbacks to the ticket sale camp outs of my teens), and we’ll be back with time to spare to make memories and Christmas creations that even Pinterest would pride (I am sure none of my monsters will rip into their reindeer reserves with snarling teeth like rabid beasts, or wrestle for the peppermint parts like territorial tyrants leaving me with more of a moose massacre than Pinterest presents).”
And after careful consideration…
Mama wins by a landslide (not by logic). Or maybe I should say Mama loses. Either way, I agreed to lead my troops into a trap of impossibilities.
So as we immersed ourselves into the the Pit of Despair (a.k.a.Target with tots in craze of Christmastime), and quickly discovered the only available antlers were more rainbow than reindeer and the only available noses were more random than Rudolph, I had a choice…
My Sane Inner Voice: “Admit defeat. Get out while you can, shape some snowflakes out of scrap paper, and call it a Christmas Miracle you didn’t have to wait in that line.”
My Mama Inner Voice: “We could make this work.” (No we can’t!)
And after careful consideration…
Mama wins by a landslide (not logic). Or maybe I should say Mama loses. Either way, we headed home with a grab bag of neon nick knacks, resembling a Michael’s Outlet on Club Night, praying for that Christmas (or rather a Pinterest) Miracle.
6 little hands, a multitude of multicolored magic, a gallon of glue dripping over the dinner table (and dinner…and everything), far too few googly eyes for suitable sight, and even fewer seconds to spare,
and we have this…
…the Cyclops Holiday Monsters!
My Sane Inner Voice: “Lose them, hide them, make them disappear. Save yourself (or at least the innocent children) from the shame of sharing THIS!”
My Mama Inner Voice: “My minis are happy. My minis are proud. These are my mini’s, not mine. And you know what…
…these FRIGGIN’ Rock!”
And after careful consideration…
Mama wins by a landslide (not by logic). Either way…
“KIDS! Get your backpacks. I don’t want you to forget these Christmas Miracles!”
But in the spirit of my long dead Grateful 365 Project, I have decided to switch my shame to celebration, in an attempt to laugh and learn and embrace the ugly.
Grateful 365: Beautiful Oops!
A year ago, I decided to switch out my selfies for shame, in an attempt to change the face of this fiction. So in the spirit of giving, I am gifting y’all once again with a daily dose of self-esteem, in knowing that no matter how bad it gets, mine is probably way worse. I hope you enjoy diving into my daily, dirty little secrets this December.
If you can relate, please LIKE, or SHARE, or FOLLOW, or read some more.
Help me avoid the morning-after-writer’s-remorse that wells from the paranoia of my signature self-shaming, by giving me your virtual nod and smile, and I will promise to divulge deeper despairs in days to come.