My house is a mess. It's tough to keep it clean around the holidays. Present wrapping creates scrap paper and ribbon, and there are always "spare parts" left over from putting together the big toys on Christmas Eve. Of course, the biggest mess occurs when unwrapping presents: torn paper everywhere, tissue paper strewn out of emptied gift bags, curling ribbon mysteriously in your hair, sticky gift tags annoyingly stuck to your feet. You try to keep it contained, but there's just too much of it.
And then there's the feast. The preparation mess of mixing bowls, mixing spoons, pots, pans, crumbs from your mid-baking cookie snacking (I know it isn't just me). The dinner mess of food that didn't quite make it from the casserole dish to the plate, and food that didn't quite make it from the plate to the mouth (also not just me). The scraping of half-eaten food from the dinner plates, the rinsing of crumbs off the near-spotless dessert plates. The drinking glasses left upon all the flat surfaces of your house, with no one to claim them. The rearranging and inevitable cleaning out of the refrigerator to make room for the leftovers.
Cleanup may not take so long, were it not for letting the dishes soak - yeah, that's it, soak - while you linger at the dinner table, laughing with the family. The recycling may have been taken out sooner if the kids didn't love to keep taking the tissue paper out of it to play with - and if we didn't secretly enjoy letting them. The trash may have also been taken out if we hadn't all been too busy testing out our new Christmas electronics. And the toys may have gotten put away, except - they're actually being played with - if just for this one day.
The mess must be dealt with eventually, but the relatives will be leaving sooner than you realize, and the wrapping paper isn't going anywhere (the tissue paper, perhaps). Whatever holiday you celebrate, I think family gatherings like this are times that even a professional housekeeper can enjoy a less-than-spotless house, guilt-free.
12/30/2009
12/23/2009
Gift Recipient
My mother, in typical mom fashion, did her best to teach me gratitude. I think she did a decent job, but I sometimes worry that others may not agree, given my propensity to utter awkward things when given a gift.
A coworker (who often doles out candy) brought me a box wrapped in red paper. I was sitting; he was standing when he passed the box to me, and I saw a sticker on the bottom that much resembled a nutrition fact label. I took the wrapped box, and became quite conscious of the wrapping, and whether I was supposed to open it, since the label gave away the contents of the gift. Let me say that I had already thanked him for the gift, lest you think the following was all I said. But I said, "It's chocolate, right?" as my way of determining whether to unwrap the box. I hadn't quite finished the sentence when I realized how it sounded. Too bad it was 4 audible syllables too late. In good humor, he said, "Yes, it's chocolate." I am pretty sure he understood why I was asking, but I had to explain myself, just in case, "Because, y'know, I thought I saw the label that said 'chocolate'...wasn't sure if I needed to open the wrapper. Heh. Heh...Thanks again!"
Then there was the time I was at a complete loss of words when, the Christmas I'd barely begun searching for a new keyboard and hadn't even settled on all the features I wanted, my husband unexpectedly brought one home. I am not sure I even thanked him at all, I was in such shock. And since I wanted to research features on other pianos, to possibly exchange the one he'd brought me, I kept the surprise keyboard....for several years. I believe I'd had it for a year before I even took it out of the box.
The worst offense I've ever committed, though, is that I've never - not even once - worn a pair of earrings my daughter bought me. In actuality, I haven't worn any earrings in years, save another pair she bought me last year that are hypoallergenic. But this particular pair she gave me one Christmas are not hypoallergenic, and not my style- not that that matters one bit. Since they will probably irritate my sensitive ears, I even came up with the clever idea of snipping off the posts and turning the design into a charm for another piece of jewelry, like a necklace, bracelet, or even dangly earrings that I make with sterling silver wire. It's just that I keep forgetting about them. The longer I've gone not wearing them, the more covered up by other jewelry they become, exacerbating the problem. And still, occasionally, and occurring with less and less frequency, my sweet, wonderful, Cindy-Lou-Who-eyed daughter will ask me about them. I end up giving her a lame excuse about not having time to put on earrings right then, or some other thing that makes her look at the floor in disappointment, and I wish she had a mom who never ever seemed ungrateful when she is, in fact, very grateful. So this Christmas, I am going to try to be a professional gift recipient, and say nothing other than an enthusiastic "Thank you!" to any and all gift-givers. And maybe, just maybe, I'll remember to wear my earrings while I do that.
A coworker (who often doles out candy) brought me a box wrapped in red paper. I was sitting; he was standing when he passed the box to me, and I saw a sticker on the bottom that much resembled a nutrition fact label. I took the wrapped box, and became quite conscious of the wrapping, and whether I was supposed to open it, since the label gave away the contents of the gift. Let me say that I had already thanked him for the gift, lest you think the following was all I said. But I said, "It's chocolate, right?" as my way of determining whether to unwrap the box. I hadn't quite finished the sentence when I realized how it sounded. Too bad it was 4 audible syllables too late. In good humor, he said, "Yes, it's chocolate." I am pretty sure he understood why I was asking, but I had to explain myself, just in case, "Because, y'know, I thought I saw the label that said 'chocolate'...wasn't sure if I needed to open the wrapper. Heh. Heh...Thanks again!"
Then there was the time I was at a complete loss of words when, the Christmas I'd barely begun searching for a new keyboard and hadn't even settled on all the features I wanted, my husband unexpectedly brought one home. I am not sure I even thanked him at all, I was in such shock. And since I wanted to research features on other pianos, to possibly exchange the one he'd brought me, I kept the surprise keyboard....for several years. I believe I'd had it for a year before I even took it out of the box.
The worst offense I've ever committed, though, is that I've never - not even once - worn a pair of earrings my daughter bought me. In actuality, I haven't worn any earrings in years, save another pair she bought me last year that are hypoallergenic. But this particular pair she gave me one Christmas are not hypoallergenic, and not my style- not that that matters one bit. Since they will probably irritate my sensitive ears, I even came up with the clever idea of snipping off the posts and turning the design into a charm for another piece of jewelry, like a necklace, bracelet, or even dangly earrings that I make with sterling silver wire. It's just that I keep forgetting about them. The longer I've gone not wearing them, the more covered up by other jewelry they become, exacerbating the problem. And still, occasionally, and occurring with less and less frequency, my sweet, wonderful, Cindy-Lou-Who-eyed daughter will ask me about them. I end up giving her a lame excuse about not having time to put on earrings right then, or some other thing that makes her look at the floor in disappointment, and I wish she had a mom who never ever seemed ungrateful when she is, in fact, very grateful. So this Christmas, I am going to try to be a professional gift recipient, and say nothing other than an enthusiastic "Thank you!" to any and all gift-givers. And maybe, just maybe, I'll remember to wear my earrings while I do that.
12/16/2009
Ice Road Trucker
Our weather last week remained well below freezing, so the snow on the ground refused to budge. The snow was so thick that, since I didn't shovel my driveway, my car lost traction and I couldn't make it up the slight grade into my garage. And the route I take to get my daughter to school (ok, it's two streets, but still) was never plowed and was very icy. With the temperature stuck in single-digits, there were many more parents driving their children to school than normal. I certainly understand not making your kids walk to even the mailbox in such weather, let alone several blocks to school. I do not understand the loss of all established driving etiquette.
I can understand letting your kids out of the car in the street; since traffic isn't moving and you have to be stopped anyway, you may as well let them out. I can forgive not using a blinker occasionally, because sometimes a car moves to create an unexpected opening along the drop-off curb. While I'm more stingy with my understanding here, I can even get over turning left directly in front of my oncoming vehicle. I guess when traffic is at an otherwise standstill, you go when you can. But the absolute worst transgression I encounter in front of the school is when parents spontaneously pull away from the curb - sans blinker - right in front of me. No gap between my car and the vehicle in front of me, just the audacious confidence that if they start pulling into traffic, I'll not hit them. Even on dry roads, these drivers don't leave me much room to stop; why on Earth are they taking this risk when the street is an ice rink?
We tell toddlers "Use your words," so they learn to communicate to us what they want. A vehicle's turn indicator uses this basic rule of toddlerhood: it communicates to other drivers what you want. Want to turn left? Use your blinker. Want to turn right? Use your blinker. Want to merge into traffic? Use your blinker. Want to pull away from your spot by the curb and have me stop instead of crashing into you? USE. YOUR. BLINKER. If I were more adept at driving on ice, like a professional ice road trucker or something, swerving to avoid you may not be as much of an issue. But since I drive a sedan, you can clearly see that I am not. Something else you can clearly see? My blinker.
I can understand letting your kids out of the car in the street; since traffic isn't moving and you have to be stopped anyway, you may as well let them out. I can forgive not using a blinker occasionally, because sometimes a car moves to create an unexpected opening along the drop-off curb. While I'm more stingy with my understanding here, I can even get over turning left directly in front of my oncoming vehicle. I guess when traffic is at an otherwise standstill, you go when you can. But the absolute worst transgression I encounter in front of the school is when parents spontaneously pull away from the curb - sans blinker - right in front of me. No gap between my car and the vehicle in front of me, just the audacious confidence that if they start pulling into traffic, I'll not hit them. Even on dry roads, these drivers don't leave me much room to stop; why on Earth are they taking this risk when the street is an ice rink?
We tell toddlers "Use your words," so they learn to communicate to us what they want. A vehicle's turn indicator uses this basic rule of toddlerhood: it communicates to other drivers what you want. Want to turn left? Use your blinker. Want to turn right? Use your blinker. Want to merge into traffic? Use your blinker. Want to pull away from your spot by the curb and have me stop instead of crashing into you? USE. YOUR. BLINKER. If I were more adept at driving on ice, like a professional ice road trucker or something, swerving to avoid you may not be as much of an issue. But since I drive a sedan, you can clearly see that I am not. Something else you can clearly see? My blinker.
12/09/2009
Holiday Shopper
While I've already established that I may occasionally overpay for things, I do exercise caution with my money most of the time. The holidays are not such a time. Normally I budget my expenses, buy store brands, shop at thrift stores, stock up on sale items. But as Christmas is quickly approaching, having kids means toy shopping is quickly approaching. I love toy stores any other day of the year as well, but during the holidays, toy stores become absolutely magical: Magical in their ability to turn the most well-dispositioned, well-fed, well-rested child into a screaming, flailing, lump of spoiled rotten on the floor by the train table. Magical in their ability to woefully understock the most sought-after toys of the year, every year. Magical in their ability to turn clumsy me into a superbly stealthy cape-and-masked superhero of a mom. "Did you just put something in the cart, Mom?" "Just my coat, sweetie," ...which I used to cover the stocking stuffer I threw in there while you were looking at Bakugans.
But mostly, the magic of the toy store lies in its ability to make my gift budget disappear. The source of this power lies within the children for whom I am shopping. My daughter is a tween-aged clone of myself, having been replicated via a process that added artistic ability and 1,000 times the cuteness. My son is a 30 pound, curly-haired mass of adorable genius. My niece has eyes the size of former planets with eyelashes that touch her eyebrows, and never denies her Aint B a hug. By their powers combined, I am a blob of toy-purchasing putty in their hands. Utterly diabolical.
As someone who is quite indecisive, I am easily overwhelmed by options. The toy store is certainly a place with a hypnotizing amount of items that would make the children in my life happy; why choose between those items? I'll just take one of everything.
"How are we already out of money?" Husband asks, and faintly, I can hear three simultaneous "Muahahaha"s from three diabolically adorable voices.
Like a superhero guards her alter ego, so must a professional holiday shopper guard her most important item: her budget. Even against an archenemy such as the toy store, with a weapon as powerful as a precious child.
But mostly, the magic of the toy store lies in its ability to make my gift budget disappear. The source of this power lies within the children for whom I am shopping. My daughter is a tween-aged clone of myself, having been replicated via a process that added artistic ability and 1,000 times the cuteness. My son is a 30 pound, curly-haired mass of adorable genius. My niece has eyes the size of former planets with eyelashes that touch her eyebrows, and never denies her Aint B a hug. By their powers combined, I am a blob of toy-purchasing putty in their hands. Utterly diabolical.
As someone who is quite indecisive, I am easily overwhelmed by options. The toy store is certainly a place with a hypnotizing amount of items that would make the children in my life happy; why choose between those items? I'll just take one of everything.
"How are we already out of money?" Husband asks, and faintly, I can hear three simultaneous "Muahahaha"s from three diabolically adorable voices.
Like a superhero guards her alter ego, so must a professional holiday shopper guard her most important item: her budget. Even against an archenemy such as the toy store, with a weapon as powerful as a precious child.
12/02/2009
Hinter
We have officially entered the season of spending way too much time at Barnes&Noble under the guise of gift shopping. I am not patient when it comes to gifts, either giving or receiving. As a gift giver, once I have found the perfect gift, I am anxious to let the intended recipient enjoy it. As a recipient, I am a shaker, a peeker, and a shape analyzer. The longer the wait to open the gift, the worse it is for me. I've tried to convince my relatives to not tell me when they've purchased a gift for me...not that any of them adhere to this policy. My mother's argument against wanting me to know what's in the Santa-Claus-adorned gift boxes is that it won't be a surprise when I open them on Christmas day. Honestly, I find that knowing what gift I'll be getting doesn't detract from the anticipation of actually receiving it. I get the same feeling when I purchase things I have to wait for, be it online ordering or layaway.
Because I like hints that are more like exact descriptions of what the gift is, when my turn comes to provide hints, I am prone to divulging way too much information. The best example of this would be one particular Father's Day when I was about 6. An eager gift-giver even then, I was taunting Dad with, "You'll never guess what we got you!" and then, excitedly, I said, "I'll give you a hint! It's silver, and it pops up toast."
I'm not convinced that any six-year-olds are professional hinters, but perhaps there are 30-year-olds out there that don't still get teased about accidentally telling their dad he was getting a ***spoiler alert!*** toaster for Father's Day.
Because I like hints that are more like exact descriptions of what the gift is, when my turn comes to provide hints, I am prone to divulging way too much information. The best example of this would be one particular Father's Day when I was about 6. An eager gift-giver even then, I was taunting Dad with, "You'll never guess what we got you!" and then, excitedly, I said, "I'll give you a hint! It's silver, and it pops up toast."
I'm not convinced that any six-year-olds are professional hinters, but perhaps there are 30-year-olds out there that don't still get teased about accidentally telling their dad he was getting a ***spoiler alert!*** toaster for Father's Day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)