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10:45 a.m. - 2009-12-21
The Unexpected Christmas

Whether it's due to tight school budgets and an eye toward saving utility costs or just some generous elves infiltrating the cadre of normally grinchy school calendar schedulers both Mick's and Wolf's districts are on Christmas vacation already. Friday was their last day. My guys are off for a glorious 16 day stretch. Well, Mick and Wolf think it's glorious. Me? I'm thinking I might be getting a wee bit testy by New Year. I'm used to a certain amount of quiet and privacy and having my men underfoot for more than two weeks straight…um, yeah. But for now freedom rings and everybody is tickled to be thumbing our noses at alarm clocks.

Originally Wolf was supposed to be road tripping down south with his father to visit with the Texas grandparents and whatever other kin could join them at the ancestral ranch, but last week Mike abruptly canceled. Leaving Wolf high and dry and putting the kabosh on our plans for the childless holiday. After the ex canceled on our son I found out Mick had been planning to surprise me with a road trip of our own. Way to go, Mike! Not only did you let your son down big time, you loused up a treat that this housebound writer could have really, really used. Sigh…

Anyhow, since Wolf's trip (and ours) got the axe there's been a mad scramble to put together a Home For The Holidays Christmas. Mick bought us a tree on Friday. For the third year running he managed to find a PERFECT tree! Uncanny how good of a Christmas tree chooser he is. We brought it in on Saturday and when the branches warmed and lowered we were rewarded with a totally symmetrical, nicely full with no bald spots exactly right size for the space Christmas tree. The lights and the brand new topper (a lighted star, Wolf has objected to the boring Renaissance angel topper since ever) are on, but the ornaments are still in their boxes. We'll finish the tree tonight after supper.

I'll be going out later to fluff out the skerce offerings I'd already bought thinking about things like transport and how Wolf wouldn't be here so no need of stocking stuffers and candy and the traditional family gift of a new board game. My accomplished fingernail buffing, "Whoo! Dig me with my shopping and wrapping all finished by the 16th!", all blown to bits. I don't mind really, I'm glad enough to have our boy here and certainly never ever object to shopping (even at this late date), but having our lives and plans forever at the mercy of the Amazing Disappearing Disney Dad and his discombobulated antics really chaps my butt. Of course Mick and I are careful never to let Wolf be made into the monkey in the middle. Poor kid is unhappy enough already over losing out on the cool trip and chance to visit with his paternal grandparents. Only an insensitive jerk (like his father) would kvetch in front of the kid and make him aware how less than thrilled we are to be suddenly doing the Santa, tree, decorations, baking, stockings, fancy blow-out Christmas dinner thing instead of having a lover's holiday complete with romantic rendezvous, scenic detours, and most likely the imbibing of fancy rum drinks poolside at Caesar's Palace in Sin City. (Since I'm not stuck being a bride there in some tatty wedding chapel, Vegas has regained its gleam as the destination of choice for this mommed-out homebody.)

It's so weird. On one hand I am totally pissed off with the abrupt change of plans, especially after finding out about where I'm not going now thanks to my shithead ex-husband. On the other I'm glad because Wolf's childhood Christmases are dwindling fast and any opportunity to make the magic happen is good. Soon enough he'll be grown and gone (hopefully not as gone as his brother…sigh) and I'll be moping around at holiday time mourning how it just doesn't seem like Christmas without a child in the house.

There's a child here this Christmas though, and that can't ever be a bad thing. If the big hairy one were to show up too, I'll probably explode from happiness. But like thinking of Vegas, I won't make myself crazy over what I won't have. If one son is AWOL, at least I have the other one. This one still believes in Santa too. So hi ho, Rudolph, to the stores we go.


Jingle, jingle, jingle, ~LA

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