My Nightmare Before Christmas.

I'm a large six months pregnant, attempting to keep the peace between two highly charged girls, while trying to maintain a chipper holiday spirit, while adjusting to my new church calling, while struggling to keep the dishes and laundry in check. Unfortunately, I have the energy level of a three-towed sloth and find myself unable to accomplish any save one of the afore mentioned items. I'm still a large six months pregnant. So, no neighbor gifts or Christmas cards this year. Potty training has been indefinitely postponed. And as for that chipper holiday spirit? Well, "chipper" isn't exactly in the cards. "Mildly contented holiday spirit" more like.
Still, as mildly contented as I am this year, it sure beats the pants off of last year. Last year was nothing short of a nightmare. Are you ready for this? I call it "Merry Christmas 2007."

First there was Brooklyn's notorious ballet recital. She was supposed to be a doll in a high school rendition of the Nutcracker's Suit. Dressed rehearsal went well, except for having Andy's car towed from the gas station in the middle of a snow storm. That didn't go well at all. Two-hundred dollars and countless frustrations later we got our car back. Merry Christmas douche tow-truck driver. On the night of Brooklyn's first performance she wandered out on stage in the middle of Act I, but was conspicuously absent from her own dance in Act II. That is, until she made her debut clinging desperately to her teacher's leg, screaming like a nazgul while all the other dancers and audience watched in nutcrackery silence. Brooklyn refused to go to her second performance, and the next day developed an eye infection. Merry Christmas lil' nutcracker.
One morning I woke up to about a dozen baby spiders crawling on and dangling from our family room ceiling. Our Christmas tree was infested with them. I hate spiders. Merry Christmas exterminator. That next weekend was Brook's Joy School Christmas party, where she would be playing the part of Mary in their little six-child production. Thirty minutes 'til go-time a massive tantrum ensued causing Brooklyn's eyes to swell completely shut. So rather than attend the party, we dropped our cookies off and spent the evening at the nearest Instacare where Brook and Avery were both diagnosed with Pink Eye. Merry Christmas pharmaceutical intervention. This was mere days before our planned trip to California to visit my family, which we were compelled to cancel due not only to Pink Eye, but the terrible congestive colds that Andy and I both developed. It was a bitterly disappointing vacation. Instead of sharing goodies and hilarious antidotes with loved ones, we tackled both children four times a day, attempting to hold their eyelids open for expensive medicated eye drops. Merry Christmas ruined festivities. The day after Christmas we disassembled our tree in low spirits. The webbed star said it all. I have never been happier to see January.

I don't know about you, but I'll take large six-months pregnant mild-contentedness.

My Dilly-Dallyer

Brooklyn is a dilly-dallyer. Meticulous and careful by nature, she has exceptional concentration for a five-year-old. However, this does make it difficult for her to move from one activity to another. In a world where we are often driven by the clock, life can be frustrating with someone who will not be rushed.

This month she has been attending our neighbor's Joy School twice a week. Each Tuesday and Thursday morning we awake with time to spare. "Hurry and get dressed Brooklyn" I instruct. She disappears in her room. Thirty minutes later I find her still in her underwear, putting multiple outfits together, unable to decide. "Brooklyn we only have ten minutes before Joy School starts and you have to eat breakfast. PLEASE HURRY." I emphasize. Five minutes later, "Brook, if you don't put something on and eat RIGHT NOW you will be late for Joy School." "Brook, less talk more action." "Do you know what HURRY means?" "It doesn't MATTER what socks you wear. JUST HURRY." "Brooklyn, no TALKING- EAT!" "HURRY! HURRY HURRY!"
Its not her fault. Like many kids her age, she just doesn't grasp Go-Time. But unfortunately I still get frustrated with her.

This morning it was my fault. I thought it was Friday until Avery remembered, "Is Brooklyn going to Joy School?" Thank you Avery. She was already fifteen minutes late. "Brook! Today is your Christmas party! We have to HURRY!" And she tried to. But there were so many pretty panties to choose from. And she couldn't find the socks she wanted. Avery and I said a quick obligatory prayer over the Cream of Wheat but I soon realized Brook wouldn't have to time to eat any of it. "Brooklyn! You are not very good at hurrying! You are going to miss your party!" I yelled. She came running down the hallway with her snow boots, flopped down and pulled them on as quickly as she could. "Is this the right way Mom?" She asked. "Yes! Hurry!" I threw her her coat, "Hurry!" I handed her a Pop Tart. "Eat this! Hurry!" She flopped back down to the floor. "What are you-?!" But I had to stop. She was kneeling down in the middle of the floor, eyes closed, arms folded, head bowed reverently, saying a silent prayer over her breakfast.

I don't teach my children half as much as they teach me. In the midst of worldly demands I had grossly neglected my priorities. My five-year-old Brooklyn, however, my little dilly-dallyer, had remembered her Savior. And in her humble way, she taught me the most valuable lesson I've learned this Christmas season.

Twelve Days of Christmas Tag

One amusing Christmas memory * Two Christmas' ago, when Brooklyn was three, she received a Raggedy-Ann doll from Andy's Grandma Dot. As she opened it, I thought to myself, "My what a classic and lovely present from her great grandma." Brooklyn's reaction, "Red hair? Oh NO!" as she chucked it across the room. Prejudice little ingrate. She has since come to appreciate the doll as well as the untamed glory that is red hair.

Two theories why Santa chooses the chimney as his best means of entry * a) free rooftop parking, b) Santa's a pyro.

Three things you want for Christmas * a web cam, impractical shoes, and gift cards.

Four of your favorite Christmas movies * A Christmas Story, Christmas Vacation, It's a Wonderful Life, and The Grinch (original cartoon).

Five ways you've been naughty this year * I hid Andy's old shirts in a bag under the bed and pretended I didn't know what he was talking about. Yes, I heard the phone ring but I let it go to voicemail. I purchased Blades of Glory. I used expletives while driving. I gave the impression I agree.

Six ways you've been nice * I refrained from punching the snooty woman in the grocery store in her perfectly whitened teeth. I said please and thank you. I saved the last cookie for Andy. I gave others the benefit of the doubt. I practiced patience beyond my own. I took a giant leap of faith.

Seven people you suspect are elves * Elija Wood, Erika, Rene' Zellwegger, Beck, our Olive Garden waiter, Hugh Grant, and Shana.

Eight of Santa's reindeer (no cheating) * dasher, dancer, prancer, vixen, comet, cupid, dunder, and miflin.

Nine uses for snow * instant icepack, to make delicious snow-cones, to throw at unsuspecting bescarved victims, fortress to hide behind while throwing at said victims, good excuse to stay warmly bundled inside house, cloaks ill-kept yards, easy to track people on foot, awesome to slide down on sleds, keeps salesmen at bay.

Ten least favorite things about Christmas * frenzied shoppers, middle-aged women in SUV's (see frenzied shoppers), creepy Santas, Michael McLean, hallmark movies, unbridled avarice, driving through snow, pop stars mutilating Christmas carols, non-gifts (the obligatory ones you receive from people who don't really know or like you), extreme commercialism.

Eleven word associations to "figgy pudding" * giddy, puddle, poodle, fiddle, goopy, fructose, yeti, piggy, Cedric Diggory, bling-bling.

Twelve reasons you love Christmas * pine-scent, gingerbread cookies, the first snow, twinkling lights, classic Christmas carols, new pajamas, hot chocolate, neatly wrapped packages, family togetherness, eggnog with sprite, reverent nativities, and my children's faces.

*i tag you.