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 continue to be 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.