The Gift

From the archives of The Big Daddy Bad Behavior file…………..

Years ago, we used to drive from Maryland to Illinois to spend Christmas with our families.  With little kids, it was a huge job to get them and everything they needed, plus all their Christmas presents, loaded up and into the car for the twelve hour drive.

We would arrive a few days before Christmas, and one or both of us would have to make a trip to the mall to finish up.  One year, The Big Daddy needed to make the trek on Christmas Eve to get a gift for me.  He was gone for hours, to the point where we were getting worried about him.  He finally made it back and went off to a bedroom to wrap his treasure.

And what could be this gift that took hours for him to find?  I couldn’t imagine.

On Christmas morn, when the kids had finished their Santa gifts, he presented my present.  I was full of anticipation, and ripped off the wrapping to discover a Stitchery Kit of Two Deer In The Woods.  Well, that wasn’t what I was anticipating.  Or wanting.

He explained that on the way to the mall, when he was driving by way of the Forest Preserve, he saw two deer in the woods and that’s when it came to him.  That deer live in the woods, I asked.   No, no, he said, that a deer themed gift was a sign.  Too bad the mall wasn’t by way of a diamond mine. 

My mom observed this and without saying a word, got up and went into the kitchen.  When I came in, she said, “I gave him plenty of ideas, even offered to go with him.  Who gets the mother of toddlers a gull damn project to do?”  My Big Daddy, that’s who. 

By then it was 12:00 somewhere and she cracked open the wine and poured us a glass.  Separated by many years, we each had our crosses in life to bear.  Dad, who took NINE YEARS to remodel the kitchen, and me, married to a guy who goes to every store in town on Christmas Eve to find a wildlife kit for his wife to stitch.

Another day.  Another Christmas.  Another star in the crown.

Christmas Ken

You may remember reading about Ken on my walks with the dog.  Lonely Ken.  Looks for me to talk to Ken.  Married to Barbie.

I saw Ken the other day raking about five leaves in the yard, and he stopped to chat and wish me, my family and my little dog, too, the best Christmas ever.  And a wonderful New Year because I have been so kind to him over the years.  No, I haven’t, Ken.  You’re being delusional.  We talked about our plans for the holidays and all was friendly until he said this……….

“I had the idea to watch for you so I could run out with some mistletoe and give you a Christmas kiss.”

Ken, Ken, Ken, that’s a dumbass idea.  And if I were you, I’d be real careful because Barbie’s watching you right now from the window of her dream kitchen, and sharpening the knife she’s going to use to Bobotize your molded plastic Manhood if you don’t stop hitting on chicks walking their dogs.

Merry Christmas.  You’re welcome.  Now I have to find a new route.

Oh Christmas Tree

This is me trimming the tree……

and yes, my waist really is that small.   In my dreams.

We ditched our fake tree and have been buying real trees these last few years.  The Big Daddy Lumberjack likes to cut the trunk so it’s nice and straight in the stand.  I cut a few branches to decorate with, and it’s like a Norman Rockwell painting around here on Decor Day.

By day’s end, when the house is a wonderland of Christmas, The BD and I sit on the couch with a glass of wine looking at our pretty, pretty tree.  Without fail, a strand of lights will stop working.  That’s when we will try to jury rig it, check the bulbs, shake the tree, uplug and replug the strands, and check the outlet.  What we almost always do as well, out of sheer frustration, is give it the finger.  Which really doesn’t do anything, but crack us up because we have the maturity level of ten year olds.  This year I checked every strand of lights, plugged them into one another to double check, plugged them into the outlet, unplugged them, put them on the tree, decorated the tree and plugged the lights in.  Half the tree was not lit and I let out a string of curse words that was as long as those crappy, made in China lights.

In this season of peace, love, and joy, that hunka evergreen irritates me every time I look at it.  I don’t have the time to figure out what the problem is and turned it so the front and back are lit. The sides are scared of the dark and crying at night for some lights, but I DO NOT CARE.

No, I do not, for it is ELEVEN days until Christmas, and on day TWELVE, I can pitch that tree, lights and all, right out the front door.

Merry Everywhere

The holiday decor…………………..I did the living and dining room in apple green and silver.

Our bar on top of the dresser I got for $20.00 at a yard sale.  The intent was to refinish it and sell it, but in the process I fell head over heels.

 The mantel………….

And mini ManLand was done in reds………….

 Including The Big Daddy’s hockey trophies from back in the day………..

The hallway holds the AWESOME sheet music wreath that Nancy made me last year (and still available at the Prairie Girls Market at Good Company this weekend).   Shameless plug, but I can’t help myself.  And what of the Christmas tree????  That story is tomorrow.

Precocious Pets

I’m a dog person.  I can tolerate cats, and I loved Beamer, but I’d much rather have a dog around.

The Big Daddy loves cats and and would much rather have them around than a dog.

Mars, Venus, kids, dog, cats, and fish all living under one roof.

The Big Daddy was in the kitchen when Henry decided he wanted a taste of some kitten milk, and you’d have thought the dog was holding the old man up in an armed robbery the way he tore into him.  He needed to wash down the snack from the garbage can.  I got mad at The BD for yelling at my dog, and who should come around to investigate, but Frank and Pip, and aren’t they so fun, he says.  Oh yeah, they’re precocious, I said.  Mallie Bee heard all of this and asked what that meant.  Little shits is what it means.  No, The Big Daddy said, they’re mischievous.

The Mischievous Ones still have kidney issues and peed on our bed the other day.  The bed of the people who saved them from a shelter that may have been No Kill, but it wasn’t a lifetime guarantee.  Who does that sort of thing?   Well, me that time I took Nyquil and was dreaming I was going to the bathroom and I was………..in the bed.  

When they’re not getting into trouble, they’re fast asleep, but don’t let the innocent, sleeping baby pic fool you.  These two are a couple of Gang Bangers.

A Wine-oscopy

You might be interested in knowing that small doses of a chemical used in laxatives has been approved for use in beverages to stabilize and thicken them.

Specifically, this kind of beverage……………..

Source: bing.com via Amanda on Pinterest

WHAT THE WHAT??????

Is it not enough that when you’re out having a good time and you don’t want to get up to go pee, but you really have to, so you get up and OMG you have to go bad except you have no idea where the bathroom is so you search frantically like a mother who’s misplaced her infant, and there’s a line, and you can’t even make small talk because now it’s starting to hurt, and when you finally get into a stall, your pee starter thinks it’s a go and starts to come out before you even unzip your Party Pants????

It wasn’t enough.

Now a laxative additive has been included in our Wine Slushy, and have these people no mercy for those of us who have pushed out a couple of kids???   Who just by standing for a couple of decades have caused a gravitational pull that can only be reversed with some kind of sling up in Ladyland?

No, they have no mercy and beware the pitfalls of drinking.  DUI, roofies, a hangover and now the possibility of some added weight in your going-out-on-the-town underpants.

Lexus Shmexus

Could it be that it is only one week into December and I am already sick of seeing this………

With this attached……………

Source: amazon.com via Xixi on Pinterest

Yep.

I’ve grown used to seeing the rich sitting around the tree in their designer jammies on Christmas morn and Dad saying, “Hey, everybody let’s go out in the snow and see something.”  And the little lemmings all follow because of the trust fund and Mom never gets bitchy and says, “What the hell?  In my new Tory Burch boots?”  She doesn’t even look tired from running her ass off all month and she still has to put a Honeybaked Ham in the oven.

The newest commercial in Fantasy Gift Christmas features a couple about 30 years old in an elevator that plays the Lexus theme song.  When the door opens, there sits a new $50K car for the Mister and they must not have student loans to pay off.  Please go away.

Give me this lady any every day of the week.

She can hardly contain herself when the blenders go on sale, and with that jogging suit and pearls…….she’s C.L.A.S.S.Y.  With a capital “T”…….for the store that the Real Santa shops to make Christmas dreams come true.

Cheerleaders

This weekend Mallie Bee and I made a fast trip to Chicago.  She had an audition for Fordham University/Alvin Ailey School of Dance.  Be still our hearts.  We arrived on Friday, the audition was all afternoon Saturday and we left Sunday morning.

Whew.

This is our dancer’s ideal school.  It is so expensive it’s not even funny, but she dreams big and we need more of those kind in the world.  We have, however, told her on a daily basis that we cannot afford it, and true to her nature, she hasn’t let that stop her one bit.

While she was doing that, my sister and her husband and I hopped a bus to the fun part of town, ate lunch and did a little shopping amongst the crowds in the city I will always miss.

When we got back we had a bit of a wait for her to finish so we took a look at the church next door.  This church…………….

It was an absolute stunner inside.  Old world Europe kind of a feel.  We went back to wait, and I answered a whole lot of texts from everybody wondering how it was going.

When we had gone inside the church, I asked God to assist in what was going on next door, and significant financial aid sure would be nice.  That last part was a little half-hearted since there are too many people in dire straits in this world for me to be greedy.  What wasn’t half-hearted, though, was my gratitude for my family who went above and beyond to encourage her and get her where she needed to be all weekend long, and our friends here in Kansas City who cheered for her from many miles away.

She thought it went o.k. and come March we’ll find out what they thought.  I’m hopeful about all of it and how could I not be?   She may have performed a solo, but those ballet shoes she danced in carried the grace and blessings of everyone she knows.