Christmas Drama

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The Cain Christmas . . . . . . .

Some of this may NOT be appropriate for young people who still believe in Santa. So, if you are reading my blog out loud to your kids every night, I would suggest skipping this post.

‘Twas truly the night before Christmas when our favorite UPS driver delivered the tiniest package, the one that I had been waiting ever so patiently for. It was suppose to be the “glitzi globes” that Dalli had asked Santa for. Her letter was very specific.

She wrote, ” Dear Santa, if you would be so kind as to bring me glitzi globes, walking with the dinosaurs, and a makeup set, I would appreciate it please.”

I have to say that I didn’t have a clue what glitzi globes were, when I read the letter. I did, however, know that Santa was not going to bring her makeup to smear on her face, and dinosaurs are yucky. Why does my daughter like dinosaurs? Why not barbie dolls? Anyway, once again, I digress. I went to Amazon and ordered the globes and now I was holding the package, just one problem, this was an extremely small package. It was a micro glitzi globe, a refill for the real glitzi globe, argh. Ok remain calm. I should mention my other daughter asked Santa for a ball that she can use to play fetch with her little doggie.

We were headed to Albuquerque to eat our traditional Christmas Eve meal of fondue. Did I mention we have traditions? David and I realized shortly after Dalli was born that we had no traditions, so we had to invent some. Fondue was all we could come up with, that is fancy for us country folk. So, we will just make a pit stop at Toys R Us. This might become a new tradition, as we let the girls pick out one toy that would be their Christmas gift from their Papa. This was amazingly fun. After much thought, Dalli picked a scooter with helmet (extremely important if you know the genetics of this kid), and Macklee adopted another baby doll (with no sharpie aka makeup all over its face).

After gathering the loot, they went and sat in the car so Santa’s helper could purchase the glitzi globes, batteries, and a last minute stocking stuffer or two. My brother called on our way home, he was trying to assemble the go cart that was his Santa gift. The problem was he had a fever and was sick all week. Nothing goes together easily when you are running a fever. He wondered if a go cart really needed brakes? I laughed at his plight, not knowing my own Santa dilemma was about to begin.

The rest of the night was amazing, until we got back to the ranch. Dalli poured 2% milk, and stacked cactus shaped sugar cookies for Santa. The kids went to bed, and the “behind the scenes” preparations began. I truly hate this part, always feeling that I am one move away from getting “caught”. Shortly, after the kids went to bed the problems became apparent. The glitzi globes were no where to be found. I must have checked the suburban 15 times, willing them to be there, if I just looked once more. Nope, I had left them at Toys R Us. (I found this out the day after Christmas, when I called Toys R Us, and they said, oh yes the ones that were left on aisle 4!) Are you kidding me? What do I do now? So much for our calm evening.

My husband already thinks I am pre-menopausal and loosing my mind, this was not helping my case. At this point, stressed cannot even began to describe my emotional state. Friend Lori, had given me a birthday present for Dalli, I thought about raiding it. Suddenly, I remembered another birthday gift, that I had stashed in a closet. I nestled it with the tiny glitzi globe refill and went to bed.

As I was trying to go to sleep, I remembered that I had forgotten to bring home David’s gift from the clinic. I don’t think Christmas is suppose to be this stressful. I think us women try so hard to make Christmas special, that we wear ourselves out. We forget the reason for the season, in the mist of trying to make everything perfect. I talked myself off of the cliff by remembering all of the blessings that are part of my everyday life, and that one day I would be able to blog about this and make people laugh?

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