‘Twas the day before the night before Christmas

‘Twas, in fact, also the day that leads into the fourth night of Hanukkah and two days after Solstice.

A day full of things to do and no breathing room to do them in.

A day where client work presses in on one side, giftmaking from the other. A day of school-lessness the likes of which we had plenty in the summer but which I’m not used to.

A day of trips and falls and blood-streaked ice and crying, of errands and tasks best attempted alone, a state exactly the opposite of today’s full stores, jammed parking lots, and backseat teeming with crying, bloody, small children.

A day in which I hoped to post a “before I lapse into gratitude mode tomorrow and for the rest of the year, I’d like a day to bemoan all that I am NOT grateful for” piece. One that covered things like having my name always precede the words “I want”; like feeling as though the clutter created by four people living together actually gets piled atop my head each night so I have to choose amongst sleep, exercise, reading, writing, editing, or removing the catastrophic pile of crap from my head and shoulders. Like balancing the joy of watching my children play, totally absorbed in their awesome worlds or merriment and imagination with the guilt from wanting to be away from my children more with the frustration of being with my children every waking minute of every single day. Like mean people, people who don’t do their fair share, and people who bicker in my living room while I’m trying to stinking cook a stinking healthy breakfast in here!

But I don’t have time to write that post. I don’t have the energy to write that post. And, honestly, considering the fact that I’ve spent the day running around with and after two small people, one of whom needs me 55 seconds of every minute, and still managed to get all the ingredients for our holiday gift-making extravaganza, I’m feeling a little less ungrateful, and a little more “bring on the resolutions, 2012, because I have a head start!”

In fact, since I haven’t yelled all day and I sacrificed my solo time during the little one’s nap to do science projects with the bigger one, I’m finishing the year with a personal-improvement to-do list more crossed off than not.

If I finish my editing, rewrite my novel, exercise, drink more water, and eat more veggies at every meal, I’ll be so far ahead of my own game it’ll be 2013 in a week.

Happy Ungrateful Day! (if you can find the time and energy to be ungrateful, that is; otherwise happy fourth night and happy second day of traveling closer to the sun and happy day before the night before Christmas)

19 thoughts on “‘Twas the day before the night before Christmas

  1. aaaaaand I just now decided I’m ungrateful for soccer cleats on hardwood floors, kids who chew with their mouths open (that would be all of them), and compulsive overeating. Not a fan of any of those right now, though the last one at least feels good at the time.

  2. I’m ungrateful for my husband’s sadness that I am totally not interested in Christmas at all. Why is he so sad about my apathy toward Jesus? If he’s so sure about a divine existence, then I’m sure we’ll see each other in hell. What’s the problem?!

  3. LOL, Fie. Upcoming post about Peanut and the tiny baby Jesus. In the meantime, I stand with you in your “you’re welcome to yours but I get to keep mine” approach to marital religious views. I’m ungrateful for partners who think their other half might change something dramatic about themselves just because of the magic of cohabitation. In fact, lately when feeling resentful about something or other, I ask myself, “Was it this way before we got married?” Answer is YES 90% of the time. My problem, then, because I went in knowing.

    His problem in this case. Unless he’s right and your unquestioning faith is a requirement for salvation. Then I guess it’s your problem. Knew that going in, though, I’m sure, since they sing that one pretty loudly from every corner in every major religion. “Ours is right, theirs is wrong and if you don’t follow the letter and spirit of our rules you’ll rue the day.”

    Good times.

  4. Confession: Never like the poem Tis the Night before Christmas. No patience for it. Find it boring. Until now.

    Shall we declare the day before all the madness starts “Let me get all my ingratitude out of my system” day? LOVE IT. Need it actually in order to survive the holidays.

  5. I am ungrateful for hubby who, after having delightfully agreed that we could give each other the sectional sofa (that we can pay cash for, woo hoo) that we both would dearly like to replace the ugly, torn, hand-me-down, old sofa-bed in the tv room, told the children that he bought me something for the kitchen for Christmas. URGHHH! Neither Christmas wars nor surprise gifts are my cup of tea. Being a bad wife, I looked in his wallet and found the receipt for a $40 cheese grater…! Went online for an Amazon gift card for him, but am totally ungrateful for the total $$ wasted, not to mention I will have to find a place to put the %^&* cheese grater in our small kitchen. Did I mention that the kids and I are lactose intolerant? Happy happy joy joy, I will be a good, nice wife and be grateful on the Day of Unwrapping. :)

  6. Well, in this case, I hoodwinked hubby. When we got together 12 years ago, I still went to church. We got married in the church. He became Catholic. I told him not to, but he did anyway. No, for me, I wasn’t able to out myself as a non-believer until I had kids. Until that time, I felt like I could be a herded sheep and just pretend to believe. What did it matter? I was culturally Catholic, but never a true believer. I kept it to myself until I realized I’d have to lie to my children about God. So I decided to be truthful about it with hubby. Poor him.

  7. I was ungrateful for doing all shopping and wrapping by myself but then when I finished, I felt weirdly triumphant.

    Feel your overwhelmedness, Nap, and send you a steaming hot cup of PEACE (to be enjoyed sometime you can squeeze it in).

  8. @Chickadee that’s just bollocks. I don’t want a cheese grater, either, and especially not a $40 grater for a product I don’t like. Maybe he expects you’ll use it for carrots? Presents, agreed upon, are not subject to change. I don’t like surprises, either. I choose and buy my own gifts. I make Spouse wrap them then clean out my car for all major holidays. I feel pampered, we spend only what we can and only on stuff I really want.
    Go make your husband clean your car. You’ll both feel better.

    @Fie, that’s not hoodwinking. That’s growing up and changing as a person, and it happens. He can feel sad, then. But you don’t have to feel guilt. No reason to jettison the religion yet keep its least useful attribute, right?

    @Inky Ooooooh, I love a cup of PEACE. With vegan marshmallows. Or rum, depending on the mood. I’m sorry for your buying and wrapping. I buy online and make Spouse wrap. I make him do the cards, too. Look, I write and edit at night. He watches movies. Nothing goes with movies like addressing cards and wrapping gifts, I say. Ho ho ho ho ho do what I say or I’ll get pissy.

    • FIE! I had a typo in that comment, so I edited both our comments. I can’t BEAR to have an it’s where it ought be its. Bless me Sister, for I have sinned. It’s been one day since my last proofread and these are my sins…

  9. I’m ungrateful for managing to fulfill my potential in all that it means to be a Wednesday’s child. There’s nothing I value more than a nice cup of Peace topped with a generous dollop of Serenity. I also hope you have a peace-filled holiday surrounded by your loving family–even if “peace” only means knowing everyone is safely close. (I suppose “serenity” will have to wait a few more years. ; )

    • Ah, Stephane. Wouldn’t some peace be nice? Wouldn’t some serenity be heavenly? Mmmmm. Not going to happen. But I wish it for you. I hear 4am is serene this time of year in Alaska. ;-)

  10. Can I borrow “Ho ho ho do what I say”? Even if you say no, I’m stealing it. ;)

    Happiest holidays to all of you. xo

  11. Ink, you may do whatever pleases you. Tonight I sang two verses of a new Silver Bells in which I chorused, “Silver Bells, do as I tell you, or else I’ll riiiiiing your bell. Ring a ling, hear me unravel, I might just riiiing your bell!”

    I find subversive lyrics to manic songs, sung in near-operatic voice the most cathartic stress release available to me these days.

    Happy, happy, happy, happy to you and yours.

  12. I am ungrateful for a very expensive mattress we bought 3 years ago when we got married which, for the last year, causes me to wake up with back pain every morning. Seriously? We paid way too much money for it to crap out in 2 years! (typed as I continually adjust in my seat to try to get rid of my back pain)

  13. Try it, Inky. It totally works. If you can’t think of one, try the Oklahoma classic Oh What a Beautiful Morning. You’ll sneer through the first few bars, but I dare you not to be grinning by “everything’s going my way!” Even if just because the slackjawed looks on your family/colleagues faces will amuse the heck out of you.

Comments are closed.