Stomping Around the Christmas Tree

So on Christmas Eve morning, before our annual Mexican lunch at Chevy’s, dropping cookies off for local firefighters, watching “It’s a Wonderful Life,” and going to church, Mom had a pity party.

I hadn’t slept well because I was disappointed and disgruntled. Tom and I had gone to pick up our new car (my first car ever with power windows!) just in time for Christmas. I pictured something like this, without the BMW part, of course.





After signing all the papers and paying, we took the keys and walked out to drive home. It was the wrong car. Crap. Weeks of deciding, and figuring and waiting--- for what? Of course on the way over I had told Tom very dramatically, “I am so sick of car shopping. If I have to go back to the dealer after tonight, I will poke my eyes out with a screwdriver.” Ooops.

So I tossed and turned, wondering when I’d ever get my new car. Wondering how we were going to cram the 4 of us PLUS THE DOG into a Volkswagen Jetta for our 5 hour trip to my sister’s. Picturing my feet scrunched up on the dash like they were for our Thanksgiving trip. Imagining blod clots and much pissed-off -ness by me.

I grumped around downstairs for a while then crawled back in bed to stew.

Then I noticed I had my period. Three days of fantasizing about a surprise after-40 pregnancy went up in smoke. The whole scenario of having teenagers and a toddler at the same time, with an unplanned (and therefore surely meant to be) child who would be easy, docile, and bring the whole family together just like a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie disappeared too.

When I finally got a grip and put on my big girl underwear (NOT panties, mind you) to start the day, Molly and I began baking. Seconds later, in her exuberance to point out something incredibly important (colorful sprinkles?), she clocked my in the left eye. Stinging tears, a possibly detached retina, and we kept on baking. It wasn’t exactly a screwdriver through the eye, but it wasn’t fun, either.

I thought I was hiding my grumpiness pretty well (unless the zits gave me away) until we got to Chevy’s. Molly announced to Tom and Jake, and anyone else in the parking lot, “Watch out. Mom’s grouchy because she has her period.”