I'm Dreaming of a Cool Christmas
It’s that time of year again already, huh? Time sure flies when you’re having . . . well, menopause, spelling bees and student council meetings. You’ll have to take my word on all counts, I’m guessing, but trust me. The times—and the moms—they are a-changin’. Heck, I could light up a Christmas tree without even plugging myself in! But that’s not why we’re here, is it? Let’s get down to business.
In the interest of everyone’s busy schedules, I’ll combine the family’s wish list into one this year. Plus I’m finding it helpful these days to have all of my thoughts in one place; they’re much easier to find. And again, you’re going to have to take my word for it. Or maybe ask your wife. She’s got to be at least as old as me.
We’ll start with the kids, since Christmas really is about them. The girl, for example, would like an iPad. See how easy that is? Of course, it gets a little more complicated when you throw in my wish that she not get one, but I’ll let you handle it. You’ll figure out something. But do not get her an iPad. Or a laptop. That’s kind of a warning.
She also wants Legos. I say, knock yourself out. Give her all the Legos you can carry. Probably a good idea anyway since half of them will end up as chew toys, even if she plays with them in places the dog can’t go—you’ll recall that the Demon Cat’s favorite game is carrying items up through the cat door and placing them at the dog’s feet, like a gift. Maybe he’s Santa Cat! He certainly has the girth. (Nothing personal.)
The girl would probably also like a mother who’s not as moody as she herself is, what with her hormones kicking in just as mine are kicking out. It’s frustrating to go running to Mom in a tizzy when Mom’s tizzy is even worse. Kind of takes the fun out of it.
The boy is a little more complicated this year. Between all his growing and the fact that he’s probably one of the first teenagers on earth who actually is smarter than his parents, I’m not sure there’s much you can do. Ooh! Wait! He wants a Kindle! His books are always so heavy; I tell him to just read People magazine like me, instead of two-inch hardcovers like Matterhorn, and God love him, he humors me, but . . . please just get him the Kindle.
He probably would also like a mother who’s not constantly snagging his acne medication because she refuses to buy her own, come to think of it. Feel free to have a go at that.
The husband’s easy. He’s into fitness clothes and equipment, books, the occasional nice tie. He likes cool stuff. . . and, actually, since that does not include his wife at the moment, he probably would also like his own bedroom for Christmas, and possibly for as long as it takes for my hot flashes to ease up. Hard for him to get a good night’s sleep when I’m up and down and over to the window and back like a pinball, stealing all the covers one minute and throwing them violently into a heap on top of him the next.
And me? Well, I have pretty much everything I’ve ever wanted. The family, the home, the pets—there is not one thing that I need. I mean, sure, I wouldn’t mind my body temperature regulating itself before I spontaneously combust, and getting my moods back under control before my head starts spinning completely around, Exorcist-style, and maybe clearing up my skin before my children and I come to blows over the pimple cream . . . these would all be nice, sure. But that’s not what the season’s about. It’s about giving.
So if you need some extra warmth for the sleigh team, say, or maybe to heat a moderately sized town, I’ll be happy to give you some of mine. Merry Christmas.
Maggie Lamond Simone is an award-winning writer and mother of two living in Baldwinsville. Reach her at email@example.com.