Christmas Double Eve

Wow, is it really Christmas tomorrow?  Like, for seriously?

Good thing I’m ready.  I mean, I’m REALLY ready.  And, bless it, I am actually starting to “feel it”.  Just a little.  The barest dusting of snow we got in the wee hours last night helped.  As does getting the vast majority of the cleaning up done in time for my in laws to arrive later today.

Kile hitched a ride into work with a co-worker today so he’ll either hitch a ride back or talk his parents into picking him up when they get to town.  Hopefully, by the time today is through, he’ll have a new tire for his van so all this goofiness will be done and over with.  Or mostly.  At least until the tan van is registered sometime next week.  I miss my tan van.  These kids had better be grateful for all the awesomeness we are bestowing on them for the holidays because the sacrifices we had to make are nothing short of torturous.

The floors are clean, the bathrooms are spotless, the kitchen counters are SPARKLING, damnit.  There are clean sheets on the guest bed and the stairs have been vacuumed.  All of Evie’s clothes have either been bagged up (too small) or put away.  Hot Wheels still litter the living room floor but you gotta give me a break here.  Besides, they’re keeping Liam entertained.

So I find myself actually anticipating the holiday tomorrow.  Going to church, looking at Christmas lights, eating cookies and fudge and letting the kids open their pajama presents.  Playing up the wonder and excitement of it all.   Liam is really starting to “get” it and I can’t wait to see what he thinks come Christmas morning.

In case some of you aren’t around the internets tomorrow or the day after, MERRY CHRISTMAS.  You know I’ll be here though.  I always am, aren’t I?  (Though I can’t promise quality… but when has that stopped me before?)

Disappointing

I don’t do disappointment well.  I think it’s because as a child, I didn’t have a lot of disappointment.  If I was looking forward to a particular event, that event nearly always happened.  I can’t think of any instance in which plans had to change at the last minute.  Which, you know, is pretty lucky.  Simply because disappointments are a part of life.  However, I did get to a certain age believing rather wrongly in a certain sort of “justice”.  I believed that if I wanted something badly enough, it would only be fair for me to get that something.  That’s always how it had worked in the past, after all.  I didn’t have a lot of “life isn’t fair” moments to refer back to.  Again, that’s a good thing but also a bad thing.  Because once I started experiencing disappointment, I was ill equipped to deal with it.

Looking forward to something only to have the rug yanked from underneath me at the last moment always leaves me shaken to my core.  You would think that like most people, I would stop putting all my eggs in particular baskets, that I would temper my expectations somewhat.  Unfortunately, I haven’t quite learned how to do that yet.  I wish I would start learning, because in the meantime, this devastating disappointment is for the birds.

In my adult years, I’ve had a good deal of disappointing things happen.  Some are large, some are small. The large disappointments are enough to knock a person back on their kiester and take the wind out of them, for sure.  The grief of shattered hope and expectation in those situations is crippling.

One would think those huge disappointments would temper the sting of the small ones.  That perhaps with the renewed perspective, the small disappointments wouldn’t matter as much.  I haven’t, sadly enough, found that to be true in my instance.  If anything, those large disappointments have made the smaller ones all the more intolerable.  It’s almost as if it’s all happening again, when small plans are broken.   Which, logically, I know is absurd.  When someone has to break plans with me, or a fun trip doesn’t happen, it in no way is meant to be connected to losing a child.  Not even in the most abstract terms.  But perhaps the feeling of having that hope yanked from me brings back those old familiar emotions.  Everything, in that moment, bubbles to the surface.

This is my problem, I know that.  I would LOVE to get over this.  I would love to be able to distance myself from the roller coaster of emotions that I feel.  My husband told me the other day that he has learned not to count his chickens until they’re hatched, he just doesn’t get his expectations up too high.  I wish I could do that.  I want to be able to do that.   It’s not that hope is a bad thing, it’s really rather a GOOD thing, but when it causes me pain I can’t help but wish to temper it a bit.  I also need to work on my trust issues.  I’m far too much of a “wears her heart on her sleeve” sort of person and I always take things and people at face value.  I almost always believe what I’m told and I’m pretty sure my bullshit-ometer is busted.  Plainly put?  I’m gullible.  And I need to work on that.  Maybe if I weren’t so gullible, I wouldn’t get my hopes up so much and I wouldn’t get so disappointed all the time.

It’s a thought, at least.

DOOL? Seriously?

Welcome to the third installment of “embarrassing things about Marilyn!”  In the first installment you learned that she has a personal vendetta against herself and has taken to throwing herself off porches and fighting ice with a shovel in pursuit of the ultimate goal for a stay-at-home: free money (by way of disability insurance)! In the second installment you learned that she is an itinerant gamer and you better not ask her for free stuff n00b or you’ll get pwned.  In the last post I mentioned in passing a vague reference to Star Wars and thought we could begin this post with that. 

Marilyn’s interest in Star Wars started innocently enough in one of her classes in high school and resulted in outpatient treatment at a mental facility.  Okay I made that last part up but perhaps you get the picture that she doesn’t merely “like” Star Wars.  We’re talking memorizing the scripts and knowing what the last letter of the last word said in each movie spells when put together.  So now you’re thinking “big deal alot of people like Star Wars.”  Okay, then how do you explain her teenage obsession with Days of our Lives *blink blink*?  Okay granted it WAS the 80’s but still…say it slowly:  Days…Of…Our…Lives. The last time I looked we still had several of the scrapbooks she put together sitting in our garage not to mention scripts she wrote inspired by the movie “The Cutting Edge.”  Oh yes she was obsessed with everything ice skating in the 90’s and even dressed as Kate Mosely for halloween.  And dare I even mention “Titanic?” (“I’m the King of the World!”).  Somewhere we have a box of Titanic trinkets complete with a replica ticket for the doomed White Star Line ship.

Please accept my apologies for such a short post this week. I really could go on and on about Marilyn and her movie/tv fetishes but unfortunately this week had other plans for me (Little Steamy Croupy Boy anyone?) and I simply ran out of time.  Check back next week when I’ll start spilling the real dirt. Lolz!