In the War Zone - a Celebration of Wife and Motherhood

Speaking of deliciousness, I got a job.  And then the bitterness, I quit after three weeks. :)  I took a job as a freelance writer for a local news company, but for a variety of reasons it didn't really work out.  Anyway, below was to be my inaugural column.  Enjoy.  (P.S. the above is the proposed title for my column).

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Like most of the people around me, minus a few “scrooges”, the holiday season and Christmas is one of my favorite times of the year.  While I hear that the rush of the holidays stresses some people out, I gotta say, I kind of thrive on that energy. 

And I really do thrive, until my husband says something like “hey hun, are we going to do Christmas cards this year?”  A simple, harmless question until I analyze it and say, “exactly what do you mean by WE?”  If your house is at all like mine, the real question he was meaning to ask was, “hey hun, could you arrange to get our pictures done (including purchasing all the new clothing), design and order a Christmas card, put our mailing list together, go buy stamps, address all the envelopes, and take them to the post office.”  A slightly different question. 

In reality, my husband is very helpful, but at Christmastime, with the list of desired to-do’s being as long as the lawn I haven’t cut in months, I have to be careful or the Mr.’s sly cunning can slip a few tasks right by me.  I did call him on the carpet on this card issue, but alas, ended up doing most of the above list anyway.

Among other Christmas quirks is the budget; my husband never sticks to one.  Given that we are usually the type of people who just go buy things as we need them, we decided we would have a $50 dollar limit for each other.  I was excited about the idea of going to a random store and seeing how creative I could be with such limited moola.  Then, the Mr. says “we should TOTALLY stick to the budget, but I have liberty to go over.”  Blah!  How lame do I feel on Christmas morning when he’s opening generic cotton balls and jalapeno flavored toothpicks, and I’m opening a trip to London (keep your fingers crossed for me).  How does the Mr.'s effort to make me happy sort of dig at me at the same time? 

Another Christmas must for us is visiting family.  My mother’s house has a strange, slug-inducing effect on me.  Maybe it’s the fact that between me, my three sisters, one brother, and 14 grandchildren, getting everyone organized to do virtually anything (besides eating snacks) takes 4 times longer than it should.  Today, for example, I asked my one sister as I was literally walking out the door, if she would like to come to Target with me.  Another sister, a couple of baby nursings, and an hour and a half later, I was on my way to Target.  Take a deep breath (I remind myself), it’s Christmas and I love these people.

Inevitably comes the time to trek up to Idaho and visit the in-laws.  I’ve heard some horror stories about this breed of human, but mine aren’t the crazy type -- just the beading jewelry, reality-TV star, cooking everything with heavy cream, clogging and banjo-playing type.  Always an adventure.  Again, my time of year to thrive.  These people and adventures make me smile and fill me up with yumminess to last the rest of the year.