Grinchy

The holidays are here. Yay! There was a very long period of time in my early adulthood when I swore off the holidays completely. I HATED the holidays. I DREADED the holidays. I LOATHED the holidays. I think about this every year and reflect on my past- which ultimately makes me more grateful for my present.

Working in malls from the age of 16 through 25 really did a number on me, I guess you could say. Maybe not all former mall employees wind up as disgruntled as I did for a long time, but I think it's safe to say that any kind of career retail employee can attest to the fact that working Christmas in a mall does something to your psyche and you are forever changed somehow. You see a whole different, distorted, gross side of people and Christmas lore and it puts things into a whole new perspective.

I remember one particularly stressful Saturday afternoon of working in retail during the Christmas rush when I was probably about 23. I was managing a Sunglass Hut kiosk at that point in time, out in the middle of the mall like being on an island in the middle of crazy town.

It was almost Christmas, just a few days before, when a lot of customers turn into real assholes to deal with because they've waited until the last minute to shop, they're running out of money or are overspending and know it, and don't really want to be there.

Those people colliding with tired, overworked mall employees who have to eat shit with a smile from customers like that makes for some interesting conflicts and interactions throughout the span of an afternoon (or from open to close, as many of us in retail have had to do). When it gets busy in retail during Christmas, you often have to sacrifice your lunch and work through it, which makes for even more holiday cheer.

Christmas to me had become nothing but long, drawn out minutes measured and counted down as windows of time endured to get me through to my next cigarette break. How's that for holiday spirit? 

The mall muzak had been on repeat for weeks, forcing all of us who worked in kiosks to endure the same songs over and over and over and over. This can quickly ruin any bit of endearing sentiments you have about Christmas music and make even the first few notes of these kinds of classics cause your stomach to churn. It was driving me nuts. It was getting to the point where I was so distracted by how much the music was annoying me that I couldn't concentrate on anything else.

I remember blowing a fuse and escaping to the public restroom (since being in a kiosk, we had no bathroom of our own) to grab a few moments to collect my shit. Splashing cold water on my face to cool my hot head, I looked up at my reflection in the mirror remember thinking, "If I have to listen to 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,' one more time I am going to fucking kill someone. Kill someone!"

Then what do you know? Right at that moment, right on cue, I was bitched slapped by irony and "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" came on overhead, echoing through the noisy, overcrowded, smelly public women's restroom. And I started laughing and crying at the same time.

I must have looked like a crazy person, standing there laughing and bawling my eyes out, make up running down my face and shaking in my crisp, clean cut black Express slacks and button up executive blouse and high heeled black boots- a type of manager "uniform" that I wore back in that era of my life and a style that when I see it on someone else, I am reminded of working in a mall (and I shudder).

Oh yes- Christmas can make you crazy when you work in retail. It can get pretty obnoxious. You don't even want to know some of the things that mall employees have said about you once you've left their store- even if you haven't done anything particularly interesting: every one is a potential victim for shit talking and razzing. It's open season and you're all helpless little bunnies.

Case in point- an old friend of mine and I, while working one of many Christmas seasons together in a mall, dreamed up our own Christmas musical, complete with dance numbers and songs about pissed off customers, long hours on our feet and hearing the words, "Just looking!" a hundred thousand times a day. We called it, "Have a Cock and Balls Christmas!" the musical.

It's awful and completely inappropriate I know, but when all the burners on the stove get cranked up during the Christmas rush while working in retail, you do what you can to keep yourselves entertained and short of strangling customers with your bare hands.

It's amazing what life can do to you over the years- wear you out, beat you up and tarnish even the most joyful things that you looked forward to as a child- like Christmas- spitting you out as a bitter, tired adult with Christmas budgets and responsibilities and pleasing family members expectations of you and your time.

Then just the same, life can pick you up and dust you off, pat you on the butt like a child and send you on your way again with a fresh start. "Run along now! Do over!"

Children are magical in this way during the holidays- I attest to this as a former Grade A Grinch. Santa ceases to exist as just that guy in a costume that that noisy long line of families is waiting to get their picture taken with in the mall.

He gets to be real again!

I now voluntarily play Christmas music because Jude likes it (and I like it too). During his first Christmas season in 2009, I went out on a limb and bought a Christmas soundtrack (ELF Soundtrack), aspiring to turn a new leaf and start Christmas over again in my life as something happy and fun and wonderful. After all, kids are a clean slate- immune to disgruntling woes of retail life, being pulled in half like a wish bone on holidays and spending too much or not enough on gifts for everyone.

So we listen to the ELF soundtrack during the month of December while we do Christmas things. We read Christmas stories- like the "Grinch Who Stole Christmas" which is Jude's favorite and always reminds me of my super bad attitude back in the day during this time of year. I always tell him that I used to be a Grinch and he thinks it's funny. He doesn't realize how serious I am, but that's OK- because it's probably a good thing.

I would rather he only know me as Mommy who gives him Christmas treats for breakfast and dances and sings like a dork and twirls and throws him around during Christmas music to make him laugh, and puts up Christmas lights and makes Christmas crafts with him.

I will be the mom that discourages him from getting a seasonal job in a mall during Christmas when he gets into high school so that he always likes Christmas and is never forced to have a nervous breakdown in a stinky public mall restroom because he's that sick of Christmas music. That's just not right!

CHRISTMAS COOKIE MONSTER

We hear, "I need a cookie!" at least 20 times a day now. Insistently. Like, him following us around the house repeating it over and over and over again, tugging on our pants and shirt bottoms. It's as funny as it is irritating, because I'm usually thinking the same thing. 

I need a cookie too. 

JUDE AND NILES ENTERTAINING ONE ANOTHER WITH HOLIDAY STRING

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Vacation Modificiation

Is it the 1st of December already? So much for national blog posting month in November. I gave it a good effort though, I think. For awhile there I got to blog almost every day- but I'm learning that juggling two kids means reevaluating what I squeeze into my free time and giving up about, oh, 90% of my "me" time. With Jude with us, playing hookie from school to go on our trip to Taos, any amount of "me" time I have been getting since we enrolled him, is pretty much nonexistent.

At least Baby Mochi naps. On this trip, we haven't been making Jude nap- it's his vacation too and we know that he is too amped up to sleep so we gave up.

So we wear him out all day long until he crashes at bed time. For the first time in his life he has willingly and happily surrendered to bed time every night.

He actually looked at Taylor the other night in the car and said, "Daddy- I'm tired."

Who is this guy?

Anyways- we rented a lovely adobe house in the heart of Taos, right up the way from the historic plaza and minutes away from all sorts of good things. The food is great, the people are very hippie dippy and apparently everyone in town goes to bed at like 8, because nothing is open past 6- if they were open at all that day. There's lots of art, ethnic stuff, expensive nick nacks and clothing, and frumpy if not slightly mustily dressed folks in clothes that scream "I live in Taos and am an artist so I don't care how I dress or what people think."

I haven't seen many kids around. There have been a handful, but not many families. This is not a town that I would necessarily consider family friendly or equipped- but it's low-key in a really nice way.The weather and scenery is beautiful- the people and town are quirky.

It's weird here, but I like it. I appreciate weirdness.

I must say- Taylor and I are becoming a well-oiled parental team vacation machine. This started the moment we started packing to leave the house. We had aimed to leave at noon last Friday. We wound up leaving town at 4- BUT, we managed to execute the entire ordeal without fighting and accomplished everything on our "to do" list.

Packing for vacation while simultaneously caring for your babies is an entirely different blog.

We have had to adapt to this "well-oiled machine" mindset to survive and not strangle each other or jump ship and go A-Wall entirely throughout the course of the day- which in Taos starts bright and early and in full-throttle at 7 a.m. every day (damn you time zone change) and ends around 8 p.m. when the kids go down. Actually, my day starts at about 4:30 a.m., since the time zone change has screwed my schedule with Baby Mochi's sleeping through the night (almost to 5:30 a.m. at home! Yaayyyy...). We're wiped out by 11, but what else is new?

Patience is taken to a whole new level when traveling as a party of 4 with two children under the age of 3- oh, and a huge dog who could just about piss herself with excitement to be with us, and is an entire preschool class wrapped up in 80lbs. of German Shepard happiness. You'd think at 7 years old she'd be a little more lax- but no.

She's as high strung on this trip as Jude is and is getting spoiled to death and fat due to all of the delicious vacation scraps she has been allowed. 

Vacationing as a young family of 4 is an epic process of parental badge earning. We went to Hawaii last Christmas for 2 weeks with Jude and I was 5 months pregnant. I remember being nervous to travel with a child for the first time- but it wound up being cake (besides being in that just-getting-big-and-awkward pregnant stage) and I remember thinking, "Hey- this isn't so rough!"

This new party of 4 situation we've got going on is an entirely differently ballgame. It's fantastic and all- and I'm enjoying myself, don't get me wrong- but it took a couple of days to let it sink in that this isn't and will not be, CAN not be, the vacations of my past. No sleeping in. No leisurely showers. No leisurely shopping. No leisurely dining out. No sporadic alcohol consumption just because we're on vacation. I may not be pregnant on this trip- but I'm just as limited.

Getting and keeping an infant and almost 3 year-old (and at times, your husband) fed, clothed, clean, entertained, unharmed and happy keeps a woman so busy and constantly in motion that by the time you have all your ducks in a row and you finally get the chance to eat and get ready for the day yourself (as fast you can- all the while with a little person following you around whining for attention or candy (no! no candy!) or to go outside or getting into shit and an infant who desperately wants you to hold her- everyone else is getting hungry again, someone had an accident and needs to be changed and you haven't even started packing up all the gear you need to go anyplace.

Jesus- sometimes I wonder how we ever wind up making it out of the fucking door to do anything.

My hands are so full that it's enough to make me reevaluate having another baby someday. Seriously. Is that shitty? 

Walking around and checking things out with a baby strapped to you in an Ergo, a toddler in a stroller (which he can easily escape from now) and a huge dog on a leash who is walking you more than you are walking her, makes you feel like you are driving a clown car. Husband is helpful, but you are still the mom, so you run the show.

I prefer to run the show- but it. Is. EXHAUSTING. I wanted to get some yoga in at one of these amazing studios I've heard so much about, but as I said: "Me" time takes a back seat to everyone else, so I've fit in a bit of my own self led practice here in tiny windows. Best part of this? Jude likes to do the yoga with me- naked- which is hilarious and distracting, but the best yoga I've ever done thus far. I'm getting pretty good exercise just carrying Mochi around in the Ergo. She's like a baby kangaroo in that thing and she rides in it everywhere- even around the house. Happiest baby you've ever met, when she's in that thing.

Everything is more tolerable when there isn't a baby crying in the background. That sound makes me feel like I have to do everything in fast forward. Me no likey.

I am sneaking in a blog session while the baby sleeps (finally) and my brother has my Tiny Tornado out at a park to run him ragged. Oh, and the husband is out on the mountain snowboarding all day with our friends Dustin and TJ who met us out here with my brother in tow yesterday. Thank whatever higher being of your choosing that my brother made it out here, or this vacation would have quickly turned into more of a staycation for me in this great adobe house- since juggling my dependents gets a bit overwhelming.

I figured out real quick the first couple days that we were here in Taos that hauling around an infant in an Ergo while trying to keep up with a toddler is just about the most exhausting, mind frazzling thing you can do to yourself. Not that they aren't the loves of my life and I don't enjoy the hell out their company- but there is a reason that people take nannies on vacations. So, I guess you could call my brother my "Manny." He is the best most devoted, fun uncle you will ever meet.

Your brother might be good with your kids, but I promise.

Mine wins.

Taylor asked me if I wanted to snowboard on this trip and I said no. Not this time. Although I enjoy snowboarding, I'm not all that great at it, and wind up more than half the time on trips, boarding for a half a day and ending up at the bar during lunchtime, never returning to the slopes for the remainder of the day. So what's the point, when I have two little snow bunnies to take care of at the end of the day? I'm nursing and still not willing to part with my baby for more than a couple of hours, and I'd rather stay and chase and tickle and laugh and play with my Tiny Tornado.

No buzz for Mommy on these kinds of trips anymore- and that's ok. I enjoyed more than my fair share of buzzes in the 8 years of vacations that Taylor and I took as just a DINK (double income no kids) couple- and there will be plenty of trips filled with future buzzes to come. Buzzes are overrated anyways and don't even compare to the joy I get from my family, despite what my venting may convey.

The best buzz I've yet to get- and ever will get, I imagine- is the natural high I get from the happiness my family give me.