Well, I'm glad that's over. Nothing left but the endless presents with no place to go, the extra five pounds, and the trails of glitter left by Maggie's fabulous new shoes. Christmas, for me, was sort of a drag. Too much obligation and wrapping. Too many runny noses and schlepping from here to there. I like my regular old over-scheduled life better.
As I write this my kids are using their new Christmas scissors (favorite presents: Elmer's glue and scissors) to chop up the New York Times Style section. Before I was ignoring them to write my blog, I was ignoring them to read said section. Not ignoring them totally. I would look up occasionally and comment in the saccharine-laced voice of disinterested parents everywhere on their stellar Mr. Potato heading and marvelous tea party preparations. But really, I was hidden behind an article about style makeovers for 2009.
And here's what I wonder. Am I the only one? Is it possible that I am the only mother around who is sometimes just straight up bored with playing with her kids (although not to level of this woman, tut, tut!)? There must be others like me, other grown women with little tolerance for the endless making of make-believe cookies and Playdough snakes.
I once had a friend who sniffed with disdain at those mothers who listened to their ipods while jogging with their strollered infants. "I mean, what better music could there be than the cooing of your own baby?" she asked with great scorn. Of course, this was back before either of us had kids. But even then I suspected she was off, that as delightful and wonderful as they are, kids would get a little tedious. Even their musical cooing would not always trump a great novel, or an episode of The Wire, or even the new single by Beyonce.
A thing I like
The Mister gave me Stylish Sheds and Elegant Hideaways for Christmas (here's the Shed Style website). What would you do with a backyard shed of your own? I'd like to say I'd finish my novel and learn to read music, but really I'd probably nap and stare out the window. All I know is that as lovely as a nice George Clooney fantasy can be, it doesn't hold a candle to a good shed-of-one's-own fantasy. I want one of these from Modern Cabana.