Yesterday was a superb showing of how cranky and irrational I can be. I was stuck at my house all day (doing housewifey-mommy things) and it wasn’t jiving with my constant need to do something productive. I suppose I could’ve blogged, but rather acting pissy seemed like such a better choice at the time. So at 4pm, I did something about it.
Destination: Our local outdoor shopping area. The Christmas lights were pretty, our pasta made us happy, and Santa made us feel absolutely creepy. Yup.
I should’ve known something was up when LadyP shot me a weird look while waiting in line for her *FIRST* Santa visit ever. (What’s the deal? She sure wasn’t afraid of the Easter Bunny.) When we got to St. Nick’s (in)famous lap, she put her hand up to his prickly (real) beard and drew it back quickly as if it bit her. She then started whimpering and wiggling when I put her in his arms… at which point Mr. Claus said “Mom, why don’t you take her and YOU sit on my lap.” The whole thing struck me as odd. I pretended not to hear him in the commotion and first tried to just hold her and bend down beside him, until he insisted again that I sit on his lap. I almost started laughing in his face “You’ve got to be kidding right?” But I fell to the pressure of the serious stares from the “elves” waiting behind the camera to take the damn picture and couldn’t help but feel guilty about holding up the line as I looked at the restless families waiting behind us. I planted my butt on his knee and smiled (trying to act natural and balance my a$$ and hold my baby without falling over).
Teaches me right: Be not naughty, nasty, or UNAPPRECIATIVE in your own home. I should feel lucky to have a home to be stuck in all day every so often (I do). Thank you Santa. Here’s to a *NICE* holiday season for all…
HAVE ANY OTHER MOMMIES BEEN ORDERED TO SIT ON SANTA’S LAP?