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 that inevitably drive me stir-crazy) and it just wasn’t jiving with my need to do something productive. I could’ve blogged or organized a drawer or something, but acting pissy seemed like such a better choice at the time. So at 4pm, I did something about it. In an attempt to be fabulous, I did my hair, put on makeup, pulled on my tall grey boots and dressed LadyP in her fave fur vest. Hubby was working late, so we were going for a girls’ night out. GIRLS. NIGHT. OUT! Our goal: Getting our very first Santa picture. A moment to remember. And oh…. IT WAS.
I loaded my all-cozied-up 1 year old LadyP and headed to my most favorite outdoor go-to shopping place. The Christmas lights were pretty and our pasta made us happy.
Oh yeah. Santa made us feel kinda creepy.
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? I thought. She 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 tensed and pulled 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.” Okay. Okay. This was a first. 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?!?!” Is this what’s happening now? 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). You can see the fear/confusion/what-the-what-just-happened look in my eyes. Not to mention I was NOT camera-ready for this…
All this for the sake of getting out of the house to reverse my mood because it was sooooooo boring and terrible at home all day. I’m laughing now, but not before being creeped out. 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?
[…] It was my toddler’s meltdown of all meltdowns. (I’m the worst cliche, I know.) But I was mostly confused about it: LadyP woke up in a good mood, was excited for our day’s activity (which I had built up so big the night before that she actually wanted to go to bed to wake up for it) and eagerly let me dress her and her little sister in record time (I’d picked the outfits and everyting!). Last year’s Santa’s visit was “interesting” (screaming, tears, dread) and yielded a picture that looked… well… awkward if not a bit pervy. […]