Sunday 30 December 2012

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...


Out of respect for my husband, I don’t put Christmas decorations up until after my birthday (on the 7th of November). Out of respect for the military, I don’t put Christmas decorations up until after Remembrance Day. Once the digital clock rings 11:12 on the 11th, however, all bets are off.

Up came the boxes of Christmas stuff, down went my husband into the basement where he claimed he could “put off Christmas until at least next week” by avoiding the glitter-soaked, pepperminty red and green extravaganza.  My kiddos, wanting only the best for their beloved father, turned up the Christmas music extra-loud so he could be included (no matter how hard he tried to do otherwise).  Ha.

The children and I eagerly opened box after box of Christmas decorations, ooh-ing and ahhh-ing over this little thing or that. Oh look, there’s the ball your grandmother gave your father when he was a child and now you can play with it during Christmas. This is the stocking my mother made me, and I made you a stocking, isn’t that special?  Oh yes, it was like The Hallmark Channel all over the living room.

It wasn’t until I opened one box in particular that I truly had the Christmas spirit all over. In fact, for a reason I can’t quite figure out, the children (sensing danger?) told me I could open that box all by myself. I unfolded the box top slowly and, like an archaeologist opening a mummy’s tomb, when daylight, 2012 hit the contents of this box, a dust bomb was triggered.  Poof!

I sneezed until I was sitting from the dizziness, rubbed my eyes and asked (once the air had cleared) what the heck was in that box in the first place.  The children looked inside and shrugged. It seemed to be empty. 
Concerned that we’d inadvertently opened some version of Pandora’s Box, I peered in. Just as they’d surmised: Empty.  Astonishing. It had weight before I opened it, I thought. What happened?

Then, my son looked at me and said, “Momma look like Christmas.” 

My daughter’s eyes got the size of Jolly Ranchers and she said “Momma! You look like Lady Gaga!”

I looked in the mirror and dusted off my hands. I was covered in glitter. I brought my hands to my face and tried to brush the glitter off. Glitter, for those of you who don’t indulge your inner Martha Stewart on the regular, is the cockroach of craft supplies.  There’s nothing that will kill it and once you get one speck of it, it’s everywhere in your house in a matter of hours.  If we added Glitter to Rock, Paper, Scissors, it would beat everything and the game would be dead. Dead.

I brushed my (surprisingly) glitter-free hands onto my face. Not. One. Piece. Moved.  I mean, it was glued to my hide like… well like someone had glued glitter to my skin. Oh, and say what? I have to get groceries and go to a Christmas open-house and … oh all in the next hour? Oh that’s fabulous. 

Unable to remove or even just move the glitter to a new location, I took my Twilight-self to the grocery with my (confusingly) glitter-free children.

By the way, Guys, I get it now. I had no idea the looks I was giving my male friends while they grew their Movember  ‘staches for prostate research.  You see, every friend I saw at the store (and there were many) kept glancing at various parts of my face, while trying to pretend they weren’t looking, and yet were listening to what I was saying.  Some friends protectively drew their children closer to themselves all while smiling a “What the heck is going on with your FACE? Do you know? You must know so why haven’t you done anything about it? My uterus is scared for whatever your problem is.” 

I got my (abridged) list of groceries, stopped in at the open house and returned home hoping I’d left a trail of glitter like Billy from the Family Circus cartoons. I even hopped on a couple of picnic benches and squirmed through a tire swing, just to leave a reasonable facsimile, but the dang glitter remained.

So, if you see me between now and the New Year, please just assume I’m either a) returning from a Theatre Kent audition and I really REALLY want the role of Mirrorball or I’m b) just super-crazy festive! Woo hoo!

Happy Glitter-mas, everyone! 

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