For Crying Out Loud! Part 2

At 4:34  Boxing Day Morning, I awoke.

I was sweating, I was having heart palpitations and I was fairly sure the monster from my dream was, in fact, still underneath my bed.  I calmed myself down, rationalized that nothing is wrong and the monster is NOT waiting for me to get up and go to the bathroom so he can do all sorts of scary things (like folding the towels incorrectly, or leaving dirty dishes on the counter for months until they're glued together in perpetuity).

I'm sure the monsters in your dreams do much more terrible things than mine.

If they do, I'm really sorry-- misfolded towels is all the horror I can handle; anything more and I'd die of fright in the middle of the R.E.M. cycle.

As I sat there trying to stop the panic from again rising in my chest, I realized the reason I was having that nightmare.  See, it all began yesterday during our lovely, wonderful Christmas Morning.

In case you're have watched neither
Scooby-Doo nor Wayne's World. Ever.  Lame-o.

Santa left out a massive Thomas the Train set for Kiddo #2, which occupied him to the centre of his being. For Kiddo #1, however, he left out a beautiful necklace. It was one of two necklaces she had fallen in love with-- Santa had sent me on the lookout for things Kiddo #1 would like. Gave me to go-ahead to purchase her one gift, should it be revealed to me, and he'd compensate me accordingly-- sent word through Candy Cane Jingle Girl, our Elf on the Shelf, so I know the message was legit.

Kiddo #1 wanted either a marble necklace (which is a necklace that holds a marble in the pendant, and said marble can be switched out to be any colour in the world (probably), but the marbles cost extra and I figured Santa would be cool with getting necklace number 2 instead), or (necklace number 2) a gold chain and pendant handmade by a local artisan. Don't get me wrong, Santa was making his one gift count with either necklace, but I figured if Kiddo #1 loved them both, then she'd be happy with the one that didn't include dangerous (easily lost or choked on) marbles.  I sent word back to the North Pole that the second necklace had been purchased and was waiting in my studio, with the skirts he was picking up for other girls all over the world. Win-win.

Santa left the necklace out with his reply letter and a half-eaten cookie, on Christmas Eve, and Kiddo #1 was so happy. She was so happy! She put the necklace on and wore it and had lots of fun opening all the gifts for herself, and her brother who was so obsessed with his trains that he barely glanced up from the tracks to see what she was opening for him.

And then, after Christmas was done at our house and Christmas 2 was done at Husband's parents (my family Christmas was the weekend prior, in case you're wondering), on the way home, just before she fell asleep in the car, she half-whispered to Husband, "Daddy, I love my necklace. I really wanted the marble one. Do you think Santa thinks I wasn't a good enough girl to get the marble one?"

I nearly drove off the road. The shame was so deep it was tangible. Here was my amazing, thoughtful, wonderful, happy, smart, baby girl who works hard every day to be the best Kiddo #1 she can be, and she's  sitting there wondering if there's something she could do differently so Santa would get her the #1 gift, like he got her brother.

Oh, yes. I did.

We put her to bed and I began cultivating a peptic ulcer trying to figure out how I can fix this. Not gonna lie: I had no intention of NOT fixing it. I know kids get disappointed and that kids need to learn that they can't have everything they want. Guess what? That is not going to happen this Christmas.  I can go on and on about how amazing my daughter is and you'll either think I'm delusional or honest, and either way, I had to fix this for her. So, for you, I'll skip the paragraphs and get down to brass tacks.

Grandmas D and S, please forgive me for not expounding on your perfect grandchild.

And now you're caught up to the monster under my bed. 4:34. But I realized that the place that happens to sell that marble necklace opens for Boxing Day; Boxing Day is the Canadian equivalent to Black Friday in the States.  Only, instead of people shooting people in Walmart, in Canadia on Boxing Day, we stand in long line-ups in parking lots outside our favourite stores and take numbers to enter a giant boxing ring and pummel opponents for discounts.  It's easily the most brutal thing Canadians do (besides segregating our aboriginal peoples and slutting off our natural resources to look cool), but trust me, when you're having your clock cleaned by an old lady in a blue felted hat just to get 50% off something, you don't care. Boxing Day: national shame and economical redemption.

At any rate, I slid out of bed and padded to the bathroom where I began brushing my teeth and devising a plan. While I lived in America, stores opened at 4am to accommodate Black Friday shoppers; I got my boxing gloves out of their box, grabbed a coffee and drove to the store.  5am I pulled up and realized that the store wasn't going to open at 5am as there wasn't a light on besides my headlights.

I sat there playing Bejeweled and Draw Something with the local radio on hoping to hear a commercial that might tell me when the store would be opening.

At 5:15 my squirrel-esque attention span told me nothing would open until at least 6 and I went to a Tim Hortons' for a tea.

At 6am, it was apparent that the store would not be opening as there wasn't a light on besides my headlights.

I'll cut to the chase and tell you I was essentially "casing the joint" until the store actually, really did, open at 9. In between, I came home to a still sleeping house, put together the easel they got from Grandma S, did some dishes, and added 10 thousand tiny beads to a friend's wedding dress.  Yes, I can get a lot done when I am running on tea and a peptic ulcer.

She took out her teeth, put them in her purse,
and then beat the hell outta me.
Boxing Day: turning old ladies into  
trained killers since 1867. 

At 8:55, I returned to the store for the 5th and final time.  I turned off my car, put on my boxing gloves and headed to the front of the line. There were a couple of old ladies in front of me (one doing Matrix moves that scared the bejeezus outta me), but luckily I called my forest friends with my sweet singing voice. No old lady can resist something warm and fuzzy on their laps.  Once I had them sitting, it was a one-two knockout.

Into the store I marched, got the necklace (at 50% off, since I'd won the boxing match) and returned to the car feeling like a frickin' Ninja. So thrilled was I, that I called my mother in triumph!

Me:  MOM! I got Santa's marble necklace!
Mom: Wow! What does that mean? What time is it? What are you talking about? Is it really 9:30?
Me: Yes. The necklace. Mom! It's 9:34. And like, I'm talking about the necklace Kiddo #1 really wanted the best.
Mom: What? Oh. Yes. (yawn) But didn't she get that? Oh the marble necklace. Great. But how are you going to get it to her without her becoming a brat?
Me: Well. I hadn't thought of that.
Mom: It probably won't happen. You can just give it to her from the family.
Me: No. Santa said he'd reimburse me. This has to be from him or she'll think she's not a good kid.
Mom: Oh no. No bueno.
Me: Yes. Should I hide it in the tree?

That bitch bought the last marble necklace! 

Mom: Well, yes, but then she'll always be looking in the tree to make sure something wasn't left behind.
Me: Lord. What was I thinking? I beat up two old ladies to get this damn thing and now I can't even give it to her! It's like that movie, Not Without My Daughter.
Mom: Um. Not quite.
Me: You know what I mean!

I was annoyed that, out of a dead sleep, my mother couldn't come up with a ninja way for me to finish fixing Santa's mishap. I hung up the phone and put the car in drive. I started toward the house and realized exactly what I had to do: I got a tea for me, a coffee for Husband and two chocolate timbits. I texted Husband to alert him of my plan (and to get him to keep the Kiddos away from me while I covertly snuck back into the house.  Whether that text was ever recieved I'll never know because when I opened the backdoor, there stood Kiddo #1 beaming.

Kiddo #1: Guess what mom?
Me: Um. Uh, like. Um. What?
Kiddo #1: I've been playing trains with Kiddo #2 and we delivered some lumber to Brendham Docks!
Me: Oh. Yes! That's fantastic. Can you go to... the neighbours... and get... some ... sugar?
Kiddo #1: Yes. But why?
Me: Um, I mean, go to the basement and find... a train that... uh, can you find James train?
Kiddo #1: Right here! He's in my hand!
Me: Yes! I meant, uh, Hiro. Yes. I need Hiro and 4 trucks or shuntings or whatever those things are.
Kiddo#1: Ok! Sure!

And while she thumped down the stairs, I silently ran to the stuff she got for Christmas, wrapped the gift in some fabric (Santa brought us fabric to wrap with every year. It's super eco-friendly, way cute and luckily, all in one piece the next day for ninja moves like mine) and barely got the box put under her stuff when she reappeared with the 10 thousand things I'd requested.

See, that's another reason I think Santa needed a second chance this year.  She's just so dang nice.

Anyway, I said, ninja-style, "Let's get cleaning up. Kiddo #2, Kiddo #1, come get your stuff and take it to your rooms."  I picked up some of her things and ... poof, out dropped the little fabric box.

"What's this?" I asked quizzically.
"I dunno." she said.
"I don't see a tag. Must be Kiddo #2's." I said.
"Guess so." she said.
"Or, did you maybe just not open this one?" I asked gently.
"I don't know?" she said.
"Well, why don't you open it. I guess we'll know whose it is when we see what it is." I offered.
"Ok. Sure."

...

"MOMMA! I knew I was a good girl! I knew I wasn't naughty! Santa DID bring me the marble necklace! Oh Momma! I'm a good girl after all!"  And she hasn't taken the thing off (except to shower) since.

Yep. If you're not crying, you're not having Christmas at my place.