I Hate Everything

Ok, not everything. But I need to bitch about Xmas.

I LOVE Christmas. I all-caps, italics LOVE it. Way more than halloween, which I used to think of as my holiday. This being the monster's last Christmas as an only child, and the first one where he had any idea what was going on, I was of course looking forward to it.

I mentioned in a previous post that I would likely have to work and that I had a small glimmer of hope to switch a shift with a coworker. Well, as predicted, dick coworkers will be dicks, so while he did agree to work my shift, he wouldn't switch with me. Which would have meant that despite still having to work Christmas day, I'd lose out on over $100. Not something a pregnant Mummy of a toddler and baking Hobgoblin can afford - especially when I only work 16 hours per week.

So Mr. Wolfman and I decided we'd do his traditional Xmas on Xmas eve, then I would go to work and we would move Christmas day entirely (we're doing that later this week). I thought I was going to be ok with this, but I spent last night fighting back tears, realizing that Christmas was over, that I'd missed out on the one Christmas eve tradition I've been following my entire life, that this was going to be the Monster's last only child Christmas, etc., etc.

Then a giant toner cartridge exploded at work causing all sorts of trouble, because why the Hell not?

So, since Christmas morning is later this week, I'd arranged with my brother and sister to get our families together tomorrow for dinner and presents (my parents sent presents for everyone, too, that we were going to open then). I checked with my brother like 10 times that he was definitely free. He messaged me on the 24th to tell me he works tomorrow. Of course I was on a work-sleep-zombie schedule. I went to check with him today to find out about another day, and it turns out he works every day this week. Except Saturday, when, of course, I work. My presents for both my brother and sister are homemade cookies. Which really can't sit out for another week. So, yeah.

None of which really matters, since my brother still hasn't gotten back to me with his schedule for next week, so I don't even know if it's possible to have it next week anyway. And honestly, I just don't feel like bothering if it goes past New Year's. I don't even understand why this is all on me to arrange. I tried a group message and no one responded with anything concrete, so I've been messaging my brother and sister individually, and it's just getting stupid. Last year, my brother in law was over 2 hours late (an hour of which was after he finished work, but apparently he needed to go home and shower for an hour) and we waited for him, so after spending all day cooking (not to mention babysitting my sister's kids because even though she was right there, she doesn't watch them), we ate cold food, tried to take family pics, the kids got overwhelmed by presents and they left without helping clean up (to be fair, my sister did offer, but she often half-asses cleaning and then gets offended if you say anything).

Oh, and the camera we got for the monster, which he absolutely loves, refuses to connect to the computer. So there's no way to get his pictures off it and when the battery dies, the pictures (the first he ever took on his own camera) will be erased. So, yay.

Xmas Woes

Can I just whine for a minute?

So, last night, with daylight savings time, my shift went from 8 hours to 9 hours. Ok, that sucks, but it's an extra hour of pay, so whatever. I only got two hours of sleep yesterday afternoon because pregnancy heartburn has set in and it's kicking my ass. Luckily, it was a pretty quiet night, no extra work for me, so other than extreme tiredness, it was pretty good.

Until my manager showed up. Not that I have anything against her, but I'd asked her for Christmas eve off (not Christmas, just the one day) because my schedule has me working Xmas eve, Xmas, New Years Eve and New Years. So, I thought, hell, maybe she'll see that it's insane and wildly unfair for me to have to work every single important holiday (oh yeah, Thanksgiving, too) in the fall/winter, and I offered to work any other shift that week, or the next week, or whenever the guy who would be taking over for me wanted, if I could just have Xmas eve off. No dice. Apparently it wouldn't be fair because he has to work New Year's Eve, because everyone in my department has to work that day, because we're supposedly insanely busy. So... it's fair for me to work NYE and Xmas eve and Xmas and NYD, but not for him.

She said I can talk to him and if he's happy to switch with me, then she doesn't mind. This guy (the only other person trained in my role) is the biggest asshole. I fully intend to ask him, to be as sweet as pie, to keep my original offer to work literally any other night he wants me to. I'll bake him cookies, I'll bring him dinner, whatever he wants - but I fully expect him to say no. He has no family in town and I'm pretty sure he never leaves his house except for work (we live in a very small town and I have literally never seen him outside of work, ever). Other colleagues have told me he hates Christmas and thinks it's stupid, but he just seems like the type of person to get a kick out of making people's lives miserable. He's rude to our customers, to our coworkers, to everyone. When he trained me, I would ask questions and he would go on 25 minute tirades designed to make me feel stupid (none of which ever answered what I'd asked). Management seems to see him as a loveable grump. If he was my employee, he'd have been fired long ago.

And this is who I have to hope has a little compassion so that I can actually enjoy Christmas with my kid. I don't think I should get special treatment because of the monster, but I'd like to think that if I had a business and one of my employee's regular schedule had them working on every single winter holiday, that I'd move things around so that everyone at least had the chance to celebrate.

Mr. Wolfman and I combine our cultures' Christmases, so we celebrate his way on the 24th (traditional meal, one gift each) and my way on the 25th (stockings, one more small gift, turkey dinner).
Except this year, it will look like:

I go to bed when Mr. Wolfman gets home from work on the 24th (3:30pm). Mr. Wolfman cooks the entire meal alone while watching DS because I need to sleep. 7-8pm, I wake up and we have dinner and one present, then I go to work. Come home at 7:30am. Maybe DS can squeeze his stocking in there, because Mr. Wolfman starts work at 8. Then Mr. Wolfman gets home at 3:30 and I go to bed. No turkey dinner because I have to sleep and I'm not going to ask Mr. Wolfman to cook a way more complicated meal that I won't even have time to eat. And then I work all night and come home on boxing day... which I guess is when we get our Xmas day presents.

FUCK.

I am well aware that this falls squarely in the realm of a first world problem. I know it's just a date. I know that there are people who are starving, people who can't even spend one day of the holidays with their families, people who would balk at 6 presents and a stocking (and an advent calendar) for a family of 3, who would never waste money on two big, elaborate meals in as many days. But it still sucks. And I still ugly cried the entire 15 minute walk home this morning. And yeah, I'm crying right now.

I'm really afraid this will ruin the whole season for me, that I'll lose it every time I look at Christmas lights or someone asks me about my holiday plans. This is the first year that the monster is going to be interested in anything going on around Christmas and his last year as an only child. I wanted it to be really special for him. And part of me knows it still can be, if I stop being a weepy mess, but at the moment, that seems impossible.

FUCK.

I should be sleeping.

The monster is sleeping.... and I am damn tired.  Instead I keep taking those annoyingly unhelpful early pregnancy quizzes online.

A bunch of symptoms that could be otherwise explained (including fatigue and tender breasts), 2 negative HPTs, nausea, lightheadedness, gas, constipation, lemonade cravings, brain fog, 3 weeks late. And a partridge in a pear tree.  My appointment (with some rando doctor, as Dr. Illegible is on vacation) is on Xmas eve.  It's so far away.

Except nowhere near far enough away, in another sense, because I have yet to finish making DH's present and I'm too queasy to work on it atm.  I also have to finish making my niece's present and make something for my nephew.  At least the monster is taken care of.

I should be sleeping.

Christmas!

You may be thinking from my last post that I'm some sort of Christmas-hating Grinch.  Not so. I love Christmas.  In fact, my tree has been up since the middle of November.

In all that time, the monster has noticed the tree, kinda glanced at it, but not, surprisingly, tried to pull it down from the high dresser it sits on, or been particularly interested in general.

Today, I plugged in the lights, and he looked up, wide-eyed, with this huge smile and said, "Aaahhh!" He was just so amazed.  Then he looked at me, to make sure I was looking and did the open-palm gesture he reserves for pointing out really big or amazing things and said "Aaah" again.

And this is why I love Christmas.  That feeling of total wonder and awe, that pure, unsullied magic.

This year, all our gifts are either homemade or secondhand and we don't have money for much of anything - and I'm so damn excited, because my monster is noticing Christmas for the very first time, because he'll be able to eat Xmas dinner with us, maybe have a taste of pie, play outside in the snow. I'm so happy.

Mall Santas Suck and So Do You

Mall Santas. I effing hate mall Santas.

Perhaps not the individuals, who I suspect by and large are just looking to make some extra money and/or bring joy to children - but the whole concept of mall Santas in general is just... gross.

It's that time of year when my social media gets flooded with pictures of people's small children, crying their eyes out on the lap of a stranger - and every time I see it, it makes me want to puke.

And, of course, there are the captions. Not a fan of Santa, lol.  What? You mean to tell me your toddler didn't enjoy being thrust into the hands of a funny-smelling stranger in a cheap polyester suit while an artificially cheerful elf took pictures? How surprising (and sooooo funny)! Then there's: We were expecting him to cry but... But what? You're an asshole, so you didn't care?  The picture was worth more to you than your kid's comfort and ability to trust you? It may be time to face the fact that you're just not a very nice person.

I came across this gem today: It'll be a good memory.  FOR FUCKING WHOM?  Your one year old won't remember crying on Santa's knee (at least not this year) - and I'm guessing, if they somehow did remember, it wouldn't be something they'd look back on with fondness.  Ooooh, you mean it'll be a good memory for you.  I can just picture you, snuggled up by the fireplace* one Christmas many years from now, looking at old pictures.  "Hey Honey, remember this? This is from that time we gave Billy to a strange man and he didn't know why and thought we were going to leave him so he cried. What a great day that was." "Oh yes, Honey, it was the best."

I want a Santa picture every year.  Why?  What are you going to do with those (let's be realistic) seven or eight Santa pictures? Especially if your kid is crying in the first three?  Hang them on the wall? No, I know: post them on Facebook so everyone can see them.  Of course.  (Hint: no one, except maybe your mom, cares about your shitty Santa picture.  They'd much rather see a picture of your kid that was well-taken by a professional, or a candid shot of your child happy or doing something cute.  The zoomed out photo of your red-eyed, snot-nosed child crying on some dude's knee is not something any of your friends care to see.  Trust me).

I haven't even gotten into the issues surrounding mall Santas and older kids. The teaching-kids-strangers-are-safe, the lying to kids about Santa in general, the issues that arise when the mall Santa is a fucking creep (not saying it happens often, but it happens) - I'll leave that for another day (and possibly another Christmas).  Right now, I just want to mention (in case you missed it) that giving your toddler to a weird stranger and taking pictures of their misery as if it's cute is plain messed up. Please consider starting your own, non-creepy tradition instead.

*You know what? No. You don't get a fireplace. You get an electric baseboard heater. Fuck you.