So, the fat man who takes all the credit is gone. Only 20 more Holidays to go....
Ok. Not 20 but close to 10 more....
Christmas went by without any major glitches, just a child who kept screaming at the top of her lungs that Santa has forgotten a present or two or three...I kindly explained that he had left some of her list for 3 Kings Day, but she wasn't having it...
I ignored her for most of the afternoon, because that's what I do best.
She woke up at 7am on Christmas morning, wanting to open presents and me wanting a bed, a big bed.
I ended up playing V-Motion with her till about 9am and making swans with her new Bendaroos. She gets the toys and instructs us to play. Ain't she dear?
I spent Christmas at my house with my family and friends and Kamila....it was swell.
Christmas Eve was spent trying to avoid the rain, with a scarf over my head, speaking like a Columbian Gyspy reading "tarot cards" to family members.
I had never seen my aunt cry so much.
The next day, EVERYONE wanted a 'reading'.
I might have a part time in the psychic industry after all....
Miss C got a bike, she loves it, but hates to ride it, she commands that I push her every 5 minutes...
I hate the bike.
It wears me out.
She only rides it for 5 mintues at a time.
True says I need a bike.
I say bikes are the creation of the devil.
I may be right.
I've spent the rest of the days taking Miss C out, enjoying the time off and trying to get some sleep...all in all...it has been good.
Santa even got me a new camera...so my old one has been put to rest.
and the new one has already been put to good use...enjoy!
The plans are already set. The dates are almost completely plotted out and the menu is read’ to go. Nothing extraordinary. I mean, besides the extraordinary people who will be with me. The longest Holidays in the world (we finish about the second weekend in January) with the people I love and hate. Bro, his girl, True, my aunt, Vader, Miss C, Empress and mini Empress Kamilia. I pitty the fool male in our presence.
Card games await, “briscas” (Spanish cards), UNO,coquito, and jokes (I’m already looking some up) and of course a little girl who will say:
Honey, we are Nieves (our last name), we were born with a Bose system inside the box of our lungs.
The presents are under the tree with no name tags because Miss C has acquired the Skull of Reading. So, bro, if you by any chance get Vader’s underwear by mistake, please do not try on, since I cannot return anything due to hygienic reasons.
Las night I watched my daughter in her first Christmas (I say “first” because it is the first where she experiments the Holidays in all their splendor), as she prepared gifts made by her little hands for everyone, gifts such as geometric figures cut out of colored paper and toys she is donating. I watched as she wrapped with such care and placed tags on every gift. I saw her illusion, that magic, that enormous heart, thinking about everyone, so everyone can be “happy”.
I thought that for the first time, Christmas will be celebrated at my house, with the people I most love, cherish and admire. We will celebrate in health, with a roof over our heads and delicious food. I thought about those ugly shorts my mom got me one Christmas because there wasn’t money for anything else. I thought about my destroyed illusion. I thought about my reborn illusion by a maternal love that covers everything, supports everything and heals everything. I thought about Vader’s words as she saw me parading about with my new Zune this week:
“I’m so glad you got that. I wanted to buy you one, but I didn’t have enough money”.
That gesture was enough and I almost forgot about those hideous shorts that I wore on that Christmas day so she wouldn’t feel so bad.
I thought about all the things I wish I could buy everyone; all the spectacular gifts in those catalogs across stores everywhere; all the gifts that not even my five pockets could afford to buy. I thought about all those gifts direct from the heart that we bought this year; all those handmade gifts, made by people dedicated to their art, craft, and their talent. I thought about all the glue I still have underneath my fingernails from all that gluing colored pipe cleaners and felt to our gifts for wrapping.
I thought of those who have nothing and my heart shrunk a bit. I thought of He who has given us all, and gave thanks.
Thanks for the Coquito, the presents, that superkickassspectacular dress I bought that fit and didn’t make me suicidal, my mom, my best friend, my family, my new niece and my daughter and her Christmas Illusion on her First Christmas.
And I asked God to direction to remain equally grateful and be able to see those small details of love towards us, every single day and asked for the ability to keep giving and loving and appreciating all that He has given us…and before I ended my prayer, I asked for one more thing…
I asked to keep giving us that winning streak we have at cards over my brother the ex-card champion…
Because winning feels good…and that’s all I want for Christmas.
Happy Holidays to all, pass the keys and put aside your differences and give the best of yourselves to He who gave the best to us…
Mary P. & Miss C.
"Momma, what do you wanna be when you grow up?" Miss C asked.
I didn't know if to smile at the fact that she thinks I'm a kid, or cry at the fact that she might think I am a careerless jobless woman...
What a way to begin the festivities...
So in walks Santa.
It was Miss C's last day of school and they bring Santa with presents for the kids.
Santa had a French manicure and was looking a tad slender. Out of all the Santa's we could get we got the Santa that is having sexual identity issues and is really Ms. Claus.
Miss C's eagle eye immediately knew something was off.
Santa also saw Miss C’s doubtful eye and called her up first for a gift to keep her busy while the other children received theirs.
She smiled stiff and odd.
She sat with her box unopened and looked on, scrutinizing Santa. I asked her what was wrong.
“That Santa. That Santa is weird. The suit is weird.”
I tried to convince her otherwise, but she wasn’t having it.
“The suit is weird. That isn’t Santa, that Suit is weird”.
I insisted she open up her present. When she did, to her dismay and my disgrace, it was a present she already had.
“I have this. I need a child. I need a child to donate this gift because I already have it.”
I tried to convince her to stay quiet, I pulled her aside.
“Listen to me, do you know what I got one year from Santa, some shorts from Kmart, that’s it. Some really bad shorts in fact. And your grandmother, she used to get fabric, 3 yards of fabric for school uniforms, so you take that gift and hush”.
It was no use.
She wanted to go talk to Santa, I had to hold her. She insisted but when she saw I wasn’t budging, she looked at me and said:
“I know that isn’t Santa. His suit is weird. If that was really Santa, he’d know I have this toy already. That is a weird suit and a weird Santa”.
And that was that.
We managed to exchange the gift for something different and Miss C let Santa go, since she knew that, that Transgender Santa with the French Manicure was not the real thing.
His suit gave him away. So Santa, if you are reading, take note and have Chanel draw you up a nice new suit for Wednesday evening, because Miss C ain’t having anything less than that!
Happy Holidays to all!
Ironically enough, now that I have more time (wth less work hours) I have less time to do things. I am trying to get my stuff together in the house, trying to survive the horrible X mas season and I mean horrible because of the chaos, traffic and the constant whinning of Miss C everytime she sees a commercial with a new toy:
"Awww momma can you ask Santa for that???"
Her list has grown over the past few weekd and my pocket has shrunken.
Her latest accomplishments have been equally grand.
She managed to scratch off a piece of my skin from my arm yesterday while I was driving in a rage of fury.
She managed to scream at the top of her lungs in Denny's in front of all the patrons:
"I wish you would die and if you don't I will break your bones!!"
See, a killer in the making...maybe Tony Soprano could give her a part time...or something.
She has called me ugly every single chance she gets in front of everyone.
Her list of presents might just get shorter before the 25th.
The Christmases at home are still a "fun" family event. I put up two Christmas Trees, managed to get into a fight with Vietnam, found out that one of the Three Kings is missing from the Nativity Scene and that we can't put any lights outside because Isabela The Destroying Lab is out on a mission..."chew up EVERYTHING".
As for the rest I've been trying to spend as much time with my goddaughter, Kamila, squeezing her whenever her mom ain't looking and trying to catch up on all those cheesy Lifetime Christmas movies such as the Box Office Hit:
"Christmas with two Dad's"
We've managed to divide our dates as to who goes where on what days and I am just anxious for a couple of days of sleep...lots of it...with no little girl whispering in my ear, "you must make breakfast I am a very hungry person".
Yeah, well, I'm a very sleepy person.
And there ya' have it...classes are out this week until the 13th of January and I'll be stuck with a kid, The Holidays and TV Christmas movies....
I think I need some alchohol
It is complicated. That's all I'm gonna say.
We the human race are the only ones that can get everything we have dreamed of and then go turn around and not want any of it, anymore.
Because that is who we are. Because that is in our nature.
I apologize for the vagueness. But I feel right now as though I am the mother of Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, the daughter of Virginia Wolf and Michael Meyers and the I am no where near the things I hoped I was.
It has been one of those rough couple of weeks. But I am still here. Longing for a solution. Longing for something to anchor onto.
And trying desperately to be good. If any such thing exists.
But I'll be ok.