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Again, I have to give my regrets for not being prompt in updating my blog– so many things have happened. Matt’s mother passed on from cancer in November, my grandmother is recovering from surgery, there’s the new business (still haven’t found a good location), I’ve been in my traditional holiday moodswing mode, my mother has found new and exciting ways of irritating and distressing me for the season (a little hobby of hers), and my sister came for a visit from North Carolina with her family.
Lexi is growing by leaps and bounds, I’m working on a new pair of soakers for her– in black since this time I haven’t had any time to spin up anything new. If I have time I’ll make her a festive little sweater and skirt for Christmas but the holiday is closing in fast and I have way too much to do.
I changed my hair color, usually I go for the palest blonde, but this time my hair is between mulberry and cherry– very dark, but absolutely unnatural (having natural looking hair color isn’t a priority for me). I did my annual trash the old make-up and lotions– my husband was absolutely horrified until I explained that make-up goes all sorts of wrong when it gets old, then he was fine. I don’t wear make-up unless my hair requires it (there are some styles that are a little funky that just look wrong or accidental if I’m not wearing pristine make-up and dressed nicely).
Mom informed me back in October that my hand-made gifts made everyone (this means her) uncomfortable because they didn’t know what to give to me (value wise). I can’t believe that I am actually related to this woman sometimes– she likes to have a dime for dime accounting for every gift so everything is fair and equal, which sucks. I like to give people things they actually like, so if that means that one of the kids gets a doll from my workshop and another one gets Pokemon something-or-other so long as it makes them happy with their respective gifts I’m satisfied.
I don’t really expect Mom to understand gift giving anyways– I hope– but I don’t expect it. One year for Christmas all I wanted was a pair of toe shoes, because my ballet instructor said that once I had the shoes my strength and ability were that that she was confident enough to teach me to go on pointe– now before I sound like a spoiled little princess– I worked hard long hours to pay for my own lessons, I paid for or made all of my recital costumes, and my parents didn’t pay dime one for my dance lessons.
Mom asked for my size, took me down to the specialty shop to have a fitting and sent me to the car (I assumed so she could order for a surprise) and came out with a bag. I thought for sure in my little twelve year old heart that my mom bought some damned toe shoes. And I am not joking when I say that every box under the tree looked exactly like the boxes that ballet slippers come in…
Nope.
Nothing, I got those little cheap games that have the springs, flippers, cardboard backs and little bbs in them–wo of them had Burger King logos on them, one was from Dairy Queen.
I was devastated. Then after devastated I just turned to bitter– if you’re thinking that little bit of regurgetated holiday cheer has a happy ending don’t disappoint yourself. Every year Mom likes to pin on the opal charm I bought her (you know, the gift she wanted that year) and tell everyone what a royal pain in the rearend that I am.
Oh the bag from the dance shop?
Yeah, that– Mom bought a pair of socks on them with little ballerina angels– for herself; she collects angels.
Okay, I’m going to go away from the computer for awhile, go put myself back into the spirit of the season and start over because this is just too much.