Sucker for the pretty girls

It is (was) exactly 1:57 in the A.M. and I am sitting here with a two year old that could not, for anything in the whole world, go one more minute without her high heeled shoes and Dora's World Adventure.

Gah.

Here's hoping the big ol' slab of peanut butter bread knocks her the hell out the way it would me. Or at least glues her tongue to her mouth so I don't have to listen to her screams. Either way, really.

So, while I sit here missing some hot Donnie Darko action going on in my bedroom (we're WILD like that), I thought I'd do this little Hoopla that a ridiculously hot chick who likes to call herself Judith tagged me for. I thought I'd also make this my Thursday Thirteen. Lazy much? Before I do that, though, I have to do this. There's this new blog that I read by a guy named Dan, and Dan has a meme rule that he will do any meme you send his way as long as you first link to a blog that you think is better than yours. I agree with that rule, and I am going to propagate it. Dan, consider yourself linked.

'Da Rules:
1. List 12 13 random things about yourself that have to do with Christmas
2. Please refer to it as a ‘hoopla’ and not the dreaded ‘m’-word
3. You have to specifically tag people when you’re done. None of this “if you’re reading this, consider yourself tagged” stuff is allowed…then nobody ends up actually doing it. The number of people who you tag is really up to you — but the more, the merrier to get this ‘hoopla’ circulating through the Blog-o-sphere.
4. Please try and do it as quickly as possible. The Christmas season will be over before we know it.

Ok, I'm going to try this. I don't think I have 12 things, let alone 13, but we'll see.

1. This was supposed to be The Preface, but I have 11 more to go, and I need the ammo. I didn't celebrate Christmas as a kid. Yes, most of you know that I was lucky enough to be raised in one of the more awesome pseudo-Judaeo-Christian cults, the one where we didn't celebrate Christmas. It's no biggie, really; I mean, who needs silly old Christmas when you have birthdays the Easter Bunny Halloween your wedding anniversary Sex! that isn't missionary. Well, that turned depressing...



2. Not celebrating Christmas, I never believed in Santa. AND I always knew that Christ wasn't born in December. AND I knew that Christmas was flat out stolen from the Pagans. But I was told to never, ever tell this to people, which really counters everything my "Fun Happy Group of Friends" was all about. I guess, even though Christmas was pure evil, even those guys understood the magic of Christmas. For other people. NEVER for us. Cheap bastards. And I never did spill the beans, by the way, even though I thought it was mind-numbingly stupid.



3. Not celebrating Christmas, I also had no reason to know what day it fell on. I knew that we got out of school towards the end of December and came back in January to a bunch of classmates with cool ass shit to rub in our poor, nasty, weird faces, and so I assumed it happened sometime in-between. I was 23, and had celebrated my second Christmas, before I could remember the date.


4. I cut myself off from my congregation when I was 17, but didn't celebrate Christmas until I was 22 and pregnant. I just didn't get it. And I didn't care to.



5. I was one of those people who never replied to a kind "Merry Christmas!" from someone; I totally was all, "Thank you but I don't celebrate you evil Devil worship holiday." Well, maybe not that last bit, but I was a party pooper. And now, my big fat hypocritical ass freaking hates it when people don't say Merry Christmas back. Like the girl at the mall today, who replied with, "And a very happy holiday season to you, too!" Self-righteous bitch.



6. I get the Holiday Mascots mixed up sometimes. Like, this one time, I was trying to explain Easter to my boys and it went something like this; "So, guys, you go to bed and while you sleep, the Easter Bunny comes. He hides eggs full of toys and candy all over the house, and when you wake up, you get to find them and open them! Because he loves you and you have been so GOOD!" My husband stood back while I told this story, came up to us after, put a sad, condescending hand on my shoulder and said, "Um, that's Christmas, you dork."



7. I still, to this very day, have no idea what the story is behind the Easter Bunny.



8. And I don't care to.



9. I really, really like Christmas now. I like hiding the presents from the kids. I like the surprise in the morning. I have never once shaken a box or undone wrapping paper with razor blades to peek inside gifts. I like to wait for it.



10. I also really like all the pomp that goes into Christmas. I like(d) going and picking a tree. I liked forgetting to water it and sitting on a fire hazard for a month straight. I like hanging the freaking son-of-a-nutcracker lights. I like the candy canes and the special Hershey Kisses and wearing a Santa hat everywhere I go, no matter how inappropriate.



11. I never sang Christmas songs, even though I was in the choir my whole life, so I never learned the words. I did, however, learn all the super awful naughty words to all the crazy evil raunchy spoof songs. My kids have gotten quite an education just listening to me try and sing along to my Starbucks Christmas CD.



12. I am deathly, horridly afraid that my kids are going to stop believing in Santa. I have given myself panic attacks about it. They are 9 and 7, and one of those kids is well past his belief window, and yet they sit with hearts and minds wide open, and it is one of the few parts of them that is still small and quiet and little. They are wide eyed wondrous children come December. Thank god I'm so flipping cheap, or I think this gig would have been up a few years ago. Last Christmas, 2of3 came home and said that someone in his class told him that there was no Santa. I threw up in my mouth a little and then asked him what he thought about that. He said, and I quote, "Mom, he thinks the parents are Santa. PLEASE! You never would have spent that much money on me!"



13. I need a thirteen, for Thursday Thirteen. My favorite presents to give my kids are the stocking presents. I think I like them because they have nothing to do with the Million Dollar list. I like trying to find treasure to put in there; little charms, crystals and rocks, cool candy, all the little crap I usually yell at them for leaving all over the floor for the baby to eat. I still, however, suck a large amount of ass at the whole "Grown Up Stocking" bit. It's almost sad, really.

Is that thirteen? IT IS! I did it! And now I have to do the thing I hate most in the whole world, and that is tagging people. Hmmm, who hasn't done this? Ok, I'm totally representin' Vancouver here by tagging Huckdoll and LatteMommy and I'm tagging Kelly, too, provided she's all settled into her new old digs. I will also tag my BFF's Molly and Sarah because I bet they have awesome stories. But, you know what? Christmas is OVER, so let's kill this thing already. Mr Lady says Don't Tag Anyone Else!