Christmas, eh, Holiday Thoughts

Who's brilliant idea was it to put Hanukkah on Christmas night? People? Get a plan here.

So after rummaging through the stockings and opening presents, after the inevitable let-down of the afternoon, we're supposed to start right into 8 days of Hanukkah? Gah!

My husband still remembers the Hanukkah he was 10 as the worst one. His parents gave him socks as gifts. (Well, they were small--there is a tradition of small gifts for Hanukkah--but I think their utilitarian aspect was a bit much for him.) I'm remembering the story badly--it's too early in the morning--but I think there was one big gift and the folks supplemented with socks. The thing is, Hubby only remembers the horror of the socks.

A cool site with lots of make it at home ideas for funky menorahs.

Scheduling nightmares

I looked over my schedule for December. Excluding the "let's meet for coffee" appointments I have during the day, these are the dates for which I have evening commitments this month.

2, 5, 6, 8, 10, 12, 15, 17, 19, 20, Xmas Eve, First night of Hannukah (Christmas night).



















Ummm.

If anyone sees me bumping into walls, it's only because I haven't had any sleep.

(By the way, only two of those are Holiday parties, the rest are business, family, or political commitments.)

Going once....

I'd really like to sell my kids.

I know that would be bad and everything, but really, I think I need a break.

Today I'm sure will be a good day, but yesterday my funny, intelligent, athletic, and handsome son refused to go to school. He's doing this power struggle thing where he tries to run away from home (made it to the end of the windng cul-de-sac), or he tries to leave the school campus. He's too big to mandhandle, and too young (seven) to let loose.

Yesterday he stayed in his room, cleaning it and vacuuming it. I took his toys out and he could either read there or come downstairs to eat. By the end of the afternoon he was royally bored and ready to talk about why he refused in the morning. Very articulate boy--it was a great talk. He's got a great sense of humor too.

So I took him to karate class to work off the excess energy he had from hanging out all day. Within 5 minutes he had convinced himself that a kindergartner had cheated at Red-light, Green-light (which the kids play on the mat while waiting for the lesson to start), so he grabbed the kids by the shoulders and started to push him. I lept up and yelled, "Hey! Let go!"

This got my son embarrassed and, sigh, angry at me. So then he ran out the door of the studio, barefoot, and walked briskly to the other end of the minimall. I got him back to the studio on the promise that we could immediately go home, but first he had to get his shoes. We walk in the door and my son starts yelling AT THE INSTRUCTOR (Yeesh) that he shouldn't let kindergartners cheat. The instructor very calmly asks son to calm down, son yells again, and makes a beeline for the door.

I grab him (See a pattern here? He grabs, I grab, le sigh.) so he won't hightail it out the door again, and we end up on the floor. The female instructor comes over, takes his ankles onto her lap, and says, "Whoa. What's going on, kid?" He spent half an hour mildly wrestling with her; she wouldn't release him until he said he would get his shoes on, he wouldn't say that. But he was laughing the whole time.

OK, there's a lot of therapy which needs to happen here, and he and I both see therapists. I know where I screwed up yesterday, I know where he made some odd decisions, and we'll all have lots to talk about later.

But for right now, what I'm left with is that this is so damned exhausting. Setting up his environment so that nothing's abrubpt or spontaneous, making sure he eats properly, giving the other two kids some amount of attention, conferencing with teachers & principals, keeping myself calm, and doing my own stuff (politics, writing, reading)--I'm running on fumes here.

And it's cold and raining today, which means ::shudder:: indoor recess. He's at school, so I do get some break, but I feel so guilty for dreading this afternoon when he comes home. I love my children. I love my children. I love my children.