We’re making Christmas bright

Well, we have lived a million life times since I last checked in. Honestly, I have no idea where to start so I’ll start from the beginning.

Our weekend fun and festivities really began on Thursday afternoon when I picked up Caroline and her friend S. from school and took them directly to HEB to pick up two dozen plain cake-like donuts that I had ordered on Tuesday for her class party on Friday. We walked over to the bakery section and I told each girl they could pick one treat from the bakery case. S. picked a sugar cookie. Caroline picked the largest eclair I have ever seen.

It was an ambitious choice.

Anyway, I told the lady behind the counter that I was there to pick up my order and handed her my receipt. She searched all over for my order and finally came back to report that they didn’t have my order because they don’t make plain, cake-like donuts.

Okay.

She then asked if I actually meant plain, cake-like donut holes. I said, “Why? Do you make those?”

No. No they don’t. I guess she was just making pastry conversation to distract from the awkwardness of me waiting for donuts that were never going to happen.

Dear HEB,

Please do not take my custom order for a product that you do not, in fact, make. That information would have been solid gold on Tuesday but, alas, on Thursday afternoon at 3:00 p.m. merely sends me into a frenzy of non-holiday emotions and feelings towards the entire HEB chain of stores.

My blind love for you has already been on the fence ever since you placed the sushi-making station right next to the produce and dimmed the lights in an ill-conceived notion of grocery store ambience and this bad turn of events has pushed me closer to the edge.

Sincerely,
Melanie

The good news is I was able to find the aforementioned donuts at Shipley’s, thereby avoiding a Kindergarten Christmas party tragedy. And my efforts were totally worth it when I was able to watch those little five-year-olds try to catch those donuts with only their teeth while they hung down from a string.

On Friday night, Gulley and her husband had plans to go see Kelly Willis and Bruce Robison at Gruene Dance Hall and I offered to let their boys spend the night with Caroline and me. Caroline was so excited and on the way to pick them up she said, “I don’t even know what to think about this. I AM FREAKING OUT.”

Are you also fifteen? Because last I checked, you were five.

I took the kids to E.Z.’s where they all ordered cheese pizza with a side of curly fries. When their fries arrived, I asked if they wanted ketchup. Jackson said he wanted gravy. Caroline wanted ketchup. Will said he would like some polynesian sauce.

When your kid knows to ask for polynesian sauce at age three it’s a sure sign he’s had his share of Chick-Fil-A nuggets.

After they finished their light, healthy dinner they all started to run around and dance to the music. As I watched them, I began to get a little teary-eyed thinking about what a huge blessing it is that Gulley and I are getting to raise our kids together and watch this next generation of sweet friendship grow deeper all the time. Then they started playing “If You Think I’m Sexy” by Rod Stewart over the loud speaker and the moment was gone.

I took the kids to a girls’ basketball game after dinner to watch a friend’s daughter play. I told them they could all pick out some candy at the concession stand. Jackson picked Starbursts. Will picked Skittles. My delicate flower picked a giant dill pickle.

P and I have always looked at the large jars of giant dill pickles with disdain, wondering who really wants to eat a giant pickle. I’ll tell you who. Our daughter.

I managed to get them all home and in their pajamas, then I turned on “Rudolph” in the hopes that they would all start to settle down while I went to put on my pajamas. It was a good thought even though it was completely unsuccessful. So, I grabbed a book and told them it was time for bedtime stories.

Here they all are, listening intently to my every word.

On Friday night, I saw my daughter’s future. She will be that kid at every slumber party who will only go to sleep after all her efforts to keep everyone else awake have completely failed.

I know that kid. I was that kid.

The next morning, Gulley picked us up and we all headed for Bryan/College Station to go to Santa’s Wonderland. A great time was had by all and I’ll get to that at some point.

But, for now, I’ll leave you with one of the highlights of the trip for Gulley and me, seen on the way to Bryan.

In case you can’t read it, it says, “I wish my wife was as dirty as this truck”.

I wonder if that’s what he asked Santa for this year because that is a treasure.

36 comments. Leave yours →