For breakfast: Homemade French Toast (Binta insisted on an Eggo waffle instead)
Next book I'm planning to read: Treasure Island
In the Attic: What the hell has happened to the Santa tradition in our country?
Today we went to visit Santa. Here's what I thought it would be like:
Binta would sit on Santa's lap and he'd engage her in a conversation including what her name is, whether she has been good or bad this year, and what she'd like for Christmas. I'd snap a few photos, and he'd give her a candy cane.
Or rather, that's what it was like 20 years ago when I was a kid and visited Santa each Christmas. I projected those memories onto what today might be like. Turns out, I was way off. Our culture has made quite a diversion from that picture in the course of the past few decades. Here's how things have changed:
First of all, some photography studio has evidently stepped in and decided to claim all the rights to take the Santa/child photos. I don't know when that happened, but everyone around me was acting like it was perfectly normal! Packages ranged from $25 to $50, and these people were paying it! I was not even allowed to pull my camera out of my purse, when it came to our turn. In order to use their Santa, I had to hand over the joy of snapping my child's picture to some kid in an elf suit. And in order to take one 5 X 7 home with me, I had to fork over $14.13.
Kids were not the only ones using Santa's Photoshop. Grown up children, adults, even entire families were having their pictures taken with Santa. The last time I had my picture taken with Santa was when I was about 10. And go figure: around that same time, I stopped believing in Santa. When I was 11, he became just some strange old man dressing up in a Santa suit. And it became inappropriate for me to spend time posing for pictures with him. When I look back at the pictures of me and my brother sitting with Santa, I can tell that we really think we are in the presence of a magical being who will bring us toys based on reports of our good behavior. Derek looking up at him with wide, awestruck eyes. Those pictures are magical. But why would a 17-year-old with a thong hanging out of her pants want to sit on Santa's lap? That's just plain creepy. And the family pictures. Sure, I'm totally for people having family pictures taken for the holidays. It just so happens that there are plenty of photography studios in the area who will do just that. And there won't be a strange old guy dressing up like a fictional character in the picture with you. And anyway, you're holding up the line for the kids who do believe in Santa!
Which brings me to the wait. We stood in line for 1.75 hours for the total event (including waiting to have our picture printed for us). Don't get me wrong, I knew there would be some amount of a wait. But during this extended period, I got to witness all kinds of miserable parenting strategies and ill-behaved children. What is the matter with a child who will misbehave right in the vicinity of Santa Claus? When I was a kid, all it took was the mention of Santa, and the fact that "Santa's watching" to keep me in line. Now, parents are bribing their kids to behave during the wait to see Santa! How backwards is that?
Finally, there was Santa himself. This guy was the most lifeless, boring Santa I've ever seen. Our Santa sat on his bench and passed off the kids, smiling simply for the pictures, and barely even speaking to them. Come on, Santa's supposed to be lively and jolly! We should hear his "Ho, ho, ho!" echoing through the whole mall! I know the guy's tired; has had a million people visiting him. Perhaps we should restrict Santa visits for small children who still believe, if the old man is going to get that tuckered out. Put out a lifesize cardboard image of him for people who just want his pretty face.
Christmas still comes only once a year. Glad that's the same.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Saturday Night at Starbucks
Number of days of school cancelled due to snow: 1 (so far)
Month showing on my calendar: November
Number of days since Binta saw her dad: 94
In the Attic: Remembering the freedom of pre-single-parenthood
Actually, Binta's dad showed up on Thursday at 6:00 PM. So I have been kid-less for about 2 days and 3 hours. He hasn't been here since the end of August. I cannot even begin to describe the joy and freedom I am experiencing right now. I'm not sure how much more time I get before he has to leave again. I don't dare call to find out how things are going. As far as I'm concerned, I think perhaps they've forgotten about me, and I certainly don't want to got stirring up any attention to myself. My strategy: Lay low.
I love my daughter, don't get me wrong here. She is without a doubt the coolest kid I've ever known. (Cliche alert) She is the best thing in my life and I love her more than anything in the world.
But.
Being a single mother for 94 days in a row has worn me down to complete and total exhaustion. So bad, so that when faced with the reality that I was actually kid-less, I didn't know what to do. I knew I did NOT want to do anything that feels like an obligation. Like clean house, or get some school work done. Nope. I can do those things with her playing in the background. What I was faced with was complete freedom from being a responsible parent. I needed to fill my time with things that I could not get away with as a mommy. So, I spent the entire day yesterday with my boyfriend, and this morning, when I woke up, I was still at his house. I didn't need to hurry anywhere to relieve a babysitter from duty. Instead, I went to Walmart, and spent 2 whole hours walking up and down every aisle. I even walked through the sporting/hunting aisle, just because I could. Normally, if I were shopping with Binta, I would have a list planned out ahead of time, and a strategy in place that would incorporate the shortest walking distance in combination with avoiding any hazzards, such as toy aisles. We would get in and out as quickly as possible, before she expired and I had to haul her out throwing a fit.
Next, I went home and spent hours getting myself addicted to a new computer game. I dressed myself in comfy clothes and put on my slippers. I didn't have to cook anyone any dinner, I didn't have to put up with the sounds of Barney in the background, and I didn't have to feel guilty for not playing with her.
Around 7:30, I realized that I had another freedom that I had overlooked. I could leave the house if I wanted. I could actually walk out my front door and leave my house! There was no little girl sleeping in her bedroom. (Actually, lately, she spends more time sleeping in my bedroom). I knew I had to go out, just because I could. So I got dressed again, bundled up into my scarf and gloves, and scraped ice off my car, just because I had to exercise my freedom to do so. With the latest David Sedaris book in hand, I drove to the corner Starbucks, ordered a warm drink, and spent the next hour and a half sitting by myself in a soft, oversized purple chair.
I started reading my book, but became fascinated with the others that surrounded me. I fantasized coming home and describing the other customers in a very Sedaris-ish manner. But knowing damn well that it wouldn't even be close.
There were the 2 guys who looked like they were about my brother's age, and appeared to be working on some sort of homework assignment. (Homework? On a Saturday night? What was with these guys?) They were working out some sort of problems, defining characters from their reading, when one suggested that this particular character was the "tragic hero." They both thought that was hilarious. Then, the conversation shifted to another classmate, described as "...actually very smart. He won the Bill Gates Scholarship. He's great at math."
The Starbucks barista came around at this time, gently telling the patrons that they'd be closing in about 10 minutes. My drink was long gone by this time. The guys looked so disappointed. "Where are we going to go now?" they asked. The barista gave them directions to another Starbucks, which evidently stayed open later. They gathered up their things and left, and as I was doing the same, I overheard a mother say to her child:
"I told you, Mommy doesn't like you to call her that name. Mommy's going to have to tell Santa if you call her that name again."
Yes, I was tempted to ask her what he called her. But instead, I drove off thinking what a perfect ending that was to my child-free day.
Month showing on my calendar: November
Number of days since Binta saw her dad: 94
In the Attic: Remembering the freedom of pre-single-parenthood
Actually, Binta's dad showed up on Thursday at 6:00 PM. So I have been kid-less for about 2 days and 3 hours. He hasn't been here since the end of August. I cannot even begin to describe the joy and freedom I am experiencing right now. I'm not sure how much more time I get before he has to leave again. I don't dare call to find out how things are going. As far as I'm concerned, I think perhaps they've forgotten about me, and I certainly don't want to got stirring up any attention to myself. My strategy: Lay low.
I love my daughter, don't get me wrong here. She is without a doubt the coolest kid I've ever known. (Cliche alert) She is the best thing in my life and I love her more than anything in the world.
But.
Being a single mother for 94 days in a row has worn me down to complete and total exhaustion. So bad, so that when faced with the reality that I was actually kid-less, I didn't know what to do. I knew I did NOT want to do anything that feels like an obligation. Like clean house, or get some school work done. Nope. I can do those things with her playing in the background. What I was faced with was complete freedom from being a responsible parent. I needed to fill my time with things that I could not get away with as a mommy. So, I spent the entire day yesterday with my boyfriend, and this morning, when I woke up, I was still at his house. I didn't need to hurry anywhere to relieve a babysitter from duty. Instead, I went to Walmart, and spent 2 whole hours walking up and down every aisle. I even walked through the sporting/hunting aisle, just because I could. Normally, if I were shopping with Binta, I would have a list planned out ahead of time, and a strategy in place that would incorporate the shortest walking distance in combination with avoiding any hazzards, such as toy aisles. We would get in and out as quickly as possible, before she expired and I had to haul her out throwing a fit.
Next, I went home and spent hours getting myself addicted to a new computer game. I dressed myself in comfy clothes and put on my slippers. I didn't have to cook anyone any dinner, I didn't have to put up with the sounds of Barney in the background, and I didn't have to feel guilty for not playing with her.
Around 7:30, I realized that I had another freedom that I had overlooked. I could leave the house if I wanted. I could actually walk out my front door and leave my house! There was no little girl sleeping in her bedroom. (Actually, lately, she spends more time sleeping in my bedroom). I knew I had to go out, just because I could. So I got dressed again, bundled up into my scarf and gloves, and scraped ice off my car, just because I had to exercise my freedom to do so. With the latest David Sedaris book in hand, I drove to the corner Starbucks, ordered a warm drink, and spent the next hour and a half sitting by myself in a soft, oversized purple chair.
I started reading my book, but became fascinated with the others that surrounded me. I fantasized coming home and describing the other customers in a very Sedaris-ish manner. But knowing damn well that it wouldn't even be close.
There were the 2 guys who looked like they were about my brother's age, and appeared to be working on some sort of homework assignment. (Homework? On a Saturday night? What was with these guys?) They were working out some sort of problems, defining characters from their reading, when one suggested that this particular character was the "tragic hero." They both thought that was hilarious. Then, the conversation shifted to another classmate, described as "...actually very smart. He won the Bill Gates Scholarship. He's great at math."
The Starbucks barista came around at this time, gently telling the patrons that they'd be closing in about 10 minutes. My drink was long gone by this time. The guys looked so disappointed. "Where are we going to go now?" they asked. The barista gave them directions to another Starbucks, which evidently stayed open later. They gathered up their things and left, and as I was doing the same, I overheard a mother say to her child:
"I told you, Mommy doesn't like you to call her that name. Mommy's going to have to tell Santa if you call her that name again."
Yes, I was tempted to ask her what he called her. But instead, I drove off thinking what a perfect ending that was to my child-free day.
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