Saturday, December 24, 2005
Another Piece of the Conspiracy to Annoy US Parents
When you have to take two pictures to get all the presents in, there are either too many presents or too many kids, and since it is impossible to have too many kids....
As Mother Teresa said:
"How can you say there are too many children? That is like saying there are too many flowers."
Anyway, on to THE SUBJECT at hand...
Being a pastor’s wife when Sunday is on Christmas in a mainline church is definitely causing me to experience part of the conspiracy.
We have services on Christmas Eve at 7:30 and 11 and on Sundays from 9 to 11. That means that my husband, who also is responsible for cooking Christmas Dinner, is responsible for 4 services in a 18 hour period. AND we are heading up to see Mike on Christmas night.
So we had a plan. The gifts would arrive from their hiding place on the night of the 23rd. Dinner would be ready by noon or 1, we would eat, open gifts, and get ready for the service. That plan was going well until we slept longer than planned and have blown two fuses in the last 3 hours. I spent 2 hours doing dishes -- I started with a pile that never got smaller because Bart kept using whatever I washed again and putting it back on the “to do” side of the sink. Then I had to go buy fuses and the ham is so huge it won’t be done until around 4.
So, now we have kids pacing, frantically complaining that we have to wait SO long to open our presents. Bart still has a couple presents to wrap and some last minute service preparation to do at the church. So I am left home alone with the whining, sobbing, pacing, frantic bunch of annoyed and annoying children. Actually, I’m exaggerating (a little bit).
Hopefully, Bart will get back and we will get them opened before dinner, but there is nothing more any of us can do but wait on Dad. Fortunately, I’m used to this style of living as my father ALWAYS had to decide to defecate right before we left on any family outing during my entire childhood, so I got used to sitting around waiting for Dad.