Scary Mommy's Guide to Surviving the Holidays by Jill Smokler Read Free Book Online

Dad.
    For as far back as I can remember, I’ve felt a pang (okay, more like a BANG) of jealousy beginning after Thanksgiving and lasting through Boxing Day. Being Jewish in a land of Christmas joy is kind of like being a kid in a candy shop whose mother won’t let him taste sugar. Instead, he gets to take along a bag of fructose-sweetened, all-natural gummies and is told that they’re just as tasty as the real thing. Bullshit.
    Sure, Hanukkah is fun. We get a week’s worth of presents and as much fried food as we can shove in our faces, and we can spell our holiday sixteen different ways. But it can’t ever compete with the wonder Christmas offers, and we all know it. The promise and the magic and the warm and fuzzy blanket the whole world seems to cuddle under once a year is something we’re just not a part of, a mysterious club we don’t get to join.
    But maybe that’s why Christmas is so magical for me in the first place. There’s no complicated family dynamic clouding my vision or memories of holidays past gone wrong. There’s no fighting in front of the tree or disappointment over first-thing-in-the-morning gifts. No in-law drama or having to be in two places at once. It’s pure and utter fantasy. To me, December 25 is picture perfect happiness, complete with matching plaid pajamas and smiling, joyful faces.
    And that’s how it will always remain.

20

    HOW TO BUY A CHRISTMAS TREE WITH A PRESCHOOLER AND A KINDERGARTENER
    by Kim Bongiorno
    1.  Select the first below-thirty-degree day of the year to do your Christmas tree shopping. Make sure your husband is MIA because of work, if at all possible.
    2.  Pick your three-year-old daughter and five-year-old son up from school. Tell them you have a BIG SURPRISE.
    3.  Bring them home, make both pee without removing all their clothes, rebundle them, and grab snacks and water, all while batting away screeches of delight and nagging inquiries about the surprise. (“Is Santa here? Are we getting a cookie? Are we going to the airport? Is Max & Ruby on? Are we going to the LEGO store?”)
    4.  Get them back in the truck and buckled in.
    5.  Try not to go deaf during the drive to charity Christmas treesale.
    6.  Park.
    7.  Pull out camera, gloves, and measuring tape.
    8.  Hop out of the truck, swinging open the back door with a made-up song about how HUGE a tree you’re gonna get this year.
    9.  Look over shoulder.
    10.  Realize tree sale doesn’t open for another three hours.
    11.  Get back in the truck.
    12.  Drive weeping children back home.
    13.  Unbundle children, placate them with another annoying episode of Max & Ruby in the family room for her, G-Force (for the thousandth time) in the basement for him.
    14.  Console.
    15.  Hug.
    16.  Wipe tears.
    17.  Bribe.
    18.  Beg for mercy, swear they can buy the biggest damn tree in the place if they just. Stop. Whining.
    19.  Wait three hours.
    20.  Make them pee (again).
    21.  Bundle them up (again).
    22.  Put them in the car with snacks and waters (again).
    23.  Call friend to meet you there.
    24.  Drive to charity Christmas tree sale (again).
    25.  Confirm they are open, seventy-five times.
    26.  Tell children you need two Very Special Helpers to pick out the Christmas tree.
    27.  Explain to the three-year-old that no, you can’t buy the wooden sign in the shape of a tree OR the tree painted on the side of the trailer.
    28.  Watch three-year-old stomp her foot over inability to buy trees that aren’t actually trees until some old dude who works there and has experience with ornery grandchildren distracts her.
    29.  Lose the five-year-old amidst the trees.
    30.  Find the five-year-old.
    31.  Ask for the tall trees.
    32.  Lose the three-year-old while walking toward the tall trees.
    33.  Find the three-year-old.
    34.  Gently remind children that if they run off again