Tuesday, December 20, 2011
The Year I Really Stressed Out on Christmas Eve...
I was in 3rd grade. There was this new doll out called Baby Holly Hobbie. She looked nothing like the cloth Holly Hobbie I was used to. She was what I'd now call the Mack Daddy of Holly Hobbie dolls.
I prayed to Santa for it. Swore I'd never punch my brother between the shoulder blades. Promised I'd never again fight my sister over the Apple Jack cereal prize. I apologized for snacking on Communion wafers this one time in when my brother and I found some in the church kitchen. I even volunteered to pick up dog poo because I wanted it so badly.
I busted my little ass to get on Santa's good side. She HAD to show up under my tree or I'd be ruined.
Then my mom springs some news on me. We were driving to Ohio to visit relatives that year...We'd stay at my grandmother's Christmas Eve.
My first thought was, "That's nice Mom, but how is Santa going to find me so he can drop off Holly?"
I had no choice. Had I been more versed in the adult way of saying things I probably would have said, "You outta your gourd ma? How in the shit is that fat ass gonna deliver my goods? I've been busting my ass and Trina's gotta get paid homes!"
Fast forward to Christmas Eve and I'm in Ohio. I'm thinking Santa is going to arrive at my house in Colorado and say, "I spent all this time making Trina this doll and the little brat couldn't be home for the delivery? Forget her! I'll give it to Cheri Mahan (my neighbor)! She has a better bedroom for it anyway."
I prayed one last time to Santa and let him know I indeed was NOT in Colorado. To please please pretty please come find me in Ohio. I barely slept...due to stress mostly.
Imagine my surprise when Santa came through for me that year. I got my baby Holly Hobbie. I was so excited about it I slid on my grandmother's hardwood floors in my socks and got a piece of wood not much smaller than a pencil stuck in my heel. But that's another story for another time.