(Sniff.) Bia called me a grumpypants in the comments yesterday. Bia, for those among you who are unfortunate enough not to know her yet, is such a warm, motherly, Italian type that her blog practically smells like fresh-baked cookies. In her blog, she talks about such things as family nights, her sainted Nonna, and how to get along in a big Italian family. If I could be anyone else in this life, I would be her. I mean, I would be she. Whichever....
Anyway, Bia was understandably appalled at my un-Christmas-y attitude yesterday. Let me say in my defense that I used to love the holiday season. I would like nothing more than to be the sort of person whose house is decorated, whose cookies are baked, and whose children are all in fresh matching jammies for those Christmas morning pictures by the tree.
In fact, I've spent the past 17 years telling myself that, once there was no longer a baby in the house (like, say, this year), I would be able to pull off the Christmas I'd always dreamed of. Not fancy, of course - but warm, and homey, with lots of baking and festivities. And nobody spitting up on my shoulder.
But I woke up yesterday morning and realized that
1. my Christmas cards weren't done,
2. I had to bake cookies for no less than 3 separate events in the next week (plus make special decorating frosting for the girls' club cookie-making extravaganza),
3. I had not even begun to think about the baked goods for our relatives' Christmas boxes
4. There were no latkes made and stored in my freezer for the Chanukah party that is less than 2 weeks away
5. I had bought gifts for the kids, but I had no idea for which ones nor how many
6. I'm still in charge of all the day-to-day details of the lives of 8 people here (bathing, feeding, clothing, etc), in addition to my holiday duties
There's more, but I think you get the idea. Are some women just born with the Christmas gene, or what? It's not as if I'm aiming high here - we're talking presents, cards, and cookies, folks. That's as basic as it can get.
So, forgive me, Bia, for grumping. I'm just incredibly jealous. And mystified...how do you do it?
Oh, and if you do come by with those store-bought cookies you offered, could you get them at an Italian bakery? I like those best.