It's Boxing Day today. (Yes, I know it's just the day after Christmas here in the states but it's one more Canadianism I'm not willing to give up!) Sweet One and I just got back from a walk where she pushed her baby in the new stroller all the way. It was pretty cute to watch. She kept up a pretty good pace, not stopping to look at things around but determined to simply go for a walk. She's pretty excited about that gift and I think I'm safe in saying it is one of her favorites, along with the train set that Santa brought for her and Little Man. Unfortunately, the train set has been taken apart and is sitting out of her sight until tonight as I desperately try to impress upon her that it is not ok to bite her brother. My hopes were so high after a full 15 days where no biting took place. But today is day 5 of back to biting and I'm feeling crushed.
That's the thing for me when I get my hopes up. If I take the chance and hope that something might be where I'd ideally like it and then doesn't attain this, I'm crushed. Take for instance that moment when all the gifts are opened and I never got my 'stroller'. After spending every evening since Thanksgiving preparing Christmas for my loved ones, I have again fallen victim to hoping Santa might be able to figure out something that I'd be so excited to have that I'd be ready to take it for a walk rather than just grabbing a few things off my amazon wish list. Maybe I'm at fault because part of the reason I keep my amazon list is to remind myself of books that are recommended or to keep track of larger items in case they go on sale. But it's also not like I'm expecting something big and shiny because in the end, I'm a simple girl. As I alternate between to pairs of cheap jeans each day and outwardly express how jealous I am of all the nice clothes my daughter has, it would have meaned the world to me to get a piece of paper with "you get a nice new pair of jeans" scribbled on it. I've been known to remark how funny it is that the leather gloves I wear were left behind in my voice studio seven years ago by someone who didn't want them back because they had a few holes in them. A few holes? I guess I don't care. But I do. I don't go out and buy those kind of things for me because I don't feel like we can afford them and that I can make do, but I'm starting to feel embarrassed about how sloppy I look.
I always hope that after spending so much time perusing the internets trying to find just the right gifts that might bring a little smile of surprise to my nearest and dearest I would not end up feeling like an after thought. I was silly enough that Santa would have pieced together a few of my not-so-subtle "why are my children dressed better than me" moments. But I also feel like an asshole when I am tearing up thinking of all the nice clothes everyone else in my house got when there are people out there who would have given anything for even a portion of what I did get. I guess I have a lot of growing up to do. But for now, I'll just try to be a better person tomorrow as I attempt to hide the back fat that keeps peeking out from under this shirt I'm wearing because none of the four shirts and three or four sweaters I alternate between are all in the wash.