Chasing Superwoman by Susan DiMickele

Author:Susan DiMickele
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: David C. Cook
Published: 2013-05-10T16:00:00+00:00

Christmas

Just when I think I have shopping under control, Christmas rolls around the corner. Why can’t I just focus on preparing for the birth of Jesus? Every year, I tell myself, It will be different next year. Instead I continue to subject myself to a new level of insanity. When you add up immediate family, grandparents, friends, two large extended families of nieces and nephews, teachers, Sunday school helpers, and favorite babysitters, I’m buying Christmas presents for about fifty people. It’s unthinkable.

My kids see me running around in circles wrapping presents and making lists, and I have to wonder what kind of message I am sending them. That the greatest event in history is celebrated by buying your friends and family lots of stuff they don’t need? That more is better? Or that Devoted Mommy doesn’t have time to play for the next two months because she’s in charge of Christmas? Buying stuff takes lots of time, not to mention lots of mental energy and focus.

Christmas is the absolute test of my shopping skills, developed only after years of hard training and practice. My favorite time to Christmas shop is between 9:00 p.m. and midnight. The stores are empty, and Nick loves to tag along. First, we have to put the girls to bed and make sure they are really sleeping. Then we make our list and map out where we need to go first. We sneak out quietly and make a quick stop for coffee. Nick orders a hot chocolate, and I get the usual with a shot of caramel. I’m sick of low carbs, and I really need some sugar to go with the caffeine.

Shopping late with Nick gives us some much-needed time alone to bond. Most weekends, Doug and Nick are inseparable, and I take the girls. Nick and I both miss hanging out, and shopping provides a good excuse. Especially since everyone else is sleeping. Nick always wants to buy Doug something special, which leads us to the dreaded hardware store. I hate shopping for tools. Being around hardware makes me feel like I’m in a foreign country—or worse, completely ill. Last Christmas, Nick was dead set on buying Doug a snow blower. I was thinking about something more inexpensive and practical—like gloves, slippers, or some new underwear. Nick never looks at the price tag and his heart was set, so I broke down and bought the snow blower.

We could barely carry it into the house. We tiptoed inside at 11:00 p.m. and tried to sneak it into the office, quickly wrapping the outside of the box. Doug heard us carrying it in, saw the large, heavy box, and assumed it was a new mower—something he really wanted and needed since the old one died. I didn’t have the heart to tell Doug he wasn’t going to get his mower for Christmas. At least the snow blower was a complete surprise, and Nick was thrilled. Unfortunately it didn’t snow all winter. Nick waited and waited. We’d get an inch or two, and it would melt by morning.

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