All I want for Christmas is my two f....fuck she wants a harp!

Pardon my French but that damn time is just about upon us once again.  Oh yes.  The big “C” is almost here.  I can’t believe I’m about to mention the “C” word.  Christmas, that is.  Oh, the joys of Christmas.   ‘Tis the season to be jolly, is it not?  Well.  I’d say “not”.  As, not only do we get to dig around in the back of our dusty, red-back spider infested sheds and drag out the busted up box containing the plastic tree (which spends its entire time on display in the house shedding tiny green plastic needles onto the floor), and spend hours upon hours decorating this tree, only to spend the next few weeks picking the baubles and tiny ornaments off the floor (after a little man decides pulling them off is far more fun than just admiring them).  UGH!

 And then there are the trips to the shops where, not only can you NOT find a carpark, but you have to endure crowds of people all hustling and bustling as they desperately search out gifts for loved ones amongst oodles and oodles of available crap; but where you’re also driven insane by the constant repetitive sounds of “Have yourself a merry little Christmas” playing over the loudspeakers Give me strength!  Well.  As you can probably tell, Christmas is not my most favouritest (that’s not a word, is it?) time of year.  Not that I don’t enjoy getting together with my loved ones on the day (the one time of the year where I will generally see my entire family altogether).  I do.  It’s just all the other nonsense that goes with it that makes me shudder. 

And, now that I have children, I have to add another fun-filled element to the whole thing; the element that involves the so-called visit from the fat man in red.  That’s right.  Santa Claus is coming to town.  Well.  Now that little madam’s four, she’s really getting into the spirit of things.  And she’s really looking forward to her visit from St Nick, not to mention the fact that he’s going to bring her something she asks for.  And, unfortunately for me (aka Santa), her one desire this year doesn’t involve two front teeth.  Although finding these might be easier than finding what she’s now put her hand up for. 

 

The Mahalo guitar...or ukelele

The terrific little trumpet, from ELC

Now little madam, I’m proud to say, is rather fond of music.  Seriously, for Christmas two years ago, she asked Santa for a guitar.  Well.  Thanks to the brand Mahalo, a guitar was a cinch to come by.  And only thirty dollars at the local music store.   Actually, it’s a ukulele but little madam is none the wiser.  The next year I thought was going to prove a little trickier when she pulled, out of her hat of requests, a trumpet.  Yep.  Thanks to...actually I can’t even remember how the trumpet came about to be honest...I found myself in a panic a few weeks shy of Christmas as I contemplated the, what I thought was going to be an impossible, mission of finding a trumpet small enough for a three-year-old (not to mention affordable enough for me).  Turns out, finding a trumpet wasn’t hard, after all.  ELC (Early Learning Centre) have an awesome trumpet on the market.  And, although it’s plastic, it’s not a bad replica.  And little madam loves it. 

 

The ELC sexoophone...I mean saxophone

Now I really didn’t think that I’d have too much of a challenge this year.  As, at the start of the year, she spotted Jimmy Giggle (that’s Giggle, from Giggle and Hoot) playing a saxophone.  Well.  The next thing she’s saying is (and has been saying all year, up until recently anyway) “For Christmas I want Santa to bring me a sexophone”.  Yes.  She actually pronounced it sexophone, not saxophone (funny hey?), but the point is, this request was (once again, thanks to ELC) going to be real easy for this Santa to accommodate.  That was, until her Oma (that’s Grandma, to those who aren’t familiar with German) decides, a couple of weeks ago, to take her to see Noni Hazlehurst and the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra.  And, as you’ve probably figured out, this Santa’s in for one hell of a challenge.  As, not only has little madam changed her mind about what she wants the fat man in red to bring her for Christmas, she’s changed her request to, a harp!  A bloody harp!  Where the fuck is Santa supposed to pull one of these from?  His red hat (or sack) I suppose.  But really, can you believe it?  And, despite my efforts of trying to talk her round, as little madam is fairly stubborn and difficult to negotiate with these days, I’ve find myself (since the request was aired) frantically searching Google for an affordable option.  One that isn’t $180.00 like the lovely thing pictured below. 

 

I know it's sweet, but seriously!

Any thoughts or suggestions would be most welcome at this point in time.  And, although I could take my slight dislike of the big “C” to the next level and tell little madam, “Sorry, but Santa’s just not a miracle worker!”, or even, “There are no harps in The North Pole!”, I’m determined not to let my scroogism (that’s not a word either, is it?) rub off on her just yet, and would really like to make the effort to try and bring her the one thing she’s asked for (given that I am quite pleased she’s showing a genuine interest in music, no matter how offbeat); providing it’s not going to break the bank, that is.             

Thanks, little madam, for setting this Santa a very difficult challenge.  Love you!

Why it sucks to be a Libran

Being a typical Libran, I have a terrible time making decisions. And I’ve discovered, as a parent in particular, decisions are something that have to be made on a daily basis. So with this being the case, I’ve had to improve my poor decision-making skills quite significantly. However, every now and then - when I get the chance anyway - I tend to slip back into my old Libran ways, and try to find ways to avoid making decisions altogether.

I guess one of the downsides to slipping back into my old indecisive habits is that I often get into trouble. Particularly when I try and use my children (well, at the moment it’s just little madam because little man’s still a little too young to have his say) to make decisions for me. An example of this happened recently, when I went online to shop for some labels for little madam’s kinder gear. Well, the array of labels available – with labels of every colour and size imaginable, not-to-mention designs from almost every animal in existence, television and book characters, and even a range of more simple ones – sent me (the typical indecisive Libran) into a frenzy of inability; inability to decide, that is. Miraculously, deciding on the colour wasn’t difficult. After all, it’s a well-known fact that little madam’s favourite colour is green. But when it came to choosing a logo for the labels, and with so much choice available, I was having all sorts of difficulty; I felt like I was in a restaurant, with a really expansive menu. And I was just about to give up on the task altogether, when I spotted the butterfly. Well, I know little madam is a definite fan of butterflies (particularly as she has a butterfly cushion she sleeps with at night) so the choice was almost made. But just I was about to click on the butterfly to confirm my choice, my eyes caught sight of the symbol next to the butterfly; it was an owl. Well, as you can imagine, the dilemma I now found myself in, was unbearable. After all, little madam’s favourite character (and one of mine, too) is none other than Hoot the Owl. The same Hoot the Owl that stars on little madam’s very cute kinder backpack, lunchbox and drink bottle. And, although the owl symbol available to accompany the label wasn’t exactly Hoot, it was very, very sweet indeed.
It was as I sat there agonising over a choice I couldn’t, for the life of me, make, that I made the decision (or perhaps mistake is a better word) to rid myself of the terrible task of having to choose between the butterfly and the owl symbol for the label. So I summoned little madam to come to my aid, and asked her to help with the task of choosing her very first labels for kinder. Surprisingly, after only a small amount of hesitation – you see, little madam is far from being an indecisive Libran – she pointed at the choices in front of her, and made known her decision. It was at this moment that I realised I had left on display, in addition to the lovely little owl and the butterfly symbol, a few other symbols too. And it was then that I realised that she had her finger very adamantly pointed on – no, not the owl or the butterfly - none other than a black, wiry spider. I guess she mistook the look of panic across my face as confusion, because she then very clearly verbalised that she wanted, “the spider.”
Right then, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I guess, although I’ve got nothing against our little eight-legged friends, I really didn’t feel as though they would make a particularly nice label for little madam’s small selection of gear required for kinder. So I started the somewhat lengthy (which can often be quite difficult) negotiation process. “What about the butterfly? It’s just like your butterfly...” I tried. She shook her head. “I want the spider.” “But the owl looks just like Hoot”, I blurted out, desperate for little madam to change her mind. But again, she shook her head and reiterated her decision. “I want the spider.”
Naturally, my frustration and annoyance grew, as the negotiation continued for several minutes, before I was eventually forced, by little madam’s adamant insistence, to purchase the revolting spider labels. I wasn’t frustrated or annoyed at little madam, by the way. Just at myself for being such an indecisive sap! And as a result, I was now expecting, in a few short days, an envelope filled with icky spider labels. Not that they were all that bad. And I guess the positive to these labels was no-one could accuse little madam of being a sheep; after all, how many other little girls are into spiders?
I am relieved to say, that although I’d made and paid for the purchase of spider labels, after making it my mission to try and convince little madam to change her mind, I succeeded. Thankfully, I e-mailed the label company and asked to change the order, in typical Libran fashion – although I’m embarrassed to say I blamed the change of heart on little madam - and, to my relief it wasn’t too late. And a few days later an envelope arrived with an order of lovely little owl labels.

Phew! Hopefully this experience will be a firm reminder to myself every time I am tempted to be taken over by indecisiveness; although, as I’ve said many times before, some lessons are too quickly forgotten when you’re a human being. And, not-to-mention, a Libran who absolutely hates making decisions.

Thanks, little madam, for reminding me why I need to stop being such an indecisive fool. Sorry I talked you out of the spider labels; I hope this doesn’t deter you from continuing to express your individuality in the future. Love you!