Jami Bids the Holidays Farewell

Ah, it's all over, the presents, the food, the decorations, the food, the music, the food and the food. Back to "real life" I guess. But there is some relief, too, in having it all behind us. No more stressing over gifts and schedules and all that jazz. And, you know, the food is finally gone, no longer calling me from the kitchen or parties or wherever and demanding I eat it. My old tradition for taking down the decorations (remember, I had 9 Christmases in my own place before the Hideous Beast Child . . . I mean, before Eddie was born) was as follows: The Husband goes to work. I sleep in, make a large hot pot of tea, put on Lifetime Network's Marathon of Trash (I don't think that's what they actually call it, but still) and take everything down amidst former TV stars facing horrifying dilemmas usually caused by men. It was the only day each year I watch Lifetime. To be honest, I don't even know that we have it on our new FiOS package, but for some reason, it just made it easier to transform the house back to boring-ness. I'd sip hot tea and lovingly wrap Bubble-Blowing Santa back into his box while Meredith Baxter faced her eating disorder or Valerie Bertenelli hid from her drunken abusive ex. Now, however, I really don't want to expose my son to that sort of trash, plus, it's not like I could sit in the middle of the floor with the boxes, wrapping and hot tea all around me. The Tornado of Terror . . . I mean, Eddie would tear through that, unwrapping, breaking, stealing, spilling, etc. And I can't ignore him for that long. I've tried. Without my comforting day of weeping women, I missed a bunch of the decorations, which now sit on the dining room table, waiting for me to get the motivation up to carrying them up to the attic and find the appropriate boxes. They may well still be there next Christmas. So, I don't know who took whose children where and if she ever got them back. Sigh.