Ohhh, the Realtor Life… Christmas Crisis

Welcome to Manic Musings. Being a mother of two, a devoted wife, and having an insatiable appetite for work has certainly presented its challenges. While I would love to think I am mom who can handle it all, most of my friends and family love to hear stories about how life gets in the way of my “perfect working mom” aspirations. Take for example this past week. My kids found their stash of Santa’s Christmas presents, I rear ended a truck at a stop light and accidentally left an unfortunate message on a home inspector’s voicemail.

Let’s dive into the worst offense. I come home after a long day of work, which entailed two home photography sessions on opposite sides of town and a 3 hour meeting at the office. I was feeling on top of the world, if not a little exhausted- busy days meant things were going well for me.  And even with my crazy schedule, I had found time to be a proactive mom and finish all my Holiday shopping before Thanksgiving. I was prepared, I was ready.

What I was NOT prepared for was the curiosity of my two little angels. In all the hustle and bustle of things, I had decided that leaving the Amazon boxes in the guest room was a good enough hiding place; I didn’t have the time or energy to haul them up to the attic. This was a major misstep. The joy of coming home to see the smiles of my two boys was soon replaced with confusion and horror. Why were they asking if they could play with the Ankylosaurus I had purchased as a gift from Santa? My sweet 4 year old eagerly grabbed my hand and started leading me upstairs. With every step I ascended, I drew closer to the realization that I had committed one of the biggest Christmas Crimes- I allowed presents to be found. I freaked. My mind was whirling. There were 5 boxes FILLED with Christmas Magic. I held my son by the shoulders, got down at eye level and sternly asked, “What did you see?” He replied, wide-eyed, finally understanding that something was very wrong- “Just the ball-tail dinosaur.” I asked again if that was ALL that he saw, and he nodded his head in reassurance. The older one piped up and asked, “I thought Zack asked *SANTA* for that dinosaur.” (Gosh-darn that kid and his quest for continual understanding!) Thinking on my toes, I told them that because I LOVE dinosaurs, I wanted to be the one to get it for them. Santa would bring something else. Why does Santa get to give all the cool gifts, anyway?!?!

So, the 4 y.o. keeps asking if he could play with his ball-tail dinosaur (he has this epic fight between it and the Indominus Rex already planned out in his teeny little brain) and thus morphs into a raving, flailing lunatic at the thought of having to wait until Christmas morning for this battle to occur.  Because the present was already ruined, I told him he could pay for it with his piggy bank money and mommy would buy something else for Christmas- no way was he getting a present for free. And how fair would that be to the 6 year old? I knew I would have a melt down of bigger proportions if I allowed him to just “have” his present. He sprints to his room and handed over the money. Great. Transaction complete. Only one present sacrificed. Christmas is saved. All systems go.

UNTIL, after about 30 minutes of playing with his newly acquired toy, he comes over to me and whispers in my ear, “Mom, can I pay for the triceratops, the dilophosaurus and the transformers?” MIND BLOWN. Christmas is ruined. I’m throwing in the towel. I’ll let you know how December 25th turns out.