Like a red flag to a bull, right?
‘Hey teenaged daughter! Don’t go out with that long haired loser!’
‘Vegetables are good for you’
Tonight, after coming home from a full day at work trying to explain something that took me a full MONTH to get my head around to other people that ended up with the same wrinkly faced confusion that I sported for 3 of those weeks resulting in them saying ‘whatevz yo’ or words to that effect, I wrapped Christmas presents.
In co-ordinating papers with bows and ribbons and shit. Cause I have no ‘moderation’ button.
As evidenced yesterday it seems.
So I am curious, my lovelies, what do you do with all the
marked down crap you have collected presents you have thoughtfully selected for your loved ones before the big day?
As a child my mother would hide them, without fail, in her wardrobe. The wardrobe that housed her beautiful raunchy black nightgown with matching coat that I would take out and wear thinking I was Samantha from Bewitched. So I was
15 very young when I put 2 and 2 together and came up with Baby Chrissy and Stretch Armstrong were in Mum’s wardrobe of awesome dressups and that weird looking rubbery thing that looks like a huge thumb, and now all of a sudden under the tree from ‘Santa’.
Mine was waaaay prettier. And better dressed. I mean, whoa!
That afternoon Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy were murdered as well. Merry Christmas little Kelley, now quit the whining you are drowning out the Bee Gees.
(I actually squealed out loud when I found those images. Oh Baby Chrissy, how I loved you. And Stretch Armstrong, oh how sad it was when you sprung numerous leaks just after Christmas and leaked horrible sticky glue like shit and MOTY had to throw you in the bin. How poor little Golden Child cried… like I did when Chrissy mysteriously lost all her hair. My, your girlfriend has pretty hair, GC…)
Years later when I became a parent I knew not to hide the presents in the wardrobe. Or the vibrating marital devices.
For many years I would buy the gifts and then haul my arse over to my parents house and hide everything there. Then Christmas Eve I would drive to my parents house, load the car and drive home, and stay up till 4 in the morning wrapping everything (with coordinating paper and bows) in the dark with no sound on the TV, only to be woken at 5am
just in time to put the damn freaking Turkey in the oven by the sounds of excited squeals from the fruit of my loins.
Then I would be all ‘leave me the hell alone and pass the alcohol’
Then we moved away. And there was no parents house to stash the loot. And there was no room to store them in the tiny little poor excuse for a home. So I had no choice but to store them at the foot of our bed in a couple of boxes covered with a table cloth.
And it worked! No peeking.
Over the years I have been more and more brazen. The year where I left a box, unsealed, marked ‘Kelleys clothes’ in the middle of my bedroom floor, full of wrapped presents. Or last year when the entire stash was under a pile of sheets in the laundry. Or the year before in garbage bags in the en-suite shower.
This year I have the biggest present in the laundry again, but I am tempting fate BIG TIME with the rest.
They are in boxes in the dining room. Passed by the children constantly. Moved so we can eat at the table.
Boxes that Boo’s nappies (diapers) were delivered in. The same nappies that I asked the Damn Emos to put away for me a week ago. That I knew damn well that they would not.
So, where do you hide your Christmas Presents? Do you have elaborate hiding rituals, do you just wrap everything and chuck it under the tree as you buy it, or do you try and outwit your children by leaving them all around the house like me?
(yeah, I know I promised a recap of the Golden Child weekend. Patience my lovelies *snort*)