Stirring Creatures.

We’re still quite a few hours out till Jack is nestled all snug in his bed with the sugarplum dreaming… (not that he’ll dream about sugarplums. My money would be that any food dreams of his involve Little Ceasar’s pizza pizza or the little heart cookies my mother brings him from France…) We’re in pretty good shape. The last two days have been a frenzied attempt at getting everything done and ready so that tonight and tomorrow we can just relax.

Enjoy our pretty tree.

Light a Christmas Wreath candle.

Eat our weight in frosted cookies.

Everything is wrapped. Delivered even. All that’s left, after Robby runs the vacuum, is to rearrange the little creches so that Jack can find baby Jesus in the morning. Put the presents under the tree. Hang our stockings.

First off tonight is Jack’s Christmas choir in the children’s service at our church. Sunday’s version was a hoot. My little son brought down the house with his perfect, if exaggerated mimicry of his poor choir teacher’s gestures urging the children to sing louder. And the weird little dance he did in the middle of Away in a Manger.

Tonight, with his grandparents and AunT  and great Granny and our friends in the congregation who knows what he’ll do.

After church we’ll eat beef and noodles. I made the noodles this morning as my Granny taught me and used her rolling pin to roll out the stiff dough as thin as possible. (One batch I left thicker for my sister who doesn’t like them thin.)

We’ll light a candle on my Dad’s grave. Put out cookies for Santa, carrots for the reindeer, and sprinkle glittery oats on the snow for Rudolph to better find our house. Read our new Christmas book and put on our new jammies. Tuck Jack into bed. Help Santa with the Christmas.

To us all a good night.

Merry Christmas.

Mmmmm. Delicious are my words I’m eating

Okay. I was wrong.

Yay.

[For his part Jack went to the window this morning, pulled back the curtain and said, "Wow! Mommy! How'd that happen!?"]

Snow! Snow? s’ no snow.

It’s supposed to snow tomorrow. A lot of snow. At the grocery store this afternoon there was a frenzied need for milk and bread. People stocking up.

Which is ridiculous. It’ll more likely snow an inch. Maybe two. Not the five they news reports have peppered their teasers with. “Are we in for a big snowfall tomorrow… tune in at 11″

I’d like a nice big snowfall. One that kept us home from work and school and in a warm kitchen making cookies.

I’ll be that much more bitter when I have to lug myself into work tomorrow schlepping my files and laptop after dropping off Jack at school.

Sigh. Let it snow.

Even deathrow inmates get outside, don’t they?

Jacky is torturing the dog. We’ve been cooped up all day. Jack is a little conjested and it’s biting cold outside… so we’ve stayed in and played inside.

And now he’s stored up a little too much energy for his tired Mommy.

The dog isn’t too happy, either.

Surely Nancy Reagan didn’t mean No to Valium??

So now I’m on drugs.

And I kind of like it.

I had to go to the dentist this morning. A specialist dentist– so the fear and horror were heightened. Apparently the root canal I had a few years ago had a problem and needed to be redone.

Specialist Dentist Man: When did you have that root canal done?

Me: Uh. You know– I’m not really sure. I kind of try to block that stuff out… I think it was before my son was born? So, at least five years ago? I really couldn’t say.

Specialist Dentist Man: [withering silence.]

Me: [uncomfortable silence]

Specialist Dentist Man: Oh.

Specialist Dentist decided that “we” needed to redo said canal. I asked what exactly they could do in terms of me being comatose for the big renovation. He thought I was kidding. And then told me he could write a prescription for Valium. The receptionists assured me that Valium would put me in a state of not really caring that I was in the dentist chair. (HA! I thought… we’ll see about that.)

I did have high hopes for the magical little pill. I grew up in the 70’s so it was the drug of choice in soap operas and television dramas. People took their Valium with vodka in fancy glasses. Besides, years ago Robby had to have some major dental work done. They put him on Valium and he was loopy as all get out. When I came in the office to retrieve him the dentist carefully gave me instructions and sent us on our way.

On the way out of the office I led Robby to our Explorer and he insisted, “Oh good grief! I’m fine! I can drive!”

After I buckled him in the passenger seat and started the car he repeated, “Really, I’m perfectly fine! Let me drive!”

I turned on the ignition and backed out of the parking spot. “Terri! Really! I can drive!”

I sighed, “Honey, you ARE driving.”

“Oh. Okay!” And he looked so happy while he fell asleep, thinking he was driving.

Yesterday I filled my Valium prescription at Meijer’s. Meijer’s had a promo for a $10 off coupon for new or transfered prescriptions for any item more than $19.99 (which, by the way, is a complicated sounding promotion to market)– I needed a blowdryer. It was very kismety. The line to pick up my prescription was very unkismety. It snaked all the way back to nearly the baby section. I stood patiently. More patiently when I watched a sad little tableau played out in front of me of a shabbily dressed family agonizing over whether they could afford the $40.21 inhaler the Amigo-riding father needed. Their shopping cart had only a loaf of store-brand bread. Waiting for 4 Valium pills seemed suddenly frivolous. I felt like I should be wearing a fur. And sitting in a limo so I could snap at the driver for taking too long.

Last night at bedtime,  per instructions, I took Pill No. 1– sadly, with water, not vodka in a highball glass. Sigh. I turned to Robby, 10 minutes later, “I don’t feel anything different. When does it kick in?” ”Shhh. It’ll work. Just curl up and be patient.” Twenty minutes later, curled up, “I still don’t fe—-zzzzzzzz.”

Best. Night. Of. Sleep. EVER. I get why people are hooked on this stuff. I woke up refreshed. Happy. And then I remembered that I had to go to the Specialist Dentist Man.

I took Pill No. 2 (again, per instruction) and waited the hour before my appointment. My mother dropped me off with a Post-It note saying, “Please call Terri’s Mother when she is ready to be picked up” and her cell phone number. I asked if I was supposed to stick it on my sweatshirt but she said I could just hand it to the receptionist.

The receptionists, by the way, weren’t quite right– I DID care I was in the dentist chair. I balled my hands into fists in the kangaroo pockets on my hoodie. And I curled up my toes. For an hour I stayed that way. Specialist Dentist Man isn’t one of those chatty types. No, “Hey kiddo– we’re almost through now!” or “Doing good!” kind of dentists. I had no idea when he would be done with the drilling and prodding and whatever else he was doing that I was trying to block out. (Think happy thoughts. Think of tiny Jack snuggling. Think of paragraphs of good books. Think of Mr. Darcy in Pride & Prejudice…)

He wrote me two more prescriptions. One for penicillan. The other for some lovely Tylenol with a narcotic in it. It’s wearing off now– the narcotic– but for a while there– with the overlapping of the Valium it was warm and happy and nice. A bowl of my Mommy’s smokey corn chowder soup and I was out. (Luckily, so was Jack. Motherhood takes the fun out of drug addiction. That whole “I love my kid more than myself” really puts a damper on the buzz.)

I have no idea what the follow-up appointment has in store other than the promise of Pills no. 3 & 4. Too bad I don’t like vodka.

I think I have a highball glass though.