But Crying On Christmas is OK.
Well, the visit from Santa went well, and now the aftermath of the carnage called "Opening The Presents" is all that's left around the tree.
The kids had a great Christmas...
Amanda is the oldest. She'll be eleven soon, and she gave up believing in Santa a couple of years ago. But she's great with the younger kids and plays the game to keep them believing. Her big score was a guitar and amplifier. Amanda has played for over four years now, and she's pretty good. In that time, we've bought her two other guitars. Her first was a real cheap guitar—both in terms of price (less than $100 including a small amp) and quality. Think about it...a six-year-old wants to play the guitar. Does it make sense to spend a bunch of money on a first instrument for her? No, not at all. After a year or so, and her sticking with the guitar and getting better, we bought her another, better guitar. I don't know the brand, but it's an OK, middle of the road guitar, and I seem to recall paying about $300 for it and another $50 or so for the amplifier. She loved it, and still does, and plays it nearly every day. But the only thing Amanda really wanted for Christmas this year was a "good" guitar. She had picked out a Fender "Standard" Telecaster with a price tag around $700 retail. We found one at a local shop for about $550. Then her dad did something I never expected him to do...Jack said to me, "Baby, why don't we just get her a really good instrument?" We ended up leaving the shop that day with a Fender American Deluxe Stratocaster HSS with the rosewood fretboard and tungsten finish (MSRP $2,099.99), a Fender G-DEC 3 Fifteen amplifier (MSRP $399.99), a Fender case, and assorted other goodies that I don't understand but the sales guy said she would need. We made it out the door for just under $2,300 with tax and all. Yeah, that's a lot of money for a guitar, especially a guitar for a not-quite-eleven-year-old girl. Amanda knew it was a guitar just from the size and shape of the box, but she was expecting the lesser grade Telecaster she had asked for. The look on her face when she tore open the package and saw what it really was made the price all worthwhile. She forgot everything else around the tree, and in moments had the guitar tuned and was picking out songs while sitting in the middle of the family room floor in her pajamas. She didn't need the amp to know that she had a real instrument in her hands. That was about 8:00 AM or so. It's a little after ten now, and she's in her room (next to my office), and is playing the guitar. I can feel the vibrations on my desk. She didn't exactly promise her dad that she wouldn't blow out the windows, but I think she's trying to avoid that.
Debbie is our middle child, and she's coming up on nine next year. Debbie is very logical and scientific, and she wants to be a doctor. But she's still a kid, and she hasn't quite decided if she still believes in Santa or not, but she is very clear on the idea that it's not worth taking chances, at least not yet. Debbie doesn't care for the toys that a normal 8-year-old girl would like. The exception is that she likes stuffed animals, especially unicorns. I think she has all of them. No, I don't mean that she has all of the stuffed unicorns they make...I means she has ALL of them on the planet. Anyway, when her dad and I asked what she would like for Christmas, she gave us the standard list of clothes, stuffed animals, that sort of thing. I could tell that Debbie was holding something back, though, so when her dad left the room, I pressed her. She looked a little embarrassed, and took me to her room and pulled up a web site from the University of California book store. She wanted a medical textbook on neurology. Yeah, I didn't mistype that. So, I got it for her. Her dad still thinks I'm nuts, but that's what Debbie wanted. By the way, ever bought a medical textbook? Unless you want to take out a second mortgage, don't. The bloody things are like gold! I peeked in on her a few minutes ago, and Debbie is sitting at her desk with the book and a notepad, reading about things that I can't even begin to comprehend.
JJ—technically Jack Junior—will be three in April. He has no doubt that there is a Santa Claus. He nailed a good deal of toys, some clothes, and in general had a gay old time with Christmas. Funny thing is that he seemed to have more fun with the ribbons, bows, and paper all over the floor than he did with his haul. Go figure.
And then there's Jack, my husband. Jack quit smoking when I was pregnant with JJ, and in some ways that made Christmas harder for me. Jack didn't smoke cigarettes or cigars: He smoked a pipe. I could always get him a pipe or something related to his pipes, but since he quit, that's not an option now. He also likes guns and to shoot, but there just seems to be something wrong with the idea of buying someone a gun or ammo for Christmas. So Jack ended up with some clothes and shoes from me. Oh, and me in a killer sexy elf outfit.
What about me? Well, Jack made me cry like a baby this morning. After all the gifts were opened, I had the pile of normal things from the kids and a few things from Jack like perfume and some makeup. He stood and said that he needed to go outside to get my last gift. When he came back, he had the biggest single red rose I have ever seen wrapped up with some wildflowers and other flowers he had picked by hand from the yard. He stood in front of me smiling a little sheepishly and told me that he had no idea what to get me that I didn't already have. He handed me the flowers and kissed my cheek. I must have looked like the proverbial 24-carat idiot sitting there clutching those flowers to my chest with tears streaming down my face. At one point, Jack left the room for a minute and Amanda asked me, "Mom, how can guys be so stupid most of the time, and then do something so sweet and romantic like that?"
I still can't answer that question.
Melodee Aaron, Erotica Romance Author
Melodee's Books at BookStrand