Achtung, mama

This morning my alarm was a perfume sample giver-outer standing in my path at Macy's. She did not want to be ignored. Wake up. Take the sample. Acknowledge me. Or I will not stop. I acknowledged her. I got up at an hour that rhymes with hix o'flock.

I got up and spent some time in Exodus, chapter 3. God was just hanging out...in some shrubbery...on fire...just having a deep and meaningful with Moses.

God was like the perfume giver-outer. The one who's got something to give does not want to be ignored. Can ya dig it?

***

No one with the exception of Little Man was in a jocund mood this morning. Baby Girl was flexing herself into some petrified scorpion position when we were trying to get her dressed and ready for school. Tears ensued. There was no time to put on my cosmetic face. I believe more tears ensued for my students because of this.

***

Class went well despite a student showing us a propaganda video about how textbooks are for cavepeople and soon every baby will come into the world, his parents having registered for a baby iPad with the Dr. Seuss I Can Read series locked and loaded. Not really but that's what one could project.

***

I hung out with Little Man at the campus cafe while Loverpants attended a networking event. Little Man yelled MAMAMAMAMMMMAMAMAMAM? MAMA? MAMA! MAMAMAMAMAMA! even though I was standing right next to him. One of my students said she admired how whenever she runs into my husband or me, we are always with our children. I explained that this was both intentional and incidental. They are, for better or for worse, very much a part of every fabric of our lives. I appreciated that she recognized this, however, since I spent four years of college reading Steinem and Woolf and thinking that children were a great idea. If you liked having a really lame life. And a purse full of crusty Kleenex.

***

I then got an e-mail from a person who holds our financial future in his pocket and that sent me into a tailspin.

*** I then got angry with my husband because of this e-mail from the person who is not my husband.

I then told my husband that he should leave me alone because I was about to say something really mean.

I then went for a run in the rain.

I then ran up a hill in the rain and rolled my bad ankle and fell on the ground and scraped up my knees.

A woman came running to see if I was ok and offered to drive me home which was so nice.

But I walked down the hill because frankly I like pain and crying and limping and walking downhill in the rain.

*** I am now typing here with a bag of frozen vegetables on my swollen ankle. I think this is where I need to be. I think I have been anxious for nothing lately. I think God really wants my attention right now.

Happy sabbath.

Nativity

This has been the year of The Nativity, as interpreted by Baby Girl. Most days see a makeshift manger cropped together with blankets and stuffed animals in some cozy corner of our home. Giraffe, Lexi the Lamb, Bearista of Starbucks Merchandise fame? They're all attending to the Christ child, who is usually either a baby doll swaddled in pink or Curious George. I guess the Nativity story has always held fascination for me, so I can understand her obsession. It's pretty bizarro awesome when you think about it, isn't it? Angel visits teenage peasant girl, says, "Sup, Mary. You ready to have God's son? What's that? No husband? No worries! We've got you. Just make sure you call this babe Jesus, got that? Kay. Later." Baby Girl is especially fixated on Mary's fulfillment of this role. Did you know, for example, that Mary and Joseph had a midnight snack of s'mores? Labor makes a girl hungry, natch. Also, Mary oftentimes had to cut out and go to a ballet lesson (in order to get back to her pre-baby weight?). Joseph was totally down, though. He was happy to hang back at the crib with his new son. Finally, whatever notions you had about Mary's footwear being the buckle-up Jerusalem cruisers--well you can just put that nonsense away. Baby Girl has informed me that Mary wore high heels. I mean, what other lies have you believed about the REAL Holy Family, wardrobe and otherwise?

Now that we live in the Bible Belt, there are awfully much and many opportunities to encounter the most wonderful story ever told. Tonight Baby Girl and I went to a drive-thru Nativity. Twas awesome. You can see below the level of authenticity the actors and set designers were trying to achieve. Not pictured: Baptist preacher at exit asking me if I was 50, 75, or 100% sure I was going to Heaven. Also not pictured: Baby Girl asking me to read her the illustrated tract about salvation for the third time tonight. *** Stand up and be counted.

This is a donkey, isn't it? I said, "Wow! A real donkey!" but I'm just a city mouse.

The goat's name was Ginger. Isn't that adorbs? That is a goat, right?

And these? Are two little sheep.

T or F

Little Man is the official spokesperson of bobbleheaded Sesame Street character slippers. True or False?

My brother Mikie came and visited me for the first time since 2004. True or False?

My old man and my stepmum slipped in some Ulysses; Little Man kept waiting for the part about Lightning McQueen. True or False?

The boy in this picture is looking for his real parents because the screwballs that run this joint keep putting Elmo taxidermy on his feet. True or False?

We went to go fetch our fake Charlie Brown tree from the box that was moved from our home in Boston and in it we found the tree. And then we found some random femur bone. Appeared to be gnawed on. True or False?

My old man is the funniest fellow with whom to decorate a Charlie Brown tree. True or True?

Please submit your answers along with a dozen Christmas cookies to the holiday pop quiz subcommittee. Thank you for playing.