Season's Greetings

23 December 2006

A three-year-old gave this reaction to her Christmas dinner: "I don't like the turkey, but I like the bread he ate." ~Author Unknown

My three kids and I were cordially invited to a Christmas dinner at a restaurant up north.

I put on my little black dress and the only black heels I have for this grand occasion. It's the first ever formal Christmas dinner I have ever attended.

The party was filled with wonderful people, spectacular performances, and nonetheless, mouth-watering good food. As the kids were arranged to be seated in another room with their own food and games, I had the rare opportunity to eat to my heart's content with full liberation. My fave of the night was the exceptionally tasty "Cereal Prawns". I was so occupied on savouring the delicacy that by the time I came back to my sense, everyone else at my table was marveling at the heap of prawn shells towering dangerously on my plate. What a mistake! I should have eaten the shells as well to erase all evidence...

Dinner ended well after ten. We took a not-so-long walk to the MRT station; rode a train for a not-so-long journey whereby Angel still managed to fall asleep upon my thigh; traveled yet another not-so-long trip on foot; and managed to reach home after eleven. The entire not-so-long journey was, however, not-so-short-and-sweet. It was completely murderous! All thanks to the dainty high heels and my not-so-dainty feet.

The instant we entered home, I shook the heels off my feet and felt as if I was walking on clouds. But I was immediately pulled back to Earth and almost sank into hell as I face the calamity we had left behind in the afternoon. Used mugs cluttered the dining table. Dirty dishes stacked in the sinks. Clothes piled on my bed. Cosmetics scattered across every available surfaces.

Papa Santa, though I have not been a really good girl this year, can I still have my Christmas wish?

I could almost hear a sarcastic "ho-ho-ho" in the distant as I proceeded to shower for Angel, blow-dry her hair, get her to bed, apply cream for Rachel's back, clear the table, wash the dishes, do the laundry, fold the clothes, put away my things...

Sleep was the first thing on my mind but the last on my list.

Oh-oh-oh…


24 Dec 2006

The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other. ~Burton Hillis

Early in the morning, I was awoken rudely by a disturbing news courtesy of Rachel.

"Mummy, Kristel is very naughty! She had stolen the packet of mini cakes from my bag and finished the whole packet!" Rachel announced solemnly by my bedside.

"Why on earth do you leave your bag on the living room floor again? I thought I always tell you to keep your bags in your room?" I mumbled through the heavy curtain of drowsiness before I drifted into deep slumber again.

In my dream, I was chasing Kristel all over the house with a cane like Tom and Jerry show. Only that in this case, I, the big cat, was chasing Kristel, the little dog.

I woke up with a sadistic smile on my face as the sound of the vacuum cleaner came from the living room. It seemed that Rachel had enough self-conscience to clear up the mess she had indirectly caused.

However, as I walked out of my bedroom, I was substantially pissed off. Barely past morning, the tidiness of the rooms I had painstakingly achieved the night before was crumbling right before my eyes. I took advantage of my morning grouchiness and yelled at the kids to clear up the mess and get ready to go over Grandma's place for lunch.

Just as I was cooling off with my morning cup of tea, I spotted the medals I had achieved for the "marathon" effort I had put in the previous night - two huge water-filled blisters on my two big toes.

"Ho-ho-ho..." There went the sarcastic laughter again.

During lunch at my in-law’s place, Angel suddenly blurted, "妈咪，你一个人生我们三个，辛苦你了！"

Rachel nearly choked on her noodles. Mervin almost spouted noodles out of his nose. My eyeballs nearly popped into my noodles.

"What made you say that?" I was partly amused and partly touched.

Still wearing a serious expression, the poor cherub replied, "It just crossed my mind. There's only one of you but three of us. It must be so difficult for you."

The innocence and sincerity in the little girl’s voice moved me so much. Despite the commotion of the two elder siblings over the goose bumps they're getting, I returned a loud "thank you" and an appreciative smile.

Papa Santa had not forgotten me afterall!