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Broke Wife, Big City
Dear Virginia,
where the hell is Santa Claus?
By Aprill Brandon
There’s a famous (at least for me) story from my childhood where I
looked at my mom one day and just bluntly said “Santa Claus isn’t real,
is he?”
“No, he’s not, sweetie,” my mom replied.
And that was that.
But the famous (infamous) part came next. Because I went to school the
following day and felt it was my duty to kindly inform several of my
fellow 2nd grade peers of this breaking news.
Surprisingly, this did not help my popularity.
And now all these years later, the joke is on me. Oh, karma, you wily
minx. Little did I know that in my 30’s I’d still be dealing with the
whole “does Santa exist?” question. Because I’m a mom now and I gotta
tell you, I can’t find that bastard anywhere.
But let’s start at the beginning.
My son’s first Christmas, when he couldn’t have cared less (since his
only interests back then were my boobs and old, gross, fast food
receipts) we were lucky enough to randomly run into a Santa while out
and about in early December. So we plopped our son down and took a
million photos as you are legally required to do. Easy peasy. And they
are photos we cherish to this day even despite the fact that both my
baby and Santa look like they’re being held at gunpoint.
So, naturally, I just assumed that was how it worked. Last year, I
figured we’d run into another one while out shopping or looking for a
restaurant that sold spaghetti tacos (did I mention I was pregnant
again?). We never did. Luckily, my son was still young enough that it
didn’t really matter and I didn’t really care about anything except
spaghetti tacos and not puking on random strangers whenever I left the
house.
But this year, oh, this year, I came prepared. He’s almost three. And
this is his sister’s first Christmas. Time to stop phoning it in as a
parent. So, starting the day after Thanksgiving I started Googling
where and when Santa would be. I was leaving nothing to chance.
Imagine my surprise then, when two Sundays ago, we went to meet Santa
and he wasn’t there. Apparently “Santa will be taking photos until 5
p.m.” meant if you showed up at 4:30 p.m. he’d be gone on what I can
only assume was a very important Santa emergency involving happy hour
eggnog shots. Luckily, people working the event were super helpful and
reassured us that they had “no idea where he was or if he’d be back.”
I was mad, sure. The Momma Bear in me wanted to start mauling people
with my festive Santa hat. But I managed to keep my calm. We still had
one more weekend before Christmas and my toddler got chocolate as a
consolation prize, so crisis averted.
Still, again, I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. I checked,
then double checked, then triple checked when and where Santa would be
this past Saturday.
7 p.m.
No less than three local event calendars said 7 p.m.
Santa would be hanging out in this particular location until 7 p.m.
Looking back, I should have known better. It was the same location that
Santa had abandoned to go on a bender the weekend before. But, silly
me, I thought if we showed up three hours before closing time, he’d be
there.
Ha!
He wasn’t.
Needless to say, I was frothing at the mouth at this point. And again,
the helpful people working the event assured us that “um…I don’t know,
man.”
So, again, my son got chocolate as a consolation prize. But I am
running out of time and one more no-show by Santa is likely to give my
toddler diabetes.
I need some chubby, red jerkface to sit on his ass and interact with my
freaking children before I lose it. I need a photo of my baby girl
screaming on his lap and one of my son doing that weird toddler smile
where it looks like they forgot how to smile. It’s Christmas. Why the
hell can’t I find a Santa? Why is this so hard? WHY AM I BEING PUNISHED
FOR A MISTAKE I MADE WHEN I WAS SEVEN?!?
Sigh. This is a good lesson for you kids though. Apparently once you’re
on the naughty list, you stay on that naughty list. Santa does not
forgive nor forget.
Well played, fat man. Well played.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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