Nipple Tassles Make Christmas Dreams Come True

It seems like I blinked my eyes and wiggled my nose (while wearing a sexy genie outfit of course) and suddenly the Christmas season has arrived. I'm having trouble adjusting to this reality. My brain (and body) still wants to frolick half naked and drunk on a beach instead of having to shake the snow off a Christmas tree and drop on all fours to retrieve the ornaments that plopped into a mound of snow after I tripped on my husband's chainsaw and spilled a box when I went to the shed to begin the festive process of decorating our house.

Merry farking Christmas.

It seems I'm caught with my pants down around my ankles this year when it comes to the season of giving. Normally, my type-A personality has the all the Christmas presents wrapped (in colour coordinating ribbons and bows) and piled neatly under the festively bejeweled tree; the Christmas cards signed, sealed and delivered and some eggnog in the fridge.

The closest I came to that this year is having eggs in the fridge. It's a start.

I'm starting to feel a tad pressured about the approaching holiday. It's not like I've completely abandoned my traditional uptight holiday behaviour. I did manage to squeeze in some gift shopping while I hunted for the elusive golden thong for Boo. I've most of the shopping finished for all my nieces and nephews. This is a big deal as I have a LOT of nieces and nephews. (Our siblings are really productive rabbits in disguise.)

So I have nothing to give my own children. I'm sure Fric and Frac would understand. And magically my wallet will open and be full of hundred dollar bills too.

I haven't even got the traditional mile long wish list from my kids, either. Strange. Seems we're all a little out of sorts this season. Usually they've bunny-eared the Sears Wishbook within an inch of it's life.

As Fric and Frac grow older, I'm finding it progressively harder to fill their stockings with colourful packages gifts. After 11 years of parenting and three kids, it feels like I've bought every conceivable toy known to man kind. (I shudder to think how much lead has been ingested through the years.) I've run out of good (re:affordable) ideas.

Of course, Boo is no help. His idea of a Christmas present for them is a shovel and a wheelbarrow. "That'll keep them busy for the winter. When they're done shovelling snow they can start filling the wheelbarrow with wood for the fireplace." He's so thoughtful.

This year, without a wishlist, I had to resort to something I've tried hard to avoid in the past. I actually asked them what they wanted for Christmas. Big mistake. Their eyes glazed over, drool started trickling out of the corners of their mouths and they rubbed their hands with glee. I swear it.

Suddenly, they were little carnivorous jackals, tripping over each other in their haste to spill their wanton secrets. It was as though I waved the magic wand and they realized what a limited time opportunity this really was. Picture two women fighting over a designer wedding dress for rock bottom prices. That was Fric and Frac, and I was the gown.

"An iPod!"

"A Wii!"

"A laptop with a printer!"

"A cellphone...preferably a Blackberry!"

"Just give me your credit card and your pin code and we'll call it even," I heard one shout.

"I've got dibs on any mutual funds and stocks and bonds," the other called.

As they started to fight over who got the check book, I backed slowly away and grabbed my car keys, while dreaming of the days I could buy Lego and Barbies and be the Christmas hero. I must have jingled my keys accidentally because suddenly the arguing stopped and they honed in on me like a bald eagle on a baby mouse.

"Where are you going?" they asked in unison. "Don't you want to hear the rest of our list?"

"Guys, the only way you are going to get all that crap...crap that I don't even if your father and I win the lottery or I start working in the local dive sporting tassles and polishing their brass pole. So I'm off to search for leprechauns and rainbows and see if I can find a magic money tree."

They looked sheepish for half a millisecond before Fric piped up and offered an apology.

"It's okay Mom. Just because all of friends have cool toys doesn't mean we need them. We can just use theirs." Said with big, begging blue eyes trying to hypnotize me into buying him a PSP handheld system.

"Ya, Mom. It doesn't really bother me that all the kids in my class have cell phones and televisions in their bedrooms. I'm happy with that lamp you bought me for my birthday. It's really neat." Such a sweet conniving daughter I have.

"Besides Mom, we're rich with love. Even if all our friends are rich with money."

I looked at them and their faces so resembling my own and I swear my heart just about expanded out of my chest. Right about the time I lost my mind.

"Sucks being that kid in class, eh?" I offered them while remembering the kid in Mexico who tied a piece of chicken to a string to tease an alligator with. "I feel your pain. I was that kid in my class, too. The one who never had the cool toys or the most expensive clothes. I promised myself I would never let my kids feel that way. I would do anything I could to prevent that for my children. I'm really sorry you feel that way."

Their eyes lit up and I could see the visions of video systems and mp3 players dance above their heads.

"But then I had kids. And I realized it builds character."

You could hear the sighs in unison, timed perfectly with the synchronized eye-rolling.

"Now I'm off to buy you two some socks. If you're lucky, maybe you'll even get some fancy new underwear."

If only it was that easy. After talking to them I'm feeling more pressure than ever about what to buy them. If only I was made of money.

I'll have to ask Santa to fill my stocking with fancy nipple tassles and enrollment in a stripper-cize class so that next year's Christmas is covered.