My mother called me during the witching hour, last night - you know, it starts around the time you tell your kids to get ready for bed and suddenly realize that you have somehow become incapable of speaking in complete sentences, or without sounding like a raving shrew - and I think I even manage to end THAT conversation, badly.

"Honestly, I don't know WHAT to tell you, just give them each a pair of matching socks and call it a day!"

Poor thing.

"Ooooookay, then....give everybody a hug for us....and....um...."

[click]

I don't blame her for hanging up on me - I would, if I could, trust me - but, every gosh-darned holiday, it's the same thing.

What do THEY want?

What do THEY need?

"GAH...I swear...I just don't know, anymore!"

Yes, of course I think it's a blessing that my children have such wonderfully thoughtful grandparents and both sets have been MORE than generous to Garth (not his real name) and me, baling us out helping to keep the Christmas spirit, over the years.

"You already got them....[censored in case one of them accidentally finds their way to reading my blog]....and they'll love it, I'm sure."

But, they're all growing up so fast.

"It is Christmas, you know?"

[blank stare]

Oooookay, then.

CLICK.

So, I let the Doofus-dog in out of the rain, turned off the television and threatened suggested that the kids, you know, go....now....to bed....RIGHT NOW....which, the dog apparently mistook for the command to...um...come on over here and give your momma a big old French kiss....you know she wants it....yes?

"YOU PINHEAD!"

Like a siren, I blasted out my last warning and the kids scattered every which way, leaving my husband, Garth (not his real name) alone to deal with....well....I can only imagine the creative way in which they were using their words to best describe what I must have sounded (and looked) like, at that moment.

"Um....I'm going to....I mean....uh....I'd better go check on the kids."

What do they NEED, indeed.

"Fumumbleshigrumble!"

No, I was NOT in a festive mood and, as I....[carefully]....climbed over several piles of laundry (they were folded) I noticed that Doofus-dog managed to muddy the front of my sweater.

"PINHEAD!"

So, I tore it off - no, I did NOT care that I was standing in front of the living room window and that the drapes were WIDE open - and reached for the nearest "clean" thing I could find and put it on.

"Hey, that's my favorite shirt!"

Yes, Thing Two HAS always been very brave!

"Actually, it's Daddy's."

I mean, was.

"Yes, but that's the sweatshirt, where I remember you best."

Okay, she lost me.

"Don't you remember?"

I looked down and suddenly felt a rush of warm.

"When I was little, I remember how we used to do a lot of fun things and that's the sweatshirt you would always wear."

Funny, what kids remember.

"Where did you find it?"

It's sad, what we parents sometimes forget.

"Right here, with you."

I hugged Thing Two, allowed the warmth to spread over me and giggled, thinking how I must have been quite fright - think I even surprised myself, a little - but, she held on and sort of just, you know, patted me on the head.

"Um....I'm going to....I mean....uh....well, G'NIGHT!"

So, I called my mother back....told her that I finally remembered....and how Garth (not his real name) NEEDED a new sweatshirt, probably!

Good luck and g'night.

[Next week:  Merry mommy musings on the creative use of mistletoe.]