dum-dums

I don’t know why I got my hopes up. I should have known it takes longer than 9 years to select some simple stockings for the mantle. (And we know M likes to take his time with his to-do list.)

From the first Christmas we were together, I have wanted stockings. Because M fancies himself to live in Maine or somewhere where reindeer sweaters are acceptable menswear, he insisted that he select our stockings himself. I don’t know if he is super-picky (yes) or if it is really that difficult to find 1980′s ski chalet fashions, but we have never gotten around to buying the stupid stockings.

Actually, to be fair, I should note that my mother made us some very nice stockings one year. The problem was she used her own socks as the pattern, and you can’t really stuff more than a candy cane and a couple of quarters into a size 5, which is not nearly enough for me. So back to the ski chalet stockings.

M’s mom gave us a stocking for little G this year (she’d accidentally ordered 2 from Land’s End). So this was the spark that lit the fire under M’s ass to finally buy some damn stockings for ourselves. He went online, ordered them, and they arrived within days. (Thank you, Land’s End.) The problem came when we unwrapped them. Mine said, “Momma”. Um, who is “Momma”? Is that like “Big Momma’s House”? I have always been “mama”, as was my mama and my grandmama (not to mention Thelma Harper).

So anyway, he had to return Momma’s stocking to Land’s End, whose customer service people were probably confused from the get-go thinking they were attracting a hipper, more urban demographic these days. Bless their hearts.

My new “Mama” stocking should be here soon, and maybe we’ll cross “stockings” off the to-do list for good. Then it will be a toss-up as to what M will tackle next – either shoring up the retaining wall like the inspector told us to do when we bought our home in 2002, or moving out of my dining room as I beg him to do each day? Or, naturally, there is always the third and most probable option – pause and reflect on the glory of the stockings. It’s a Christmas miracle!

UPDATE: the new stocking was ordered (by you-know-who) with the wrong pattern – the same as Daddy’s polar bear. So now he has to return it AGAIN. (!!!) The only stockings still available are the teddy bear for the over 70 crowd, and the very dark Santa/reindeer scene. How is it possible I will go stocking-less for another year?