Posts Tagged ‘holidays’
|Beck the Halls©2011 Lynn Rebuck
Wednesday, December 7th, 2011
I like Christmas music, but starting in early November it’s omnipresent: it’s in every store, in every elevator, and on every station, including talk radio (I fully expected Glenn to release a “Beck the Halls” Christmas CD).
As I searched the mall for an omnipresent (that’s the one gift that I could purchase in bulk for everyone) recently, I heard blaring from the speaker systems of three different stores an unintended medley of clashing carols: “Silent Rudolph the Red-Nosed Manger.” It was more than my fried-by-“Feliz Navidad” brain could handle.
I sought sanctuary in a nearby synagogue to escape the cacophony of carols. I hummed “Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel” to soothe and center myself. I don’t mind the holiday music, but it is so pervasive that it is affecting my every thought and intruding into all of my family’s conversations.
The other night I could have sworn that my daughter approached me and told me of her plans to go out with her adolescent friends by saying the phrase “We three teens of orient are….” Maybe I’m just hearing things.
“Do you hear what I hear?” inquired one of my children the night before Christmas.
“Is it the little drummer boy?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“You know,” I said, “I heard the bells on Christmas Day.”
“That’s nice, Mom.”
“Their old familiar carols play,” I continued, making conversation.
“Mom, you’d better lay off the eggnog.”
“Can I have a friend over?” my son continued, standing next to a kid I hadn’t noticed before.
“What child is this?”
“Chris.”
“Which one is he? The Drummer’s little boy?”
“Funny, Mom. He’s the Taylor’s kid.”
“Joy to the world,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.
“Is that a yes?”
“What’s that smell?” interrupted another child.
“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,” I mumbled. “Or it could be dinner.”
“Mom, can I go on a date with Paul?” asked my eldest.
“The little drummer boy?”
“He’s a percussionist in a rock band, Mom. And so what if he’s short, I just won’t wear heels.”
“When will you be back?”
“I’ll be home for Christmas,” she said.
I nodded and reached for more nog.
As she walked out the door, she called over her shoulder “You can count on me.”
“Did the box from Amazon arrive?” asked my son.
“Yes, it came upon a midnight clear.”
“I didn’t know UPS delivered that late.”
“’Tis the season, you know.”
You know, the three wise men were the first midnight madness shoppers, and they didn’t have any criss-crossing carols to contend with.
I am now in a 12 Steps of Christmas Recovery Program. Fa-la-la-la-la, la- la-la-Joy! © 2011 Lynn Rebuck. Follow Lynn on Twitter, fan her on Facebook, and email her at Lynn@LynnRebuck.com.
Tags: carols, Christmas, dreidel, Hanukkah, holiday, holidays, humor, Kids, Little Drummer boy, motherhood, music, parenting, Seasons, shopping, songs
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Crowd Control© 2011 Lynn Rebuck
Monday, November 28th, 2011
Last week I survived angry mobs, pepper spray, and political power struggles. And that was all during Thanksgiving at my house.
I didn’t have to occupy Wall Street or vie for early-morning Black Friday specials to narrowly miss getting hosed down (never trust a six-year old with a turkey baster) or trampled (avoid standing between a group of men and their seats in front of the first football game of the day).
Frankly, I am most thankful for the fact that I survived Thanksgiving. Next year, to make the day go smoother, I am inviting an official from the NFL to referee our dinner.
What we need at our annual gatherings is a guy with a black and white striped shirt and a whistle to keep the peace.
This year I witnessed multiple dining room offenses that would have warranted a flag down on the plate.
I’m positive that that as I was calling an audible over the meal (saying grace), there was some illegal motion in the backfield.
Before the blessing was over an infraction occurred at the line of scrimmage. A hand reached across to grab a roll resulting in an offside call. The offender was given a warning and a ten-yard penalty into the kitchen.
I could barely believe that in response to a simple request to “pass the gravy” several yellow flags could have been thrown down.
With the antique gravy boat poised in mid-air, I witnessed pass interference, roughing the passer, and a facemask infraction. Why one teen had to grab the other’s retainer head gear is beyond me.
When my adorable little niece in the high chair decided that she despised her food she intentionally grounded her strained turkey. Since she would still have to eat the festive fowl, she was informed she also faced a delay of game penalty. She then intentionally grounded her mashed potatoes and peas in protest.
Our halftime show is not nearly as entertaining as what the NFL offers. The musical selections are usually limited to a few eager, off-key not-so-sober soloists who relish a captive audience. They are followed by a male a capella group that favors us with a series of burps in various keys. Occasionally there is a wardrobe malfunction that most prefer to forget, since it usually involves an overweight uncle.
The highlight of my day is when the tryptophan in the turkey kicks in and they all fall fast asleep. It can’t happen soon enough with this group.
There is one annual violation for which I make no excuse: excessive celebration. At the end of the day I spiked the turkey carcass and wobbled my knees triumphantly, playing it up for the holiday crowd. I might even make Madden’s highlight reel this year.
Lynn Rebuck is a national award-winning humor columnist, speaker, and photojournalist whose column appears weekly in print, online, and on Amazon Kindle Blogs. She once punted a roast turkey to avoid being tackled. Email her at Lynn@LynnRebuck.com, follow her on Twitter and fan her on Facebook. © 2011 Lynn Rebuck
Tags: Black Friday, family, football, holidays, John Madden, NFL, Occupy Wall Street, relationsihps, Thanksgiving, turkey
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Mother, Stay Calm© 2011 Lynn Rebuck
Saturday, May 14th, 2011
Mother’s Day is simply not long enough. Mardi Gras lasts for at least three days. The entire month of May is dedicated to hamburger. What are we mothers, chopped liver? Mothers deserve at least a fortnight celebration, however long that is.
Christopher Columbus gets a whole day devoted to him. All he did was discover the New World. He never had to tend to a colicky baby in the middle of the night. He never had to shop for a prom dress with an indecisive teen. And he never had to chaperone a field trip of unruly third graders. His overseas voyages pale in comparison to the experience I had leading my last motley crew. Try finding a new route to the bathroom every few minutes in a crowded theme park with a kid who “really has to go.”
Abe Lincoln gets a whole day. Well, four score and seven years ago (give or take a few scores) I brought forth on this continent three new babies, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that I do not treat any of them equally. What did Lincoln do to deserve an entire day? Oh sure, ending the Civil War was a big deal and preserving the unity of our country was important, but mothers end wars and preserve unity on a daily basis. We perform hostage negotiations, infiltrate dangerous territory (teen bedrooms, need I say more?) and we are diplomats in every sense of the word.
What mother hasn’t encountered a scene like this:
“Let go of your brother.”
“No. He started it.”
“Let go of him this instant.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing.”
“Why is his hair shorter on one side in the back?”
“No reason.”
“Did you cut his hair?”
“No, the scissors did.”
Or how about this typical scene between a teen and his mother:
“How long has this plate of food been under your bed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you think about throwing it away?
“I’m not done with it yet.”
“What do you mean you’re not done with it? I can’t even recognize what meal it was.”
“It’s a science project now. I’m getting extra credit for seeing how much mold and bacteria I can grow on it.”
“It looks like you have a matching set of petri dishes under here. Are those to boost your grade as well, Louis Pasteur?”
I believe that a holiday to honor mothers needs to be longer in duration for one simple reason: it is not easy for us to transition out of mothering mode. Motherhood is stressful, and we must be constantly vigilant. There has been an elevated threat level in my home since the day my first child was born. It takes mothers at least a day to start to let go of the constant responsibility of mothering. We are just starting to unwind when it abruptly ends. That’s why we need another day or two tagged onto the end of the festivities.
I began writing this column using speech-activated technology on my cell phone. I speak, and the word processor types what I said, or rather what it thinks I said. As I dictated the temporary title of the piece, “Mother’s Day Column,” the well-meaning application typed out “Mother Stay Calm.” It is a fitting headline and the theme of motherhood if ever there were one.
Mothers, stay calm. And have a Happy Mother’s Year.
Lynn Rebuck is a nationally award-winning humor columnist, speaker, and comedian. Her column appears weekly in print, online, and on Amazon Kindle Blogs. Follow her on Twitter, fan her on Facebook, and visit her website, www.LynnRebuck.com, where you can email her about your Mother’s Day experience. © 2011 Lynn Rebuck
Tags: Columbus, Columbus Day, funny, holidays, humor, Lincoln, May, mother, Mother's Day, motherhood, parenting, President's Day
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A TSA Thanksgiving© 2010 Lynn Rebuck
Wednesday, December 1st, 2010
Thanksgiving went very well thanks to my vigilance. I made sure Tom Turkey received a full body scan at the grocery checkout, patted him down at home, and did a cavity search to make sure he wasn’t concealing any C-4 explosives. I discovered only a slimy gizzard, a displaced liver, and a scrawny neck. It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it. It’s possible that the “free range” where Tom Turkey came from may have been a terrorist training camp.
I’m fairly certain that had Chevy Chase been as thorough in screening his poultry the turkey would not have exploded like it did in “Christmas Vacation.” One cannot be too cautious these days.
I decided that since the Department of Homeland Security encourages each citizen to be vigilant, I would make my home more secure by imposing the TSA travel standards to my holiday gathering.
Each of the guests at my Thanksgiving potluck dinner was allowed to bring 3.4 ounces of gravy in a sealed container placed in a quart-sized plastic bag. They had to discard the canned cranberries before entering the house due to the prohibition on flammable gels. Since the hand-carried yams resembled grenades, they were x-rayed and later detonated in the microwave.
Guests in my home for the holidays were restricted to one carry-in bag that could be stowed under their seat at the table. Bags were searched thoroughly in a conspicuous place and there was an extra charge for each additional bag brought into the home.
Guests had to remove their shoes, belts, and jackets before passing through my Costco metal detector. No one was “gellin’” in my home over the holiday, as gel shoe inserts are strictly prohibited.
Due to security restrictions, the family all had to
Tags: airport, cranberries, gravy, holiday, holidays, humor, pot luck, satire, screenings, security, terrorist, Thanksgiving, TSA, turkey, yams
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Non-Traditional Holiday Traditions © 2009 Lynn Rebuck
Saturday, December 12th, 2009
I decided that I might not be cut out for traditional Christmas traditions after our collapsing gingerbread house was condemned under a local ordinance. Most families have holiday traditions. Some seek out and saw down the perfect pine tree. I am allergic to evergreens. Many bake batches of Christmas cookies. I am allergic to baking. (more…)
Tags: family, fun, gumdrop, holiday, holidays, humor, motherhood, parenting, popcorn, recipe, teens, traditions
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