Fail

Here in Wisconsin, there's a tradition called "St. Nick." Every December 5th, St. Nick comes while the kiddos sleep and fills their stockings.

I know. I know. I don't get it either, but that's the way they do things here. As a child, I always got my stocking stuffers on Christmas morning when we opened gifts from Santa. Santa filled our stockings on Christmas Eve. Once I moved here and had children of my own, I felt compelled to follow the tradition here because I didn't want my kids going to school empty handed when all the other kids were showing off their new treasures.

So.....

Last night at 10:30pm, as I'm climbing into bed, the husband says, "Did you fill the kids' stockings?"

Craaaaaapppp........

"No, I don't even know where the stockings are."

"Well, it's not like you didn't have time to look for them," he says.

Oh no you didn't just say that to me. I know you meant something else less demeaning than that, right?

I drag myself out of bed, shooting a if-looks-could-kill look in the husband's direction as he laid comfortably in bed, without a care in the world. I go downstairs to the basement and begin rummaging through the Christmas boxes.

Nothing.

The stockings were no where to be found. By now, it's almost 11pm, and I'm starting to seethe. I realize I'm mumbling under my breath about how the husband gets to be in bed, warm and comfy, while I'm in a damp, cold basement looking for stupid stockings, as if it's all his fault.

In actuality, it's probably my own fault for not putting them where they belonged last year. I'm good at doing that. I once put a brand new electric fish cleaning knife away at Christmas time (the husband got it as a gift, but it wasn't fishing season so I 'put it away'), and we (meaning I) didn't couldn't find it for years. I believe it was 3 years later when we were packing to move that I finally found it. People get worried when they ask where something is, and I say, "I put it away." Chances are, they will never see it again.

Anywho, St. Nick left the stuffers unstuffed on the kitchen counter just above where the empty stocking hooks glared bare.

This was one of those moments where I wonder if I have any business being a mother. If this were one of the only instances of failure as a mother for me, these thoughts wouldn't enter my head. Unfortunately, I could write a book about my failures.

Hmmm.....I wonder if other mothers feel the same. I have a feeling it could be a best seller.