Ho Ho Ho

This morning I was exhausted (worked again last night until 11) and didn't particularly feel like going to class.  It tends to eat up the entire morning, and I was feeling anti-social.  Matt suggested I "take the day off" but I'd have to be actively fevering and/or vomiting to truly go a day without a run.

So after consulting said live-in Catholic...

I decided it was as good a day as any to see Santa (after she and I went running, of course).

I thought I had a pretty good plan set up.  I explained it to her, in detail, which is usually the best way:

"You and Mommy are going to go running together, OK?"
"Just the two of us?"
"Yes, just the two of us.  Is that OK?"
"Yes."
"And then after we're done running, we're going to come home, and Mommy's going to take a shower, and then we're going to change our clothes, and then we're going to see Santa."
"Santa? At Beau Beau and Mimi's house?"
"No, Santa is not at Beau Beau and Mimi's house.  Santa is at... the mall."
Pause.  There's thinking.  "Should we go see Santa at the mall?"  (She loves taking other people's ideas and turning them into her own.)
"Yes, we are going to go see Santa at the mall.  And when we see Santa, we're going to take a picture with him, OK?  And if you are a good listener, and if you smile nice, you can get a special treat."
"With sprinkles?"
"Yes, with sprinkles."

She has become notoriously fickle when it comes to picture taking, much to my dismay and frustration. I figured if I laid everything out for her ahead of time, I'd have a better chance of getting her to look at the camera, through her glasses.

So we went on our run and she was REMARKABLY GOOD the whole time.  She kept telling me how she was being a good listener, and I agreed with her that she was indeed being a good listener, and that I was excited about that, but deep down I was worried she was using up all of her good listening skills an hour too soon.

While running I was thinking about what she was going to wear.  A-ha!  There was a dress that I bought for her at Baby Gap a month or so ago for "the holidays."  Perfect!  Now there was just the issue of shoes... either cute, formal-ish dress with Keen turquoise sandals (no), or cute dress with gray Keen hiking shoes (maybe if we lived in Seattle... so.. no).

"OK, Bug, we have a new plan!"  I told her.  "We are still going to go home, and I'm going to take a shower..."
"Because, Mama, you sweaty?"
"Yes, because I'm very sweaty.  And then we're going to change clothes, but before we see Santa we need to go get some new shoes."
She looked down at her feet, which were clod in her new shoes from Mimi's last visit, and said, "I already have new shoes, Mom!" like I was denser than a brick.
"I know you do, honey, but we're going to get you some dress shoes, to wear with your dress." (can I just tell you that this is the first time I ever thought of "dress shoes" as literally shoes to wear with a dress, as opposed to just fancy shoes?)
"OK."

We got home.  I showered.  She pooped.  She put on the dress without issue.  I was dressed semi-sloppily, in old shorts and a long-sleeved shirt.  I neglected to put any product in my hair, but I did decide at the last minute to put on some mascara and powder, because I had decided a few weeks ago that I would attempt to look alive when I left the house for non-exercising activities.

First we were going to go to Target, but then I was annoyed at making an extra stop, and twisted my own arm to stop at the Nordstrom at the mall instead.  Saving gas, I told myself.  Good move, thrifty!

As we walked into Nordstrom (which was, as always, beautifully decorated) Bug announced to everyone within 50 feet that "SANTA IS HERE."
"No, honey, Santa is not at this store.  Santa is in another part of the mall."
"But Santa is at the mall?  We are at the mall?"
"Yes, we are at the mall.  But we are getting shoes first."

We went to the third floor and to the kids shoes.  I've wanted her to have a pair of Toms shoes for, like, two years, but they've never worked.  When she was first learning to walk there wasn't enough support, and then every single set of orthotics we've had has never fit in them.  For the sake of a good Santa photo, though, we were going to try again.

There were some awfully cute sparkly ones.  This might make me a bad person, but I debated buying some just for the photo and then returning them later, mainly unworn.  But then she found this pair of Stride-Rite mary-jane's with a flower on the toe, and was smitten.  The second she put them on she was running and jumping everywhere (she fell over, twice, walking around in Toms...) which is always a good sign, so we ended up getting them, and I wept over the sparkles.

FINALLY we were ready to go to see Santa.  The last two years we'd gone to the crazy expensive Santa at Mall of America (you know, the one that requires reservations?), and I fretted the whole time about her eyes and if we were going to get a good shot.  I felt less anxious this year about hitting the EXACT right time, so that was good.

We made our way out of Nordstrom and into the mall.  I missed the entrance, and so we ended up walking completely around the Santa gazebo twice (argh) but finally figured it out.  She had been talking excitedly about Santa, and we had been rehearsing our "We're going to see him, and we are going to take a picture, and then we'll get a treat!" the whole time during shoes, too.

And then we came around the corner, and she saw him, and shit fell apart, fast.  She was terrified.  She didn't want to enter the little "house" he was sitting in, and started to cry.  I tried to coax her in every way possible.  I promised chocolate, sprinkled riches the world has never before known.  I tried the Elmo card (Elmo loves Santa!  Remember how we watch Elmo visit Santa?  Elmo's not scared of Santa!) but nothing could get her to stop screeching and clinging to me like a cat to living room drapery.

I took serious advantage of no one else being in line and negotiated with her for far longer than was appropriate or necessary.  Finally it was decided that I was going to sit in the photo with her.  So I pulled my hair back in a ponytail, and with no mirror to check my handiwork (seriously, wouldn't you have wanted a mirror??) I took a sigh and carried her in.  Santa suggested that she and I each take a knee, and I declined.  My plan was to just sit next to him on the bench and have her sit on a bit of both of our laps.  But she had other plans.  Mom, I will enter the same room with him, I felt her telling me, but hell if I'm going to touch him.  (Ed. note: I also lost the battle over the balloon from Nordstrom's shoe department and her stuffed Elmo, although somehow you can't really see either in the final shot).

And that's how I ended up with a photo where Bug is gripping me like a wild horse, new cute dress totally hidden (with new shoes slightly visible), and I look like I'm not wearing proper pants:

In hindsight, of course I would have chosen long pants.  But sometimes you just don't think about these things ahead of time, especially when you have a severe sweating problem from your lovely daily thyroid medication.  I'm sure I gave Santa his jolly's for the day, and I feel like the new Ho in area code 92108.