Terminal Velocity

I have renamed the month of December "Terminal Velocity"
I remember once, at a job when things were starting to get crazy, a coworker of mine remarked "I feel like we've just reached terminal velocity and the pieces are starting to fall off." Well that's pretty much how I feel right now. When I was a kid Christmas was this glorious, magical time when everything was sparkly and sugary and sweet. And now it's just expensive and time consuming and maybe still sweet but even that is my enemy now in the grown up world. The hustle and bustle that was once so charming when I was a kid is now just irritating and annoying. This month will be a busy one for me: school concert on the 3rd, work kids christmas party on the 7th, Geoffs work adult party on the 8th, Gages birthday party on the 14th, kids dance christmas party on the 20th. And then of course, there's Christmas. It just seems like there's less and less time every year, and less and less money but a bigger and bigger list of things to do and people to buy for.
The most wonderful day of the year, indeed.
But, it will be OK. Deep down inside, I DO love christmas. Christmas is great- all that family and togetherness and peace and joy and harmony- of course that's what it's all about. That and the presents. Mostly the presents. But the other stuff is nice, too. Makes the presents nicer.
One year, a rather terrible incident happened while I was Christmas shopping. It is something that I don't normally talk about too much, because of it's illicit and illegal nature. I don't want to spend Christmas in The Slammer. Not this year nor the next. Brings a whole new meaning to "jingle bells." OK that makes no sense but I'm not really that great in the whole Christmas/Jailhouse metaphor thing, never really have been so you'll have to learn to deal. Anyways, what happened was I was doing some shopping, and Payton was then a baby and in her car seat. I paid for all of my items and left the store. When I went to put Paytons car seat into the van, and I realized with a heavy heart that a Teething Ring had fallen underneath the car seat. I did not see it there when I was ringing my stuff through, and apparently, neither did the cashier. So now, there I was, hot merchandise in my hands. Quickly I sped away, fearing that a security gaurd could be hot on my tail. You would think that you would get over something like that. But you don't. Every time I hear sirens I think they are coming for me. It is something that I will have to learn to live with. Shoplifting is no joke. At Wal Mart, they have a big sign that says that, and it also says that you could be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. I'm not sure what that is, exactly, but I'm thinking at least seven to eleven year. At least. Maybe with good behaviour a little less. But still, that haunts me. I have the gastric ulcers to prove it. It's why I smoke a pack a day. Troubled past. Running from the law, the fuzz, the 5-0.
And I guess, maybe, at the heart of it, that's why Christmas is not as fun as it once was. Once upon a Christmas bleary, I stole a teething ring along with a little piece of my innocence. And maybe that teething ring did soothe my babys gums, but I can't use it now to soothe my guilty conscience. Only Wild Turkey can do that.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.