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Christmas On Crutches

I am sitting on couch surrounded by discarded wrapping paper, a few water glasses and a box of half-eaten chocolates. The kids are gone. They're off to their real Xmas-the one with their father, his wife, their adorable three-year old half-brother, their step-brother, aunt, uncle and cousin. Dinner will be fabulous. Step-Mom is a wonderful cook. Aunt D will bring her famous spinach balls and noodle kugel. It's a wonderful holiday tradition for them. They would disagree lovingly with my description of their Xmas with me as less than "real". They say it's small but no less important. This year it was smaller than usual as I've been on crutches since last Wednesday. I fell down the stairs carrying what we all recognize as a "mother lode". I was balancing a laptop top, several dirty plates mined from my daughter's room, a set of clothes for my son, and a couple of glasses from his man cave. But the most dangerous element turned out to be the aged ...
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Volunteer Cliche

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Remind me: why did I have kids?

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