I know this is such a new mom thing to say, but it IS so much harder than I imagined. Everything is. Getting a Santa photo was not at the top of my list, because I knew it would be exhausting. I wasn’t sure why, but I just knew it would be. I didn’t even consider going to Macy’s to see Santa. In fact, anything written up in the press was a no-go for us. Too crowded, I thought. Instead, I happened by a little kid’s store that was advertising Santa photos in a small space across the street over the weekend. Perfect. It was walking distance. It sounded doable.
Here’s a play-by-play that many of you can probably identify with:
Despite its small size, this event was a New York City one true and true, so staff provided several steps to avoid having families wait in a line. After signing in, one must find a place to park the stroller and take out your already screaming children. Then find Mrs. Claus, push past 25 people, and accidentally step on babies’ toes, artwork, and a crayon that makes you slide and fall into an already unraveling family of 5 (very rare to see a family with more than 2 kids in NYC; they should be allowed to cut to the front of the line of everything). Give Mrs. Claus your ticket, tell her you’re the lesbian couple with a black and white baby (we’re both straight, but this was just easier — Liz didn’t care), and head up to the arts and crafts bar to let your children eat stickers on top of normal children making Christmas cards.
Wait an hour. Realize that parents are getting in a line and bullying their way past the ticket procedure and up to Santa.
Join them. Look like a saint when Mrs. Claus calls your name and then asks if the not-so-nice dad can take his family ahead of you. Give Mrs. Claus a high-five wink when she says “Merry Christmas!” to the not-so-nice dad. When called, throw Clementine at Santa, because we all know she’s going to love a man who looks like a giant stuffed animal. Begin 17-step desensitization program with Sandy, who has no intention of being near Santa. Follow the photographer’s directions to abandon intervention and just get in the darn photo myself. Done. Grab Clemmie and Sandy and carry them over the crowd like a tray of drinks. Watch as they spill all over. Find stroller missing. Be ungrateful for valet stroller parking. Retrieve stroller. Toss raisins at starving children. Wrestle them into stroller. Make lots of promises of milk and cookies at home. Have them both spit at you.
To read this post in its entirety, hop over to Rebecca’s blog here.
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