She's not feeling holiday spirit yet
Are We There Yet? • LORI CLINCH
M y day was running smoothly until I rose up out of the office chair and to the tune of "The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be," I pulled a muscle in my back.

Unable to walk in an upright position, I shuffled into the living room as I dragged my knuckles and said to my children with a grimace, "Help Mommy to the car, and if anyone could carry my purse, that would be just grand."

"What did you do now?" they asked, and after they laughed themselves sick about a woman who can pull a muscle by simply rising from a chair, they loaded me up and sent me on my way to seek medical attention.

I suppose there's never a good time for a woman to get down in the back. But I think that you'll have to agree that the holidays would have to make the top 10 list of bad times for such an occasion. This is especially true since summoning family members for each and every task is no treat.

"Who wants to play 'Let's Make the Bed?' " I call out with enthusiasm. "Who's strong enough to open the dryer door?" is another one that brings them in droves, and while "The first one to volunteer to put my socks on — wins!" promised to inspire with its creativity, they didn't fall for that one more than once.

Things really got bad when the time came to haul the Christmas decorations from the attic. Although my gait resembled that of a cavewoman, I envisioned a house that sparkled with ambiance. In my mind's eye I

saw my loving spouse topping the tree with a star I'd purchased at a 70-percent off discount sale just the January before. I fully embraced the dream of him asking me with a look of adoration, "How does that look, dear?" Not realizing that one person's dream is another's nightmare, I said

to him over morning coffee, "Can you help me this afternoon?"

"What for?" he asked with dismay.

"Getting the decorations out of the attic," I said.

"Can't the kids help with that?" he asked as he saw a herd of them run through the kitchen.

"They can, but someone needs to be up there who can tell a Christmas tree from a Coleman lantern."

"And what will you be doing?" he asked with all of the love he could muster.

"Well," I replied with sarcasm, "I thought I might practice pirouettes while I haul cement blocks around the yard."

Against my better judgment, I went up in the attic with him. Call me foolish if you want to, but you show me a woman who wouldn't have gone up and I'll show you a woman who didn't go overboard during last year's after- Christmas sales.

The kids weren't happy, but they were there, and as I do every year, I dropped Santa hats down to them and began to sing Christmas songs. Meanwhile the love of my life began his repertoire of "How much stuff do you have up here?," "Why do you buy all of these things?" and "Whoa, since when can we afford a life-size Nativity scene?"

Back on the ground, the kids complained about having to haul boxes. Some expressed statements of dismay, others grumbled under their breath, and my husband echoed their sentiments by calling down out of the attic with "Have you ever seen anything like it?"

The decorating moments I'd pictured quickly turned from Norman Rockwell to "Married With Children" as I struggled to climb back down the ladder.

The whole incident has left me disenchanted, and has totally messed with my Christmas spirit. I don't even know if a moment under the mistletoe could make it right again.

Worse yet, my decorating mood went south the second I realized last year's garland was a tangled mess, that the candles had all melted in the attic, and some crazed individual had carelessly shoved the wreaths in with the angel hair.

Although this old gray mare isn't jingling the bells, my back is getting better, and it won't be long now before I'm decking the halls. Fact is, if the rum balls ever kick in, I'll dance to the same tune as the strands of lights and go through the season half lit.

But for the moment, I'll settle for someone to put my socks on.

Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch.com.