Our Family Christmas Letter – Volume 5

Fa la la la la and welcome to Our Family Christmas Letter #5.

The year of 2017 was the year of discovery.

I discovered that I can’t sleep past 6:00am and that I can no longer sit criss-cross apple sauce. If I do, I feel like my hips are going to crack out of their sockets. Also, I’m pretty sure there is nothing left of my knees. How do I know? It could be the fact that I cannot so much as walk to the end of my driveway without feeling like someone took a baseball bat to my kneecaps. Call it a hunch.

Why is all this happening? I don’t really know but I’m blaming the number 50 because it all went downhill starting on the magical day of April 6. Yes, I am officially middle-aged and it ain’t pretty.

I’ve also discovered that my pits have decided to sweat a river a day. I spent the better part of the second half of 2017 looking for the perfect deodorant. Just so you know, it doesn’t exist. Not even on the men’s shelf at Stop and Shop so don’t bother. Those dress shield things — otherwise known as maxi pads for your armpits — work well enough until one of them pops out of the top of your shirt. That’s a nice look. I highly recommend it.

I had my first colonoscopy which was a real joy. Everyone told me it was nothing. That the prep was the worst. I discovered that was not true and that my friends are all liars.

The worst part of it was vomiting upon waking from my procedure. Anyone who knows me knows I would rather give a speech about quantum physics with centipedes crawling all over me to a room of 12,000 people, than vomit.

Maybe that’s an exaggeration…let’s make it spiders.

Also, I still haven’t figured out how it was possible to throw-up when I hadn’t eaten in nearly 20 hours. One of the many mysteries of the world, I guess. Maybe I’ll discover why in 2018, as that discovery just was not to be so in 2017.

(Note: three polyps were found, so please don’t let the fact that I threw up deter you from having a colonoscopy. It could very well save your life.)

Work for me is going great. It took a few months, but the cobwebs are finally clearing out of my brain. I seem to have grown out of all my old work pants though, so I’ve been wearing the same four pairs.

I plan on fitting back into those too-tight pants this year, but my New Year’s resolution track record is not a good one; therefore, I wouldn’t count on it. I apologize to all my co-workers but I promise I’ll try to wash them as much as possible.

Our dishwasher died this year. So, in addition to not being able to prevent the occurrence of the River Nile from developing in my underarm region, I have become a literal prairie woman by washing my own dishes. My new nickname is Caroline Ingalls. You can call me Carol for short.

Our washer and dryer also kicked the bucket this year, as well as our microwave. There is nothing like having to warm up your leftovers on an open flame. “Carol” seems to be more fitting with every appliance breakdown, don’t you think? And no, I did not hand wash our clothes. I have to draw the line somewhere. Attention co-workers: I just lied to you back there.

As for the other members of the family, they are doing just fine.

Our college age dear daughter has decided when she comes home she is a guest; therefore, expects us to pull out all the stops. I put my foot down at putting out a pitcher of Perrier on her nightstand, though. Poland Springs will have to do.

Other than that, she is doing great. The college debt is building up just like it should be. The best part is spending an evening applying for FAFSA when we don’t get a dime. I find it entertaining to be declined. It makes me feel rich even if for just a moment when in actuality l’m pretty sure if you have at least a house made of cardboard, you are too wealthy for a government handout.

DH is doing well. Nothing much has changed with him. He still likes to park the motorcycle in the living room during the winter season. Even though I tried to explain to him that we are prairie people now and prairie people don’t do those things. He never listens.

He still has his job he loves. Last week, I caught him trying to poke his good eye out with a fork. I’m so glad I stopped him. It’s hard to do the job he loves with only half an eye. If you recall, he lost part of his eyesight last year.

He’s still slim as ever. To all you ladies out there who don’t want a fat husband, cook really bad food. Twenty five years and counting so I am living proof this method works.

Then what’s MY excuse? I love bad food. I’m selfless like that.

I almost forgot to tell you, we finally went on a real vacation! After months of planning, the three of us flew to Turks and Caicos. It rained five days out of six and I contracted something close to Dengue Fever and basically got our money’s worth in toilet paper but it was fun overall.

I’m pretty sure we’re the only people on the planet who come back from the Caribbean without a tan but that’s just how we roll. (Toilet paper + roll = pun — see what I did there?)

That’s it in a nutshell. I would write a recap, but I need to go help pick up the Christmas Tree that just fell in our living room.

Discovery #9: If it seems like the old plastic Christmas tree stand that is leaking, leans to one side, and that you’ve had since the beginning of time is not going to hold a hundred pound tree, it probably won’t.

Why is there a live tree in the living room anyway? Yet another discovery hopefully to come in 2018.

See you all in the New Year…be safe and prosper.

Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire

Warning:  Spoiler Alert.  Send your gullible children out of the room before going any further.

We all raise our children to be truthful. To not lie. To be honest. They are learning these ideals from traitors — mommy and daddy. From the moment they are pretty much born, we start in with the lies. One right after the other.

  • A jolly, fat man enters your home through the chimney bearing gifts? Sounds great, but come on. Oh, and he flies in a sled led by 8 or 9 reindeer (is Rudolph part of the team, or what?). A sled that is chock-full of gifts for every child in the world. What’s even better is he does it all in about 8 hours, give or take. Do you know how much time I wasted looking for that damn man up in the sky when I was a kid? I should sue.
  • A life-size rabbit who hops from home to home bringing chocolates and plastic eggs. Comes from the same planet as the man in the red suit. This crap is what nightmares are made of.
  • Eyes in the back of our heads. I wish I had a dime for every time my kid asked me if she could see these eyes. We only perpetuate our lie with more lies because, of course, children don’t have “The Special Magic Power” to see them.
  • How about the chick who flies in the night collecting missing teeth and leaving money? I got caught once. The lie I told her to get out of it? “The Tooth Fairy makes herself look like mommy so you don’t get scared.” I know. Total Oscar worthy moment.
  • The word “Liar” appears across your forehead when, well, you lie.  It worked like magic. It got to the point where if she lied, she would cover her forehead and run from the room screaming. Classic bullshit with a capital “B.” I should be ashamed of myself. But I’m not.
  • I would terrorize my kid by telling her that Santa was watching through the ceiling light fixture whenever she misbehaved. Surely she didn’t want to be on his “Naughty” list. There’s no greater satisfaction than watching your 5 year old look with her little doe eyes up at the ceiling trying to catch a glimpse and then whimper because she got caught.  Kinda makes me feel like crap. Just kinda. Ok, not really.

Children have been falling for these lies for decades. Can they really be that dumb? Okay, dumb may be a strong word here. I’ll be kind and use the word “Naive.” We grown, mature adults, prey on our naive children for our benefit. It’s not a surprise that so many kids grow up and need therapy.

Well, the Santa and Easter Bunny lie is not completely for our benefit. Actually, it kind of pisses me off that those SOB’s get the credit for all the crazy-ass work we did prepping for those holidays. The shopping, the crowds, the money, the pushing, the shoving. I gotta go. I think I need to call my shrink.