I Propose Calling It: Unholy Friday

Ahhh, tis the season to sucker-punch and shove your way into merriment. Stay up all night to beat off someone else who put their grubby paws on your cherished present for the savior...Or is that just on CNN?

Every year, I (and my husband) endure the same shouted cries of shock and horror, "YOU DON'T CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS?!?" Well, we do, but not like every one else. Let me explain.

I grew up different, no question. I had Christmas so long ago, I can't even remember having a tree as a kid. My mother found a new "religion" while I was still young (something we'll go into on a later date) and I lost Christmas. I grew older, moved out and decided to celebrate on my own. I was a poor college student, putting myself through a school that cost in excess of $25K per year. The family I had that did celebrate made it all about money and bigger gifts and who got who what...I refused right there to keep up with the Joneses - my own family.

Enter my now husband - who back then was merely the boy I was dating and madly in love with. "Your mother & sister are Jewish, on a technicality you are Jewish too...why the hell do you people celebrate Christmas???" I got a shoulder shrug and a mumbled response that everyone else did...

We dreamed of having our own family, and what we wanted the holidays to mean to us. We wanted family. Not presents. Sharing and togetherness...not gimme, gimme, gimme! [IMHO: that is reserved for your birthday. A day that everyone should take time to worship you. And buy you presents. YOUR DAY!] We decided to be rebels. Christmas was going to be about family and NOT about presents in our house, damnit!

And so it was decided on a long ago winter night...my husband and I were snuggled up, not buying each other presents, and plotting our futures. We decided to do the 25 days of Christmas, starting on December 1st. We charted out a calendar chalked full of family oriented activities that revolved around a family and being together and NOT buying presents. And every year on BLACK FRIDAY while people are harming and bullying and selfishly out there polluting a holiday in the name of "Christ" and "Giving", I sit at home with my family and plan out what events we'll do each day/night. And every year, I endure the constant eye roll, the look of shock and then explain...to see the face soften, a smile spread and a faint look of jealousy over our sacred family time.

We carol, we go sledding, we decorate a tree and make special trips to the Hallmark Store to pick out everyone's special ornament that year. We make fudge, we make candy, we destroy my kitchen & dining room making and decorating cookies. We make care packages with these tasty goodies. And we do it all as a family!

Now, the kids do get a little something. They all have 3D wooden advent calendars. Each night filled with a tasty little morsel or a tiny little delight, but nothing that cost me more than $1 (again, I REFUSE to let it be about $). Everyone has a stocking...stuffed with things they need - this year, I think everyone needs some great new slippers as our feet have been growing lately. So, they don't feel weird and do get to open something (remember, I was that kid who was ostracized growing up...spending the Christmas parties in school at the Library by myself).

Oh, and lastly - I don't lie to my kids. Ever. Santa doesn't bring presents here. All three know that Santa is the goodness inside your heart that helps you to treat others with kindness & respect - and hopefully not just during the holidays. But we also teach that the world is an amazing place because people all believe different things, and some people believe Santa is a real person - and that they should respect that and honor those feelings...and never, ever try to tell that person otherwise.

And every year, I look around to see frazzled parents who go to the mall or chain stores every day. Who fought or stayed sleepless to get someone that ungettable get. And I think of my own peace, and how my children will smile for 25 days and not just one; hopefully building memory after memory - and not just receiving some long forgotten toy.

So, this year - Please know: when I wish you a Merry Christmas or a Happy Holiday; it truly is from my heart and encompasses all of my family (which I treasure more than anything). Don't look at me strangely and judge me based upon the presents I buy. As I teach my kids...the world would truly be a boring place if we all just did the same thing. And please remember: it's the holidays...not Celebrity Death Match out there.

Muchas Gracias

Tis the time of year when we’re expected to take stock of our lives and be thankful for what we have. Mainly, I wonder why people wait until a holiday to do this. Being thankful is something we should all be every day – not just in November through December 25th. I thought to take a little time to let you all know the things I wake up for thankful every single day…you know the little things that might get overlooked by many, and the reasons I can say I’m thankful for each one with a smile. Here is my typical day:

Since Daylight Savings time, I hear the pitter-patter of my adorable son’s little feet as he shuffles off to the bathroom at 5:45am. While it might be a reflex to groan over the time this little morning bird actually gets up, it’s a serene moment for me to giggle and thank God that I woke up to his cuteness and not the fakey “outdoor sounds” that are supposed to soothe me awake by my alarm clock.

I quickly roll over to face the ‘mouth breather’ sawing wood next to me and stare a moment in wonder. He’s there, and warm and alive…and not in some far off city. Thanks, I’m lost without him. I poke him awake and roll off the bed heading for the shower.

Ahhh, the shower. Thank you for this hot water. LOL: is that the stupid heat detector going off again? Thank God that works…don’t want the house to burn down. Man, this water must be super hot. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I get dressed and do my makeup and hair – OMG, my hair! Thanks to my aunt who always makes me have the best hair ever…or so I think. I need to make an appointment soon. I love colors. I’m so thankful my boss and husband accept me for who I am and don’t mind that I might randomly show up with hot pink hair. Anyways…off to work.

I start up my Jeep. Oh, Fenway. I love you. I can’t believe how silly thankful I am to finally have a manual transmission back. I go to work. I have a job that affords me an amazing woman who Nannies my kids. THANK YOU! I love my kids, but I’m not a stay at home type, and I’m so thankful for Sharon each and every day, providing them with responsible and loving care.

On my way home, I say a loud cursory prayer of thanks that I don’t drive like “Those Idiots”! I pull in my driveway, and breathe a contented sigh of relief. Thank you for letting me arrive safely through this day to find myself in the most wonderful spot on earth…my home.

Then the little things that get us through our evenings: Thank you for the toy I stepped on, I can afford to buy them for my kids; Thank you for the kids who are asserting their new-found authority and not eating their dinners – they’re not starving and they’re learning to make decisions on their own; Thank you for the crazy hilarity that will ensue in some part of my evening, it’s different every day and makes me laugh; Thank you for letting me put my aching foot on your lap and snuggle up watching TV when all is said & done…you’re here and not somewhere else; Thank you for this tired march up our stairs to go to bed, it means my day was full and I have no regrets if tomorrow never dawns for me.

Oh, and one more thing…I’m thankful for you. You care enough about me to even read this, so I must be special. Thanks! So, what are you thankful for?

Oh....That Bitch!

Recently, I was seduced by television. My cell contract was up, and my husband had been traveling. I felt lost. I was lonely…and there, on my TV in my livingroom was this woman talking to her cell phone. “Where is the closest restaurant?” “Why does it snow?” “Where do you hide dead bodies?” Ok, you caught me. The ad didn’t say the last thing, but Hell…I could still ask it that. I decided right then and there I needed this fabulous gadget. One that could remind me of things I’d been constantly forgetting. One that could schedule Dr. appointments on my calendar. One that could txt my husband for me while I was driving. Yes. I was in love.

As luck would have it, while everyone else was on a two week waiting list for this fancy piece of technology…I made one phone call and received her two hours later. Ahhh. “Honey, where’s her manual?” Oh, there isn’t one. That’s lame. Ok. I poke some buttons. I swipe my finger over this and that. AHA! I shall load my music library! I run upstairs. I begin the transformation from mere phone into that of personal jukebox. Wait…did she just crash? [sigh] I reboot. I reinstall the software per the instructions appearing on my screen. I reboot. I go to make a call…all my contacts are gone. Seriously? SERIOUSLY??? I swear. I start over. It crashes again. I swear some more.

What’s happening? I don’t get it. It’s supposed to be easy to use. And I’m not stupid…Ok, ok…I’m not *THAT* stupid. It crashes again. ‘GOODNESS ME THE CLOCK HAS STRUCK, A-LACK-A-DAY AND FUHK MY LUCK!!!” I swear more. I go downstairs in near tears. “What did I just do? This seemed like such a great idea. I’ve been so disorganized lately. I just was trying to restore order…and THAT BITCH hates me.” At this point my husband rolls his eyes at me. He points out that he’s pretty sure that the phone, while being voice activated didn’t receive a ‘spite chip’ instead of a smart one. Hilarious. Notice my laughter? >:|

I go back upstairs. More swearing. More crashing. More data loss. More sense of impending dread. Finally, BJ steps in with minimal damage to my pride. “Can I look at it? I’d like to play around…” “Uh sure, just remember – that bitch might hate you too.” Somehow, the brilliant man I married sweet talks that bitch into cooperating with me.

Me and that bitch are currently BFFs. She’s told me where I can find escort services when I am horny. She’s told me where good places are to hide dead bodies. She’s told me that our public library is a good place to get a beer when I am thirsty. She’s provided hiding places for misplaced socks – you know when I need one to shove in my kid’s whiney mouth. I’d almost venture to say that I loved her…that is, until she erased all my stored data when I tried to upload a new ringtone.

“Siri, what will happen if I smash you?” “Hmmm…I’m checking.” Time’s a ticking, Siri…Time’s a ticking…

I'm Electric, and He's My Ground

Recently, it has come to my attention that I’m a lunatic. Not just your standard garden variety, but the crazed, drooling hose-beast type. About a month ago, my home life changed drastically. I know what you might be thinking, and it’s not that, so don’t worry…but it’s close. Too close for my comfort.

My childhood was anything but conventional. Hell, it might be considered standard in this day and age, but 26 years ago, I was the only kid in my grade with divorced parents. I was raised by a single mother with more than her fair share of issues, but one thing she had down pat was - she loved me. I’m incredibly lucky merely because I know the true definition of unconditional love. That being said, the youthful remainder was downhill. I knew the rest of my life could only look up; but some things are so major they will define you early on as a person for the rest of your life.

I have trust issues. I don’t share. I think crying is a sign of weakness, complaining is inability to change your situation and I know you should never, ever compare your life to someone else’s because you can always find inadequacies if you look hard enough. I learned at the tender age of seven that I could count on me and ONLY me. If something needed done – I’d do it. I grasped that manipulation is an effective tool that can save your life and put food on the table. Baggage? Nope…I don’t have baggage – I have an entire damned U-Haul I cart around on a daily basis.

Then one day, I met a boy. He was special. Something about him fit me, although in the beginning, weirdly and with much difficulty. But, even the dumbest of people can understand when you find a brand new shiny penny on the ground, you pick it up and hold onto it. I stuffed him into my pocket.

Over the years, the boy taught me some things (many are an on-going work in progress). I’ve learned to trust. I’ve learned how to share. I’ve learned how to release and break down. He taught me that there was still innate goodness in some. And most of all, he taught me how to let go. I can have the most horrible of days, the terrible of thoughts, the foulest mouth…and one hug later, I’m clean. My “white board of life” is back to a blank squeaky clean – leaving me time to focus on our happy little life and our lovely family.

Back to the change in our life; he’s been traveling a LOT lately. I’m trying my hand at being a single mom, but with dual paychecks. Needless to say, every night spent in our giant bed alone makes me more insane and I've realized on a granular level – this isn’t what I signed up for. I feel like I’ve lost my penny…you know, that one I picked up all those years ago that was to bring me good luck.

And with the loss of that penny is the loss of my sanity. My white board now has scribbles over scribbles…and I can’t erase it. I find myself holding on, having already forgotten how to let go. My trust went out the window weeks ago. I’ve become suspicious and filled with angst. I find I have no calming voice to sooth the children. That’s no good. I turned my pockets inside out…still no penny.

In the greater scheme of things, I can’t grumble too much. I’ll find my penny stuffed in a cushion in a few more days, and normalcy will return…but until then, I can’t help but feeling like a bag lady, aimlessly walking the mall of life; asking anyone if they’ve seen my penny. If found, you should return to owner – she’s the crazy one over there muttering to herself…