Sundays with Stretchy Pants

How convenient that New Year’s Day is on a Friday! Last year, my resolutions looked like this:

I’m taking time out from losing at euchre and poker to wish all of you a Merry Christmas and happy New Year! I suck at cards, but you guys rock at being you. Have a great year!

(P.S. Thanks for the great pic, Kristen!)

I already blogged this at Ohio Moms Blog, but I think that’s not actually going to launch for real until after the first of the year or something, so then it won’t really make sense. Also, I used my manners and didn’t swear and I didn’t even talk about my zit. I used the code word “anxiety” for it.

Anyway, remember this?

At the beginning of the Christmas season, I’m very excited. We take a look at the Christmas savings account and budget out everybody on our list and we’re very committed to staying within the budget, which means if we want our kids to have a good time on Christmas morning after hearing us say no to them all year long, and if we want to donate anything like food, toys, or whatever to wherever, then we have to cut things out of the budget. No problem! Christmas is for the kids, right? Cut out buying for adults, and cut out sending Christmas cards to every person I’ve ever met in my whole life. Take another look at the budget and it looks gooooood! The kids are going to have fun! The kids are going to be able to pick out some things to donate! Our parents will get a picture of the kids, a kid-made craft and a nice note saying something to the effect of, “We gave your present to somebody else. Love you!” instead of a Snuggie. We feel good about this.

And then I start wrapping. And then I hear George Costanza in my head saying, “I gave him Yankee tickets, he gave me a piece of paper that says, ‘I’ve given your gift to someone else’!” And then I feel stressed. Not enough to return some of the kids’ presents in order to buy something for the adults because, dammit, Christmas is for the kids! Just enough to harass the kids into making more crafts. And to grow a nice zit. That’s all. (FYI, this close to Christmas, I can only say “Christmas is for the kids!” through clenched teeth with a crazy look in my eye. Sometimes I repeat it over and over while the children shush me and pat my head.)

Do you have Christmas anxiety that stems from a fictional character? Do you think maybe I watch to much tv? Do you go into debt to buy something nice for your mother  and she still says, “Is that how you’re wearing your hair these days?” If so, tell your story so I have something to read while I mindlessly play with my huge zit.

April is just a month full of celebrating around here. Well, celebrating and saying things like, “Really? Is this how old we are? Do we have kids who are going to be 10 years old on Friday? And did we just celebrate our 13th anniversary on Monday? There must be something wrong with the maths.”

The maths are wrong, baby, cuz your hotness is rockin’!

Easter was lovely, except it needs to last much longer so my family can stay much longer and we can have, like, an 8-day feast instead of a weekend binge where we drink and eat too much and hurt ourselves. If we knew it would last longer, we could pace ourselves. I promise we would pace ourselves. My sister and I discovered that it doesn’t really matter what kind of wine a person drinks. If that person drinks too much of it, that person’s belly gets mad at them and punishes them. In other words, it’s not the quality, it’s the quantity. My sister-in-law is wise and she knew that already. She and my brother and brother-in-law, along with Bryan, were able to go to the Ohio Deli (as seen on Man vs Food!) and eat and eat on Saturday, while my sister and my mom and I stayed with the kids. Well, my mom stayed with the kids. Tracey and I just laid around and said, “Shhhh!” But now we know. Damn.

My Columbus friends were able to meet my family and that was lovely. I felt like I should be more nervous about it for some reason, but I wasn’t because Kristen, Dawn and Lynne are just Ohio versions of me, my sister and my sister-in-law. I don’t branch out much in my friendships. And the husbands? All of the husbands are beaten down by perfect matches for their loud and lovely wives, so we love all of them, too. Even my brother. I never found the bellybutton lint he hid here, but I have a feeling he hid it on my pillow. Just thinking about it gives me chills. Or, maybe he unscrewed the screen on the showerhead and put it in there so I shower in lint leavings every morning. Ew!

With that, I’ll leave you with another disturbing image. Everybody knows that My L1ttle Ponies love Easter. I just didn’t know how much they love it until I walked in the bathroom and found this little filly enjoying Maya’s Easter basket. In front of the mirror. Seriously, H@sbro, who designs your baskets*?

*I didn’t buy this basket. My mother-in-law bought it for Maya 2 or 3 years ago. I didn’t even notice what the little pony was doing until I saw her watching herself in the mirror with that look in her eye.

P.S. Don’t ask me what Maya’s basket was doing in the bathroom. Nobody wants to know.

1. More books

2. More movies

3. More writing

4. More cowbell