Original post written Dec. 24, 2013: Have you ever wanted to ruin Christmas for your children?
Have you ever wanted to ruin Christmas for your children? I'm only asking not because I'm trying to be funny, but "au contraire mon frere" that is NOT the case.
Today, I want to ruin Christmas for my children. Yesterday was magic. Yesterday was the day before Christmas that I've always dreamed of.
The kids got along, listened well, were an absolute DEEELITE all day as we went and purchased donations for Boys & Girls Aid, delivered the donations, shopped for their father, braved the post office, survived the grocery store.
They were angels as we finished our holiday goodies, frosting cookies, making fudge & toffee, so good you could hear the choir of angels singing in the background. I really really really wish today had been Christmas, so I don't have to harbor the memory of Christmas Eve 2013, the day I almost went ape-shit and ruined Christmas for my children.
And by ruin, I mean I wanted to sit them on the couch so they could watch me TOUCH the ELF ON THE SHELF. I pictured myself picking him up by the small of his scrawny little neck, they'd gasp in horror as I rubbed him on my ass and farted, tossed him on the ground and stomped on his little creepy face. But I wouldn't stop there. Nope, there would be even more horror in store.
Next, I wanted to take every last one of their goddamn presents out from under the tree and toss them in the trunk so I could return them or mail them back to the giver. Then, they would watch me, horrified, as I stripped every last ever loving ornament from the friggin Christmas tree and tossed them in a box.
Every last decoration in the house would be put away. There would be no trace of the holiday. And yes, they'd still be forced to go to Christmas Eve Mass, and celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (whose name I must have taken in vain at least a dozen times today) only to come home and go to bed and sleep WITHOUT SUGAR PLUMS DANCING IN THEIR HEADS.
But, alas, I couldn't do it.
Update on October 14, 2020:
So, well, I am not really sure what happened to this post. Why it went unfinished and most definitely why it went unposted! We're talking almost 7 years ago so I can only begin to imagine what was going on in my home at that moment.
As I've said before, my kids can be dicks. In 2013 they would have been junior dicks, just starting their preparations for professionalizing the whole being dicks to their parents thing. Ages 7 & 9, that's what they were. Sweet, innocent little babes.
I'm imagining that perhaps I needed a Xanax or wine (or both) and that in all reality they were really just being normal every day kids who were gettin' a little stir crazy (like their bat shit crazy mom) over the holiday break.
Whatever it was they did I can say with absolute confidence that I DEFINITELY blew it way out of proportion and used their poor behavior as an excuse to drink a lot of wine and write a funny blog.
That's just how I roll, or used to, before my busy life and horrified children (who now KNOW about this blog's existence) got in the way. In any event, I thought this could have been some of my best work if allowed to finish and post. So here you go, a half finished 100% crazy post about ruining Christmas.
And, for the record, I love my dick kids with every fiber of my being. I would literally do ANYTHING for them. I'd lay my own life down if that's what it took.
But still, they can be dicks....
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