Thursday, December 24, 2009

I Got Your Christmas Letter

Your year sounds amazing, as usual.  Kids so perfect that I’m slightly concerned.  Business is booming too? Well, ain’t you hot shit during a recession?  I guess that’s the upside to being a lawyer, there’s always someone you can sue.

I’m still working on potty training the boys.  Oh sure, one’s 11 and the other 6, but until they can pee without soaking the toilet seat—I’m not calling them trained.  They complain every morning when I announce it’s time for school.  I’m going to go right ahead and say that I don’t think they like going to school.  Each night I start to get the shakes when I realize I need to remind them to do their homework. Their short term memory must already be failing because apparently it’s brand new information each night.  I say, “time to get your homework done” and one of them screams, “WHAT?” and the other starts to pout and mumble about how he can’t do it.  I swore I’d never do this but I sit there at the table, helping them with every problem, nearly doing the work for them, and drink heavily to ease the pain.  As it turns out, I’m better at 6th grade math then I thought I’d be.  Despite all the promises their beds are rarely made unless I am the one making them.  I’m still picking up their laundry off the floor and putting it in the hamper for them.  Their toys? Strewn from room to room.  No matter of threats or punishment has broken them.  So I remain, the defeated one.

annabelle My daughter is more and more beautiful everyday.  She smiles and you cannot help but return one to her.  That perfect hair and skin of hers is a constant reminder to me of the youth I did not appreciate and is now long gone. It’s becoming clearer now why my mother had to always say, “I used to be 90lbs you know” whenever I tried on a new outfit.  Belle (a perfect name for her) loves to help me when I put my makeup on each morning.  She asks, “Why you wear makeup mama?”  I look at the pale skin, circles under my eyes so dark it looks like I've been smacked by some airbags, wrinkles appearing with force and think, because if I don’t wear makeup people will run screaming, pointing at my direction, accusing me of having swine flu.  I was considering starting an IRA for my future retirement but now I’m thinking about saving for Botox, chemical peels, teeth bleaching, some lifts, tucks and lipo.

Dave is doing well, I think.  We never see him.  He works like a freakin’ dog and is gone most of the week.  You could assume that we  have tons of disposable income with all the extra work he does but we live on Long Island.  Instead of building nest eggs I’m happy that we’re able to still pay our bills.  So many people around us are not.  Everyday I see more houses with foreclosure signs in our neighborhood.  Houses that used to have families living in them, and I am grateful that we are not one of them.

Well, it’s time for me to head on up to my treadmill.  The lipo is pretty expensive and I can’t hear the kids fighting when I’m in the garage.  So for now I’m going to keep workin’ that Nivea Cream, run on the treadmill, look into those new Reebok EasyTone  sneakers and not look at pictures of myself when I was 16.

3 comments:

Charlene Ross said...

The most AWESOME Christmas letter ever! Puts mine to shame. (And usually mine is pretty funny.) You are my new idol. Have a wonderfully Merry Christmas!

Claudine M. Jalajas said...

Oh Charlene, shut up.. I'm blushing.. cut it out.. really? ;) hehehe.. Merry Christmas to you too.

Alisa Bowman said...

Now this is a holiday letter that I want to receive. Nice job!

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