The holidays are tough, yet, also full of wonder.
It is a time of reflection, family, and friends.
Gratitude.
Remorse.
Jubilation.
BUT ALSO...
Stress, attitudes, shopping, oh, and did I mention, stress?
It is a time where, if your kids still believe, you are trying your damnedest to keep the magic alive, and not lose your shit, all the while playing Christmas music.
And hiding toys.
From yourself, or them, or hell, both, let's be honest.
Toys that your kids will invariably find, on the fly, in the spring, for no reason.
Yeah, I am that good at hide and seek, or becoming old, or also, an awesome hider of things, or better yet, becoming totally awesome at discovering that I am great at hiding my sanity, for instance...
So yeah, Santa just showed her Kryptonite.
Mommy, I went into the shed, and found a Barbie!
That is one sneaky bitch I say out loud as I whisper to myself, "that's where you were hiding you plastic asshole when I was looking for you at 1am when it was 12 degrees?!?"
MOTHERFUCKER.
And yet, that bitch shows up sun tanned and relaxed.
In June.
Barbie, you are an ASSHOLE.
What was she doing in there??????
I try to say as cluelessly as I can.
I ask this, like an asshole, as if I don't already know, that it was my own ass that parked her in that shed.
Yet I let that plastic doll make a mockery of me.
Insert Santa is old AF and must have forgotten that!
Damn Men!
Yep, insert a baby Jessica and the well, comment here...
BUT
It's always my girls that make the observations.
FUCK YOU CARMEN SAN DIEGO.
Santa continuously seems to get over served on her watch.
In my mind I am humming, "It is beginning to look a lot like fuck this..."
ESPECIALLY if you continue to leave your kids gifts in the car innocently, and idiotically ask them to go places, in the exact same car, so they can see the toys, AND, BETTER YET, question you about said items.
I don't recall "that lesson" in Lamaze...
Chapter Three:
How to look your kids dead in the eye and lie.
Learning how to keep breathing, and telling your kids to be on the look out for disappointment, aka killing Santa.
NOT ON THE DOCKET.
Well at least not at my hospital.
Merry Merry!
Anyways.
I really miss my parents.
But my Mother, ever full of life lessons, taught me a hack, get ready,...
Santa doesn't wrap!
That guy is MAGIC, remember?
He doesn't need to adhere to ANY rules.
Remember that whole set the bar low thing?
Well it's a win win you see.
You save the environment and some trees, and also, if you are like me, the anxiety of actually WRAPPING the stupid stuff in the first place gets erased, and now, all you need to worry about is, the medical grade straight jackets they put on Barbie to keep her in a box.
Who needs to be picking up wrapping paper while your child wants to play with her brand new Barbie?
Answer?
No ONE.
Especially when said parent needs to attend a quick hostage negotiation class online before they can get that hooker out of her motherfucking box.
So Voila!
You're welcome.
Consider me, the gift that keeps giving.
The other thing I am not giving out this year is a Christmas card.
If you want to know what me and the kids look like, check Facebook or Instagram.
This was a 2 for 1 life hack special by Cynthia.
Merry Christmas!
Xoxo,
C.
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