Dear Future Child, Don’t be an ungrateful asshole.

Look how cute and cuddly this guy is. Ugh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was small, my parents took me to see the Ringling Bros. I was just like any other kid at the circus: eyes wide, ass barely in seat, popcorn in shirt, hands stretched out and flailing for every cheap souvenir that appeared within view. I am an only child, and as stereotypical as they come. I was a brat then, and though it may be hard to admit….I am now, too, even though these hands are now reaching for expensive lipsticks and shoes instead of stuffed animals.

I asked for a lot each Christmas. A ridiculous amount. A novel of a list that included both my parents and Santa. But no time of year could escape my greedy grasp. I wanted it all. Now.

So when we scooted into our circus seats and my parents presented me with an adorable stuffed tiger, instead of calling out a grateful “thank you” I twisted my face into a disappointed grimace and said “THAT’S NOT WHAT I WANTED”.

This horrid behavior haunts me to this day. Seriously. I just talked with my mother before sitting down to write this post, and when I told her of my years old regret she laughed at me. The woman I so carelessly scorned so long ago laughed at the memory of my inconsiderate behavior. The laughter didn’t make me feel any less shitty, however.

What’s more, after whining “THAT’S NOT WHAT I WANTED” I proceeded to tell them what I did want: a stuffed elephant with some sort of plastic circus performer riding on its back. Really? How was I going to cuddle with the elephant with some cheap, plastic doll attached to it? The tiger was the better of the two souvenirs, obviously. But my feeble mind could not comprehend that.

So what did they do? They took it back and bought me the elephant, and I was satisfied. I was deeply, selfishly, disgustingly satisfied. And I forever regret it, even though my mother thinks it’s funny now.

And with that, I have this to say.

Dear Future Child,

Don’t be an ungrateful asshole….like your mother.

Love,

Your Future Parents

Like this, but picture some Barbie knock-off on top.

All Cozied Up

Meow?

 “When we are present in each moment, the past gently rolls up behind us and the future slowly unravels before us.”

– Rev Richard Levy

 

 

 

I come to you from the safe haven of the living room couch, beneath two fuzzy blankets – one adorned in Christmas colors, the other wrapped carefully around my head – a candle scented as “Winter Wonderland” burning bright, stories of local shootings and more job cuts and a mall Santa who got robbed all booming from the television. Joe is sitting on the back porch in frigid weather, smoking cigarettes and chatting with his mother on the phone.

Joe’s parents – who live in sunny Florida – will be arriving this Christmas Eve, and I can hardly wait. Our parents will be meeting for the first time this year (Joe and I have been together for two years), and there is definitely a piece of me that is rather nervous about the four meeting. I mean, I’m sure they’ll get along. I’m sure they’ll adore each other! But put a bottle of booze in front of any member of my family (myself included), and things can get a bit out of hand.

We’ll make the baked macaroni and cheese and hope for the best.

(Love you, mom.)

A job transition is in the works, the Christmas shopping isn’t done, the anxiety and depression continue to undulate with the melodies of my favorite Christmas carols. All I can say is that the genuine laughter is coming back into my voice, the stomach aches are fewer, and normal meals have made their way back into my skimpy diet. Something to celebrate! I look forward to family coming together this holiday. I believe it may be the cure.

While I’ve avoided the subject up until now, I have come to terms with the fact that the sudden onset of this “funk” hindered my ability to completely finish NaNoWriMo. But – I’m trying not to get too worked up about it. For a first attempt, 72 pages added to my novel is still something to celebrate. Over 20,000 words in a matter of 2 1/2 weeks is something to celebrate. There’s always next year, right? Real life put my fiction on pause for a while, but I forgive it. Sometimes, these things can’t be helped.

There’s something about being wrapped up, warm, cozy, slippers on, the Christmas lights all ablaze. Maybe the warmth brings up a subconscious memory of being back in the womb, when the most important decision of our lives was to decide which side of the sack to curl up in. No? Maybe.

I made a yummy dinner of Chicken Parmesan with a tomato & basil topping, paired with a side of red potatoes mixed with onions and peppers. It was pretty delicious. Thank you, Rachael Ray. Simple, quick, inexpensive. Highly suggested.

I’ve been working on gettin’ domesticated.

Hope everyone is in the holiday spirit, and that the Christmas shopping is done (or close to it).

Happy. Holidays.