The Real Reason Kids Write to Santa

December 23, 2012

 

My kids are young, so I make a lot of rookie mistakes that many of you with older kids can spot from ten miles away.

Like the importance of writing letters to Santa — something we didn’t do this year.

I foolishly thought people did this because it was just fun for the kids.  Or because it’s a sweet relic of childhood to keep for years to come.

No, no, no.

Now I know the real reason:  To have written, parentally binding proof of what the kids requested for Christmas.

Because, when you don’t write a letter to Santa and commit your kids’ wishes to paper, let me tell you what happens.

Your five year-old takes on an entirely new interest — one you had never once heard him mention, ever — on or about December 15.  And he is obsessed with it.  It’s now ALL HE WANTS FROM SANTA.

All of those other things you bought in early November, thinking you were on the ball?  Forget it.  He doesn’t care anymore.

Alright, you figure.  It’s not a costly gift he wants.  Let’s just go online and order it.

Bwahahaha.

It’s not available, of course.  Anywhere.  Because every peer of your child has been asking for it since October. And those kids wrote it down in their letters to the big guy.

OK, well, that’s that, you tell yourself.  After all, you don’t want to be that parent whose kid gets spoiled on Christmas.  Surely he’ll love the other toys.  And there’s a life lesson in there somewhere, right?

And then you hear him, in his room, telling his toys that he only wants ONE THING from Santa this year.  That new thing that did not exist in his mind two weeks ago.

That thing that would not have been in the parentally binding letter to Santa.  Had you done one.

Sigh.  You want to track down the Kindergarten classmate that introduced him to this idea and substitute his lunch box cookies with broccoli.

Next thing you know, you’re in your car heading to Toys R Us at 8am five days before Christmas.  Because when you called there inquiring about said toy, two things happened.  First, they laughed at you.  And then, they mentioned the arrival of a new toy shipment.  The specificity level of what would be in that shipment was exactly zero.  But hey, your item might in there.

And you can’t believe you are this person, jumping through hoops for this one toy.

You also can’t believe the lines at Toys R Us at 8am.

And, above all, you can’t believe Toys R Us doesn’t offer in-house trauma counselors to deal with this madness.  Or a bar.  Because you’re not above a mimosa at this point.

Was your item on that magical shipment?  Nope.

But another truck arrives on Sunday.  Yes, that would be December 23.  48 hours before showtime.

So you are pretty much ready to admit defeat.

And, then, after school that day, your son tells his grandmother on the phone all about THE ONLY THING HE WANTS FROM SANTA.

So maybe one more trip back to the store on Sunday wouldn’t be such a disaster.

But wait!  The item has been found online!  There are four left in stock!  Shut the front door — this could be the end of the saga.  Until you realize that the Super Expedited on Crack Shipping Cost will amount to more than double the value of the actual toy itself to ensure a Christmas Eve arrival.

I’m writing this late at night on December 22.  I have no ending to this story because I don’t know yet if I will greet that truck again tomorrow.  And I don’t know if I’ll just suck it up and pay for Certifiably Insane Shipping. Or if I’ll just let it go. Right now, this is a Choose Your Own Adventure book and I am the unwilling protagonist.

But I can tell you one certain outcome.

Next year, we are writing letters to Santa.  Before December begins.

And then we are having them notarized and mounted in laminate.

 

 

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Filed Under: Family, Holidays 18 Comments

Finding the Funny: Holiday Edition

December 12, 2012

Finding the Funny Holiday Edition
 

The holidays are busy, right? Especially when you decide to co-host a party with 16 other people two weeks before Christmas. Yep. Today I’m teaming up with My Life and Kids, Kelley’s Break Room and 14 more bloggers to bring you a special Holiday edition of Finding the Funny! Because I don’t really feel like finishing my shopping or repeating this scenario from last year just yet.

 

How to Link Up

 

Bring us your holiday funny and distract us from baking, shopping and overdosing on egg nog. Link up as many posts as you want — old or new — as long as they’re related to the holidays and will make us laugh. Your post will show up here and on 16 other blogs. It’s basically instant Internet fame.

It’s easy to link up:

  • Click on the “Add Your Link” button at the bottom of the page.
  • URL: Copy and paste the URL of your blog post (be sure to use the exact post URL).
  • Name: Enter the TITLE of your blog post – this is what will appear below your post picture. (Limited to 30 characters)
  • Enter your email address (don’t worry – this won’t be shared.)
  • Click on NEXT and choose an image that will appear in the link up.
  • Stick around and read the other posts and get ready to laugh!

Meet the Bloggers

 

All 17 of us will be sharing your posts on our blogs.

My Life and Kids

Kelley’s Break Room

The HillJean: Because My Life is Fascinating

The Fordeville Diaries

Frugalista Blog

Hollow Tree Ventures

Honest Mom

House TalkN

I’m Still Learning

Let Me Start By Saying

The Mom of the Year

Mom’s New Stage

Motherhood WTF

Ninja Mom

There’s More Where That Came From

Random Handprints

Toulouse and Tonic

Link up!



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Filed Under: Guest Post, Holidays Leave a Comment

The Annual Christmas Music Confessional

December 10, 2012

 

It’s time.

The Annual Fordeville Christmas Music Confessional is open.

Forget your shopping lists, your relatives driving you batshit crazy, the overachieving Pinterest Christmas boards and moving that damn Elf on the Shelf again.  Because it’s time to come clean about your dirty secret — the cheesiest Christmas songs that you love, that you sing at full volume when nobody’s looking — but would never admit to elsewhere.

So, I bring you a public service with this confessional.   I’m owning up to all my holiday favorites, as I have done for the past few years — shamelessly — and now you have a place where you can do the same. And we’ll never speak of it outside this blog.

Come all ye cheesy and tell us what you’re singing when nobody is around.

  • I’ll start out safe and lead with John Lennon’s “Happy Christmas (War is Over).” The song isn’t cheesy, but the sight of me — inhaling a hot chocolate and weeping when those kids start singing the chorus — might be.  This song kills me. Gorgeous and sad and sweet.
  • “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” As a child of the 80s, I won’t even bother apologizing for loving this song. It’s my birthright. I remember my sister getting the 45 single (gulp), and we played it over and over. And the video — Sweet Jesus. I. Loved. It. My friend Jen and I made it our full-time job in sixth grade to know which artist was singing which part, amidst our intense Simon LeBon vs. Bono debates. I just looked online at the full Band Aid roster of singers and I think I feel my leg warmers falling down. Kool and the Gang? Really?
  • Apparently nobody ever fucking comes home for Christmas and there are all kinds of ways to sing and cry about it. And so I give you “Baby Please Come Home for Christmas” {The Eagles, Aaron Neville and Bon Jovi versions} and “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) {the incomparable Darlene Love, of course — but the U2 version is also great}.
  • Let’s just veer further into total holiday depressive mode while we’re at it with Joni Mitchell’s “River.” Doesn’t it just make you want to jump out of a window in utter despair? Not just me, right? And — cheesy alert:  There is a little-known remake that is sung by, of all people, Robert Downey, Jr.  Who knew?  Apparently, he did this on one of his Ally McBeal guest appearances {remember that train wreck of a show?}. Turns out, the man can sing.  Say what you will.  Oh, and pass me the tissues.

OK. I’m saving my truly cheesy favorites for last.

  • I honestly can’t even talk to you if you can’t get behind Dan Fogelberg’s “Same Old Lang Syne.”   No, I’m not joking. “Met my old lover in the grocery store — The snow was falling Christmas Eve…” Yes, that one. Fucking kills me.  You might be a little dead inside if it doesn’t get to you.

And, some big favorites to tie this up. Strangely, both of these last two songs have the same title but are entirely different. So, under the category of “All I Want for Christmas Is You”…

  • This one is a Fordeville family favorite but not terribly well-known, unless you are one of the five global members of the Vince Vance & the Valiants Fan Club. I have no idea what else they sing — I think they are a country outfit — but what a great song, released in 1989. The video has a medium-to-high bizarro/creepy factor (What the fuck is actually happening with the weird dude? There is no way in hell that’s all she wants for Christmas). But the music has got a twangy, sort of retro feel. And it’s completely cheesy. Bring it!
  • Lastly, yes, I’ll say it. I love the Mariah Carey song. I know, it’s cheesy. But I’m owning it. I’m not typically a Mariah fan but there is something about this song. It reminds me of the old Phil Spector Wall of Sound and the girl bands of the 1960s. Plus, it conjures up that scene from Love Actually, and then I think about Colin Firth and Hugh Grant, and everything is right in the world.

So there you go — those are some of my holiday favorites, in no particular order. Honorable mention to The Ramones’ “Merry Christmas (I Don’t Want to Fight Tonight)” and The Beach Boys’ “Merry Christmas Baby.”

Confession complete.

But you guys are not going to leave me hanging out here all alone, are you?  Let’s hear the best of your worst.  It’s OK — I promise to keep it between us and the Internet.

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Filed Under: Entertainment, Holidays 28 Comments

A Very PBK Christmas

December 6, 2012

Nineteen days until Christmas and, if you’re anything like me, you’re anxiously dusting off your PBK catalog for some swell new ideas on how to complicate the hell out of your remaining holiday prep time. Because there’s nothing else left to do, of course.

As my holiday gift to you, I will keep today’s PBK rant brief.

 

Festivities

If you are planning to host a holiday cookie exchange, please know that PBK has you covered and is ready to guide you through about 26 grueling steps for success {starting three to four weeks before your event}.  Some must-haves:

The Mason Jar Snow Globe

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

Naturally, your event will be an utter shit show if you don’t have homemade centerpieces for each baking station. I mean, I would never stay at a cookie exchange that didn’t have handcrafted fucking holiday terrariums.

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

In short, this mason jar is an exercise in torture.  Not only does it involve a glue gun {as should any activity with small kids}, but there are tweezers.  Why tweezers?  To help you “lower the scene down into the jar.”  Naturally.  Look, if you haven’t ever built one of those ships inside of a bottle, I don’t think this for you.  And by “you,” of course I mean me.

 

Chocolate Milk Snowmen

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

When a Disney-themed sippy cup and a bottle of Hershey’s syrup up for grabs simply won’t do.  I find this craft worthwhile because, well, the kids will get to enjoy it for all of the SIX SECONDS it takes them to inhale their chocolate milk and shatter the glass on your floor.

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

I read step #1 and thought about instead tying the fabric around my own neck in a noose-like situation, just to free myself of PBK.  Good news, though:  You can probably use the leftover mason jars here that you nearly threw across the room a few hours ago while trying to create the damn snow globes.  Just try to get all the fake snow and glue out before you serve my kid chocolate milk in this, OK?

 

Decor

Hosting parties for the under-21 set is not really your thing?  That’s OK.  Just make sure that your home is decorated as elaborately as possible for Christmas.  I, for one, am so grateful for this particular suggestion.

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

Because, if you can believe it, I almost forgot to adorn the stairs of my home with jars of holiday candy.  I have been looking for more places to rest breakable glass receptacles filled with sugary treats for my children — and now it seems so obvious.  Heaven forbid they don’t get to eat a candy cane, nib of chocolate or peppermint sucker each of the 8,613 times they go up and down the stairs every day.  This shouldn’t cause me any problems at all.

 

Gifts

Finally, what would PBK be without those special holiday gifts for your kids?  I chose a few favorites.

The Elf on the Shelf Letter Carrier

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

Now the children have an easy and direct way to make sure their letters get to Santa.  It’s also the quickest path to a lifetime of therapy sessions generated by this gigantic, creepy elf staring at them every night.  Throw in the matching PBK Elf on the Shelf bedding and pajamas, and this gift set has a certain serial-killer-in-training or American Horror Story undertone that I can’t quite shake.

The Mini Dyson

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

Let’s examine some of the features, as stated by PBK:

  • Designed after the full-scale European models.
  • Features a bright whirring vortex, realistic sounds, tools and a detachable wand.

Did they say “bright, whirring vortex”?  I can just hear that annoying Dyson guy in my ear.  And, isn’t that code for “likely to cause seizures”?

I’m sort of opposed to my kid owning nicer cleaning machinery than mine.  She’ll be all, “Uh, Mom, what is that Swiffer thing?  And why the hell isn’t it monogrammed and color-coordinated with your pajamas?”

But the truth is this:  Your child won’t need this Mini Dyson if you just buy her this gem instead.

{Image: Pottery Barn Kids}

The Danbury Dollhouse.  Or is it Downton Abbey?  Hard to tell.  Anyway, I’d be shocked if it didn’t come with its own maid’s quarters.

So there you have it.  19 days.  Get going — before there’s a run on glue guns and mason jars.

__________

 

Other holiday notes:

–Congratulations to Teresa Vanselow for winning the autographed copy of Spending the Holidays With People I Want to Punch in the Throat. Thanks to all who entered!

–Need more holiday cheer?  Check out my post over at Mommy Shorts this week on how to eliminate holiday stress {hint: seasonal polygamy}.  I think my case is pretty compelling, and my legal team is making some real strides on my behalf. Also, I staged a last-ditch intervention for our Elf on the Shelf over at Elf Shaming.  The next stop for Jingle is rehab.

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Filed Under: Entertainment, Holidays, That Which Drives Me Crazy 10 Comments

An Early Holiday Gift {Yes, a Giveaway}

November 29, 2012

Oh, the holiday season.  The traditions.  The memories.  The sentimentality.

And the realization that every family does things a little, uh, differently.  In my family, it’s a post-tryptophan, out-for-blood Thanksgiving Catch Phrase competition.  And the time it finally occurred to me why we left Santa an Italian Hero every Christmas Eve.

We all have our holiday quirks.

But did you put yours in a book?  No, me neither.  I’m a slacker like that.

That’s OK.  Because 1) If I put it in writing, it prevents me from exaggerating the details with each re-telling, and 2)  There’s a far better book out there than the one I could write.  This one.

 

The title says it all.  Can you feel the holiday warmth?

If you don’t already read Jen of People I Want to Punch in the Throat, we need to talk.  Mostly because I can send some folks over to help you remove the rock you’ve been living under.  And, as you can surmise from the title of her blog and her book, her sarcasm and wit have a special place in my heart.  Or at least in my Facebook News Feed.

Basically:  You may think it, but she’ll say it.  Brilliantly.

I read Jen’s book last month and loved it.  Cookie exchanges, bad Christmas sweaters, insane amounts of holiday decor — it’s all in there.

But I won’t ruin it for you.  Because you can win the book.  Yes, I have an autographed copy from Jen to give away to one of you.

What?  You want the book?  Wise choice, Grasshopper.

Here’s how to enter:

1)  First, you must follow The Fordeville Diaries on Facebook to have a valid entry.

2)  Then, leave a comment below telling me your favorite or most unusual holiday tradition.  {Don’t worry, you’re not being judged on creativity — this just keeps an official tally of the entries. But, by all means, feel free to tell me something entertaining to extend my holiday shopping procrastination bender.}

 

Entries close on Thursday, December 6, 2012 at 10:00am ET.  Good luck!

Giveaway small print: One entry per person. Contest open to U.S. residents age 18 and over. Winner will be randomly selected via Random.org and announced here as well as on Facebook. If winner does not respond within twenty-four hours, a new winner will be selected. I was not compensated for this post or for promoting this giveaway. I was provided with two complimentary copies of the book.  All opinions are my own {as always}.

 

UPDATED DECEMBER 6:  THIS CONTEST IS NOW CLOSED.  CONGRATULATIONS TO TERESA VANDELOW!  MESSAGE ME THROUGH FACEBOOK TO FINALIZE DETAILS. 

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Filed Under: Holidays

Thanksgiving Checklist: The Kids’ Table

November 20, 2012

I’m sure you guys are all up to your eyeballs in grocery store rage and finding the right elastic-waist pants for the upcoming holiday weekend.  So I won’t keep you very long.  I just want to make sure you’re not overlooking one critical aspect of your Thanksgiving prep:  The Kids’ Table.

Basically, there are two ways you can approach this.

1)  Pottery Barn Kids’ Way

I’ve taken the liberty of sharing a few of the tidbits from their latest catalog for your consideration.

{Image credit: Pottery Barn Kids}

Great points, PBK.  Let’s definitely remind the kids of what they have to be thankful for.  Should we do that through unnecessary, time-consuming craft projects while we’re all prepping huge dinners?  Of course!  I would fucking love to spend the days leading up to Thanksgiving building a true-to-scale replica of the Mayflower for a kids’ table centerpiece.  Please tell me — what else can I do to avoid abject parental failure?  Let’s see…

{Image credit: Pottery Barn Kids}

I can’t believe I almost had Thanksgiving without party favors for the kids.  They would have been furious if they didn’t *receive* something on this day of thanks. And giving.  Plus, we totally need a turkey pencil holder to carry us through that critical seven-week stretch between our Halloween pencil holder and our Christmas pencil holder.  Crisis averted, for sure.

{Image credit: Pottery Barn Kids}

Because nothing says gratitude like felt leaves.  I know this is always a huge conversation starter in my house.

{Image credit: Pottery Barn Kids}

OMG, HOLD UP.  I DON’T HAVE TO PUT FINE CHINA ON THE KIDS’ TABLE?  THANK YOU, PBK!  I NEVER WOULD HAVE KNOWN THIS.  {Also, in my house, “shatter-proof plates” = paper.}

So, that’s one way you could do the kids’ table.  But let me now present an alternative.

 

2)  My Way

Folding table:  Check.

{Tablecloth?  OK, OK — I’ll get one.  But low maintenance, inexpensive and, for God’s sake, machine washable.}

 

Decorative headgear made in school:  Check.

Let’s see, what else?

Nothing — we’re done!  With nary a decorative acorn in sight.  Now we can focus on family and friends without those pesky felt leaves and ships all over the place.

So there you have it — an important decision.  One approach requires glue guns and the patience of a saint, but allows you to look like a goddess on Pinterest.  The other lacks a certain je ne sais quoi, but gives you far more time for important prep items — like Pie Quality Control Testing.

Your choice, folks.  Happy Thanksgiving!

 

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Filed Under: Entertainment, Family, Holidays, That Which Drives Me Crazy 13 Comments

Lessons From the Pumpkin Spice Latte Shortage

October 23, 2012

 

You guys.  It’s safe to go outside again.

The Great Pumpkin Spice Latte Shortage of 2012 has ended.  Apparently at some point last week, Starbucks declared the “pumpkin emergency” to be over and PSL was once again in plentiful supply.  Soccer Mom riots nationwide were narrowly averted.

It’s all going to be OK.  No Lululemons were torn in the fracas.

Personally, I was not one of the victimized masses of this near-tragedy.  Mostly because — sssshhhh — I don’t really get the whole PSL rage.  You can have my ration — I just want my high-maintenance grande, skim, no foam latte.  And probably a cake pop.  OK, two.

More broadly, I’m not an advocate of the Let’s Flavor All Possible Fall Food & Drink Items With Pumpkin rage, which seems to grow more extreme every year.  Growing up, I remember pumpkin pie and, well, that’s it.  Now, you can’t get away from gourd-infused recipes.  Pumpkin cream cheese.  Pumpkin ice cream.  Pumpkin-stuffed-pumpkin with a side of pumpkin sauce.  You want to stroke out?  Enter “pumpkin recipes” on the search bar of Pinterest.  It’s like another universe to me.  But this is a rant for another day.

Because I want to get back to PSL-Gate.  During the acknowledged shortage, there were customer tweets of rage, as well as national news coverage and official PR responses from Starbucks.  Oh, and eBay sales of alleged PSL mix.  Yes, really.

Had this not been resolved quickly, I fear we were mere days away from a rogue high school chemistry teacher going all Breaking Bad and cooking his own PSL for illicit distribution. {Not a bad business model, incidentally.  Maybe getting ahead of the curve and setting up your own Peppermint Latte Mix cooking crew now could pad your pockets with some extra holiday cash, in the event of a similar shortage.  Get your hands on a stash of those red seasonal Starbucks cups and, guys, you are in serious business.  You are the Walter White of overpriced holiday coffees.}

Anyway, it was close call, indeed.

If you or someone you love was affected by this issue, I hope you came through it OK with a satisfactory back-up beverage.  But now that things are settling down, I’d like to reflect on how an event like this could genuinely fuck up some real holiday season delights.

Imagine, if you will, a shortage of these must-have items:

  • Tryptophan.  Sweet Jesus, it’s bad enough that Thanksgiving falls a mere two weeks after the election — at which point I will be breaking bread with many a family member on the opposite end of the political spectrum.  If I can’t count on a post-turkey fit of narcolepsy, I will have to rely solely on liquor to get me through the day.  Again.
  • Egg nog.  This one may stir up debate — egg nog is divisive, no doubt.  Personally, I’m firmly in the pro-nog camp.  This may take the starring role of all the holiday food and drink items in which I vastly overindulge in the name of “It’s only once a year.”**  So while it’s true that an egg nog shortage could potentially bank me about 16,000 calories to use elsewhere, it would be missed.  And then I’d have an unwieldy rum and nutmeg surplus.

                      **where “once a year” = two full calendar months, on a daily basis

  • Any and all items in the Trader Joe’s holiday candy line-up.  What else will I eat while I stress out about the following night’s Elf on the Shelf placement?  Oh yes, I’m looking at you, Peppermint Waffle Cookies and Candy Cane Joe-Joe’s.  Wait for me in  aisle 4, loves.

These are the shortages that would really cause some medium to long-term damage for me.  And, yes — clearly, all holiday spirits, specialty drinks and wine fall into this category.  I figured that went without saying but you can’t be too careful.

I’m feeling a little panicky now, I have to admit.  If this could happen to PSL, what else is possible?  I mean, we’ve already been warned about a likely worldwide bacon shortage in 2013.

What next?

Stock up on your favorites, I say.  I mean, we don’t have to go all Hoarders in the grocery/liquor stores.  Use common sense.  Make a reasonable effort to look like you have some self-control and discretion.  Even if you’re screaming on the inside.  Stay calm and slowly, selectively, fill up your cart.

Let’s learn from this tragedy and take back some control over our favorite holiday treats.  Before it’s too late.

Now get going.

 

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Filed Under: Borderline Neuroses, Food & Drink, Holidays 21 Comments

I Might Be Scared of These Families

August 16, 2012

It’s possible that I’m about to make some enemies.  But I’m sorry — can we talk about matching family outfits today?

To clarify, I don’t mean matching or coordinating your kids’ outfits with one other.  Fine, fine, that’s kind of cute. Until they are old enough to protest and then demand, perhaps through a Cease & Desist Order obtained on Legalzoom.com/sue-my-parents, a sweep of your photo hard drive.  And all Facebook images to which they did not consent.  And then they present you with a release form that must be used going forward for all electronic use of their likeness.

{Remember when it was easier just to burn embarrassing photos?}

So, the kids matching.  I get that. It’s not for me, but mainly because, frankly, I’m just not that organized.  And I  think my kids are already predisposed to suing me because of this blog.

What I really mean is family matching.  Parents and kids.  Together.

Oooooohhhhhh, that.

{Right about now, I’ve begun to lose readers.  But come on, stick with me here.}

Hanna Andersson, I’m looking at you.  Queen of the Family Matching Catalogs.

Image credit: Hanna Andersson

 

I have a few thoughts here.

1)  Yeah, yeah, I know, there’s a Christmas Pajama Loophole for people who don’t normally family-match.  I’ve heard this is the exception.  OK, I’ll buy that.  I do crazy shit around Christmas too.

2)  This dog is clearly way more subservient than my dog.  Because, as you may know, I have certain legal limitations I’m obligated to follow after his post-Halloween rant last year.  So, this would not cut it with a certain ornery pug who lives under my roof.

3)  Obviously the dad in this photo has recently been caught having a torrid affair.  Presumably, in the act.  Because there is no other logical reason, apart from extreme penance, why he would submit to this family matchery.  Oh wait, he’s just an actor?  In that case, can you imagine the fucking earful he just gave his agent after realizing what “holiday modeling” gig he was booked for?

4)  The kid on the left clearly knows about her dad’s affair — and possibly has damning proof that she’s holding onto as part of her pre-tween angst phase.  It’s evident that she has threatened to go public with said evidence unless her parents let her wear the non-stripe-set and spread her non-conformist wings.

5)  I just hope, for everyone’s sake, that the gift boxes behind the couch don’t contain matching formal wear for Christmas dinner.  But we all know that they do.

6)  How does the mom keep her hair color so fresh while raising five kids?

7)  Why did she have five kids with this guy if he was cheating on her?  Did she know all along, or just recently?

 

But what really got me started on this topic was the arrival of today’s Pottery Barn Kids catalog.  As you may have seen, I do love a good rant about the unattainable perfection of the PBK Catalog Family, and I refuse to let them live on my street.

Really, we all know it’s just me projecting my feelings of parental inadequacy brought on by PBK.  It’s the same reason I yell about Martha Stewart and Real Simple Magazine.

So I’m flipping through the Halloween section tonight {because, you know, let’s not get through mid-August without marketing Halloween}.  And there it is.

The Family Costume Section.

Can we just review the options for a minute?

 

Level One:  Generally harmless.  Completely silly, but harmless.

The Chef Family Costume:  Yeah, this is borderline OK.  I would still give you candy if you showed up at my door like this.  But we’re not hanging out at the next block party.

Image credit: Pottery Barn Kids

 

The Sushi Family Costume:  This is blue ribbon costume contest material right here.  If you enter family costume contests.  I just want to know if there’s a wasabi add-on if the kid starts behaving badly.

Image credit: Pottery Barn Kids

 

Level Two:  On the border of Crazytown

The Chicken Family Costume:  Vegan friends, beware.  You are not the target audience.  Hell, I am a happy consumer of eggs and I’m not even the target audience.  Because, PBK, I’m not going around my block dressed like a goddamned fried egg.  At least, for $69, dress me like Eggs Benedict.  Preferably with a side of lox.

Image credit: Pottery Barn Kids

 

Under the Sea Family Costume:  We’re starting to see some real female rage here.  Note that the mom is not even in costume.  She is so pissed at her husband (who looks eerily like our Hanna Andersson philanderer) that she has sent his ass out to manage the three kids trick-or-treating on his own.  While he wears a shark head and she splits four or five bottles of Pinot with her best girlfriends at the local bar.

Image credit: Pottery Barn Kids

 

Level Three:  Um.  I’m afraid of these people.  And not in a traditional Halloween way.

The Woodland Family Costume:  I am not often speechless.  But I’m going to let the official PBK description speak for itself on this one.  “Like characters from a storybook, these friendly woodland creatures come out of the forest to hunt for treats on Halloween night. Featuring faux fur and lush details, an owl and gnome watch over the group as they embark on their adventure. A sweet toadstool with a red cap springs out from the grass to join the fun. Wrapped in soft fleece, the little wily fox and baby owl stay warm in the crisp autumn weather.”  

Did you guys see the Olympic closing ceremonies?  Because I think the team who orchestrated that acid-laced mind trip stole the giant dose of illicit hallucinogenics from the PBK team in charge of this concept.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Spooky Family Costume:  Well.  I think it’s pretty clear that these people will be filing for divorce imminently.  What else is left after this family photo?  In fact, see those smiles all looking with great anticipation in the same direction?  That’s the arrival of their lawyers in the driveway.

Image credit: Pottery Barn Kids

But, hey, don’t listen to me.  Because, as of tonight {again, in August}, the PBK website notes the above Dad-werewolf costume as “quantities are limited.”  Maybe because it includes paws.  For real.

 

I don’t know.  Maybe I haven’t thought this through.  It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been closed-minded.  I guess we would look good as Spooky Costume Family.  After all, the black witch costume is nice and slimming, and I wouldn’t have to wash my hair.  And let’s not rule out Under the Sea.  So I can sit at the bar and anticipate all the candy that comes home.

And before  you curse me out completely for my unfair outlook on family-matchery, I’ll leave you with this.

From Easter.

Shhhh — don’t tell my husband he was coordinating with our daughter.  Although I swear it wasn’t intentional, it seems that the subliminal seed has been planted.  The Woodland Family Costume could be just a matter of time for us.

As long as I get to be the gnome.

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Filed Under: Family, Holidays, That Which Drives Me Crazy 49 Comments

Three

July 8, 2012

Three years ago today I had this meeting for the first time.

Like every child does, my daughter stole my heart the moment I saw her.

Today was all about her.  Turning three.  Or maybe twelve.  It’s hard to tell sometimes.

 

You may know that I get a little nuts with my Birthday Cake Baking Guilt affliction.  But I let it go this time — mostly because my daughter didn’t have a strong opinion about it.  And, like most aspects of parenting — if I can get a loophole clause, you bet I’m going to use it.

So I outsourced the cake.  Which considerably slowed down my aging process.  Order, pay, pick up.  Wow.  That’s 40 hours of my life I got back.

But look who is calling my bluff.

At three, she is ready to take on the world.  She has a distinct sense of adventure.  Of joy.  She is her brother’s biggest fan and also his greatest agitator.  And, she has enviable comedic timing.  She’s not just in on the joke, but she’s in charge of it.

She is well on her way to taking over this household.  And then, possibly, the universe.

Happy birthday to my sweet, sweet girl.  I’m so excited to see what this year brings you.

Right after you recover from today’s sugar overdose.

 

 

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Filed Under: Family, Food & Drink, Holidays 4 Comments

Attention, All Husbands

May 23, 2012

I know how to drag out a birthday, don’t I? 

I’ve been so lucky to have my guest bloggers drop by throughout May to celebrate with me.  And today, I have the final of my three guests — Erin from I’m Gonna Kill Him.  I think we can all agree that she knows how to get your attention before you even read a word — how’s that blog name for getting the message across?  In fact, I’m going to ask her if she’ll provide a pro-bono branding consultation to the local window cleaners in town called Peeping Tom.  Because their truck is freaking me the hell out when I see it near my house.

There’s really nothing better than a very bold and very funny writer with a fabulous and precisely placed vocabulary.  Bonus points that it’s often at the expense of her husband.  

When I met Erin around this time last year, she had just had her third child in three years — so I was duly floored that she can manage to string two consecutive words together, never mind a fantastic blog.  And today we get to peek at a rant to her husband — birthday style.

Husbands of the Internet, take note.

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{Kim recently turned…well, she turned an age. An age that was one year greater than the age she was before her birthday. And that’s why birthdays are inherently disappointing. You never wake up on that day, suddenly feeling younger and looking more vibrant. And as you age, people figure that you’re so enlightened and wise to the world that you don’t care about the trivialities of birthdays. But I am not at all that enlightened.}

I hate to point out the obvious, that it’s my birthday. I’m sure you’ve been thinking about what to get me. It was so obvious you spent a lot of time thinking about it last year. The way a mayfly spends a lot of time living. I don’t want to be one of those people who expects the whole world to sit up at attention and throw me a goddamn ticker tape parade and cast a bronze statue in my likeness while hot, sweaty people wave flags with my face on it and eat $15 empanadas named after me because it’s the day that I became a piece of data to be captured by the U.S. Census. That said, when I wrote my wedding vows and then wrote yours for you, I included a whole section about honoring my birthday, and I sort of expected that you’d internalize that point till death do us part. Or till I am REBORN as some other life form at which time the duty of celebrating my birth will fall to some other organism. I’m not even going to think about the possibility that I may be reincarnated as something that doesn’t recognize birthdays, like a Jehova’s Witness or some species of marlin, so I hear. Speaking of fish, you could take me out for dinner. I mean, it doesn’t take a lot of brain power to recognize that I’m no Barefoot Contessa in the kitchen. I’m really more like that waste-of-space husband, Jeffrey, who must believe his testicles will dry up into a heap of dried mustard powder if he even steps foot in the house before an entire Roast Capon has been plated and brought to an outdoor table overlooking the ocean. No, I don’t want to go to the ocean. I just said the word ocean. Going to the ocean involves wearing a bathing suit, which I haven’t done since the birthday I turned 14. That was the last documented moment I have been glimpsed in a bathing suit, and I appreciate you realizing that I have that discomfort and that’s why you bought me that sarong printed with palm trees and people sitting in hammocks for my birthday 3 years ago, but I never figured out how to use it. It ties 50 different ways but I couldn’t find a single way that made me look like a human fucking being in a piece of fabric instead of a beluga whale who swam headfirst into the sail of a windsurf. I realize that I made a lot of marine references just now, but I do not want to go the aquarium. I’m not in the mood to de-suction the kids’ mouths from glass spattered with penguin shit nor to bribe the security guard to let us leave the facility through any exit, even through the drain of the tank containing the orca that became deranged from swimming in a circle day and night, just to avoid walking through the gift shop. If we could stop by one of the ladies’ department stores – one of the expensive ones that I don’t normally go to because the sales staff looks disapprovingly at the kids because they’re not wearing shoes or pants – because they sell the anti-aging creams that they actually call serums and put in glass bottles with pumps. I can’t be sure if they are why Cindy Crawford’s face looks like the new drywall in fancy subdivisions, but it’s certainly not because of those fucking mutant melons that doctor in France harvested.  I just want to pump that serum onto my face and neck and sit alone in the bathroom and read this magazine that I bought from the grocery store instead of just flipping through the whole thing as a man buying beef jerky and sour cream dip breathed sour air on my shoulders. I want to read every page of it and study the pictures of this woman wearing a sarong in all 50 ways that it can go while somehow not looking like an asshole in 48 of them.

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