Tag Archives: Christmas

All I Really Want for Christmas

13 Dec
You want WHAT?

You want WHAT?

Dear Santa,

I was recently going through some Christmas mementos and found a letter you sent to me when I was a young girl. You said in your letter, and I quote, “If you are a good girl I will bring you the gift you asked for.”

Santa, I’m no legal expert, but I’m fairly certain that makes you contractually obligated to bring me the gift I want. My attorney has assured me that your letter is a valid contract, although the terms of the contract are somewhat vague.

I have attached affidavits from family and friends attesting to my level of “goodness.”

Just so you know, I do not take this gift-requesting business lightly.  After careful thought and consideration, I have found the gift that would truly make me happy.

Santa, all I really want for Christmas is a wife.

Don’t go thinking I’m off my rocker. Au contraire, Père Noël! I AM A FRICKING GENIUS! Who wouldn’t want a wife? Someone to cook and clean and take care of everyone in my home including me? Someone to run my errands? Someone to make the money work out? Shall I go on or do I need to copy this letter to Mrs. Claus so she can fill you in on just how sweet you’ve got it?

I realize that there may be some petty laws that prevent this from happening, but that’s ok. I figure you can sprinkle of little of whatever-that-shit-is you use to make the reindeer fly to make my wish come true.

Remember! Per the terms of our agreement, I expect delivery by Christmas morning!

Your friend,

The Great Mama Experiment

Today’s post was inspired by Mama Kat. Go ahead and check her out.

You know you want to.

Mama’s Losin’ It


What the ELF?

7 Dec

Tis the season for Elf on the Shelf. He’s everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE.

I do not own an Elf on the Shelf. I refuse to conform! It’s a matter of principle!

Ok, I don’t want to spend the $29.95 . . . . . and I’m afraid I’ll forget to move the damn elf one night and disappoint my kids.

Plus, he’s creepy looking.

Just look at those eyes!

Just look at those eyes!

However, I did stumble upon the New and Improved Elf on the Shelf. I’ll admit that I’m intrigued.

The new version still sells for $29.95 but is a better bargain because he is life-sized. If you know me, you know that I love a good deal.

Don't worry. He won't be so squinty-eyed once the drugs wear off. Apparently he put up a pretty good fight while they were boxing him up.

Naughty or Nice?

He won’t be so squinty-eyed once the drugs wear off. Apparently he put up a pretty good fight while they were putting him in the box. But don’t worry . . . he won’t say a word because nobody talks about Fight Club.

How the Grinch Got Tourette’s Syndrome

6 Dec
You're a mean one, Mama Grinch.

You’re a mean one, Mama Grinch.

The weekend before Thanksgiving, the children were bugging me to put up the Christmas tree.

Kids: Pleeeeeezze, Mama?

Me: No, it’s too early.

Kids: Pleeeeeeeeeeeeezzze!

Me: No, I don’t feel like digging the tree out of the closet.

Kids: Pretty please?

Me: No, the house isn’t clean.

Kids: We’ll clean the house!

Me: snort

Kids: What was that horrible and terrifying noise? (I’m paraphrasing.)

Me: It was me.  I snorted at you in disdain and contempt.

Kids: If we clean up, can we decorate the tree?

Me: snort. Sure. Whatever.

Exactly 12 minutes later . . . .

Kids: Mama, we’re done. Now can we decorate the tree?

Oh, my! My little angels! They did clean the house! You could actually see the floors in their bedrooms, the living room, the bathrooms! I HAD FLOORS AGAIN! It was truly a Christmas miracle.

I had no alternative but to reward my darlings.

I watched the kids decorate our tree. All the ornaments were placed within an eight-inch section of the tree. The garland was mysteriously missing. Most of the ornaments were made at daycare. But that’s ok. It’s our tree. It’s representative of where our family is at this moment. The only thing that is perfect on our tree is the lights. Thank goodness for pre-lit trees!

The decorating was done, the house was clean and the kids were satisfied. I decided it was a good time to take a shower.

Exactly 12 minutes later . . . .

I emerge from my room showered and refreshed. The decorations were up and my home was cl . . . . err???  What’s this? The lights are not lit on the Christmas tree. Oh well, some kid probably turned off the light switch that controls that outlet. Ah, those curious kids!

Err???? What’s this? The light switch is already on. Hmmm . . . ah, one of my little geniuses probably just found the switch on the cord attached to the tree. Heh-heh-heh . . . those cute little trouble-makers! I’ll just check the cord leading up to the tree . . .

Err???? What the hell? What the f . . . MY TREE IS SPARKING AND SMOKING! omg! OMG! OMG!

Me: Son of a bi . . . GRRRRRR . . . mother f. . . . . GRRRRRRRR . . . .

I was SO angry and I couldn’t even cuss because my children were watching me.

Kid #1: What’s wrong with Mama? She’s talking funny.

Kid #2: I don’t know.  Maybe she’s having a stroke or something.

Me: Fricken frack. Arrrrrrgh. Hmmmmm.

I could barely control the urge to say something that I should not say in front of my children. I couldn’t trust my words, so I sent them a telepathic message.

Leave my presence, you destroyers of Christmas spirit. Leave this place at once so that I may put my fury into words instead of directing it at the guilty parties.

They stood there . . . staring . . . like idiots. What good is a mother-child bond if you can’t send a fricking telepathic message in the event of an emergency?

I did the best that I could. I’m aware that the following sentence makes no sense.

Me: Who broke my HONKING Christmas tree?

Kids: (in unison) Not me!

I got a confession one week later. The youngest two decided to see how long they could spin the tree. This led to the cord wrapping around the base of the tree, which broke the cord after about 25 spins.

And although the Grinch didn’t exactly have Tourette’s syndrome, she came as close as she wanted to come.

I blame myself.  I took a 12-minute shower. What was I thinking?