Mrs. Grinch

I've written about it before, and even though my husband and I have been together for over twenty years, it never fails to annoy me that he hates Christmas.

In many, many ways he is a big softie at heart.

But Christmas utterly fails to impress him even one tiny bit.  I think it is a carry over from his family's crappy, alcoholic past and he vowed long ago that once his oldest brother drunkenly mistook the tree for a urinal, that Christmas was dead to him forever.

I was foolish enough to think that when we had kids, it would get better.  I mean, no man loves his kids more than Hubba-hubba, so I figured he would at least try for their sakes.

Nope.

I have to nag him to get the Christmas boxes down from the garage rafters, nag him to put up the Christmas lights, and nag him to pretend to enjoy decorating the tree together as a family, dammit.

After hearing him grumble about having to take the boxes down this year, I give up.  I think I've been delusional long enough.

I think I am just going to get him some green body paint and a little stuffed dog and leave it at that.

Comments

Awesome Mom said…
Just make sure that when he puts on his Santa suit that he wears pants.
9:57 AM
Liz said…
Merry Christmas to you all anyways, despite the Grinchiness! :)
2:49 PM
Anvilcloud said…
I hope you have a good one anyway.
4:08 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Onward

The end of the school year, finally! Did I tell you that my son went to public school this past year? Did I tell you that my daughter was in a regular Kinder classroom this year? Although it was nice to have them both in school, there were definitely things I was not so hip on, such as having to wake up at 5:20 every morning just to get everyone out the door on time.  And then after all the driving and dropping off, going to work. Such fun! I had forgotten the dreariness of having to complete mounds and mounds of homework (even though new research has shown that homework, especially for Kinder, is for shit).  Of constant deadlines and fundraisers and things I am supposed to volunteer for. My daughter had a good year, but was definitely not without its bumps. Her teacher, an older, highly experienced, practical woman with a Master's in Education, kept referring to my daughter as an "inclusion student."  It wasn't her name or just "student" but was...
Read more

Apples and Oranges

Perhaps some of you may have noticed, but the real estate market is beginning a tumble in prices that benefit us, prospective buyers. And we're going to wait. That is cold, cold comfort to those such as J and Py , who are attempting to sell their place as we speak. But, we're not going to wait too much longer, if that makes them feel any better. There is no sense trying to time the bottom of the market, and we have been putting off moving, oh, since Mr. P was born because of the huge runup in prices. So huge that at one point, we could barely afford to buy our own place from ourselves. We should be ok even if we sell at a lower price than we could have gotten say, two years ago. We have, however, a dilemma. We have narrowed our choices down to two cities. And we are stuck there. We just can't figure out which city is better, and they are oh-so-different. Let me give you a rundown. City 1 Older, smaller houses (in our price range) Larger lots Beach city Infrastructure...
Read more

D-A-N-G

As with all young children, for a very long time we parents rely on the old "spell the word out" trick for talking about things in front of them that we don't want them to know. Well, our time seems just about up. Hubba-hubba was trying to tell me about an upcoming event in which Santa would be making an appearance. As Mr. P is very much into Christmas this year, we knew that any mention of Santa would bring a long soliliquoy about how Santa is magic and how he makes the toys and how he has a list and on and on and on. And at that moment, we just didn't feel like hearing it. Don't judge people, don't judge. So, Hubba-hubba spelled out "S-A-N-T-A." "Hey, what did you just say?" said the five year old. "Nothing" lied replied his father. "I know what you said, Daddy! You said Santa!" Anybody know a place that sells semaphore flags?
Read more