Lesson #35 - It Takes All Kinds...To Write A Holiday Card

When I was a kid - I LOVED getting mail. It came on my birthday and Christmas - mostly cards, but some had money...and I think that is what started my love for the mail. As I got older, I realized that the mail was actually an evil thing containing bills and marketing pieces that I surely did not want to read (among other things, of course). I still have some sort of love for the mail - especially around Christmas. Now that I'm all growed up the much anticipated Christmas cards now come addressed to Mr. and Mrs. The Man and The Babe...I am no longer lumped into the after-thought of "and family" but I am now on the important side. SWEET! Sure enough, the cards that come always put a smile on my face.

There are a few, though, that just make you go, "are you kidding me?!" One of my family members - *who shall be called "Joan" - is far from an A-type personality. I can imagine that she doesn't socialize very much and only leaves the house to go to work. I look forward to HER envelope the most - if for nothing else than the sheer comedic value. Now, I know that some of you have those family members who send out the 1 page "family update of (insert year)" and give a run-down of every. single. detail (its okay if you are one of them...I guess!). Well my friends...Joan is that relative in my family - but instead of the customary (and easy to read) 1 pager...hers is ALWAYS 4 pages OR MORE! Not only is it long as all heck - but it is written in the 3rd person, which makes it that much funnier. What follows are a few excerpts from this year's 8 page update.

"In February, Joan* took her car, an Oldsmobile 1987, to the Buick body shop for body repair. The serviceman was from Haiti (please note, I have nothing against those of different ethnicity...this is just a reprint of what was written). While he was not rude, he has not yet adopted the American culture. He was not about to please the customer. He gave Joan* a hard time. He started by telling he that he might not be able to find all the necessary parts. Then he said that his servicemen were busy. Then he said that the only serviceman who could work on an Oldsmobile was sick and would be unavailable for three weeks. Then he wanted to know who was going to pay for the repair services. The excuses continued from February to March. Joan* loves her car. She did not give up. The car was finally repaired in March."

"In October, Joan's* number of days of work in the store decreased to one day a week. Many employees experienced the same decline. It was a mystery. There were plenty of shoppers. Was the store cutting down on costs? Were the shoppers buying less or the cheaper clothes? Since the reason was not clear, Joan* did not complain. In the middle of December she found out why. The store had hired too many employees for the Christmas season and the assistant to the manager did not know how to make a fair allocation of work hours."

"On Halloween day, Joan* had to work. She wanted to wear an orange wig and a witch's garb, to amuse the children. However, the manager of the store decided against Halloween costumes."

These are just a few things in this letter that made me laugh out loud...oh how I wish the only thing I had to worry about were whether or not I could wear a witch outfit to work...alas, things are a little more complicated that that around here!!

So, your turn to spill...who is that ONE family member that just takes the cake when it comes to holiday cards (or holiday gatherings)?!?!

Lesson #32 - Christmas Is A Time For Family

To say that I am a little stressed about Christmas this year would be a bit of an understatement!

Thanksgiving was fun...our little fam ate with the man's side of the family on Wednesday night. We were going to go all out - since the man was off for once - but since I was being forced into solitude had to work that idea was quickly nixed. There is no way that the man - or even someone as talented as me - could have put together a home-cooked meal while taking care of the babe. The fried turkey takes a watchful eye, the mashed potatoes needs supervision and a bit of elbow grease, the stuffing was made by the hub's grandfather - whether we home-cooked dinner or not - and the gravy (and cranberry sauce...and corn) was coming out of a can. Okay, so maybe there wasn't THAT much to do...but with a broken wrist, there is no way of getting it done - while I'm at work - and being ready to eat at 5pm.

For those of you who are feeling less than ambitious around the holiday season - and have a Bob Evans somewhere around - I would highly suggest purchasing a pre-packaged holiday meal! Now, just because it was purchased somewhere, that doesn't mean that it isn't flavorful or cooked with love with some degree of care. The family came, they ate, they drank, they talked, they conquered, they passed around the babe and they went home.

As soon as the last family member was out the door - into the car we went with all of our luggage and the babe. Saying that we were driving down the interstate at 100 mph just doesn't give the siutation justice. My parents were awake and ready to welcome us with open arms...even though we were all dead tired and just wanted to curl up in the fetal position cry ourselves out of delerium pull the covers over our faces and sleep for days. The following day everyone began the cooking frenzy of sweet potato cassarole, fried turkey, garlic mashed potatoes and various desserts. Did I mention that we were all going to the neighbor's house for dinner...oh, I forgot that part...well, now you know! Needless to say it was a long and stressful and tiring day.

The man thought it would be a better idea if my parents stayed with us over Christmas - to avoid us having to go between our house and their for presents and festivities and dinner - because it really is all about us! So, our home will be filled with the man, myself and the babe in the master bedroom - my grandmother is staying in the 2nd master bedroom - my parents (minus the puppies, thank goodness) will be staying in the basement bedroom. They are arriving tonight and staying until Saturday afternoon. Oh joy!!

Since the man is back to work now, after being at home after breaking his wrist, we will have to eat an early lunch around 11a. That means that the cooking will start LONG before that - since we'll have to get a fried turkey, loin roast (not mine), green bean cassarole, garlic mashed potatoes, sweet potato cassarole, chicken stuffing, chicken AND beef gravy (yes, home made) and an apple pie done in time for that 11a deadline. Ugh!! I hope things go better in real life than they're playing out in my head.

On the upside...Macy's is open for 24 hours today...YAY for shopping!!

Wish me luck everyone!!

Lesson #31 - One Joint Christmas Dinner Is Better Than One...Right?!

Welcome to "Transient Tuesdays"...I am glad that you decided to stop by! Have a seat, kick up your feet and enjoy this week's post from The Bathroom Mommy. Mommy is in the Bathroom is an INSANELY FUNNY blog!! If you aren't already a loyal follower, I think you're missing out! Granted, she is taking a blogcation (but was FAB enough to share this lesson with us this week) but you'll be sorry if you haven't started following her here once she returns! Without any further ado...this is the story of dinner lessons (kind of) learned!

I was 21 years old the first time I cooked Christmas dinner for my family- my mom, dad and sister- and my hubby's family- about 25 people.

For your reference, I'm pretty sure Roseann Bar based the Connors off my hubby's family. Except hubby's family isn't laid back and funny. Mine is. His family thinks the Rapture and end of times will occur if everything isn't exactly how it always is.

They're Jackie from Roseann. 25 Jackies I was about to cook my first big dinner for.

It was our first Christmas in our brand new house. I wanted to show what a great housewife I would make.

So I planned. I started planning in November. I was going all out. 7+ appetizers, 10+ side dishes, 3 types of meat, desserts, the works.

My mom and sister came over the day before Christmas Eve to help me prep. My family always does our big thing on Christmas Eve at my parents house with our close family friends, so no prep would be done on that day until well into the wee morning hours.

We prepped as much as we could. We planned the menu timing so every thing would finish around the same time. We set up tables and more tables and decorations. I put out the high class paper plates and plastic silverware.

Yes, I may have over did the food, but there was no way I was going to do dishes for 31 people. I had been at previous Christmas dinners with the hubby's family. Nobody but his Grandma and Mom helped. With anything.

Christmas day his family arrived late full of presents and worry. My family arrived early to help me.

In comes hubby's mom and grandma. OH MY GOD WHAT WERE WE DOING?

Where was the corn? That's all the corn we have? There is only five cans of CORN FOR 30 PEOPLE MELISSA!!!! THAT IS NOT ENOUGH.

I have 13 other side dishes hubby mom and grandma. I think we'll be ok.

NO! YOU DON'T KNOW OUR FAMILY AND CORN. OH MY GOD!!!! SOMEONE HAS TO RUN OUT RIGHT NOW AND GET MORE CORN!!!!!

What do you mean your family and corn? Are you serious right now?

YES!!!! WAIT.... OH HOLY LORD THAT'S ALL THE MASHED POTATOES YOU HAVE???

No, I have those, scalloped potatoes and potatoes au gratin. We peeled over 75 potatoes. I think we have enough.

YOU MADE REAL POTATOES??? NOBODY IS GOING TO EAT THAT. OH MY GOD!! DIDN'T YOU KNOW WE ONLY EAT BOXED MASHED POTATOES MELISSA?!?! OH MY GOD. PICK UP 6 BOXES OF POTATO FLAKES WITH THE CORN! OH GOD, THERE'S NOT GOING TO BE ENOUGH FOR EVERYONE.

At this point, I'm biting my tongue and pinching myself so hard I look like I was in a fight with 3rd grade girl. My sister is ready to go ninja and my mom is drinking herself into oblivion.

Hey Melissa, where are the plates and forks? My hubby's uncle asks me standing right in front of the table holding the super fancy paper plates and plasticware.

Right there.

You're using paper plates?

Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you needed Waterford Crystal to eat your boxed mashed potatoes and 4 lbs of effing canned corn...

Of course, this was coming from the guy who was supposed to supply the pop for 31 people and showed up with a 2 liter of off brand Cola and Diet Cola. But no one said a word about that. Instead, I only had 2 gallons of milk for 31 people. Cuz didn't I know every single person drinks huge glasses of milk with Christmas dinner??

My hubby ran to the gas station and bought 15 cans of corn and 5 boxes of mashed potatoes. I made them all.

My appetizers went untouched by his family. Instead, all 3 bags of Lays Ruffles, Doritos, and Cheesey Poofs from my pantry disappeared.

All night I listed to the unbelievable sin I committed of only buying 5 cans of corn, making real mashed potatoes, having only 2 gallons of milk and using paper plates and plasticware.

No one said thank you but my family. No one said it tasted good but my family. His family bitched I didn't have enough containers for them to pack up the left overs (of EVERYTHING, even the appetizers no one ate) and had to use ziplock bags.

No wonder they require so much corn. I wasn't only feeding them tonight. I was feeding them for the next week.

Hubby's cousins, who were our age and already had toddlers, didn't watch them.

Think back to your life before kids. How annoying other peoples kids are when you don't have any of your own. Nothing is more infuriating than watching and listening to other peoples kids scream, cry, and tear your brand new house apart while their parents sit their lazy asses on the couches and bitch about not having left over containers to take home all the food they bitched about eating.

My family left as soon as dinner was over. They couldn't take it anymore.

The following year his family wanted Christmas at our house because it's the only one big enough to comfortably hold everyone. I, with a severe case of new mommy brain, agreed. My family shockingly decided to stay home on Christmas day that next year.

But I, of course, put my passive aggressive smart ass spin on it.

I made a turkey, bought 20 cans of corn (why do you have so much corn, Melissa?), made 10 boxes of mashed potatoes (that's a lot of potatoes, Melissa), 6 gallons of milk (those are going to go bad. We should take those with us, Melissa), stuffing, and a couple bags of salad and frozen biscuits. Appetizers were chips. His grandma brought the desserts. And his family brought their own take home containers that year.

I guess lessons sorta learned?

No, lesson was learned this year, 7 years later, when I finally said, we're not hosting Christmas. We'll see ya when dinner is served.

Lesson #21: The Definition Of "Cool" Is Relative

I used to think that I was sooooo cool when I was younger! I still find myself to have a tinge of coolness left in me. I have worked in the bar industry and used to know everyone by name on a Saturday night. That is how one makes money, after all...by making friends. I have done my share of oratory contests - and won, I might add - in front of a panel of judges. When I was in second grade, my teacher swore I would be the first female President (move over Hilary!).

The fact is, I never really did think I was so cool. I would take home every book imaginable from school - beginning in first grade! First grade, people!! I should have been going out to play after school - not worrying about 4th grade math! Then in high school I was a cheerleader, but I wasn't considered one of the pretty girls. I never would have dreamed of becoming Homecoming Queen or being named Most Popular by the yearbook staff.

Sure I was a member of a sorority in college, but those girls were more like my family...which is funny because I don't talk to many of them anymore. I gave up cheerleading to pursue my degree and just get the heck out of school!! I was not only carrying MORE than a full course-load each semester, but also working a full-time job. I was in such a rush to grow up that I forgot to live my life for the moment. I was cool to the only person who mattered - me.

Now, as an "adult", I am still keeping the same jam-packed schedule. I have traded in a full-time class schedule for a full-time work schedule and a full-time work schedule for full-time mommyhood PLUS full-time wifeyhood PLUS full-time housekeeperhood PLUS...well, you get the picture.

Mingling in bars dressed in short skirts and crop tops to make a lousy buck has been replaced with dancing around in my bra and undies trying to make the babe laugh - mommy would even settle for a smile!

Where I was once staying up all night to cram for an exam...I am not staying up all night to rock the babe to sleep...not because she is fussy, but because I just don't want to put her down and miss a minute!

Days of attending frat parties and puffy paint parties (for those of you who don't know - this is where all attendees wear white t-shirts and draw on each other with various colors of the silly raised paint of fun) have been pushed aside with nights of cuddling on the couch with the man in front of a good movie or funny TV show.

The ones I thought were "cool" back in the day aren't as cool as I thought they were. As long as the babe is healthy and the man is fed - I am the "cool" one. Honestly...I wouldn't trade ANY of it for the world. I am truly blessed!

Lesson #5 - The Word "Adoption' Is Too Big For Small Minds

I have always known, from the time I could talk, that I was adopted. I mean, it was a little hard to hide since my parents look VERY different from myself. My parents always told me that they didn't choose me, but that I chose them - which, to a preschooler is pretty darn cool. The one thing my parents didn't tell me, either because they wanted to shield me or due to their own naivety, was that the word "adoption" is not taught to everyone. It is difficult for a 4-year-old to understand that while her family is normal - to her - it is very ABnormal to everyone else. Well, school was going to teach me that lesson the hard way.

When I think about the times that I tried to explain my home situation, my mind goes back to elementary and middle schools. My first day of Kindergarten does not stand out in my head...the day I was made fun of for being adopted, does. I was on the playground with a hop-scotch group when one of the girls asked why my mommy an daddy looked different than me. With excitement I began to explain how my family-unit came to be...yet, as soon as I mentioned "adoption" everyone froze. Try as I might, my abilities to explain the word just didn't suffice. I got confused looks, befuddled comments and some even ignored me. Soon enough we all forgot and went about our business. That day went by like any other day at school. I finished my game during recess, sang during music, colored during art and got on the bus to go home.

The next day was quite a different story. I found myself back outside at recess, with my same play group, playing hop-scotch after lunch. The tone, however, was quite different than from the day before. Suddenly, one girl (whom I thought was a dear friend, but what did I know at 4-years old?!) looked at me and said, "Your mommy and daddy aren't your real parents." I'm sorry, what?! What do you MEAN they aren't my real parents?! They take care of me, feed me when I'm hungry, comfort me when I cry, fix my bo-bo's when I get hurt...isn't that what real parents do?? The concept of my parents not REALLY being my parents was very foreign to me. The girl then proceeds to say, "Your real mommy and daddy didn't love you...so they decided to give you up to another mommy and daddy." WHOA!!! I had never thought of it like that before. Thoughts were swirling through my head - thoughts that I had never thought before. The hop-scotch game quickly ended when the girl said, "Ha-ha...you're parents don't love you," and then threw a rock at me.

That night, with tears in my eyes, I went to my parents to inquire as to whether or not they loved me. My parents were, of course, taken aback by my questions and asked where they were coming from. I told them about my experience at school and explained what the girl in my class had said to me. My mom began crying. I'm sure she knew the topic would come up at some point, but I don't think she was quite ready to explain it to my 5-year-old mind.

She started by saying that she and my father loved me very much. In fact, they loved me even MORE because they thought of me as a gift from God. She explained that, for one reason or another, she and my father couldn't have a baby together. While my parents were trying to have a baby, they went to many doctor visits to figure out why they weren't having children. Then, one day, a good friend went to my parents and said that she knew of a woman who had gotten pregnant by accident. This woman didn't have the means or resources to take care of a child, but she didn't want to get rid of it. Finding a happy home for her child was her only option - and she choose my parents. It all made sense after my mom explained everything and I was glad that .

I saw my family with new eyes after that night. I know it sounds heavy and, for a 5-year-old, it really was deeper than any Kindergartener should have to understand. The next day at school, when that mean little girl came up to me at recess, I was able to look her in the face and say - with confidence - that my mommy and daddy probably loved me MORE than her mommy and daddy loved her. Now, I know that probably wasn't true, but it sounded good as it came out of my mouth. Seeing her run away crying also instilled a sense of "gotcha." From that point on, I had the whole story to tell - just in case any OTHER kid wanted to tell me that my mommy and daddy didn't love me...to the contrary, they loved me more than words could describe.

The Players

The Man

What can I say, folks - hes not one for pictures! I'm not sure if it was my cooking, quick wit or button nose that made him fall for me...but I'm thinking it might have been the Valium-induced stupor. He is the crayon to my box - the toilet to my paper - the remote to my control...I honestly don't think anyone else would be crazy enough to put up with my antics. He might blame the fact that I got pregnant before he was able to really know what he was getting himself into I swear it wasn't on purpose but I know, deep down, he really loves me.

Lulu

Spitfire. That one word describes Lulu the best. She is outgoing, loves puppies and gets excited at the mere mention of a bath (bizarre child, I know). I'm not quite sure how she ended up so cute, but thankfully she looks more like me than her daddy did I say that out loud! When anyone sees Lulu and I together, they can't get over how alike we are, which is quite scary. My parents always told me Karma would come back to me 10-fold...and I think it has, in the form of a daughter. Lord help The Man and I when she gets old enough to date - which he swears won't be until he is dead and gone. I remember all too well how those days went, though, so I pity us...and you should too!

Bubba

Cuddle Bug. Attention is what this little man loves. Climbing all over mommy and daddy while drooling all over the place is what makes Bubba happy. Missed your daily shower?? Have no fear because Bubba is the guy who will wash away all that dirt and grim. When he isn't busy playing in puddles of spit, he enjoys wrastlin' with Lulu. After a long day of being Bubba, this little guy wants nothing more than a bottle of formula, a few Cheetos, a spoonful of mashed potatoes, another bottle of formula, a baby-sized fistful of popcorn, a nibble of chocolate bar and his blanky. Yes, folks, even a young boy can appreciate the beauty of a good blanky. Mothers - lock up your daughters!