pppsst...I Like Being Married

Pssst.

I like being married. No. Scratch that. I love being married. All the obvious stuff like having someone to cuddle up with at night, having a someone to relieve me of a hated household task now and then, a listening ear or a helping hand when the going gets tough, and let's not forget the sex! I love it all! But it seems to me that there is some unwritten rule that one doesn't proclaim such ridiculous notions publicly. I can only assume that this is all for a noble cause. People don't want to speak too fondly of marriage in case they upset another friend who is married but perhaps less enthusiastic about the whole affair or rub salt in the wound of another friend who is not married but wishes to be. Instead people seem to prefer the 'marry and moan about it' club, and, since I have frequented a few of their meetings, I can say with some authority that I think it is all a bit of a farce. I think there are plenty of other love birds basking in joys of their marital bliss under more of rooves than care to admit it, so, because it's Valentine's day, I'm just going to come out and say it (again), I love being married! What's so great it about, you ask? Well, let me remind you...

HE is so great! I am wildly, madly, crazily in love with the person my husband is. I had all these wonderful, romantic, notions about him back when we were dating, and you know what? It turns out, I was right! He is all those things, but as a husband, he is SO much more. If you want to know someone's true colors, you're probably not going to find them in first kisses, roses, restaurants, declarations of love, or even adventure dates, as the Bachelor series would have you believe. Nope. You will find them in the middle of the night when your beautiful baby is sick, and you listen to his gentle singing and the creak of the rocking chair in the next room. You will find them when he attends yet another of your family's gatherings after his long work day with a smile on his face. You will see them when he chooses the PTA over his long-standing Tuesday night pool game with the boys. Or when he lets you sleep in even though it's his turn because he knows you're struggling. And do you know what I found in my husband`s case? He is pure GOLD!

Marriage is so great. My husband and I dated for 5 wonderful years before we tied the knot, and those were good times--lots of adventure, romance, and the sweet surprises of getting to know someone to the core. But getting married was really awesome too, though the its true potential wasn't clear to me ten years ago on that day I still proudly call the best of my life. The best way I can think to describe it is this--when we made that commitment, it was like driving a stake in the ground on the land on which we intended to build a life, and that stake was the beginning of SO many awesome things. We built homes, children, businesses, friends, communities, and even our very selves on that land. None of those are small things. And there is no where I'd rather be than running this small-but-impressive empire with him by my side. ♥♥♥

In fact, it is perfection. Well, it can be. So I don't know if any other married people can vouch for this, but according my own small study, life is 98% compromised of menial tasks that center around the core grind of feeding, cleaning, transporting, sleeping, and providing for the members of your household. Marriage, from a time perspective, is therefore as much about commutes and showers and picking up Little Sally at dance class and scheduling conflicts and arguments about toilet paper and wiping up splatters of yogurts as it is about the 2% (if you're lucky) hearts and flowers stuff. Add to that, that all members of the marital household fall short of perfection, and that the smaller household members and sometimes even greater society conspire to divide or wear marital unions down inch by painful inch. That, my friends, is a recipe for one of two things...disaster or perfection.

So if you're out there still choosing  each other day after day, amongst all other choices, in spite your individual short-comings and whatever circumstances life has thrown your way, that is pretty awesome! Congratulations on your little piece of perfection! I wish for your marriage health, happiness, and a good dose of patience and I hope this Valentines day you find a little time to enjoy it as much as I do!♥♥♥

♥Actions speak louder than words♥

For A, who shouts general awesomeness and love from the hilltops♥

Parenting with ‘Choices’ and Common Sense

Meet the Awesome Family. There's Mommy Awesome, Daddy Awesome and their delightful son JJ Awesome. A typical morning in their household goes down something like this...

Mommy Awesome: Morning, JJ.

JJ: Morning, mama.

Mommy Awesome: Did you have a good sleep?

JJ: Yes, Mommy.

Mommy Awesome: Come on, let's go have breakfast. What do you want today?

JJ: TOAST!

Mommy Awesome: Coming right up! (makes toast and little JJ scrambles into his booster seat) Do you want peanut butter or jam?

JJ: Jam! (Mommy Awesome obliges)

Mommy Awesome: Here you go, dear!

JJ: (seeing Daddy Awesome's peanut butter toast) I want peanut butter!

Mommy Awesome: But you said..

JJ: I WANT PEANUT BUTTER. I WANT PEANUT BUTTER!

Mommy feeling slightly-less Awesome: Ok! You can trade with Daddy. (switches plates)

JJ: WWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAA!!

Mommy perplexed Awesome: What? What's wrong?

JJ: I want it on the GREEN PLATE!!!

Fast-forward 10 minutes…

Mommy Awesome: Time to get dressed, JJ.

JJ: No. NO! I don't want to get dressed.

Mommy Awesome: Do you want Mommy to help you today?

JJ: No. I don't WANT to get dressed.

Mommy Awesome: How about you choose! Who do you want to help you get dressed today, mommy or daddy?

JJ: No, I don't want to.

Mommy Awesome: You can't go to daycare in your jammies! Come on, I'll help you pick your favorite shirt.

JJ: No, I want DADDY to do it.

Daddy Awesome: Ok, bud, let's go pick a shirt.

JJ: I want to stay in my jammies.

Daddy Awesome: You can pick your Lightning shirt or you Buzz shirt!

JJ: Yay! BUZZ! (5 minute search for Buzz shirt ends when JJ triumphantly pulls it out of the laundry complete with Sunday night's pizza sauce) BUZZ!!!

Daddy Awesome: Oh, buddy, that needs a wash. How about your Lightning shirt?

JJ: No! BUZZ!

Daddy Awesome: What about your Mickey hoodie from grandma? Do you want to wear that? You LOVE Mickey!

JJ: NO! BUZZZ! WWWAAAA!

Fast-forward half an hour similar through battles with footwear and carseats…JJ arrives, still in tears, in his jammies.

If you've been dabbling in the parenting of young children in the past 10 years or so, maybe you have encountered the Awesome family. You see, they and all their like-minded friends like to do the parenting thing ‘by the book.’ And not just any book—the newest and most revolutionary books from the best-educated and renowned parenting experts in the western world. The Awesome family vigilantly employs all the latest strategies and lives in perpetual fear of inflicting childhood trauma by allowing their child to play with plastic toys or by accidentally exposing them to phonics. And every Awesome family knows that the best way to secure their child’s future as a philanthropic astro-physicist requiring minimal psychological intervention is to give their child choices, lots of them! So the Awesome family never misses an opportunity to engage their child in that oh-so-crucial decision-making process. JJ’s little voice is heard on every aspect of the day, from which potty he chooses to pee on in the morning to positioning of his 10 stuffies in bed at night. This can be tedious and, at times, a little trying for Mommy and Daddy Awesome, but they are determined to stick with it. What Mommy and Daddy have forgotten, something that might make their lives infinitely less complicated, is a dusty little nugget of wisdom way at the back of their overflowing book shelves. They inherited it from Grandma Awesome and, though they never refer to it because they largely consider its philosophies to be passe, they have kept it for nostalgic reasons—It is called “The Book of Common Sense.” And this book has a few tidbits that Mommy and Daddy Awesome might find useful as they apply to ‘choices’ and parenting:

More is not necessarily better—When it comes to choices, more choices do not necessarily equal better choices. Think food buffet. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t say my most shining nutritional moments have occurred in a buffet-type situation. The same applies to JJ. Just because you have offered him 6 different snacks, say, it does not follow that his food choice will be any better than if you’d just given him an orange. Or from a slightly different angle, engaging in the decision-making process ad nauseum, at every possible juncture, does not necessarily equate to better decisions either. For example, I have been engaging the choice to eat or not to eat chocolate daily since I was 10, and to date there has been no improvement in result. Sometimes more is just more. And further, sometimes, more is just unnecessarily confusing. Does JJ really need to consult the entire collection of books to choose his bedtime story? Or can Mommy and Daddy cleverly pare it back for him a little?

Actions speak louder than words—With all best of intentions, the Awesome family desires that JJ move forward with a solid foundation of good decision-making skills. But what’s the most powerful way to teach your child anything? Example, of course. That is, a child can as easily learn the decision-making process by seeing mommy and daddy acting decisively. So Mommy and Daddy Awesome simply need to move through their day swiftly making decisions about everything from plate colors to clothing to food to entertainment, and JJ will eventually mimic this. Could it be that dabbling in half an (unpleasant) hour of choosing a shirt every morning is really just modelling to JJ that getting dressed takes a long time and involves a lot of upset and cajoling? Which leads me to…

Take cues from your child—If the choice to choose a breakfast item results in weeks of upset every morning for JJ…the Awesome family might take that as their cue that, for whatever reason, he is not ready to make that decision. Though it may not be clear why to an adult, making a choice can be heavy burden for a child, so why not spare them the hassle from time to time. If they were to put toast and apple on a generic white plate, what is the worst that can happen?

As an aside, once I ran into the Awesome family in the supermarket and had the good fortune of watching the following scene unfold--Mommy is pushing JJ in the shopping cart down Aisle 10. JJ sees a Kinder surprise, and demands to have it. When Mommy says “Not today, JJ,” he turns up the volume a little, “I want a Kinder surprise!” There is a bit of escalating back and forth before JJ totally loses it. Mommy Awesome slips into choice-offering mode and asks him if he wants a raspberry instead (yes, because they are made of fruit and have no surprises inside???). A goldfish cracker? Does he want to hold a balloon? Does he want to ride in the cart with his stuffie? Does he want to say Hi to this nosy Nora passing by? At this point, I just want to scream… STOP with all the choices! You may as well offer him a trip to Disneyland and a Ferrari for all the good it will do. What he wants is the blimmin’ Kinder surprise and, since he can’t have it, he wants the next best thing… And that is to exercise his god-given right to blow a shit-fit on the matter. Let him! Would you want someone up in your face when you were upset about something offering you a bunch of choices? ‘Oh, your cat died. Do you want a KitKat (sorry bad pun)? Do you want to want a latte or some biscotti? How about going to theater?’ Might you just want to scream, ‘Get out of my face! I just want to cry about my cat’?

With freedom comes responsibility—Or as this applies to the decision-making process, with decisions come responsibility for consequences. The Awesome family subscribes to the idea that involving JJ in the decision-making process is a way of empowering him. And that may be true enough. JJ does gain a certain feeling of control through, say, having the final say in whether or not they are going to have a playdate with cousin Simon Awesome today. The Book of Common Sense, though, would argue that since JJ, being 3 and half years old, doesn’t exactly understand the responsibility he holds to Cousin Simon (who is REALLY excited to see him) and his parents (who have cleared their morning and booked the bowling alley), JJ just isn’t quite ready to make this decision. Never mind that JJ’s parents KNOW that he will have a whale of a time if he just gets past having to turn off Teletubbies and get ready to go. Perhaps this an opportune time for Mommy and Daddy Awesome to model some decisiveness? And finally...

Let kids be kids--If you ask Mommy Awesome, what the best part about being a kid was back when Grandma Awesome was alive, do you know what she says? She says, “Oh, times were simpler then. We just played and we didn’t have to worry about anything and we didn’t have any responsibilities!” Ahem…Yea, you didn’t have to make decisions all the bloody time! People, namely your parents did that for you, so you could just be a kid and focus on the type of things that matter to kids like whose turn it was to be ‘it’ in hide and go seek or who got be ‘Slimer’ in today’s game of Ghostbusters. And, what’s more, they left you to figure this stuff out on your own! Great practice (the best!) for your lifelong future in choice-making! And lo and behold, Mommy Awesome, though not an astro-physicist, didn’t turn out to be a miserable failure by any measure!

Luckily for JJ, his parents’ hearts are in the right places, so he will grow up to be just fine, but maybe, just maybe, Mommy and Daddy Awesome could make this whole parenting thing a little easier on themselves.

STOP the press--I quit the positive-thinking club!

If you're like me, you've seen a few of these babies circulating around social media, and, if not there, maybe you're getting an earful of something similar from that soul-searching friend of yours. Or maybe the whole 'positive-thinking' thing just seems to haunt you just for shits and giggles, always in the back of your mind as something you could be a little better at. Whatever the case, it's a hard concept to refute and an even harder thing to get away from. Yes, I said 'get away from,' because, if you're like me, (and quite possibly you're not) you are downright sick of it! Stop the press! I hereby quit, revoke any membership from, and halt any fake attempts to belong to the 'positive-thinking club.'

For one, isn't this whole movement just another case of ordinary people ambiguously assigning a name to their latest cause, and in the process creating a whole (and lesser) sub-category for people who disagree with them. “Oh, you're not in the positive-thinking club? Well then you must be in the negative-thinking club, and I don't associate with negative thinkers.” No, that's not the case you say?

Well, have a look at these doozies, and, believe me, this is only a small smattering...

My heart is full of positivity, 

 there's no room for you

-Rachel Wolchin-

Beautiful things happen in your life 

when you distance yourself from all the negative things 

- Lifehack -

Poisonous people are not allowed to take my peace. It's difficult sometimes 

but I can't take on other people's negativity. 

 - Alex Elle -

Poisonous people? Like people with mental illness? Addictions? People who have experienced trauma or loss? Or just an ordinary person going through a hard time? Who are we talking about here? Because dissociating yourself from this just makes you a miserable person in my opinion. If you are a truly prolific member of club, wouldn't the philanthropic thing to do be to share some of that positive-thinking shit around? Just saying.

And what business do people have labeling emotions (even entire people!) as 'positive' or 'negative' anyway? I have news for you...Grief, sadness, fear, anger—these are not 'negative' emotions. They may be unpleasant, but, they are not negative. They are necessary, understandable, and universal things we all go through from time to time, and how dare the positive-thinking club interfere with someone else's god-given right to experience and work through that stuff. As for labeling entire human beings as one or the other...You know what EVERY single person I have ever met has in common? They are ALL doing their best. Where's the club for that?

And, who can forget...

It could always be worse. 

- annoying people everywhere -

You can't argue with that! And until I am in the position of having lost all human abilities other than that of feeling excruciating pain while having just experienced the loss of all my family members to some terrible calamity, that will ALWAYS be the case. But has this philosophical tidbit every actually succeeded in making anyone feel better? So, yes, I hear you, there are starving kids on every corner of the planet. Thanks for that, my pink-eye is so much more palatable with a side of guilt.

As an aside, have anyone else ever had a club member tell you in throes of your illness that a little dose of positivity is all you need for symptom relief? Or that maybe the whole illness itself is a manifestation of your deep-seeded negativity? To this, I have to say, “Friend, I love you dearly, but STOP TALKING, and when you are at the tail-end of three years of bad health, you may resume.”

I won't bore you with the details, but do you know the BEST thing I ever did for myself with regards to chronic health struggles? It wasn't anything to do with positive thinking. It wasn't telling myself that things would get better. Nope. It wasn't visualizing laying on a beach watching my symptoms float off in a balloon. It certainly wasn't thinking how much worse off I could be nor was it smiling bravely uttering no complaint (I think I only lasted 10 minutes at that). You know what it was? I simply accepted that I did in fact have a chronic illness and that I hated ever minute of misery it had bestowed on me, and that, going forward, I would probably continue to hating that. Oooooo, So bad-ass!

So, if this all sounds like a load of crap to you, that's fine. There are tons of other like-minded positive thinkers out there with their irrefutable philosophies and catchy sloganeering, and you can all synergize your awesomeness into oblivion for all I care. But, in the event that this shit ain't working for you, I've started my own club. It's called the 'I own what I think and feel' club. Here we assign no positive or negative value to our thoughts and emotions. We just accept them and move on...and we're currently accepting new members.

Raelene Talks--#BellLetsTalk 2016

Someone once said, “Your life begins where your comfort zone ends.” I'm not a Bell customer, but I'm going to talk. So “Let's Talk”, because raising public awareness about something so many people are afraid to talk about is SO important and worthwhile. I should know. I've been on anxiety/depression medication for two years. I spent a great portion of that time as an introvert trapped in the body of a lifelong extrovert. Where I once kept lip gloss in my purse, I now keep Ativan. I've spent months adapting to a “new” me and a much bigger (meds caused me to gain 50 lbs) and better version of me. It was extremely awkward at times to be around people who have known me my whole life, because I didn't know how to act around them and I knew at times they felt the same strange awkwardness around me. I hated trying to explain that I just couldn't do things that in the past I took great delight in. I was embarrassed to tell people I was a gym teacher and that I, in fact, do live a healthy and active lifestyle despite my outward appearance. Often it was just easier to be in the company of strangers, or better yet, alone. At home with my extremely supportive husband and kids was my “happy” place. I could not have made it to this point without them. I quite possibly have the only 5, 6, and 8 year olds who can do their own laundry. Jeff taught them in the months following the loss of my Dad—the months where he did absolutely everything while I did what some viewed as nothing. It wasn't nothing and some days I wonder how I got from there to here. The journey hasn't been easy, but it has been worth it. I appreciate quirky things about others that in the past I just 'didn't get.' I no longer feel like I have be able to explain or be able make sense of everything I'm feeling or not feeling. I don't understand why I had to go through what I did or why other people have to go through it too. I'm not an expert on the subject, I'm just a member of the club and I like to think that, in some strange way, I'm a better person because of it. I'm currently, under the care the my doctor, tapering off my medication. I am completely prepared to spend the rest of my life on this medication if necessary, but I feel it is important and necessary to see what I am capable of handling at this point in my journey. Anxiety and depression are frustrating, complicated, and, at times, very misunderstood, but they should never be something so be embarrassed about. So “Let's Talk” because we become our stories and our stories are worth telling!

Raelene Kenney

Mommy Hates Homework

My barely 7 year-old comes home from school with homework every day.  EVERY. DAY.  We have flashcards which we are encouraged to 'incorporate into our daily practice'. We have weekly spelling tests, daily sentence writing practice, and math problems.  We also have designated reading books to read together with our son and to make comments on.  I am not joking, and I am probably forgetting something (that has certainly happened).  What's wrong with that, you ask? Well, a few things...

1.  Mommy hates homework. Let's be honest, when you are sending an engergetic 7 year-old homework, you are sending ME homework.  Note the word 'we' on that list of homework above. WE have spelling tests, WE have flashcards, etc.  Not a whole lot on that list is or even can be accomplished independently by a wily boy who has just spent the better part of six hours sitting in a desk.  So if you're asking if I would like to spend the precious few hours I have with my son everyday cajoling him, engaging in phonics exercises, and fostering a general distaste for school?  The answer is no.  I am 35, well past anything to do with school, a business owner, and mother of three.  I hate homework, and I've got other shit to do, and if I don't, I would like to enjoy that rare opportunity.  But more importantly...

2.  HE has better things to do.  The average kid my son's age spends 6 or more hours in a school environment.  That is a lot of time for a young child, and it is more than enough to be engaged in structured, academic-y activities.  When my son comes home at 4 o'clock and wants to go sledding, I'm going to say a resounding, “Yes!” And then he has soccer practice or a play-date and a nice family supper, and maybe he wants to read a book or veg out or play with his toys.  He should be able to do ALL of those things without the thought of homework interrupting or cutting things short. And what about tennis, music lessons, crafting, joining scouts, playing make-believe ghostbusters with the neighbour kids, skating, dancing, helping out around the house??  All of those things are equally valuable to his life-long education, and that is, by no means, a comprehensive list.  I think we can all agree that childhood is a crucial time to develop talents and foster diverse interests in our children, so let's do that instead of fighting about homework every night.  What's more, let's let our kids just be kids sometimes!

3.  Kids are going to learn, whether you teach them or not.  As it is, our children spend a huge chunk of their weekday time in a structured learning environment, and that serves its purpose, but no one is going to tell me that at 3:30 the education stops. NO WAY! The structure of school/homework may or may not even be the best way for any given child to learn, and it is certainly not the only way.  The hours after school, in my opinion, should be left open for other opportunities to access learning.  For example, a child who may not excel or particularly enjoy drills in PE class may just really like playing at the park after school and may learn the same, if not more, physical skills. Or maybe that boy who struggles with structured reading exercises, whether it be due to lack of interest or an incompatibility with his learning style, may just really like cuddling up and reading bedtime stories with mom and dad. And I will say this first hand—the opportunity to cuddle up and have a nice book with my kids has OFTEN been foregone in order to engage in an end-of-day battle to get homework done.  That blows.

4. Learning happens, whether it is measured or not.  I think as parents we often get caught up in the parts of education that can be easily quantified or tested in a school environment. We feel we have to do homework so our kids don't 'fall behind', especially when all the other kids (ahem! kids' parents) are doing homework.  We over-focus on material that can be graded like reading, writing, or math, for the simple reason that it is the thing being measured. I'm not immune to this.  How many times have I had thoughts like..'So-and-so's kid knows his whole alphabet', or 'Little Johnny can already count to 100', and then my next thought is 'I should really do more such-and-such practice at home with O' (presumably like Little Johnny's parents).  But rare is the time that I think 'Wow, O has a really developed sense of personal responsibility. I'm really proud of him.  Maybe Little Johnny's parents need to lay of the abc's and work on that.' Perhaps if there was a hard-fast measure of personal responsibility or imagination or social consciousness or things of this nature, we would realize that these utterly necessary skills require as much time, space, and practice as any school subject, and that they are most effectively learned outside the school environment. And just as and FYI, I can tell you right now, if there was monkey-bar test, my kid would wipe the floor with your kid!

5.   Homework helps the kids who need help the least and hinders kids who need help the most.  So if ParentA is involved and generally quite on top of what is going on with KidA's education, then, yes, of course, ParentA is going to practice all the spelling words and do the flashcards and all that jazz, and KidA is going to excel. Great. (Never mind that ParentA was already doing all sorts of wholesome, educational activities with their child before the homework came along and took all the fun out of it) Then you have KidB who excels at structured academic, sitting-down-type activities at school, who then goes home to do homework and further excels at structured, academic, sitting-down-type activities. Yea for him. On the other hand, you have KidC, who struggles with sitting still at school at the best of times, and whose single parent has a heavy load of whatever variety, who then goes home and faces, what is for him, the daunting task of motivating himself to do his homework with little or no support.

Which brings me to my final point...

6. Homework that cannot be done independently of a parent directly opposes a child's development of independence and personal responsibility.  I've seen this a thousand times in many years of experience with children. A child is chipping away with decent focus and effort at a task, say setting a puzzle, and when an available adult comes within earshot, that child then 'needs help', 'can't do this,' waits for prompting, and their eyes glaze over while they take a back seat or quit entirely.  And it is no different with my son's homework. For one, the initiation of the homework process is almost always done by me for no other reason than that he is 7 and lacks the impetus to start it himself, and, of course, this is more often than not met with resistance. Secondly, the homework he is sent with is largely designed to require adult input, and then we have the case of him sitting there, getting less and less interested while I try to coax whatever bit of relevant participation I can from him.  And thirdly, the icing on the cake...There is a big-ass space in his homework book for me to sign EVERY. DAY. presumably marking in stone that I have seen and that I approve of the quality of work that he has completed that night.  Well, honestly, I don't give a shit if I approve of the quality of his work, I give a shit if he approves of his own work.  Somewhere along this continuum of parental involvement and accountability, you end up with parents coming to job-interviews, bickering with their child's university professors about deadline extensions, or 'helping' with research and proof-reading their child's masters thesis. (Seriously, these things have all happened) Puke.  Will these parents be attending work with them every day as well? Joining them in their post-doctoral pursuits? Wiping their bums? Come on.  A child's sense of sense of personal responsibility and independence starts early, and I'm all over that. (Reference Point 1)

There is a time and place for everything, homework included, and I am not saying that there is no value in practicing school skills at home.  Of course there is, and I’m sure there are plenty of ‘measures’ to prove that.  What I am suggesting is that there is a trade-off.  Yes, if my son practices reading and writing for 40 minutes each evening, his reading and writing will improve. That’s a no-brainer, but when he is spending 40 minutes doing that, he is spending 40 minutes NOT doing something else.  Call me old-fashioned, but I think there are more important things to do during the after-school hours.  I also think homework is a perfect tool to transfer ownership of learning from teacher to student at a later age when the student is able to do that work independently, but, until that time, please Mrs. Jones, spare me the inconvenience.  

Dear well-intentioned relatives/friends/strangers--You are killing Christmas

A letter from Santa Claus

I'm not going to beat around the bush here...when you're a kid, Christmas is all about the presents. The tree, the food and the long-lost relatives are all background noise to that main event when they wake up on Christmas morning and, with the sleep dust still in their eyes, run out to find the shiny wrapped present I left for them. And I doubt I have to tell you that this Christmas moment is 'magic' at it's absolute finest. So this is why, with the utmost respect, I have to tell you gift-giving, treat-toting, Christmas-fanatic lunatics that YOU ARE KILLING CHRISTMAS.

Yeah, I'm talking to you, Mrs. Jones. On the last day of school before gluttony season, do they really need a brown paper bag overflowing with peanut-free chocolate bells and candy canes?

And don't pretend this doesn't apply to you, Auntie Dorothy-- You and your two months worth of pre-Christmas junk food and multiple tree-decorating parties. Do you know what makes decorating a tree special? Doing it ONCE A YEAR, not four times.

And YOU at the grocery store checkout, I don't even know your name, but NO THANKS to your bucket of crap plastic toys two weeks before the main event.

As for you Imposter-Santa at the office party, that remote control car you just gave little Johnny? Well, he's been asking for that since July, and I've taken a lot of care to find JUST the one he wanted, but I guess I'll go find a toothbrush and put that under the tree. Thanks for that.

And YOU, Eddie the Shit-elf (Shelf elf? Selfie-elfie? whatever), you're thinking, 'If Christmas is so magical, why not make the 24 days before it magical too?' Well, Eddie, what I'm seeing is that the 25% of people who can be bothered with your gimmick burn out that 'magic' 6 days into December, and the 75% of people who can't have kids wondering what they did that was so AWFUL that they don't have their own whimsical elf gallivanting around their house at night.

And yes, kindly neighbor, I did shovel your sidewalk that one time, but don't you think it's a bit OTT to buy the kids $90 lego sets? Just sayin.'

No, Grandma, you are not exempt, when you bring over their fifth advent calendar, a few Christmas treats (yay, more candy canes), just a few craft supplies, new Christmas pajamas, several stuffed reindeer AND 9 wrapped items, Santa is starting to get a little pissed off. You are stepping toes here.

ALL of you need to realize that your kindly gestures and shit-storm of Christmas crap make it such that when December 25 finally arrives, the kids are kinda done with it, and that 'magic' that might have been opening that ONE special gift from me (the one who, let's be honest, puts in the real grunt work ALL YEAR LONG) is lost or, at the very least, pretty blinking diluted. So, please, if you really MUST share your festive spirit with my kids, please do so with your time. Come on over and do a puzzle with them. Have a hot chocolate with us. I'm sure they'd love to come over to watch the Grinch while I drink some eggnog. As the old adage goes, less is more. Keep that in mind for dear old Santa Claus, would you?

Merry Christmas from the Big Guy

Dear Tardy-Pants Friend,

You're my friend, and I love you. I plan to spend many years enjoying your company, and I think you share the same sentiment. So bear that in mind as you prepare yourself for a little rollicking.

Put yourself in my shoes for a minute here...

I get a call at quarter to 12 from my husband saying he'll be home for lunch.

Me: Cool. Great. Will you be home by 12:15 so I can take G back to school? (without packing up other 3 children)

Him: Yes. 12:15. Sure.

My intuition: No, you won't.

Myself: Shut up and carry on.

The phone rings at 12:14 (No Lie!) and surprise, surprise...

Him: I'll be home in 10 minutes, Dear.

Me: So we'll be late for school then.

Him: No, can't you just pack up all the kids and go?

Myself: Dear, if I had an invention that got 4 kids dressed, seat belted, and free of minor last-minute emergencies in a van during a snow storm in the span on 1 minute, I would be retired.

So my daughter and a frazzled me arrive at school LATE. BUT I WAS NOT LATE. HE WAS LATE.

Not being a person of habitual lateness, maybe you can appreciate that situations like this drive me CRAZY. Now, I'm not a total psycho—I don't get all that excited about the occasional blip—we are all late sometimes, shit happens, we move on. What I am talking about is the sort of people who can NEVER be on time for anything, the people who think 4 o'clock means 5:30, the ones who roll into work at ten past on a good day, the people who run so late that they don't even show up, or if they do, they do so just as you're about to turn the lights out, the ones who arrive frazzled with excuses that they had to do this or that at the last minute or, worse, people who arrive hours late with no apology or explanation as to why the rules of punctuality don't apply to them. Sound familiar? If this is you, at this point maybe you're thinking one of two things:

1. I know. I know. I need to get my sh*t together and be on time. To which I have to reply—Yes. Please do that. Or...

2. What is the big deal if I'm a little late? Well, let me tell you...What is the most valuable currency known to the human race? No, not the Swiss franc. It is TIME. Dispute that, tardy-pans! And when we've set a time to do such-and-such and you are late, you are wasting MINE. My most valuable currency! And I have to say that it is not appreciated.

Now, I have to believe that you are not malicious—my own best friend and husband are part of this peculiar club of yours--so I'm going to go on two assumptions that:

a) it is your strapping (albeit misguided) sense of optimism as to how much you think you're going to accomplish before we've agreed to meet at 1:30, or that

b) you've simply lost track of time

But, you know what?? Neither of those things is OK!! because

a) I am amazed, AMAZED, in the WORST possible way, how one can nearly everyday for 10 years incorrectly forecast their ETA by a factor of 50%. When this has happened for 780^th time, do you not rethink your optimism or the time it will take to complete a, b, and c? I have said this, but I will say it again, if you are a laggard lass/lad (and in my experience, people generally know this about themselves), please, PLEASE calculate your ETA and add 50%. Just DO it, because when you say you're going to be home in time to see the kids off the bus, that event happens at 3:30. So from that point on, I will begin arranging daily tasks (THOUSANDS of em!) with that time in mind and, more importantly, budgeting my patience to expire at precisely 3:30. So, when you stroll through the door at 5:15, YOU, not me, have made for a very unpleasant 105 minutes.

b) You lost track of TIME? You LOST track of TIME? YOU LOST TRACK OF TIME? How does that even happen? But, you know what? You do that, you lose track of time. On some level I am jealous of your ability to do that. You sleep in. Do nothing on weekends. Don't make plans. Eat lunch at 2pm. I don't care, but don't you dare lose track of MY time. When we've made a time-arrangement of whatever variety, I have made my most valuable currency available for you. I have showered at such and such a time, I've gotten my groceries earlier, I've arranged childcare, I've inconvenienced my loved ones, and, perhaps more poignantly have arranged NOT to do 1000 other pressing things in order that I might make time for you.

This may not be what you intend, in fact I'm pretty sure it isn't, but when the situation of me waiting on your sorry-ass arises time and time again, it is to me a suggestion that somehow you think your life/time/issues are more pressing or important than mine. We've all got deadlines, we're all busy, we've all got places to be, unexpected things come up, I get it! I get it because my life is no different than yours, so when you're asking for yet another extension on that project deadline, what else am I to assume? Because, miracly in my life I have NEVER required an extended deadline for anything, yet for you with tardy tendencies, you can rarely meet one. Is this because your lives are infinitely more pressed for time or that unexpected calamity befalls you at every deadline? Probably not. Or is it because you just didn't get your sh*t together?

So because, as I said in the beginning, I love you and wish to spend many years enjoying your company, can I give some suggestions that will help us relate more peacefully?

1. If you can't seem to meet a set time, don't set a time! Give me a ballpark. 'We will be there after 5', 'We'll come over when we're finished grocery shopping,' and for my benefit, if you are not here before such-and-such, I'm going to feel free to start without you.

2. If you know you're going to be late, LET ME KNOW. Give me a call, send a text, whatever. Because if I know that I have 20 minutes or 2 hours, I will do something else. Something productive! Something that is NOT waiting for you.

3. Get your sh*t together. This is your deal. Get a clock, an alarm, a reminder, start getting ready earlier, allocate more realistic time frames, whatever you need to do. There's probably an app out there ready to fix this for you. Get up at 6 AM if you need to, but, this part I have to leave for you figure out. I'd mind my own business, but my time IS my business.

Now don't get all like scared of me or forever-after hold me to some ridiculous high standard of on-timeness. There's bound be bumps on the road to punctuality for all of us, but, as I said, I value our relationship and wouldn't want to let this little annoyance fester in my back pocket and eat away that. It is not beyond me to take our time-arrangements with a grain of salt, and I have certainly learned to do that over the years, but, as a return favor, could you punch up the punctuality just a notch? Just sayin...

Love from your Punctual-Pants friend