But I do this really bad thing every year during the holidays that kind of make them sort of suck. I think about the future. I think about how after New Year’s weekend, I won’t have another paid holiday off until May. I think about the things that aren’t going so great in my life. I think about how we’re going to pay the property taxes next month. I think about if I should go along with Captain Carl and take in another renter, even though I hate them and it sucks, because having two renters like before means the mortgage is paid in full each month. I think about how the Kiddo has to get student loans and help pay his way through college because we can’t do it for him. I think about all the people who don’t have to sweat their finances and have no credit problems and can buy whatever they want for their kids at Christmas and then I think a little bit about undeservedly punching them in the face.
You get the idea. I’m a big Debbie Downer. I’m working on it. It’s a long process.
But hurray! Christmas!
We opened all our presents early because of course we did. Captain Carl got me the greatest gift of all, which was the perfume that I tore the ad out of the magazine for and held in front of his face while saying “This. Buy this. This one. This is what I want this year. THIS.”. You thought I was going to say something like “his eternal love” or some lame shit like that, didn’t you? Ha. Loser.
I got him a kick ass GPS for the jeepster and I was all “Do you like it? Do you really? I mean do you REALLY like it or are you just SAYING you like it? Are you sure? Because you can totally return it for something else if you want. No? You’re sure? Yes? Okay cool.” Because I suck at gift giving. I really do. All year long, I think of these really great ideas for birthday and Christmas presents. Then I promptly forget them and end up buying something the person won’t like and will never use. Like the scarf that I got for my mom. Who never wears scarves. Or a computer video game for my dad. Who doesn’t even know how to turn on the computer.
I don’t know what happens. It’s like I’m out there shopping, filled to the brim with wonderful gift ideas. And two hours later, I’m standing in that cologne gift pack aisle in Wal-Mart trying to figure out how I got there. Usually I’m sweating. Always I’m panicked. Because holy shit, will they like this???? Is it lame???? Is it offensive????
My son has been the recipient of some of my worst gifts. Every year he opens at least two things from us that are disappointing and confusing. And then Captain Carl whispers to me “Did we get him that? Why?” and all I can do is shrug and whisper back “It seemed like a good idea?”.
This year? I got him this t-shirt.
I have no explanation, except that I thought it was hilarious.
Puzzled would be the word I would use to describe his facial expression after he opened it. Then he looked over at me and saw what was probably the pathetically hopeful look on my face, promptly took off the shirt he was wearing and pulled my lame gift over his head. And he wore it all day. And the next day until I made him change out of it because he got barbecue sauce on Abe’s upper lip. How awesome is my kid? Very, that’s how.
This will most likely be my last post before Christmas, so everyone have a happy holiday or whatever and leave me comments while you’re here, huh?