Another day, another repeat from me. Don’t expect more. It’s the holidays and yesterday I went to Walmart and I barely survived. Anyway, this is my answer to all those braggy holiday newsletters. Shhh, though. Don’t tell. I like the ones that don’t brag
Dear Friends and Family,
Festivus Greetings from the Manic Motherhood family! Another year has flown by and the holidays are upon us. And no matter what holiday you celebrate, we’re sure that you are surprised to get this newsletter from us. Oh, I know I said I’d never do one—but we’ve gotten so much joy from reading all of yours that we really felt that this year, we’d return the joy to all of you.
Let me start this—the Manic Motherhood family’s very first newsletter EVER—by saying thank you. Through the years, your pages and pages of anecdotes and updates as to your monetary status have never failed to elicit chuckles—and sometimes outright guffaws—from us. Sure, there are days when we wonder why we only hear from you once a year—but then we get your newsletters and we realize that you are too busy visiting tropical isles or getting your daughter into Stanford to return a phone call to us. So truly, we don’t mind.
And of course, we are thrilled—just THRILLED—that you moved into your dream home. No, 32 rooms doesn’t sound too large—it sounds just right. You deserve this house. And the daily housekeeper you hired sounds like an absolute treasure. I, myself, spend my days wondering where the heck my daily housekeeper is. Then I remember that I am the daily housekeeper and I go back to my life of cleaning the toilets and making sure the shower scum doesn’t get so bad it turns into a large, hairy monster that attacks one day while I’m shampooing.
Of course, Harry and I have considered selling this house and moving into our very own dream house—but the only dream house in our price range comes with a Barbie. And anyway, there are too many memories in this house to leave it. Every time I walk down the hallway, I step over the carpet stains and I remember all the times that Junior came down with the flu. And the exciting times we had housebreaking the dog. Oh, and Junior’s Jackson Pollack art stage was fun too! I still have the paintings all over the living room walls. It’s hard to cover them up when your little Picasso uses permanent markers.
And I’m sure your new luxury car is just lovely. Really. I’m enjoying driving the same exact truck I drove last year. And the year before. And frankly, for several years before that. But I wouldn’t trade it for any car on earth because it has memories. Precious ones. I know because each time I get into the car I can smell them. Mostly they are memories of smelly feet, but every once in a while an old french fry gets pretty stinky there under the backseat and I get to re-live a precious memory of Junior sitting in the back, teasing the dog with deep fried potato products.
It just doesn’t get much better than that—unless you count the time that Harry was eating a gulf shrimp po-boy and a shrimp fell out and wasn’t seen again until it had morphed into a large, green, slimy shrimp. Good times, I’m telling you. Good times and way, way too many precious memories for me to just up and sell it and get a luxury car.
Your children sound so charming. I’m keeping your address around for sure because once little Timmy graduates law school we will be looking to him to get us out of a small accounting mess we may have gotten ourselves into. I’m not sure about the legalities of it, but the nice lady from the IRS says that if we just confess to our “tiny mistake” we should only get a few years of house arrest—unless they take the house. Of course, we’ll keep you updated on that.
And your summer in Europe sounds like the perfect vacation. What bliss to have all that good food, sunshine and beaches! We of course, summered in Italy as well—if you count sitting by the blow-up pool and ordering pizza from June to August. Next summer, we plan to “visit” China, as there is a new Chinese food delivery service here in town.
Well, that about sums up our exciting year. And as our family gathers round the Festivus aluminum pole and dines on the traditional Festivus meatloaf, we’ll be sure to remember our dear, dear friends, whom we hear from at least once a year.Add me to your rss reader | Become a Fan on Facebook!