As if there isn’t enough competition in the “I’m the best Holiday Mommy EVER” category, what with that ridiculous and completely terrifying bastard The Elf on the Shelf whose eyes creepily follow you all around the room and destroys your home for the sake of shits, giggles, and somehow keeping your kids in line, the “look at my handmade decorations that took us 7 hours to make” that other moms show off when and however they can that make you feel like the biggest slacker on the planet, the cornucopia of time wasting “oh but they’re so fun!” crafts and the far-too-professional looking Santa pictures… now I have to worry about keeping up the illusion of Santa with my absolute non-creative self, just to not feel like the worst parent on the face of the earth
I don’t usually go Baaahhh-ing along with the crowd; I have boycotted the elf, I don’t do crafts, I hate Christmas music, I only take the kids to see Santa because one insists and the other is hilariously terrified… but DAMNIT, i’m not going to ruin the whole Santa-shpeal and be looked at through the nose by all the over-achieving Christmas lovers.
In order to continue to perpetuate what some may consider a lie, it appears that I have to buy different wrapping paper, change my hand-writing, make different tags, fancier wrap-jobs (since elves don’t fucking SUCK at it like I do) all so the kids don’t know the gifts are from ME and not the big-man himself?
Sigh.. COME ON! I braved the crowds, I spent the money when I didn’t want to, even bought them gifts I know will annoy the piss out of me… and now I have to put extra time and effort and energy into my least favorite thing on the planet: wrapping??
In addition to all of that, I then have to stay up late and make SURE not to put these newly bedazzled gifts out until Santa “comes down the chimney”?
What’s next, dragging my ass onto the roof in the bitter December cold and stomping on the ceiling while jingling bells- risking death mind you- just so if the children happen to wake up they think “OMFG SANTA REALLY IS HERE!” … only so that I can be the BEST Christmas mom on the planet? Well if EVERYONE ELSE IS DOING IT!!!
No. The answer is just no! To be quite honest with you, my kids are NOT that smart yet. They are not going to look at wrapping paper, compare it to others, then cross-reference the fucking handwriting and say “Um, mother, I can tell you wrote this and not Santa.” followed by that oh-so familiar look on their faces of “Bitch please”
I’m already giving the jolly old lard ass credit for all of my hard work, and now i’m supposed to wrap presents *SPECIAL* for him. Uh-uh, no no no, not as long as I can get away with not doing it. My idea of gifts from Santa are tags written in all-caps, while the ones from Mommy and Daddy are in lowercase.
How ya like THEM apples Elite-Christmas moms??
That’s right, i’m a Christmas slacker and I am PROUD of it. I won’t be giving into the overly obsessive Elf-on-a-shelfing, intense fantastical bedazzled cookie icing, crafts that look like they could be sold for $50 in magazines, ugly sweater-wearing, expensive tree decorating, Christmas caroling, special Santa papering competitive Christmas-Mommy craze.
The day I do that is the day I started listening to Justin Bieber, and you can put money on that’ll be the day after NEVER.
Letting that eggnog guzzling reindeer lover take credit for some of the most expensive gifts is as Christmas cheery as it’s gonna get, and to me, is a good enough indication of my Christmas-freakin’-spirit.
I am not Martha Stewart and I never will be!
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Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.
Parenthood is when you start counting the minutes to bed time before 11am.
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