the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Festive up in here

Last night we finally put up the Christmas decorations including two separate trees. That’s right. TWO TREES. Look at me with my two cars and my two trees. You know what? I’m not even going to apologize. Kanye sure wouldn’t.

There’s a tree in the living room where we’ve hung all the nostalgic ornaments that need safe keeping. And then there’s a tree in the family room decked out with ornaments I found for a dollar. A whole damn dollar! Here is where you lecture me about buying cheap shit and how I am personally ruining the earth by doing so. And I say, really? It’s not because the earth is already overpopulated and I selfishly gave birth to two more consumers? Or the fossil fuel required to operate my car? What about the strawberries I eat when they’re not in season? I WILL WIN YOUR ARGUMENT FOR YOU.

Let’s just put it this way. Someone around here is so excited about Christmas trees that she’s going around wishing everyone a Merry Christmas Tree.

Both girls helped me adorn the cheap tree, and that is the nicest way I can phrase that. I think one branch is hogging 80% of the ornaments, 80% that Marlo rearranged no less than seven times. On that same branch. At one point Leta couldn’t take it anymore, threw up her hands and said, “UGH! If she continues this, our tree is going to be BORING.”

Not a boring Christmas tree, NOOOOOOO! Worst Christmas ever.

Marlo’s fascination continued this morning when I leaned over to get her out of her crib and her immediate greeting was, “MERRY CHRISTMAS TREE!”

Related: a couple of weeks ago Cami was over and we were playing in the middle of the floor with Marlo. I leaned over on a pillow and pretended to be asleep, you know, a little game where I could pop my eyes open and be all SURPRISE! I know, LAME. A sleep game? I can’t do better than that? Her pony is not going to buy itself, MOM.

Cami told Marlo to go over and wake me up, and I thought she was going to give me a sweet little BOO! or an I SCURRED YOU! But no. It was neither of those little sweet things. No. Instead, before I had a chance to pop open my eyes, that kid put her mouth mere centimeters from my ear and screeched, ” WAAAAAAAKE UUUUUUUUP!” about a half pitch lower than the frequency that shatters glass.

I miss being able to hear songs.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

read more

SaveSave