As the title of my blog clearly states, I’m still learning. Each Christmas, I do things that I later regret. But not this year. No, this year I will think before I act. This year, I will be smart. This year, I will not make the same mistakes as in years past.
This Christmas season, I will not:
Hand make any gifts. Just because they’re made with love doesn’t mean they should be given to loved ones (unless those loved ones are on the naughty list).
Drop the F-bomb in front of my kids while stringing up the lights. No matter how much I loathe taking part in the battle of tree vs. lights, it doesn’t give me the right to let my inner crazy shine in the presence of young children.
Leave my Christmas spending spreadsheet up on the computer screen for my husband to see. Enjoyable as it may seem, being lectured on the dangers of excessive Christmastime spending is quite a miserable experience.
Buy my mother-in-law a “Sights of NJ” calendar with hopes that she’ll love the state I’ve whisked her son away to. It seems the Rhode Islander in her will never see NJ as anything but the smokestacks on the Jersey Turnpike.
Attempt a gingerbread house with my children. Icing as glue? How does that even make sense?
Waste my money on educational toys. I only have so much storage for unopened science kits and math games.
Count on my husband to water the tree. He can’t even remember to feed the dog—a living, breathing, in-your-face animal. How could I possibly expect him to give a second thought to a giant plant?
Make sugar-free sugar cookies and hand them out as gifts. It turns out, this is a good way to lose friends.
Drop gentle hints to my husband about what I’d like for Christmas. To say that subtlety is lost on him would be an understatement.
Wear a wool turtle neck sweater to Christmas Eve Mass. If you’re wondering how to make an already uncomfortably long service even longer, this is it.
Wait until 10:00 pm on Christmas Eve to scour my junk drawer for batteries. A highly anticipated remote control helicopter that won’t fly on Christmas morning makes for some extremely disappointed kids.
Leave my dog unattended in the same room as Santa’s full plate of cookies. Enough said.
Allow my husband to turn off ”24 hours of A Christmas Story” at any point on Christmas Day. Christmas just isn’t Christmas without the continuous rants of the perils of the red ryder bb gun humming in the background.
Note: some of you may recognize this post from last year. That’s because my insanely busy schedule has kept me from attending to my blog. So rather than staying silent, I thought I’d bring back and oldie but a goodie.