I felt like a real jack-hole of a mom around Christmas. Only slightly though, because Christmas is not about picture perfect staged Instagram photos of stocking stuffed gift giving for goodness sake.
I really did feel like a jack-hole, not just because I wasn’t able to sword fight with other mamas on instagram #santacame, but TRULY because I imagined my daughter asking me in 5 years, “mama what did Santa bring me my first Christmas?”
A plane ticket to LA and a few airport cocktails, honey. Of course!
Why would she ask me this? Because she’s my daughter, obviously! I’m confident I’ve been hell bent on keeping up traditions since I could first say the word “tradition”. And if I had to bet, likely before. I am my mothers daughter, and if I know anything about genetics it is THAT tiny apple did not fall far from THIS tree…
So I decided to salvage my future reputation and got this little chick an Easter basket filled with her favorite things in hopes of the conversation being diverted all-together. Pouch, biscuits, poofs, a new book, a toy remote (which is, come to find out, a failed attempt at keeping her paws off the real one), a new special jacket, and a really cute outfit from Gymboree. Perfection! I kept it simple and to the point!
I’ll give my most dedicated effort to raising my children to be appreciate of the gifts they receive hoping they don’t grow up to be mini-hoarders with shitty little attitudes. I’ll do my best to avoid the gluttonous consumerist mindset filled with the crazy lies of Pinterest mom-offs and Hallmark holidays. I desperately want my kids to know why we celebrate Easter (and Christmas) and find value in keeping gift giving, house decorating, and over the top Instagram worthy Pinterest-mom offs humble. I will likely make heart shaped pancakes on Valentine’s Day, you know, for tradition! And for perspective sake “gift giving” is my identified Love Language… so when I say keep it humble…let’s meet in the middle here, mmmk? Call me a buzz kill, I draw the line at filling the toilet with green dye “leprechaun pee” on St. Patrick’s Day.
Also, I swear if there was not an “Easter Bunny” dressed up at church (ugh nightmares make that TWO “Easter Bunnies” dressed up at church) I would have never taken this picture. Weeks leading up to Easter I told Michael I couldn’t to do this whole sitting on the Easter Bunny’s lap thing. We agreed it wasn’t our style. Then in an effort to
totally creep me out do something festive and fun, our Church dressed up some Junior high kids to take pictures with families after the service. Anyway, it was a really cute setting and I wanted the picture. What was I to do, kick out the pre-pubescent tiny human under that faux fir costume calling himself the “Easter Bunny” so I could use the backdrop? #byeEasterBunny. Dream crushing, likely. Chances are, I’m already referred to in church governing meetings as the woman with the newborn who peeled out of the parking lot after 10:00 am service. I need to learn to keep a low profile. I opted in keeping my cool with the “bunny”. It was Resurrection Sunday after all. Jesus is ALIVE, Amen?