Humor Archives - Page 3 of 4 - The Twisted Maven

THE PURGE

“Cleaning the house while your kids are still growing up is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing” – Phyllis Diller

My imagined view of any room in my home.

Here’s the truth, and you know it: most of us hold onto too much crap and allow our homes to become cluttered. It’s not something that happens quickly, but over a few decades of life. From where I sit, in my office, at my computer, I can see albums and boxes of photographs (none of which have are from the past decade); a full set of china on display in a cabinet (I didn’t want formal china, but I gave in to pressure from older people and registered for it when I was getting married) (by the way, the fancy formal china has been used maybe five times in the past 16 years), a bin of craft supplies, a stack of 500 index cards, 30 pens and markers and pencils, four notebooks, six different objects with imprints of my children’s feet/hands when they were infants, and about a million tchotchkes placed every other available surface.

That’s a lot, and that’s just what’s in front of me right now. I decided about a year ago that a huge PURGE was necessary, so I’ve been going room by room in this not-very-big house of mine. I was partly inspired by the KonMari Method, and partly by the legendary comedian George Carlin, who joked (I’m paraphrasing) that our houses are just a places to keep our stuff, while we go out and work to get more stuff, until we need a bigger house to store all our stuff.

Honestly, I don’t need more stuff. I need less. Sure, at times I’ve felt pressure to “upgrade” my home to something that is more spacious, more fancy, with more rooms and a larger driveway and bigger everything. But when I dig deep into my emotional well, I realize I don’t need a house with more or bigger or larger right now. I just want this house to be more organized, and I’d like to shed the stuff that isn’t needed or wanted.

As for the KonMari Method, it postulates that anything that doesn’t bring you joy should be discarded. From old college tees to kitchen gadgets to stuff you stashed away for future use; all of it should be taken out, examined, and either found an accessible place in your home or thanked and discarded. For the stuff you keep, it should be stored and organized in specific ways; for instance, t-shirts should be folded and stored upright instead of flat, and old boxes should be re-purposed as drawer organizers.

In the course of writing this, I have also discovered the concept of döstädning, or Swedish Death Cleaning. This decluttering method does not have all the rules and processes that the KonMari Method has. It’s underlying message is this: don’t leave a freaking mess of your things for your family to deal with when you die.

And although I have reached a point in life where I think every illness, pain and momentary physical discomfort signals my imminent death, which of course my internet searches confirm, I decided that I can hold off on the Death Cleaning until at least my next round of organizing and cleaning, after my kids are no longer kids.

But overall, I can get on board with the concept of purging my home of items that are unused, grown out of, and unappreciated.

Well, except for the clothes that I haven’t worn in a few or more seasons, but I swear I will if I ever don’t wear only the same 7 pairs of sweats/leggings during the colder months, the same 6 pairs of shorts during the hotter months and the same 3 pairs of pants that don’t reach my ankles during the in-between seasons (what are we calling them now? cropped? capris? clam diggers?). Along with my various graphic, athletic and regular cotton tees. And an occasional sweater.

One side note; the idea of discarding everything that does not bring me joy is a little…I don’t know…extra. Dustrags don’t bring me joy, but they’re necessary. The sump pump that prevents my basement from flooding doesn’t make my heart skip a beat, but yet, I need it. I view toilet cleaner with dread, but again, I can’t NOT have it.

There are some things that I’m actually good at getting rid of, such as dried up markers (on the day I happened to realize a whole bin of dried up markers resided in my living room), and pieces of paper. I recycle the shit out of pieces of paper, even ones that I really need but don’t realize it until approximately three minutes after the recycling has been taken out.

Um. That’s it, really. I have a lot of things of sentimental value, tchotchkies I’ve picked up along the way, kids’ artwork from birth until now that I’m loathe to part with, pens from every bank, hotel and vendor I’ve ever breezed by, notebooks (I have a thing for volumes of blank paper), random stuff that finds its way into my home and never leaves, and anything I’ve ever gotten for free. Or even for some effort.

I will also admit, I am a collecter (hoarder) of books; I love books. I love my hardcover books with their dustcovers intact that haven’t even been read yet as much as those that have been read multiple times with broken in spines. I love the ebooks on my tablet and I never ever delete any of them; I love my paperback books with their ratty covers and busted up spines and questionable debris smudges on the pages (pizza grease? coffee stains? boogers?). Bottom line: I’m keeping my books.

However, one of the things that the KonMari Method insists on is getting rid of books. That no home should have more than thirty. I’m sorry, but anyone who would put a limit on the number of books I have in my home can just take that negativity and go elsewhere.

So even though I won’t throw out books and I have a large bin of more broken and unbroken crayons than any human could ever use, I have made progress, using the TM (Twisted Maven) Purge Method. Which looks like this:

Any time that my schedule (and that means: when I’m not working, sleeping, schlepping children, or doing other shit) allows, I take a corner, a closet, or a section of a room, and I start tossing what I find there in different directions.

One pile is recycling. This typically consists of two-plus year old New York Times Magazines that I truly meant to read; random pieces of paper such as notes about appointments, tasks, draft drawings and cryptic messages that I’ll never figure out the meaning of (along with really important information that I need…see above); old single use water bottles that creep up on me my from my office, underneath car seats and hidden in a pile of mismatched socks on my dresser, and; anything else I happen to come across that has a recycling triangle.

Another pile is for designated Passing Along. I have family and friends with younger children to whom I can to pass along some really awesome stuff that my daughters enjoyed when they were younger.

Yes, there is a garbage pile, but I try to keep the amount of stuff that I straight up discard to a future in a landfill to a minimum. This pile consists of anything I cannot recycle or pass along. Mostly random crap like pieces of string, dried up play-doh, anything gotten by twisting a quarter for a “prize” out of a metal chute, and, well, garbage.

And then there’s the donation pile, which typically ends up being the largest, because I hold onto shit for too long. And although I have donated clothes and household items to large charity organizations previously, I decided to try to seek out more local sources for items I no longer want or need.

To that end, I currently have a job that enables me to bring in toys, books, music and other kid-friendly materials that are no longer or have never been used in my house. I get to enjoy them, in some cases, all over again, with super amazing tiny humans that aren’t related to me!

I have also found local Facebook groups can be key to turning your discards into another persons’ treasure.

There are local “Upcycle” and “Free” sites, but the one I like the most is my local “Buy Nothing/Sell Nothing” group. If you do nothing else with your life on the day you read this, please please check out if such a group exists in your community. If so, then JOIN. If not, then consider creating your own.

The concept is simple. If you have stuff you want to get rid of, post it on the site. If you have things you need, ask on the site. But what makes this a little different is the concept of creating a feeling of community, of offering up and asking for not just material objects.

Besides actual items, other things that can be offered/asked for on a Buy Nothing/Sell Nothing site: transportation for elderly/handicapped individuals, excess produce from a home garden, volunteers for a community clean-up, plantings for/from one’s yard, coupons for infant formula, pet sitting, event tickets, and so on.

In addition, I’ve seen people who have received items turn around and offer them back up when they are ready to pass them along. And, occasionally, people get to know and befriend people from their own neighborhood and beyond. And you can’t put a price on human connection.

Personally, I was able to find good homes for board games, kitchen gadgets, office items, clothing, and other miscellany. It also gave me an outlet to dispense some humor with my item descriptions. The feedback I received that I made someone laugh or smile meant more to me than ridding my closet of my purged items.

The items I didn’t have any takers on were bacon-muffin molds. They’re still languishing in my closet, awaiting the next purge round.

That said, I feel like I may have just landed on my first giveaway. I know and you know you want these bacon muffin molds. Send me a PM or comment below about why you deserve these pieces of magic more than anyone. I’ll pick a winner based on the messages that amuse me most, and will send them with no cost to you. I’ll announce the winner previous to my next post.

Take-aways: we accumulate too much crap. We should get rid of our excess crap. Someone else might be able to use our crap that we do not want or need. Give local. Don’t do a death purge until you’re reasonably certain that you’re actually dying…but then, only of old age.

Until next time,

Just Breathe…

The Twisted Maven

Job Loss = Life Gain

“The Universe will lead me to where I’m supposed to be.”

I agree that I am more than any career or job I may have.

“I am, after all, an adult, a grown man, a useful human being, even though I lost the career that made me all these things. I won’t make that mistake again.” – Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Losing a job can be, and is, so many different things. For some, it’s a wake up call. For others, it’s complete devastation. Or it’s an opportunity to explore new options. Or a door closing. Or the chance to retire early. Or the time to develop hobbies and work on languishing home projects. Or the loss of health insurance. Or the cue get back in the game. Or, perhaps, a combination of any/all of the above.

I’m no stranger to job loss. I started working at a very young age, and had about 15 different jobs by the time I graduated from college. But the first job I recall being fired from was post-college. While trying to find a job in my major, I took a job at a clothing retailer. I was a model employee; I organized the shelves and racks, assisted customers on the floor, processed purchases and returns, and followed the company guidelines regarding appearance and attitude to a T.

Then, one day I wasn’t feeling great but went to work anyway, and got progressively sicker during the day. It was a weekend shift, which meant it was moderately busy, and there were three of us on the floor. I hinted at leaving early because I was sneezing and coughing all over the cash register and customers, and I was told no. So, FINE, being the mature 21-year old that I was, I sucked it up and stayed. And then whined incessantly that I wanted to leave. Because of that mature 21-year old thing I had going on.

This apparently annoyed the “assistant manager”, who had literally just graduated from high school a few months earlier. That’s right, a large chain retail clothing store was left in the questionably qualified hands of an 18 year old boy, with a pissy barely adult me and an actual adult woman was just there for the paycheck. Whilst I was complaining about how awful I felt, the manager-boy came up to the register and told me to shut up and do my job. And not in a kind way.

Now, those who know me well can anticipate how I reacted to that. My own family members wouldn’t dare speak to me like that. And while I don’t remember exactly what I said, it was probably along the lines of “f*ck you”. What I DO remember is being told that if I was going to have THAT kind of attitude, I could leave.

It was a bluff, an attempt to shut me up, to humiliate me in front of the long line at the register. So I looked at the customers, looked at my fellow cashier, smiled at that child in his too-short tie and “assistant manager” tag, and walked out the door. Now that I think about it, I don’t know that it was so much getting fired as it was quitting. Either way, I never went back.

Believe it or not, I did manage to land on my feet after the Great Retail Walkout, and even crafted a relatively decent career that lasted for two decades. I even went to graduate school! Yay me!

But then, a few years ago, I had what could be described as a mutual breakup with my 20+ year career. Was I devastated? Yes and also no. The devastation came well before my actual departure, when the career I had spent so many years building stagnated and started to backslide, and I felt completely powerless. Once the self-doubt and despondency took up permanent residence in my psyche, I could no longer find joy or purpose in what I was doing. So to be honest, when I was offered and accepted a separation from my job, what I felt was relief.

After my career and I had our conscious uncoupling, life became very different. I was at home for the first time since my kids were born, which was equal parts wonderful and aggravating. The joy in being able to spend so much time with my kids was counterbalanced with…spending so much time with my kids.

Typical of when I ask to get a nice picture of the two of them.

I’ve also been able to take on various part time employment and volunteer opportunities that have been fun, challenging, incredibly fulfilling, and even life changing.

I’ve facilitated after school and summer science programs, which involves bringing the magic of science to elementary school children. I’ve been able to teach lessons about how our world works, along with engineering, math, the universe, light, heat, optical illusions, critical thinking, and the science of farts. Farts!

I’ve also worked as a substitute teacher, which has provided me with many memorable and enjoyable and eye-opening moments. To sum up: teaching math to 5th graders is hard, middle schoolers are kind of the worst, high schoolers are the easiest, and kindergartners, with all their snot and tears and nose picking, are still absolutely my most favorite people ever ever. Because they’re cute.

More importantly, I’ve been able to attend more events for my daughters, as well as volunteer to help with their sports teams and other activities. And one of the most important things I have been able to do is volunteer for Girls on the Run. Stay tuned for more about this amazing organization.

So while I was thinking about this piece, I listed out all of the jobs that I can remember, going all the way back to 9th grade when I packed rice containers for a Chinese restaurant. In addition to the jobs I’ve mentioned above, my working life has also included restaurants and bars, retail, the deli where I lost a small section of my left pinky in the meat slicer, offices, night club promotions (giving away cigarettes in bars at the Jersey Shore, circa 1992…holy moly do I have stories for weeks…), non-profits, freelance writing, editing, and transcribing, and who knows what’s next??

All told, there are over 20 different types of jobs that I’ve had, which makes the number of actual jobs that I’ve had total somewhere in the 30’s. That seems like a lot to me, is that a lot? I don’t even know.

At this point, I feel like I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up. But being granted the gift of time in order to explore what makes my soul happy and to dedicate more of myself to my family has been pretty incredible. Opportunities have presented themselves to my open eyes and ears continually, as recently as this week. While I’m not particularly into mysticism or other weird shit, I have been feeling like The Universe will lead me to where I’m supposed to be, and it will likely be nothing like where I’ve been.

Until next time,

Just Breathe…

The Twisted Maven

Laugh After Wrath

“In the interest of keeping my sanity, I’ve been relying on bad jokes.”

“Just scream! You vent, and the body feels good after a good old yell.” – Carol Burnett

Okay, here’s the thing: I’ve been stuck in The BLAH for a few weeks now, and I am just done with it. I thought maybe writing about it would help, and it did, albeit temporarily.

I guess it’s partly the time of year, since it’s still all cold and dark and spring is still forever away. I’m also feeling kind of oldish, as I’ve recently realized that I recognize fewer and fewer “celebrities” listed in those stupid listicles that I JUST HAVE to read. Plus my back always kind of hurts and acid reflux is an enemy to be battled daily. And I really need to dust.

To be honest, a big contributing factor to my BLAH is current events and politics. The state of things have me thisclose to LOSING MY FRICKING MIND.

The glut of information we have at our fingertips is incredible. The glut of MISinformation we have at our fingertips is astounding. And the number of people who will share blatant falsehoods and then defend their bullshit to anyone who tries to correct them is infuriating. Some days it feels like everyone is yelling and angry all the time, and civil discourse between people who disagree has all but disappeared.

Look, I am totally guilty to falling down the rabbit hole of news outlets and social media posts. And recently, I’ve been especially guilty of consuming lots of news and opinions that make me furious. Which means I’ve been in an almost constant state of facepalming, punctuated by frequent bouts of dismay and anger.

Me, after spending three hours, or maybe just five minutes, on Twitter.

In the interest of keeping my sanity, aside from screaming into the void, I’ve decided it’s time to take a breath and look for the funny. I can always find memes that make me laugh, but recently, bad jokes have been what lifts my mood. Some call them “Dad Jokes”, but to be honest, I’m the one telling them in my household.

So, as a temporary distraction from news and politics, I offer you the following:

Dude 1: “Bro, you want to see, this pamphlet?” Dude 2: “Bro, sure”

What do you call an overweight psychic? A four-chin teller.

What fish is just two sodium atoms? 2 Na

What did the nut say when it was chasing the other nut? I’m a cashew.

A cheetah and a lion race. The cheetah wins, and the lion says, “You’re a cheetah!”. The cheetah says, “Nah, you’re lion.”

Did you hear about the cheese factory that exploded in France? There was nothing left but de Brie.

How do you make a tissue dance? You put a little boogie in it!

The difference between beer nuts and deer nuts? Beer nuts are $2.00, but deer nuts are under a buck.

Finally, this favorite: Why do cows have hooves instead of feet? Because they lactose.

That last one is legendairy.

Until next time…

Just Breathe…

The Twisted Maven

Dumb Stuff* My Kids Argue About

“Don’t raise your voice, improve your argument.”

*only I didn’t really say “Stuff”

“Don’t raise your voice, improve your argument.” – Desmond Tutu

Dealing with your children when they’re fighting falls squarely in the middle of Mandatory Parental Experiences. It’s not the WORST worst thing, but it’s really super not fun. I frequently waffle between trying to mediate and letting them figure it out on their own. I realize that learning how to interact with other people, including arguing, is normal child and adolescent development. But once it reaches a certain volume or goes on for more than a few minutes, all I want is for them to STOP IT.

Now, I’m not so old that I’ve forgotten how rotten siblings can be to each other; I know harsh words and even blows were exchanged with and between my brothers when we were growing up, and the same for nearly everyone I know. But of course, I expected that my own children would somehow, and mostly because they are being raised by ME, be nicer to each other.

So there’s one more delusion that got dashed against the rocks. I’m still learning to lower my expectations.

A while ago, I realized I spend a lot of time asking/pleading/begging/yelling for them to stop fighting. And so I started to keep track of all the dumb shit that they fight with each other about. Today, after a week and a half of their dumb shit over the holiday break, I’ve made my list and checked it twice.

When it comes down to what my kids fight about, there are two basic categories: General Dumb Shit and Specific Dumb Shit. I am hoping that at least some of this will sound familiar to at least some of you and you’ll reassure me that my kids and I aren’t the Absolute Worst. Please. Even if you have to fib a little.

General Dumb Shit My Kids Argue About:

Who gets more – according to each of my children, the other one gets more. More time with Mom and/or Dad, more time on electronics, more toys, more treats, more of everything and anything good in life. I’ve had the discussion with the older one that she gets more and will always get more, because she was here first. And I’ve told the younger one that yes, her sister has had more ice cream, shoes, and attention in her life, simply because she’s four years older. However, statistically speaking, she should live longer than her sister, and therefore, she will be able to catch up with ice cream and shoes, pretty much everything but parental attention. Live with it, kiddo.

Who gets away with more – there are different expectations for each child, which are mostly age dependent. So, if you’re 13 and call your sister a “stupid freak”, the repercussions are going to be more severe than if your 9 year old sister calls you the same name. Because at this point in time, when you say it, it sounds mean, but when she says it, I know it’s because she heard it from YOU. Get used to having higher expectations foisted upon you. You’ll thank me when you’re older (I tell her that, with absolutely zero conviction that it will actually happen).

Who does more – another issue mainly rooted in birth order and related expectations. So yes, you’re 13 years old and you can do things like mow the lawn, make your bed, and help with basic tasks like dishes and laundry. Of course it’s more than I ask of your sister, because she’s four years younger than you. But think about it, I expect a lot more of her than I did of you at her age. Mainly because I’m tired.

Specific Dumb Shit My Kids Argue About:

Literally, three lego pieces out of the thousands that they have.

The younger one wanting the same flavor lollipop as her sister, while the older one wants anything but the same flavor lollipop as her sister. Sometimes at the bank, but more likely, from the basket at the liquor store counter. Meanwhile, I throw three more bottles of wine plus a bottle of scotch into the cart.

Which one of them has worse breath.

Not wanting to share the sample slice of ham from the deli at the grocery store and then both getting super pissed at me when I get fed up and shove it in my mouth just to shut them up.

Wanting to be the first OR the last to shower, brush their teeth, get dressed, or brush their hair. Whichever one wants, the other wants just as much.

Table manners. One with a mouthful of food yelling at the other one to chew with her mouth closed. It’s precious.

Who is making us late to something. Because one couldn’t find her shoes, and the other one had to have a particular water bottle. Whoever actually ends up seated in the car with their seatbelt buckled claims victory, while the other one howls in protest. Because “it’s not fair”. Of course.

Games. Outside games, indoor games, board games, card games, video games. The battle cry of, “You’re cheating!!!” is the beginning of the inevitable end.

There are four blankets in the living room, and they fight over the ONE that they absolutely need in order to survive. Nevermind that it’s either August and approximately 75 degrees in the room or January and the heat is on and it’s approximately 75 degrees in the room.

Gatorade. Apparently the older one gets gallons more Gatorade, even though the younger one has…wait for it…a half full bottle of Gatorade that she was given 2 days ago, and never finished, in the fridge. Personally, I think Gatorade is gross and don’t want either of them to have it, except that…well, that gets filed under Dumb Shit Adults Argue About.

Alexa. What in the actual crap was I thinking by getting an Echo? I don’t have any “smart” appliances or other household features, so I mostly use it to play music. But HOLY SHIT, am I sick of “Alexa, play Katy Perry Radio.”, “Alexa, play Jason Mraz Radio”, “NOOOOOOOOOOOO!! ALEXA! PLAY KATY PERRY!!!”, “ALEXA, NEVER PLAY KATY PERRY AGAIN!!” Honestly, I’m surprised that Alexa hasn’t told these two to chill the fuck out. I might put that on her to-do list.

Who is going to win “America’s Got Talent”, “The Voice”, “American Ninja Warrior”, “British Baking Champion”, or whatever other kind of mind-numbing competition show they are watching.

This shit when my back is turned:

Kid 2: Stop looking at me!
Kid 1: (mouthing) You’re a freak! (by the way, I can see this happening in the reflection of the microwave as I take a ~~huge swig~~ dainty sip of wine)
Kid 2: Moooooooooom, she called me a freak!
Me: (turning around) (in my head: could you just NOT be jerk to your sister for like, 5 minutes??) Aloud: Sweetie, please don’t call your sister names, it’s really not nice.
Kid 1: What? What? What did I do? I didn’t do anything!!!! You always blame me!!! Whyyyyyyyy?!?!?!?!!??

Who was the one who didn’t flush the toilet. I’m the mom and I still know by scent and appearance which kid it was. I know, it’s gross. But I know.

Who is more like Hermione Granger.

Which one of them is my favorite. This one, though, always makes me smile. Even though they’re squabbling, they start listing off all of the good things they each do, and every single way that they’re great. Which is my in to grab them both, squeeze them tight, and tell them that, even though they fight, the one thing that is not up for debate or arguing is how much I love them both. Equally, and with my whole heart.

Because for all of the dumb and really dumb shit they fight about, they are still two of the smartest, funniest, energetic, creative and (mostly, except to each other more days than not, but I know it’s just their ages and hopefully they’ll grow out of it and be the best of friends in the future) kindest people I know.

Here’s to my eternal hope and belief that they will love and take care of each other in the future…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

Nah, Humbug!

Oh look at this adorable puppy my kids are absolutely not getting for Christmas.

“Three phrases that sum up the Christmas spirit are: Peace on Earth, Goodwill Toward Men and Batteries Not Included.” – Anonymous.

No matter what particular phase of life I have been in; child, teenager, adult, in a relationship, single, before kids, with kids, whatever – I have ALWAYS loved Christmas.

Regardless of being a non-practicing nothing currently, and earlier generations having been kind of sometimes sort of religious, Christmas, from the time I was little, has always been a very secular celebration. There may have been the occasional creche mixed in among the lights and ribbons and nutcrackers, but this holiday has always been primarily about three things: family, food, and traditions.

When I was a small child, Christmas morning always started out at home with presents, stockings, eggs and bacon. Then we would travel to my maternal grandparent’s home, along with a bunch of aunts, uncles, cousins, and family friends we called aunts and uncles. There was a roast, mashed potatoes, creamed peas and canned pears dyed green and red with cottage cheese. There were Bloody Marys for the adults, the Chipmunks Christmas Album on the record player/radio/liquor cabinet console, and one kid or another constantly crying and/or being disciplined.

Side story: one time, my dad got sufficiently annoyed at his mother in law and pretended to have an urgent errand to run. I was fortunate enough to go on this “errand”, bolting out of the front door behind my dad, and in front of my grandmother’s admonishment to put a hat on or risk my brains freezing. The errand ended up being a short trip to one of my dad’s aunt’s homes, where the smell of garlic permeated the air and we walked on plastic runners and sat on plastic covered couches and I was given big bosomy hugs and affectionate face squeezes like only an Italian auntie can give. When we returned, it was like we never left. At least one kid was sulking, Dave was still yelling at Alvin, and lots of people and noise filled the house.

When my family moved to New Jersey from Upstate New York, it was just the five of us most Christmases. Let’s call those “The Quiet Years”.

Then, as will happen with the passing of time, my brothers and I grew up and moved away. I got married and had a kid, and my parents followed me here to Connecticut. My brothers also got married, and their families currently live in Pennsylvania. Both of my brothers also have non-traditional work schedules, where one usually has to work holidays and the other could be called into work on a moment’s notice. So that all led to some ingenuity of how to celebrate the holidays.

Now, a week or two before actual Christmas, my brothers and I and our families gather at my parents’ house and exchange gifts, rank on each other, laugh a ton, and eat all the food. My children get to see their aunts and uncles and cousins (which, as of this writing, includes two canines and a super cute one-year old human), my parents get to have all of their kids and grandkids in one place at the same time, and it’s magical chaos, just like when I was a kid.

(To quote my Dad: here we are keeping with the solemn tradition of formal family Christmas portraits)

And, of course, there are the traditions that have been established in my own home over the years. One of which is to buy a Christmas tree, bring it home, and leave it outside for several days. This year, we might break the previous year’s record of 6 days. Another is to place the gingerbread houses that my children spent several hours decorating, on top of a cabinet at adult eye level. And then forget about them until well into January. And of course there’s the damn Elf on a Shelf, named Rico. Most nights, he moves…sometimes, he’s just “too embarrassed” by their “behavior” and doesn’t want to “tell Santa”, so he stays put for a night or four.

The most recent tradition that I’ve embraced is allowing my nine-year-old to be in charge of Christmas decorations. Put this under the category of Stuff I Used to Have Nailed Down But Now Lack the Energy and Will to Deal With. I have an extensive collection of Christmas decorations, including indoor and outdoor lights, outside inflatables, placemats, candleholders, nutcrackers, dishes, kitschy decorations, signs, garland, and the largest collection of holiday-themed dishtowels you will ever see.

My girl, who is undoubtedly the one person in this house who is completely in the Christmas spirit, doesn’t give a crap about most of those things. This year, she made approximately 350 paper snowflakes and taped them on the walls of EVERY SINGLE ROOM IN THE HOUSE. I kinda love it. She also arranged my nutcrackers in a group, without rhyme or reason, and called it “Nutcracker Village”. I had to move a few so no one would break their neck trying to open the pantry. And she incorporated her lego people, whom she has all named and identified as family members, into her decorating efforts.

Someday, these current traditions will be modified. Someday, once again, my decorations will be organized and put out in a timely manner. Someday, “Alternate Christmas” might not be a thing. Someday, Christmases may be quieter. So I’ll take the pile of nutcrackers, the legos, the paper snowflake decorations, the noise and chaos of the celebration with my siblings even though it’s not “actually” Christmas. Because, to me, it “actually” is what Christmas is all about. Family, food, and traditions, along with love, laughter, and things being what they are, regardless of how we want them to be.

My very best wishes to you and yours this holiday season, however, whomever, and whatever you celebrate.

I’ll be talking to you soon, and in the meantime…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

PS. I would LOVE to hear about your holiday traditions, celebrations, frustrations, anecdotes, and anything else you’d like to share. Please comment below, send me a message, and don’t forget to follow, share and like on social media!