I was the only kid I knew, who liked Thanksgiving more than Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed gifts. What kid doesn’t?
Coming from a divorced family though, Christmas was always a nightmare. They fought every year. You had Christmas Eve. No you did. No I didn’t. Blah, blah, blah. They tried to out do each other. It was filled with visiting nine zillion relatives, who no one ever really liked. It was a big giant mess. Each year, I was grateful when school was back in session. Nothing about Christmas was pleasant, except it being over.
But oh how I loved Thanksgiving. See, Thanksgiving was my mom’s holiday. Ever, single year. Dad got Easter. Mom got Thanksgiving. Simple. Easy. Possibly the only thing in their divorce decree that was actually helpful for us.
We’d go to my mom’s parents house each year. It was a big meal, one that my grandmother always made. All of the regular food. Nothing fancy. No gifts. No fighting….or well mostly. Ha. I do have one aunt who used to throw tantrums. Luckily she didn’t do them every year. It was a huge family gathering.
I loved it. I used to wish we could move there. Something that cracks me up now. North Texas is not where I’d choose to live now. My mother would have rather shot her own foot off than move back there. Five days was long enough for her.
For me, it was a holiday wonderland. I loved the smells. By the time we got in on Wednesday, the house already smelled amazing. Pies would have been already made. There were things she made day of and things she made the day prior. The whole time we’d be there though, it’d smell of holiday food.
Even though the previous few years hadn’t gone well at Thanksgiving, this year managed to be great. The kids and I went away. We spent time with family. We did fun things. It was easy, nice and really sort of pleasant.
I’m already dreading Christmas though. I’m allowed to say that now right? Since it’s almost December? That I’d like to skip this next holiday?
Until last year, Christmas was always pleasant, if not completely exhausting. My mother and my MIL are best friends. It made it simple.
Nothing about this year will be simple. Or easy. We are going to attempt to share. Nicely. I get Christmas Eve. He gets Christmas Day. That is all well and good, except that my mother and his parents want us all to have Christmas dinner together. One happy family.
See my problem?
I have conceded. I will do it this year. For my kids, I conceded. For my mother and my MIL. One more year. But I’m not looking forward to it. It’s a meal, you could say. It’s a few hours in one day, my mother claims. Which is all fine and good and true even. Yet, I dread it. It makes me want to skip the whole dam holiday. It’s just too confusing. It’s hard. How can I start my own traditions with my kids, if I still have to do it the old way?
It’s not like it won’t be fine. I know it will be. My kids will be thrilled. I will be fine. Emotionally? It’s a bit of a challenge. I’m trying really hard not to over think it. Possibly failing at that. I mean really, he didn’t want to be a family anymore, so why should I pretend?
This year, I will do it. Because it’s the right thing to do for my kids. Next year? I will find another way. Maybe I’ll make Thanksgiving and Easter my holidays and give him Christmas. I don’t honestly know. I have no answers. I have no idea what next year holds for me. In this moment though? I’d like a month long nap.
Did you know Dial-up still exists? Yeah, I didn’t. It still makes the lovey eeeeeooooooeeeeeooooo noises. Followed by the happy boing boing boing noise when it connects. Only to die five minutes later. I had to laugh at my aunt and uncle. When I mentioned that they could get satellite Internet, since they have satellite TV, my aunt said, why would I want more expensive Internet, since it dies all of the time. It wouldn’t die all the time if you had INTERNET FROM THIS DECADE!!!! Oh…I guess that makes sense. Snort. Yes, yes it does.
So needless to say, I spent the weekend in the boondocks. No Internet. No Starbucks. No real cell reception. It was actually really pleasant. Except when I wanted to text people. Anyway. Let’s see what all I can remember in my tired, exhausted, they messed up my coffee today, state of mind.
TSA: Yeah. People are insane. It literally took us 10 minutes to get through security each way. My kids and I weren’t patted down. I in fact, didn’t see a single pat down. There were big scanners that you stepped into….but only if you set off the metal detector. Truly it was no big deal. It was the fastest I’ve gotten through security in years.
Flying: My kids are really great fliers. I saw so many kids that weren’t. When our plane was delayed on Wednesday night? We went and ate dinner. They raced around in an area that had no people. They played, ride the moving walkways. They played iSpy. Then? My son fell asleep in the stroller and the girls put in a movie. We didn’t end up getting to my aunt and uncles till 2am Thursday. On the way back, my son had discovered Cat in the Hat on the iPad. I’d put a few movies on each of the girls iTouch’s, as well as on my iPhone and iPad, so they’d have a selection to choose from. Harrison spent the entire movie saying, oh silly cat hat. He was pretty dang funny. At the end of the flight a baby two rows back had ear trouble and screamed the last 20 minutes. He kept asking me: why baby cry, mama? Because her ears hurt, I’d say each time. Oh poor bebe, ear owie.
Food: Awesome. That’s really all I can say about that. My uncle even made turkey that I liked. At least the first day. Once it had been in the fridge, I wasn’t that into it. But still, it was tasty that first day. Pie. Lots of it. Mmmmm pie.
Cactus: We were in Arizona. We saw tons of cactus’s. None of my children were very impressed. The funniest thing though, was that they were everywhere. Some people I suppose thought the real ones weren’t enough, so they put in fake ones. EVERYWHERE. This one, was some sort of a fountain.
Family: It was nice to be around the part of my family that has no drama. Because we didn’t invite the rest of them. Ha. This was possibly the easiest Thanksgiving I’ve had in years. My aunt and uncle are nice and easy to be around. My mom was there. She and my aunt took my girls and my cousins daughter to see Beauty and the Beast on Saturday, which they adored. One thing though? My cousin has three kids. Her boys are 17 and 6 and her daughter is almost 9. They are quiet kids. Sweet, nice, polite, well behaved and dam quiet. I am so not used to quiet kids. Mine are sweet, nice, polite, pretty well behaved and chatty as all get out. They never stop talking.
Art/craft show: On Friday, I let myself be talked into it. I mean, really, what else was I going to do? Not shop. I had no room in my suitcase. Anyway. We all went to this craft fair thing. These were possibly the things I loved the best. I mean honestly, don’t you all want one???? You could collect the set.
Oh one more thing. This was in front of a grocery store. I swear, there were more odd statues than I’ve probably ever seen.
It was a great, but completely exhausting weekend. I barely slept, so I’m feeling slow this morning. I hope you all had a great weekend.
Quick lines in security and safe flights to where ever you may be going. Or safe drives, if that is the plan.
Pleasant conversation with family and friends.
No trips to the ER.
Warm cozy blankies on couches and chairs.
A delicious home cooked meal. Where everyone finds food they love and no one burns the turkey.
Tons of tasty dessert.
Loads of great deals on Black Friday.
Those are my wishes for you.
I wish you all a pleasant holiday.
xoxo, Issa
Peppermint Mocha. Vanilla Bean scone. Breakfast.
Warm clean blankies on the couch.
New flannel sheets, warming my bed.
Crisp apple candle, scents the air.
Music filled room, kids singing along.
Movie night Fridays. Sunday morning Pancakes.
Toys and shoes, litter my floor.
Dog hair. Dust. Part of life.
Clean enough, but never really clean.
My three rugrats. Crazy dog too.
My home? Is wherever they are.
Today’s post is brought to you by Pink Eye *sprays Lysol of readers* and Six Word Fridays.
1. Am I the only one who feels like they spend all day saying to a toddler, please use your quiet voice? Even though, you have a sinking feeling that said toddler has no quiet voice?
2. Do I have the only child who says: What??? What? What? all the time? I swear to you, she has no problem hearing. She just says what to me whenever she is trying to ignore what I’m saying. Is this a six year old thing? I have no idea. I do know it’s making me insane.
3. Am I the only one who feels guilty sending their child back to school, after having been home for a day sick (She had pink eye. She’s no longer contagious. I think.), yet also you are overcome with happiness that said child won’t be at home all day? Because holy cow, you nearly had to sell her whiny butt on EBay yesterday.
4. Am I the only one who hears a new saying on Twitter and takes it and uses it on their kids? As an example, I tend to say to my kids, I need you to find your listening ears please. I’ve said it for years. The other day I was on Twitter and QueenofSpain said, I’m really tired of saying, please be a first time listener. DUDE, that is a great line. I decided to steal it. Or well I asked Erin, if she’d like to trade. I’ve only managed to say it a few times, but it’s given them pause. Ha. Might work a little better for a while, since it’s new.
5. Do you actually like turkey?
Everywhere I look, people are having contests. I suppose it’s the holiday season that makes this so big. There are very few people posting anything but contests. I figure, why not join in. As I said to myself this very morning: self, you are a blogger, you could hold a contest too. A very special contest. Then myself said to me, what a great idea. I could call it: The Issa is completely rad, contest.
Then I did stop talking to myself, because I really don’t want to scare people. Or end up on a psych hold.
Moving right along.…
You want to know what you win right? I mean the whole point of a contest is knowing the prize. I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. I know how long it takes to read a whole paragraph.
ISSA IS RAD, SPECIAL CONTEST PRIZES:
1. A very lovely cough. After two weeks of it, I’d decided I’m fully done. I’m ready to pass it along to one lucky winner.
2. One package of Louisiana Hot Sauce. From Schlotsky’s. Unopened even!!!
3. Seven slightly “drarwed” on, hot pink Post-it’s. Compliments of my son.
4. My ticket for the Lady Antebellum concert. You know, the ticket for the concert, I saw two weeks ago.
5. I’ve saved the very best for last. One DVD copy of the classic movie; Lady and the Tramp 2. Your kids will love it. Mine did. (DVD is opened.)
Also for one lucky winner, I will share my notes on how to beat Matthew at Words With Friends. However, considering this:
is the closet I’ve ever come to beating him….you’ll have to take my advice with a grain of salt.
Contest is now open. Winner will be picked by random on Thursday around noon-ish. Good luck everyone.
Tell me, honestly…how do you feel about the lack of real posts? Are you happy that everyone is only doing contests? Or are you, like me, considering hibernating and coming back after New Years?
I am. I am the holiday Grinch this year. I could pretend it is different. But I’d just be lying.
I don’t want to do Christmas. I don’t really want to think about it. I’ve decided I’m not doing cards this year. It’s too expensive and way too much work.
My brother isn’t doing Christmas this year. He’s going to move after New Years, so all of his money is going to that. Which means he won’t be here, he won’t be sending cards of gifts and he begged my mom and I to not send him anything. I don’t care about the gift part, but I’m sad he won’t be here.
I honestly don’t have the money to do much. Not for Christmas. Not for Morgan’s ninth birthday in a few weeks. I spent money to take us away for Thanksgiving. Four plane tickets for Thanksgiving is pricey.
Divorce is pricey. That’s the truth of the matter. I spent a lot of money this year on that. Shrug. It just is what it is. But I’m just not willing to pretend to spend money, that I really don’t have to spend.
I don’t know what the holidays will look like this year. Last year was pure torture. Logan and I were not in a good place. It was downright miserable. Somehow the thought of it just being me, doesn’t make it sound any better. It should, but it doesn’t yet. It sounds depressing. I decided that I will have the kids Christmas Eve, he will have them Christmas day. In theory, this makes us both happy. This is my chance to make new memories, new traditions with my kids. I can make this my way, however I want that to be.
In reality? I’m just not happy with any of it.
I know at some point, I will need to decorate. For my kids sake. Although, how I put lights on my house, alone, I have no idea. How I carry a tree inside my house and set it up alone, I don’t know that either. I will, but the thought of it makes me very tired.
But dam it, if it were up to me? I’d cancel all of it. Just skip it this year.
Just call me Grinch. Issa Grinch.
There are very few posts that I regret. Yet, yesterdays goes on that list. I feel like I probably needed a breathalyzer for my own blog. One that could see how crazy I was. Then it could have locked down and said, sorry, no entry. Please to be trying again tomorrow.
I’m sorry. For posting. I shouldn’t have.
Yesterday? I lost my shit. It’s no ones fault really. It happens. I was triggered and I lost my shit. I still feel sorta shaky. That’s how bad that panic attack was.
I never know what it will be. Where it will come from. What might set me off. I will be honest, I watched Private Practice last week and was fine. I mean, I was horrified. I cried. But it didn’t make me panic. Didn’t give me nightmares. Most likely, that’s because I wasn’t attacked as an adult. I was abused as a child. By another child. It just is what it is. I have issues. Just not those specific ones.
I have been banned from watching Law & Order SVU. Which is sad, because I adore Elliot. But I can’t watch it. Never again. However, besides that? I never know what will happen. That disgusting book did it yesterday. It just did. I can’t explain it. I can apologize for it. For bringing it to this space. But I can’t explain it. Nor tell you that it will never happen again.
This is all new for me. Not because I ever forgot what happened to me as a child. Just because I’d stuffed it so far, that I’d built a bat cave around it. Now, I’m dealing with it. Slowly. Painfully. Over time.
My issues are my own. I’m sorry that I spazzed them out on everyone else yesterday. You all don’t deserve that.
I have one more thing to add. It may be an unpopular thing to say. Amazon is a large company. They will pull that book or they won’t. That’s on them. They will have to deal with the consequences of their actions. I can hope that they will. They should. But the arguments yesterday? About boycotting and freedom of speech and all that? Semantics. In truth, both sides have a point. It’s an old argument. Who will win out this time? Only time will tell.
Reality is, this morning I, remembering a commercial I saw for a Fisher Price flip car last night, opened Amazon to try and find it. What can I say? I’m a creature of habit. I didn’t think about it, until I’d already opened it up and starting searching.
For me, it wasn’t about that. It’s not who’s selling the book. Not even really who wrote it. It was just about me being triggered. That’s all.
Tell me when it’s over. This current conversation on Twitter. Someone please, let me know when it’s safe. I won’t be back on there until it’s completely over. Or Facebook.
Just clicking that link was a trigger for me. That anyone would write that book, much less think it was okay to publish makes me physically ill. I had the worst panic attack I’ve had in months. In fact? I hadn’t had one in over three months. Until this morning. One link that made me panic so bad, I got physically ill. I shut down.
Four hours later and I’m still shaky. I just threw away my lunch, because the smell of it made me feel nauseous.
Tell me when this ends. Someone. Anyone.
Tell me when I won’t have this happen.
Tell me when I will stop being triggered at things like this.
Tell me when I can watch crime/drama shows on TV without having to read about it on Twitter first, to make sure it’s safe.
Tell me when I won’t panic at this stuff?
Tell me one day it stops. Please. Anyone. Someone. Please.
Just tell me when it’s safe to be back online. Because right now, it just isn’t for me.
It’s late at night. We are in bed. Holding hands. Pondering quietly the reality that has smacked us squarely in the face. Neither of us speaks for nearly an hour. I listen to him breath. I play the evening over and over again in my mind. I wonder to myself, is this real. God, I hope this is real.
Finally he speaks. Well that happened fast, didn’t it?
Yeah, I guess it did, I responded.
So….we’re going to be parents then? Dam that’s rad.
Yeah, it is, huh?
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We were on vacation. 1992 maybe. I’d of been twelve that summer. Driving through Oklahoma. We’d stopped at Sonic, which he’d only mentioned about 73 times that day. Sonic. Jalapeno burgers. Cherry limeade. You could almost see it dancing in his eyes. His idea of heaven, if he were one to believe in such things.
We stopped at the first one we saw. We all ordered huge drinks and burgers. Chili cheese fries to share. We sat outside the car in the humid summer heat. The radio in the car was on. Turned to a silly country station, that he never would have normally made us listen too. Maybe it was Oklahoma that did it too him. Maybe it was Sonic. Who knows. My dad is an odd guy.
The moment was over before it really began.
He jumped up and started grabbing food and shoving it in the car in seconds. I didn’t recognize that look in his eyes. Get in the car now, he said. His voice was raised. He meant business. The man rarely raised his voice. We all got in the car. He drove away like a bat out of hell. He didn’t speak for 30 minutes.
We were all silent as well. No one said a thing, even though he was driving us back in the direction we’d just come from. Considering there were five of between 10 and 14 years old, this was a strange occurrence.
Eventually my step-mom broke the silence. What happened? Tornadoes, was his response. Headed our direction. The radio said tornadoes. More than one. Never again will I deal with tornadoes. Give me an earthquake any day.
It would have been funny, except it really wasn’t. On a vacation once, in Texas, my dad almost lost my mom because of tornadoes. She happened to be out shopping and she nearly died in a storm drain. It was about six months before they got pregnant with me. The town my grandparents lived in was over a third gone, after the tornadoes that day. Three major ones.
We will be going around Oklahoma today, was all he’d say.
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Family dinner. My family. His family. We’d ordered in. Mexican food. What? It wasn’t like I knew how to cook. Our new condo. It was the first time we’d had everyone there. There wasn’t enough seats for everyone, so a lot of people ended up sitting on the floor.
They believed it was to celebrate the condo. They’d brought us gifts. As we finished opening them, I got up and said, there is actually two more. Hold on one second. I went into our bedroom and came out with two gifts.
White satin wrapping. Purple and green ribbon. I remember that I’d spent an hour at some specialty shop in Beverly Hills, finding the prettiest paper I could find. I even made my friend Kate wrap them for me, because I wanted it to be perfect. One gift for his parents, one for my mom. Two picture frames.
Our butter bean in a frame. Ten weeks. Her first fuzzy photo. The frames said first grandchild.
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Same vacation. 1992. We’d been in Albuquerque the day before and had gone to Water World. I’d managed to step on a lit cigarette butt and had a blister the size of a fist on my foot. I have always been known for this type of thing. They should have just named me clumsy.
We were camping in Carlsbad. Had been swimming the night before. Every one told me to pop that blister, but I decided limping around was a better way to go. I didn’t want to miss walking down Carlsbad Caverns. I knew if I popped it, I’d not want to walk for days. See, I’d heard a rumor the night before, that Mario Lopez would be filming something at the bottom of the caves the next day. I wanted to meet him. Oh how I loved Saved by the Bell.
I was determined. I didn’t care how much it hurt. I did it anyway. Not because I cared about a silly cave. National monument? Who cares about that? I was twelve. I’d of rather been in a mall. Or at home, spending my days boogie boarding with my friends.
I could have cared less that it had an actual cafeteria at the bottom. I didn’t want to see bats. Or ride the weird elevator back to the top. Nope. I did it too see some cute famous boy.
Saw him too. Somewhere I even have a signed autograph. Totally worth the foot pain.
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