I want a hippopotamus for Christmas…

I don’t really.  I mean to say who wouldn’t want a hippo, or at least consider a pygmy hippo as an awesome Christmas gift?  I am not getting one, nor a sea lion nor a walrus nor any cute animal that Timothy keeps reminding me will poo and pee all over the house and eat up our savings and that we don’t have room for.  I sometimes wonder if we didn’t have kids if I would be allowed to have such animals because I like to keep my options open…

Every year Tim gets me a gift card for Christmas.  I like it, it allows me further ways to exert control in my own life.  Not this year folks.  Tim bought me actual presents.  I do not, not know what they are.  They are a surprise.  Mostly to you because I was there when I picked them out.  But you don’t know what they are unless you are the one person I told who shouldn’t tell anyone because I was informed that I wasn’t supposed to tell.  I was forgiven when I explained that I was too excited not to tell and that I was salivating over all three of them.    They are all really neat and hopefully one of them if not all three of them will influence this blog.  Maybe two of them but I am not sure how to incorporate all three in a safe and appropriate manner.

Xzavier was given his Christmas present phone back tonight and has been texting Tim and I non stop.  I like texting with my son.  When he texts me, he is my son.  When he pees in the toilet and doesn’t flush he obviously belongs to Tim.  Xzavier is an amazing kid.  He tries hard in school, feels genuine remorse usually right after he realizes and accepts that he hurt someones feelings and is obsessed with hotdogs lately.

Every year growing up my Mom bought us a new Christmas ornament.  I have continued that tradition although I have had to loosen my Nazi-esq grasp on all frosty blown glass ornaments to allow for Nerd Mickey Mouse – Tim 2013 and a fetus looking Spider Man – Junior 2013.  Xzavier chose a tasteful frosty blown glass hotdog ornament.  Again, a moment where he is my son.

Back to Christmas shopping.  Today was the only day in 4 years that I actually went Christmas shopping.  I usually have an exclusive relationship with Amazon.com.  I will pay the extra few dollars involved to have the gifts I want to give people lovingly  waiting at my front door when I get home each day.  It also allows me to buy myself a few things here and there without the dirty looks from my loving husband because I say “those are all for you so lose the look”  and then I scamper up the stairs to play with my new toy.

This year, several of the packages were not for anyone in my family; they were a family that some co-workers and myself adopted for the holiday.  We usually have a white elephant gift exchange where we all end of with some 15-20 dollar piece of crap gift that someone was probably re-gifting in the first place.  We all chipped in and made someone else’s wishes come true this year.  The only downside is that my guilt that there weren’t enough gifts magically had the ability to spread to other peoples kids as well.  We did our best.  Something is better than nothing when it comes to Christmas gifts, not herpes so I’ve heard, but it is a good philosophy for gifts.

Merry Christmas everyone.  I don’t have to say Happy holidays because it is my blog and I don’t have to be HR appropriate or PC.  I celebrate Christmas.  I live for stocking stuffers and hate wrapping paper.  This is my holiday mindset; pick out what you want and I will buy it.  I don’t need you to be surprised, I want you to be happy.

P.s.  If you need to get rid of your pygmy hippo, please ship it to me via Amazon and I will just tell Tim ” that one is for you so lose the look”  but like the moment when Xzavier picks an awesome ornament; the hippo will also be, just mine.



Tip your server - leave a reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s