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Honest Toddler’s Mom: My Christmas Letter

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81773248To: Our Loved Ones This Holiday Season
From: Us
Subject: Christmas Update

Dear Friends and Family,

First I’d like to apologize for not being able to put together some kind of matching pajamas YouTube Christmas video. While I do wear pajamas 99% of the time, they’re not the kind that would inspire holiday cheer. You’re more likely to feel an overwhelming sense of disgust at my lack of personal grooming.

2013 proved to be a fantastic year. The kids are doing great. As I’m typing this I’m proud to report that no one has thrown up in 24 hours. This is a major victory. I spent yesterday mourning the loss of my favorite Tupperwares as it was vomited in numerous times by our oldest daughter, age 7. I can’t comfortably use it to store leftovers in anymore so if anyone would like to join me I’ll be pouring one out for my fallen plastic homie at around 2pm EST in the backyard. I guess I didn’t breastfeed this child long enough or maybe I skipped too many days of prenatals because she’s like Venus Fly Trap for viruses. She’s never met a bug she didn’t instantly succumb to.

Don’t worry, our little barfer is doing better now. Unfortunately she ended up missing her school’s holiday festival performance but I didn’t really want to see any of those parents anyway. She loves horses and of course the proverbial STD of her generation, Rainbow Loom. If I have to pick up one more of those little rubber bands off of the floor I’m going to melt it down and freebase it. Misery performance art.

If I had to pick a slogan to describe this year it would have to be “Lowering Our Standards As A Family.” Let’s take the word “dinner” for example. It can mean so many thing if you just open your heart. Two kids ago “dinner” might mean a meat, vegetable, and carbohydrate. Now it can mean pancakes or McDonalds 20 piece chicken nuggets with celery sticks to curb the guilt. Thank you, 2013.

As many of you know, this will be baby’s first Christmas for our six month-old. We’re celebrating with a prescription for thrush. My sweet infant and I are passing a very powerful yeast infection back and forth between each other via our nursing relationship. During this time of year I’d like to think that our strain of yeast goes all the way back to the baby Jesus and Mary. Maybe the holy mother also felt like little yeasty soldiers were entering her nipples and stabbing her breasts from the inside when she fed our savior. If you’re a bread baker feel free to come by the house with a petri dish for some leavening as I’m sure this stuff could raise a loaf. Anyway, I’ll be chasing my eggnog and rum with antibiotics as soon as I can get to the clinic.

How is the four year-old? She’s coping well with her new role as big sister but I’ll tell you one thing: middle child syndrome is real. I’m not sure whether to save for her
future therapy or bail bonds. As soon as I finally get her into bed I start eating those new gingerbread flavored Oreos and don’t stop until I forget how many times she cried and/or screamed “I DON’T LIKE YOU!” directly in to my face. Do they give electric shock therapy to preschoolers? Haha just kidding. I try to do a craft with her every day so by 3PM the house looks like someone binge drank glue, construction paper, and Disney princess stickers before throwing up everywhere. Speaking of Disney princesses, she’s also quite smitten with The Little Mermaid. Thank you, grandma, for the Ariel princess dresses. She wears them daily. Trying to snap the buckles on her carseat with 20 yards of tulle scratching my corneas isn’t making me want to leave my family and start a new life in a new city.

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