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Slutty Santa

By: Tate

Ben announced that he and his wife are expecting.
I’m jealous.
I want another one.
Baby’s are like tattoos for me right now.
I just want more and I don’t know why.
So I think that T- bone should go get  one of those reversals done.
But then I think ugh! So much money 💰
Then It reminds me if how broke we are.
So now I’m over having another baby.

Until I see a baby or see baby clothes in a store then I’m all in my feels Again.

I only have 2 tattoos and I love my first one. It’s a white Christian fish on my wrist. I got it in 2003 before people were doing white ink or wrist tats. But I also knew someone in the biz so I had a lot of info before I got mine at 18.

So here is a story: when I got my tat on my 18th 🎉 birthday. I forgot my purse 👛.😬
And had no way to pay for my tat.
Luckily the guy who owned the shop was in charge of a charity that helps get presents to underprivileged children. He said if I volunteered to help the tattoo was on the house.
So, YES – of course!
I show up the agreed upon date. And they tell to go change into my Santa’s helper costume….

Its one of those slutty Santa helper outfits with thigh high stockings and all that mess.
At this point:  the kids can get there own gifts.

But one of the other suckers, I mean, volunteers convinced me that it wasn’t that bad and made some adjustments so I felt more comfortable.
Ok- I can do this.
So we get there. It’s an all day event, but in my mind I was going to be hanging out with kids giving them presents so no big deal.
Wrong!Wrong! Wrong!
They tell us to get on stage and dance with Santa
By this time I figure out that the other girls are all employed as strippers with the exception of one who worked in a sex shop.
I bolt.
We all rode together in a limo and I am stuck at the event. I just  run into the crowd and tried to blend in.
I can’t blend in- I’m a slutty Santa helper.
I end up having to take pictures with people.
I hate pictures, I hate people
And where  are all these underprivileged kids ???
But I don’t want to see kids because, yuck – I’m a slutty Santa helper.
So finally it’s time to go and we are all exhausted and get back into the limo.
Which at that point the girls light joints and relax.
No big deal, I’m totally cool.
But I’m not.
They ask me if I want one
Which now in retrospect was completely polite
But after the day
I blurt out, No!- roll down the window and pray Jesus comes back or for a car wreck to take me away from the miserable hour long car ride .

It’s one of those stories I will tell my kids as we drive to get their first tattoos. That way  I know for sure they don’t have to sign-up to be slutty Santa helpers.
Unless they want to be slutty Santa helpers. I will love them no matter what.
But they can’t bring those costumes in the house.
Because I’m still not over all that, yet.

In conclusion, Congrats to Ben and his family!

 

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Meet the Trufs

By: Tate

Meet my neighbors : The Trufs. 

A family of 7 that live next door. 

A husband, wife and their band of grown, adult kids with never ending shenanigans that at times could overwhelm Charles Manson, nonetheless always entertaining. 

Latest story: 

While the Trufs live next door to us in a pretty normal neighborhood in a low social-economic rural town. They come from wealthy New York society who relocated to Texas in the early 70’s. 

For Christmas the Trufs do dinner with upper crust extended family at one of Fort Worth’s finest steakhouse. 

Mom tells the adult kids, “Be sure to dress up.” Oldest son attends the dinner wearing full wizard costume, complete with hat and wand. 

2nd son comes out wearing a top of the line tailored suit. 

2nd son drinks too much wine (highly out of his character) and goes missing from dinner. 

Mom receives a text from the son saying that he is lost and has stepped in dog poop. 

Family finds the son in back alley behind the restaurant. He hasn’t stepped in dog poop, he has lost all control of his own bowel movements and is laying in it. 

Night ends with mom hosing down her son  in her relative’s backyard.

I love Christmas stories with happy endings.

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Christmas Kryptonite

By: Tate

One thing I really pat myself on the back for is that I taught my kids the song “Blue Christmas.” This is what I like to call “Christmas Kryptonite.”
Christmas Kryptonite= songs that drive you mad at Christmas.
Anyway, I taught my kids Blue Christmas because it’s my husbands Kryptonite and it’s really funny to see his eyes bug out of his head when the kids randomly sing it.

My Christmas Kryptonite= Christmas Shoes.
I walked out of church one Sunday because it was featured in the special music. I can’t get down with all that.

Another parenting “high five” I give myself: buying some hella expensive toothpaste. it’s charcoal and I don’t care about its health benefits. But to see my kids get really freaked out when that stuff starts foaming at my mouth like black lava. It was $10.00 well spent!

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Meet Patty

By: Tate

My daughter, CC, received a baby for Christmas. She named her Patty. I noticed that she yells at her baby a lot and tells her to hush all the time. Then she complains about her diaper being dirty and how she is sssoooo tired.
…it was like looking into a mirror.

So, I tried to make some helpful suggestions–you know, one mom to another, to help with Patty. She looked me and said:

“I Am HER MOMMY!!”

….. I was proud and scared and mostly proud .

Meet Patty. I am showing CC how to make an appointment for a great imaginary childhood psychologist.

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Holler back!

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Christmas Musings

By: Ben

So, tomorrow is Christmas Eve.  What the hell?  When did that sneak up on us?  As a school teacher, we just got out of school for the holidays.  Typically, we get out around the 19th, but the powers that be decided that the 21st would be okay this year.

So what? It’s two days, what is the big deal you say?  Well, as both my wife and I are full time teachers, parents and I’m also in a Master’s Program, we feel like we didn’t have time to decompress before being thrown directly into the Christmas meat-grinder.  In addition, my daughter had a doctor’s appointment and my wife caught a Christmas Cold.

Did I mention my wife is the most crafty person on the planet?  Because it is baby’s first Christmas, my wife wanted to make us all new stockings.  From scratch.  And, my wife’s family has this funky little tradition where each family (her brother, sister, us, etc) wears matching pajamas on Christmas Eve.  My wife wanted to make us all new pajamas.  From scratch.  So the first two days after break, we’ve spent at the doctor and then at my mother-in-law’s house.  Today, my wife is finishing up on the projects just in time for the holidays.

The bad part is, we still have a shit-load of wrapping to do.  We try to do it in our “spare” time but my daughter has other ideas.  She isn’t typically happy to sit and be an idle spectator.  She wants to be involved.  It’s typically counter-productive. Last night after spending the entire day at my mother-in-law’s house, we went home and had moderate success wrapping.  My daughter was good enough to sit in her play pen and watch TV.  When she was finally fed up with that, my wife was able to put her to sleep.  She slept in the floor as we tried in vain to quietly wrap gifts.  It worked for a while.  Again, moderate steps–baby steps, if you will.

I am a Christmas fanatic.  I love everything about it (almost.)  We over decorate, we listen to Christmas music, we give too many gifts, we spend too much money, we send out too many Christmas cards (75–and only receive about 15 in return) and this year, with it being my daughter’s first Christmas, we’ve gone pretty insane.  “We won’t get her much, because she’s only 11 months and won’t know the difference.”  “She’ll like the paper and boxes more than the gifts.”  Yeah right.  This kid is not going to know what hit her.

But, although, I love Christmas time, I’ve had a hard time getting in the mood since school has let out.  So last night after we got home and the aforementioned wrapping occurred, I decided to go into the kitchen, get out my Santa Clause whiskey tumbler (thank you Mary-Helen), pour out a cup of “cheer,” turn on the Christmas music and by-God get into the damn Christmas spirit.  My wife has done everything possible to make this Christmas special for my daughter and I.  I’m going to embrace it and as the meme on my Facebook says, I’m going to “Jingle All the Way because no one likes a half-ass jingler.”

This is going to be the best Christmas yet and in the words of one of my favorite Christmas movies National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation: “…we’re gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he’s gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse.” All joking aside, it’s going to be great.  I’m ready to share the holiday traditions with my daughter and create new ones as a family.

Seriously, y’all–I married way up–I DO NOT deserve my wife.  Check out the stockings she created for us.  And just so you know and as you will soon find out as the blog progresses, this isn’t an isolated incident.  She’s always doing something for us as what she calls an “I love you gift.”

 

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Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Kwanza, Happy Festivus, Merry Winter Solstice or whatever other greeting fits with your brand of holiday.  Truly–from our family to yours.

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Christmas Newsletters Kill Me Now!

By: Tate

My husband and I have a really cool set of “couple friends”

I mean, that is really hard to come by. This married couple who have 3 kids the same as us, same ages, yadda . It was perfect….perfect until:

They sent a mother effing Christmas news letter!!!!!!!
Yeah- telling us about all their breath taking vacations – did you know how beautiful Iceland is?? Eeeffff no. I feel like I travel the world when I get to go down every aisle at the grocery store.

The letter went on for two pages describing promotions, Au pairs and purchases. And before I could read about the kids accomplishments I tore up the letter and watched the pieces fall to the floor like snowflakes . Then I got out the broom and dust pan. Who else is going to clean that up????   Just kidding , I went and ate a bag of M&M’s. For all I know that mess is still there.

By the way an “Au pair” is a fancy nanny sort that usually come from another country.
-You’re welcome –

Please be on the look out for our family’s Christmas card.  It will be filled with news of : “hey- I wasn’t fired this year” and  “guess how many times we contracted head lice this year”

(not the actual Christmas card)tate-xmas-letter