I know you've realized by know, Internet, that I'm a private person. Really private. But, for today, I'm going to open up my private, little heart and let you in on a serious flaw of mine.
It's just this: I can not handle much stress and taxing situations in my life. I have a very low tolerance for overtaxing.
I've got friends who are like superwomen. They manage to have a career, head up all kinds of committees, keep their kids involved in 400 activities a week, work out daily, do that scrapbooking crap that I can't even begin to wrap my head around, keep their house and laundry in a non-hoarding kind of order, cook, have friendships AND get out of their pajamas every, single day.
I can not even begin to compete with that.
While everyone around me is talking up their decorations, their completed Christmas shopping, their freakin' Christmas baking, I remain silent, afraid to expose my loser, under-taxed self.
I've got my decorations up...well, except for my bannister which is an ungodly undertaking. Seriously.
It involves several hours, garland, sprigs of sparkly poinsettias and other Christmasy foliage and a lot of fishing wire. When I'm through, the effect is stunning, but as I'm sweating and unraveling and inserting and cutting and tying, I can only think, "This is such BS! It's freakin' coming down in 3 weeks!"
I was watching Martha Stewart one time. I don't watch her for any cooking or decorating tips, I only watch her for the soothing tones of her voice. It's very relaxing, like a hot stone massage for my ears.
She was carving these gourds into lanterns. She carved them and dried them out for a couple of days and painted them and then-- then she wired them with real electricity! And when she was done, she strung them up in her gazebo and they were beautiful, glowing gourds, perfect for Autumn. And at the end of all this work, she said, "They should last you about 3 weeks!"
And right then, I wanted to bitch slap Martha! Who wires a gourd for 3 weeks of use!!! That is just...ludicrous. I can think of a lot better things to do with my time than wiring temporary gourds.
So, I've got the bannister to do and...(as I hang my head), I've still got to put up my tree and I've done no, zero, zilch Christmas shopping.
It will all get done, but it will get done with a tremendous amount of whining, tears and pouting. I just hope Santa's not watching.
I could never be an air-traffic controller or a heart surgeon or a kindergarten teacher. The stress would kill me. But, most of all, you know who I definitely couldn't be?
I think about Bernie Madoff often -- probably way too much. And I'm sure I'm the only person in the world who feels a little sorry for him.
I can't even begin to imagine the stress he lived under, defrauding all the rich people of the world with his super successful Ponzi scheme and having to keep it a secret from everybody, all the while everyone is thinking he's some wunderkind of investing.
I wonder if he came close to cracking when Kevin Bacon and his wife invested their life savings with him? Rich people are one thing, but celebrities?
Everyone knows celebrities are super special human beings, more special than the rest of us. They remind us of this by giving their kids names that we normal people aren't special enough to think of, like, "Toll Plaza" and "Grapefruit" and "Blue Jay". And you can so see their super-specialness in the time and money they spend on making themselves look better than the rest of us. And you can definitely tell how special they are, by the way they tell us non-special people who to vote for and what issues we should be focused on.
We really need to be more grateful to the celebrities.
I wonder if Bernie was all, "Oh Crap, now I'm defrauding the SPECIAL PEOPLE!"
I bet you anything he's happier than he's been in years, sitting in that jail cell, because his stress is all gone...AND he doesn't have to put up a stinkin' Christmas tree and not because he's Jewish but because he's in jail and I don't think they allow them to have Christmas lights and hooks and glass and metal ornaments in their cells being shank material and all. At least, I think they're shank material. I've never had to make a shank, so I'm not really sure if those items can be used. I'm just guessing.
And this year, I've got a few more reasons to be stressed...5 of them.
My puppies are unbelievably cute and they're starting to walk like drunken sailors and when I put my face in the box, so they can focus on me, they wag their little tails and gently smack me with their tiny, little paws. Just so cute.
I'm dealing with puppies who are still too small to understand the concept of potty training.
Their mother, Paris Hilton, stimulates their #1's and #2's by licking them. Sorry Internet. You've got to take the good with the bad here at Animal Planet.
And that was fine at first, because she'd just lick up their tiny tinkles, but now they're enormous butterballs and they pee just like they walk, like drunken sailors and so I am going through about a 100,000 towels a day.
And you know exactly what that means! The laundry is coming close to driving me to the edge of insanity. All I do all day is wash pee towels.
Pee is the whole reason behind my Christmas downfall, this year.
And I can't even begin to think about the Christmas Cards.
It's been 3 years, since I've managed to send out a card and you should hear the trash-talkin' I'm getting over that!
Every day I get a new Christmas card in the mail, I don't relish it. I don't sigh happily. I just think, "Damn you, Christmas!" Those cheery little cards just add to my overtaxed state.
I think the card that makes me feel like the biggest loser is my sister-in-law's, the Bad Ass. In between hunting down terrorists and solving big-time murders and arresting Columbia Cartel, she sends out cute Christmas cards of her kids, with the little comment, "I better be getting one this year!!!"
I have good intentions, but Christmas just gets closer and closer and before I know it, I'm staying up all of Christmas Eve wrapping presents because nothing's wrapped because it was all bought just a few days before.
I used to be great with the Christmas cards, every year posing the girls in some new and inventive way.
This one is my all-time favorite.
Julia was 2 weeks old. I was much better then at being overtaxed. With 3 small girls, you just multi-task every moment you're in a non-sleep state. And this moment was no exception. We had a Christmas party to go to that night. I was still puffy and gross-looking from having a 2 week-old baby and so I figured since my body was a hopeless cause, I'd focus on my skin and hair.
As I snapped pictures of my angels, I had slapped on a Borghese mud mask, which is like the best mud mask everrrrr, but I look like this while it's working its magic.
And I hadn't brushed my hair yet and when I wake up in the morning, my hair looks exactly like this:
I was taking pictures in my foyer and as anyone with small children knows, getting children to pose for pictures is one of the most stressful things on the planet.
As I worked with my cherubic crew, trying to get everyone except the 2-week old of course, to look at the camera at the same time, the doorbell rang. I opened the door while still snapping pictures. It was a little girl selling magazines for her school fundraiser.
Now, I'll tell you something right here, Internet, if your kid ever needs to sell something for school, have them come find me. I'm a sucker for any kid who has the chutzpah to go out and sell. If they're selling, I'm buying, no matter how cheap their crap is or how many rolls of wrapping paper I already have.
The little girl looked at me and her eyes turned into giant saucers. Forgetting my look, I asked her in my friendliest voice what kind of magazines she was selling.
It only took seconds for her to burst into tears and run from my doorway.
I haven't been able to top that one yet.
I'm really hoping to accomplish cards this year. It all depends on the Pee.
Today's Ho-Ho-Freakin' Ho Download: Wham's "Last Christmas". I can safely say this will be the ONLY Wham song I ever suggest. It just reminds me of when the Hubby and I were first together. It still gives me that sunshiny, butterfly feeling.
And the brilliant Glee does a take on this, too. I just don't know what I'll do without my Glee until April. It was a downer of a tv night for me last night. Glee was goose-pimply great, but it was depressing knowing I was saying goodbye for too many months. And then, that big, teddy bear of a man, Kevin, did not win Top Chef. The crabby, mean-spirited brother won. I'm so tired of the molecular gastronomists winning. Food should not be prepared with the use of dry ice. Dry ice is meant for roller skating rinks and magicians, not for ravioli. And that's all I have to say about that.