traditions | Eyerollingmom

My “New Year’s” card from a few years ago. Too crazed to pull off a Xmas shoot, I bribed & threatened to get this shot. My crew STILL holds a grudge … can’t imagine why .

I have chosen to NOT send out Christmas cards this year. Again. Last year I just couldn’t muster up the desire and the year before I thought it would simply be a nice respite.

Whaddaya know. I think I may have stumbled onto a new favorite tradition.

I’ve spent many a snarky blog mocking Christmas letters (and – why don’t we simply put me on the express track to Hell – Christmas photos as well. Come on, you know you do, too. I just say it out loud. Shrug.)

But I really do love my idea of the Why-Can’t-We-All-Just-Be-A-Wee-Bit-Honest? anti-Christmas letter. I wish they all sounded like mine:

I’d say with blatant bragging that my kids didn’t turn into trolls throughout the year and were still, in fact, good looking. (Naturally if No-Shave November didn’t find my son looking like Wolverine I could’ve secured proof of this over Thanksgiving weekend when we were all together but no such luck.)

I’d reveal that I am secretly thrilled when my oldest son is at college … because his proclivity to starting his day at 3:30 to do errands when he’s home makes my hair fall out.

I’d express delight that my college-bound, environmentally impassioned daughter is poised to save the world one dolphin or blade of grass at a time … yet would rather hug a tree than any of her brothers … and that kinda sorta makes me mental.

I’d report that my middle-school sons are doing well in their school and sporting endeavors … but that their inability to decode and decipher common phrases like “Take you shoes off before coming in” and “Hang up that towel” worries me immeasurably.

I’d boast about my husband’s year of health and weight loss (again, not really a loss when it’s found by someone else, eh?) but to even the score I would definitely get in a few digs about my perpetually broken kitchen pendant light. I’d then probably put it in print that I am holding firm on getting my downstairs painted this spring (and that this task will far take precedence over – pick one – a new snow blower, lawnmower and/or Patriots season tickets. So there.)

I’d ramble on about our family vacation to Disney with a great group of friends and then embarrassingly admit I lost my youngest son within 5 minutes of entering the happiest place on Earth. Yes. Party of 14 people. Lost child. 5 flippin minutes.

I’d divulge funny details about my job (that I love) in an alternative middle/high school (Really? I’m complaining about wet towels at home? Really???) but then I’d share the far from humorous reality of having to keep the doors locked there now.

Scary times.

It’s best to just remember that our lives – and our livelihoods — are merely temporary.

Why not laugh a little and focus on the daily, smaller smiles because really — one day real soon I may be missing those wet towels on the floor, right?

My family is healthy and my life is full of love and friends and laughter. (And recycling. Lots and lots of recycling because – haven’t you heard — my daughter has turned into the Conservation Nazi.)

So, as I sit here watching “The Sound of Music” (singing every word to “Climb Every Mountain” because, my gaaaaawd, Mrs. Cazzaza made us sing it in elementary school, I wish everyone the same:

Health, love, and (of course) recycling.

And laughter.

Lots and lots of laughter.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Follow & LIKE Eyerollingmom on Facebook: www.facebook.com/eyerollingmom

* In 2009 the #@*&!!! Elf on a Shelf turned up in my home — through no fault of my own — and I tried to warn the world about its evils. All these years later that little #@&!!! is thriving … as are the little boys who eventually grew up to follow the memes and do dasterdly things to it. Spoiler: we all survived (well, obviously not all of us…)

My sister is a kind and generous soul and I love her. I really do.

I just want to kill her.

Well maybe not kill her but definitely hurt her really, really bad. Maybe a lengthy pinch of the little fleshy stuff right under her armpit. You know, just a little something for emphasis.

Swept up in the magic of Christmas, she thought it would be super cool to give me a first class ticket on the Elf on the Shelf bandwagon. Apparently she thought the whole gimmick sounded delightfully joyous and heartwarming for my boys this holiday season. (Quick version: a book and elf arrive in festive packaging. This magic elf then watches the kids’ behavior each day until Christmas. He hides throughout the house and each day the kids wake up, search for him and whisper their holiday desires into his little ear.) Joy to the world!

I get it. on the surface it seems very cute indeed. The thing is, my boys are not *little kids (9 & 10 with older siblings — you get my drift?) and well, they’re BOYS. They now wake up in Spartacus mode – a competition of the fittest to find it first – before they resume wrestling and beating the spit out of each other (like most mornings). It really has just given them another reason to tussle before the school bus.

Still, we’ve been dutifully going along with this.

Here’s MY problem with our newest holiday tradition (she says forlornly, hoping they’ll misplace the box next year): it’s making me a total wreck. I can’t even say how many dark, cold mornings my eyes have flown open with the realization that I didn’t move the creepy little elf doll to a new spot before turning in for bed. It’s worse than forgetting the Tooth Fairy was supposed to come (there’s no throwing it in the crumpled sheets with feigned, “Oh THERE it is!” nonsense). This is serious. And has to happen EVERY night. I have lost so much sleep because of it I look awful (which hello, is not going to help me in the unspoken Who-Looks-Better? contest when my sister and I gather for the holidays).

So yes, I am here to warn others: this becomes a full-bodied commitment the moment that silly book is read aloud to your little Santa-seekers.

FortheloveofGod, pay no attention to the window displays at Borders and just keep walking.

Go back to stringing popcorn and find other holiday traditions that won’t put bags under your eyes.

I’m no Scrooge but sorry, I just can’t help it.

I’m tired (from lack of sleep).

And cranky (from running out of hiding spaces).

And I haven’t thought of anything yet for paybacks for my sister…

but I will.

Oh, ho, ho, hope she’s not reading this because oh yeah I will.

Tina Drakakis blogs at Eyerollingmom and has been featured in Boston Globe & Huff Post. She appeared in the Boston production of “Listen to Your Mother: Giving Motherhood a Microphone” presenting her popular essay The Thinking Girl’s Thong and her work has been featured in NPR’s “This I Believe” radio series. That said, she still places “Most Popular 1984” on top of her list of achievements (next would be as the $100,000 winner on that home improvement reality TV show of 2003 but her kids won’t let her talk about that anymore). A witty mother of four, she takes on cyberspace as Eyerollingmom/Tina Drakakis on Facebook, Instagram & Threads. Her fave collection of essays, A Momoir, can be found here (agent interest ALWAYS WELCOME!)