Resolutions are for wusses

Last weekend, we headed south to The Dad's folks for our Christmas celebration with them.  The Dad was in charge of packing the minivan since he had the day off and The Daughters and I were still in school.  Now, I'll only admit this one time, so listen closely:  I'm a tiny bit of a control freak.


Usually when we head out of town, I pack for The Daughters and I the night before.  I ask The Dad to pack his stuff before we go to bed for the night.  The next morning, we get up earlier than normal (I know, I know... I hate mornings... maybe I'm a bit more of a control freak than I care to admit...) and I pack our toiletries and anything else we'll be taking with us and load the minivan.  Then I'll pronounce to The Dad and The Daughters that it's time to go.

Last week, however, I had to trust that The Dad would get everything ready and loaded.  To ensure that I wouldn't fret too much, I woke up extra, extra early and made a pile of what needed to travel with us.  Then I texted The Dad on my lunch period and an hour before school was out to remind him of everything I was sure he'd forget on his own.  Oh, hellllllz yeah, I'm that big of a control freak.

Thanks, I'm sure, to my planning, piles and texts, we were on the road as soon as The Daughters  hopped in the minivan after school.  That evening, after dinner and getting unloaded at the folks' house, I turned to The Dad and said, "I'm so excited for Dirty Santa tomorrow!  Our present this year ROCKS!"

Someone needs to invite us to Dirty Santa for next year
We've already got our gift!!

The Dad stared at me without blinking.  He was either farting and trying to not get caught or he had forgotten our Dirty Santa gift.  A quick inventory told us that our rockin' Dirty Santa gift had been forgotten at home.  A quick sniff told me he had also farted.

The next day, The Dad and I ventured into town to try to find a suitable replacement, but the truth was this:  We were heartbroken.  The rules for Dirty Santa this year were that the gift had to be purchased at a garage sale or a thrift store.  Our gift was a collage frame that had been filled with pictures of The Dad and I taken and posed by The Daughters.   (I don't have to tell you twice that we rocked the camera!) We were certain that whoever got the frame would be just as excited at the prospect of 16 pictures of The Dad and I wearing Santa hats, sunglasses and raggedy t-shirts.

So we toured thrift stores and any yard that had junk in it to find a replacement.  After an afternoon of no luck, The Dad had a really great idea:  We could recreate our Dirty Santa!  So, we broke the rules and purchased the same gift at Hellmart.  And since my photos had been uploaded to one-hour photo, we ordered them again.  Then we bought wrapping paper and tape and we were in business.

On our way back to the folks' house, I discovered that I had nothing to cut the wrapping paper with, so I wrapped the entire roll around the present.  And with that much wrapping paper, I had to use almost an entire roll of scotch tape as well.  I don't have to tell you that our gift was amazingly desired as it wobbled under the tree.

By the look of sheer joy (or disgust), I'm certain this is
when Sister opened our photos...

The Dad's sister got it - since she had just had a baby, I'm sure her snarled lip and "What the---" mutterings were the hormones.  Nonetheless,   I gave strict instructions to our niece that she was not to let her momma take our pictures out of the frame.  I'm sure we're the centerpiece of their mantle.  Sure of it.

In light of our fiasco - and our still unopened original Dirty Santa gift - I, for a fleeting I thought of how I really needed to be more organized.  I thought, for a fleeting moment, that I would make that one of my new year's resolutions.  Then the moment fleeted - fleeted?? - and I realized that if we had remembered our original Dirty Santa gift, I would have missed an entire day of hangin' with The Dad and the joy of wrapping a present while driving down a highway doing 65 mph (The Dad's a slow driver) and the hilarity of using a whole roll of scotch tape and the laughter The Dad and I shared as I wrapped an entire roll of gift wrap around the best Dirty Santa gift ever!

So, in light of our Dirty Santa adventures, this new year, I resolve to not change a darned thing.  Becoming more organized or more in control or more on top of things would completely rob me of this crazy life that I've come to love.

I wish the same, a love for the crazy life you lead, for you...

Happy New Year!!