We recently lost a precious uncle to that incredible evil that begins with a c. He was an amazing man; gentle, kind, funny, generous, caring and always, always the first one to thank me for my Christmas Letters.
Every time I would see him he would mention them, and in fact last summer he begged me to start sending monthly Christmas letters. (I finally told him to just read my damn blog.)
And so, in honor of an uncle who I loved so very dearly, I will publish some of my old letters. I hope they bring a smile to your face, as I'm sure it will bring to his.
The good news is I finished my Christmas newsletter early this year. The bad news is, the girls found it and were so mortified that they stole all my copies and shredded them before I could get them out. We proceeded to have a screaming match that ended up with me making all sorts of promises. So, here it is: I am not allowed to talk about anyone being arrested, any phone calls from parents during sleepovers (use your imagination), screaming hormonal teenagers, calls from the high school, fighting with siblings, or anything that would embarrass them. That leaves me with nothin’. However, in the spirit of the Christmas newsletter tradition, I am willing to give this a shot. Here goes…
Bitchy is 18 now, and loves it here at home. She is the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. She just loves her job at Wegmans making subs for the community at large, loves paying for her own gas and coffee at Starbucks, and can often be found playing board games with her sister and brother, after they’ve helped with dishes, laundry, cleaning and running errands for their mother. She is having so much fun in high school, and is sad about graduating and going away to school. In fact, she’ll probably go to Oregon State University and live at home because she loves us so much. Sassy is also just a doll. Aren’t all 15 year-old girls the best? She is sweet as can be, never yells at any of us for no reason, and can often be found sharing her clothes with her sister whenever she asks, or romping in the yard with her adorable 9 year-old brother. (They are very close.) She never yells at us, and is best friends with her older sister. The Golden Boy just adores his sisters as well. They never pick on him, hold him down, tickle him until he cries, spit on him, or treat him badly in front of his friends. They always go to his football games, and sometimes even go to his practices just to see him. And, when they held him down last week and told him there was no Santa, they were just kidding. He’ll probably stop crying real soon.
I am having a blast writing a monthly column for the local paper, and am trying to keep up with an accompanying blog. I still love teaching kindergarten, but am very exhausted at the end of the day, mostly from laughing, but also from keeping 20 six-year olds from hurting each other, peeing all over the bathroom floor and eating things off the carpet. Tightwad is enjoying his work on I-400 as a roadway supervisor, but has nothing to do with the road not opening on time! I’m keeping him busy trying to get him to finish all his jobs around the house, but he keeps sneaking off to camp to finish all the project out there! (Frankly, I’d rather he live THERE.)
Well, as always, peace and love to you all – The Vodka family.
P.S. If you want to read the original letter, it’s on my blog, and was read by over 4000 people. (psst…don’t tell the girls)