Category Archives: Parents R Us

Santa Claus Is My New BFF

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Last week, I argued that Santa Claus is real.  This week I can add that not only is he real, but he is now my new best friend…forever.

As I promised, I emailed him.  And he emailed me right back.. .within minutes.

What have I learned from my new pen pal?  That he still remembers me after all these years.  That he has a great sense of  humor.  That I’m apparently not the only “grown-up” that still writes to Santa.  And that he’s most definitely not hiring, which is a real bummer, because (not that I’m looking, mind you), working for Santa would be awesome.  I was picturing a great cushy telecommuting job that would allow me to Skype into the North Pole as needed, keeping up with wish lists (demand) and possibly using my tired, unused Advertising diploma and my awesome blog network and social network skills (haha) to help steer the children of the world toward items for which there may be more production (supply).

I also decided the benefits would be great.  Time off during the summer would be no problem.  I’d get lots of freebies marked off as overstock.  And the medical plan couldn’t be too bad, since, as a risk,  I’d be lumped in with a bunch of elves which would offset Santa’s bad habits and then some.  How often do elves get sick anyway?

So I got my wish list in to Canada (the closest North Pole branch) and I now I’m on Santa’s radar.  AND I promised to share with you this 2-way correspondence to once again prove that Santa does indeed exist.

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It was easy.  I went here and filled in a form letter to Santa, which he received within minutes.  I form-filled some stuff, like my age, how good I’ve been (or not), 3 items for Christmas, and some free-form comments.  The result is below, with some personal data x’d out:

Dear Santa Claus,

My name is xxxxxxx.  I am a girl and I am already xx years old!!  I live in the great city of xxxxxxx.  Of course, that’s in xxxxxxx, United States but I’ll bet you knew that!  This year I’ve been so good that, well, ok, maybe my halo has been to the repair shop a few times this year.

Santa Claus, some things I might like for Christmas this year are: – new Droid smartphone; – winning Powerball ticket; and, – black BMW convertible.

Santa Claus, I almost forgot to say…  I think the North Pole is awesome. I think being one of Santa’s helpers would be an exciting job! In fact, I’m looking for a new job and think I could be a real asset to your workshop. Are you by chance hiring? How are the benefits? Anyway, I can’t wait for you to drop by on Christmas, and I’ll leave out the Snicker bar and Bud Light as usual. Hohohoho!

Love, xxxxxxx

Ok, so it’s not my best literary work, but as I said earlier, it’s a form-fill thing with insufficient space to write my normal 1500 words or so.  And perhaps I got greedy, since I started out only wanting a new phone.  There were 3 blanks to fill, so I went for it…and threw in a hint for a job opportunity.

And here’s my response from the big guy:

Merrrryyyy Christmas xxxxxxxx!

Thank you for sending me your email all the way from xxxxxxx!  HO!! Ho!! ho!!  Did you know there are lots of elves in xxxxxxx?  I hear they like visiting xxxxxxx because there’s a special girl by the name of xxxxxxx that lives there!  (*wink*).

Well call me the King of Jing-a-Ling, xxxxxxx!  Are you pulling my leg?!?  You can’t possibly be xxxxxxx years old already!  Why it seems like only yesterday that I was leaving presents for a certain little girl and here you are now, practically one of Santa’s elves! (*grin*)

Sorry the presents the last little while probably haven’t been quite as exciting as they were when you were a little girl but, well, you know how these things go (*wink*).  Anyway, Santa’s glad to see some of the ‘older kids’ (not to mention anyone in particular!) still take the time to write.  (And hopefully still leave out milk and cookies Christmas Eve too! *wink*)  I also hear you’ve been a sorta good girl.  (Of course, you won’t mind if I do a little checking, will you? HO!! Ho!! ho!!).  I see from your email that you like saying “Ho! Ho! Ho!”.  HO!! Ho!! ho!!  I like saying “HO!! Ho!! ho!!” too!

Let’s see what you put in your letter for Christmas wishes: 1. new droid smartphone; 2. winning powerball ticket and; 3. black bmw convertible.  Did you know I had to get rid of my phone?  Every time I phoned the elves they thought my name was ‘Santa Calls’!  HO!! Ho!! ho!!

I am really excited about my new “Santa Webcam”.  I hope you will come watch me live at the North Pole on it right away!

Oops!  I guess I shouldn’t have had that last cookie because a button just popped right off my suit.  I better go see if Mrs. Claus has any thread left!  ho!! Ho!! HO!!  Take care xxxxxxx and don’t forget to come back and visit me here at EmailSanta.com on Christmas Eve!!  And remember…  only 14 more sleeps until Christmas!!

Forever and Always Your Friend,

Santa Claus

thCAINR6Z9

Take from that what you will.  But here’s what I walked away with:

  1. Santa is not hiring and apparently does not want to discuss it.
  2. Santa will eventually find out I wasn’t that good, as he so alludes.
  3. Santa likes to make little digs at middle-aged women about their age.
  4. Santa knows I leave him Bud Light, yet he refers to milk, with some *winks*.
  5. In fact, Santa *winks* a lot, which tells me either a) he has a lot of private jokes,  b) he’s not taking anything I wrote him seriously, or c) he’s into the “milk” already a week before Christmas.
  6. I only said “Ho, Ho, Ho” once.  Santa added in a couple of “Ho, Ho, Ho’s” too many, which helps my argument above about the “milk” (*wink*).
  7. Santa has a webcam to plug.
  8. I probably got greedy, and I’m not getting a darned thing I asked for and I really, really, am in need of a new cell phone, so it would be really easy for me right now to be disheartened.

But my hopes are still high.  My cell phone loses a little bit of functionality every day.  I wasn’t too specific about the winning lottery ticket, so $5 could grant that wish. And just disregard that BMW convertible as a grand illusion, King of Jing-a-Ling, and forget I ever mentioned it.

soap

Instead, please re-think that job opening, Santa (*wink*).  And even if that’s not possible, I’ll still look forward to you stopping by again this year, Santa (*grin*).  And even if you ignore all my wishes, I’ll still have your “milk” waiting for you on the kitchen counter.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!”.  HO!! Ho!! ho!!

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Yes, There Most Certainly IS A Santa Claus!

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As Christmas gets closer and closer, something disturbs me.

There seems to be a real effort to discredit Santa Claus, and it gets worse every year.  It’s an injustice.  A conspiracy.  A scandal.  There are real scrooges out there who want to convince us all that Santa Claus does not really exist…and that Mom and Dad are doing all the work.

home alone

Perhaps you’ve jumped on the bandwagon yourself and decided that Santa does not actually exist.

For those of you, I have the following to say…

Really?  You think parents are doing all this work, shopping for all these unnecessary things on these long wish lists?  Waiting in lines a mile long, spending all our hard-earned money, running ourselves ragged trying to find some impossible-to-find toy that’s sold out of every shopping mall on this side of the world?

christmasvacation

You give us too much credit.  Besides, we know you haven’t been good ALL year long, so it’s best not to pin all your hopes on us.

And it doesn’t matter anyway, because Santa Claus is very much real.

It’s true, and I can prove it.

First, write him a letter and see for yourself. You have to get that wish list to him anyway, and most likely you really need to tell him how good you’ve been all year.  He already knows what all you’ve done wrong, but at least this gives you the chance to own up and act like you’re sorry about it.  I’m a big believer in the written word.  And of course, documenting everything.

ralphie writes letter

Now there are a few ways to get your letter to Santa.

2 lines on an envelope will do it:

Santa Claus

North Pole

Or try this one if you want to get a letter back.  They will redirect it to Santa.  Apparently, he has a branch office in Canada, which makes perfect sense.

SANTA CLAUS

NORTH POLE

HOH OHO  CANADA

And if that’s too slow for you, email him here. (My preferred method)

Then there’s the 2012 NORAD Santa Tracker. Thanks to the North American Aerospace Defense Command, we can all track Santa and his reindeer on their journey around the world on Christmas Eve, starting at midnight, Mountain Standard Time, on December 24th. Tell Mom or Dad to download an app so you can track it from their phone. Tell them it’s worth the data usage, although they may tell you it’s way past your bedtime.  And it may be, so beware.

Now our North American Defense Command wouldn’t make all this up, would they?

Still not convinced?  I understand…you have questions.  Let’s take them one by one:

How does Santa Claus travel all around the world carrying so many toys from house to house, all in one night?

Obviously, Santa is a smart man.  Over at the North Pole, he’s running a top-secret mission of top scientists, engineers, mathematicians, and weather experts.  His sleigh is not nearly as primitive as you may think, as he has all the top gadgets at his chubby little fingertips.  And it’s highly possible that some sort of time travel is involved here.  As he travels East to West, he’s jumping ahead of the time zones, and I’m pretty sure that there’s a little bit of magic up those big sleeves of his.

If you need a more solid answer than that, I’d suggest spending some extra time on your science and math studies, so you can get a grasp of all this.  I didn’t, and you see what kind of answer I’ve come up with.

But the bottom line is…hey, he makes it work every year somehow, doesn’t he?  That’s all the proof I need.

What about all those people who Santa DOESN’T come to see?

That’s a tough question, and there could be many reasons for someone being missed.  Maybe they weren’t good. Maybe they stayed up all night and Santa kept on going, because he doesn’t stop when kids are awake.  Maybe they just don’t believe Santa Claus is real.  Believing is really, really important!

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How to Make a Mother Cry

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This is supposed to be a humor blog.  And it still is.  But right now, I feel like poor Nick Lachey when he wrote all those sappy heartbreak songs after his break-up with Jessica Simpson.  (I would have avoided that era altogether, but my girls loved those songs at the time.)

I’ve been a crazy, sentimental, downright emotional basket of tears for at least a month, and I feel the need to write about it.  And to find some humor in it.

I guess the humor is that I have no real reason to cry, yet the slightest thing seems to set me off lately. And no, I’m not going through the sordid “change”.  I guess I’m just a sentimental lady (pause for some flashback humor).

Aside from Bob Welch, let me preface this by saying why I find myself in such a ridiculous state.  My oldest girl is graduating from high school this Saturday.  I had no idea what a roller coaster ride senior year would be.  Everything is about “the last this” or “the last that”.  We had several year-end soccer parties, a state play-off that ended way earlier than it should have (and I’m still ticked off at those ref’s), prom, senior pictures, the trying on of the gown, graduation parties, church parties for the senior…the list goes on and on.  Way too many sentimental events for a sentimental lady to handle.

And today, my younger daughter had her middle school graduation.  Another milestone, because in a couple of months she enters the world of high school.  That’s a big difference.  A monumental event for a mother.  She went through confirmation this year at the church–yet another big occasion. And she turned 14 recently.  For some reason, that seems so much more mature than 13 to me.  She’s now talking about driving…when she can get her permit, her restricted license, her permanent license.  She will hate me for writing this, but my mind (and now my blog) says “not my baby, not yet!”

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Kids’ Birthdays That Last 4 Days

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I love a good celebration and I always go overboard, especially when it comes to holidays and events geared toward the kids.

I made a huge mistake when my girls were younger.  In all my enthusiasm, I set the bar way too high.

What I didn’t consider at the time is that I would attempt to raise that bar just a little more each year.  I’m not sure why, other than I loved hearing them say “This was the best Christmas/birthday/Easter/4th of July/Halloween/Valentine’s Day EVER!”  It was never an option to risk seeing a disappointed face on any given holiday, whether it’s really supposed to be a kid’s holiday or not.

My youngest daughter turned 14 today.  Since we partied on Friday, had the traditional mother/daughter shopping spree on Saturday and went out to dinner that night,  it’s now officially Day 4 of her birthday extravaganza.

Already having blown out the candles and with nothing but bread crumbs left from what used to be a double chocolate cake, she’s feeling a little uncelebrated today.  Apparently, waking up to my rendition of “Happy Birthday” this morning was not sufficient.  This IS the actual birthday, you know.

Yes, she wants a slice of cake.

And not one to disappoint, we are my husband is making her another one.  And in case I forget to acknowledge that sweet gesture, let me just add…bless his little heart.

What do you do when you have a weekday birthday and need the weekend to celebrate it?   I call it the “birthday connector rule”.  This means you choose the preceding weekend to celebrate and let it run into what becomes at least a 3-day marathon celebration.  This is because you’ve guilted your parents based on the fact that nothing special is happening on your official day. It all works out to be (once again) the best birthday EVER!

So I just checked the calendar to see what day of the week MY birthday will fall on this year.  And it’s on a Friday.  I just can’t catch a break.  I doubt it matters, because I think it’s just a kid rule anyway.

But does this mean that next year has to be a 5-day celebration?

If you liked this post, you might like The Upside of Getting Older.

Eighteen Candles

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My oldest “baby” turned 18 today.  Yikes!

I’m happy for her, because I know this day comes with much anticipation. After all, she’s now old enough to move out, go to a club, vote, buy a lottery ticket, buy tobacco, order porn, buy a handgun, get a tattoo, and get pierced without my permission.

Forgive me if I’m not quite so excited. After all, she’s now old enough to move out, go to a club, vote, buy a lottery ticket, buy tobacco, order porn, buy a handgun, get a tattoo, and get pierced without my permission. On top of all that, she can now be sued, tried as an adult, and can go on the Jerry Springer show to tell the world how her childhood sucked.

All kidding aside, I’m really not that worried.  After all, she still needs me for college and preparing for dorm life that will take her about 45 minutes from home. She may be able to go clubbing, but drinking is still illegal. I’m pretty sure she has no desire for tobacco OR porn.  I don’t THINK she has a tattoo on her mind, but I’ll bet that belly button piercing I’ve been avoiding will finally get checked off the to-do list soon.  She does have plans to buy a lottery ticket though. And I hope she hits it big, remembering good ol’ sacrificing Mom and Dad when she does. I also feel sure she’ll exercise her right to vote. I know of nothing, however, that signals a potential lawsuit, and no crimes that cause me to worry about her being tried as an adult. So…

That just leaves the Jerry Springer thing.

To avoid being Springer-ized, and to get in my last hurrah in as a helicopter mother, I offer the following wisdom to my beautiful daughter as she enters adulthood:

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Guess What? I’m a Facebook Creeper!

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Photo Courtesy of WikiMedia Commons. '''Photographer''': ''thesaint'' a.k.a Matthew Bowden

And if you’re a parent with a son or daughter on Facebook, you’re probably creeping right along with me.

That is, if they ever even accepted your friend request.

The parent/child Facebook friendship has been explored to death already.  As parents read articles such as “How Not To Embarrass Your Child On Facebook”, they’re told helpful hints such as “don’t comment too much on your child’s activity”, ” don’t share too much information that your child doesn’t want to know”, “don’t tag them in old baby photos”, “don’t remind them of chores”, “don’t friend all their friends” and “don’t try to be cool – you’re not”.

Meanwhile, our offspring are submitting screenshots of our most embarrassing interactions to websites such as ”Crap, My Mom Just Sent Me a Friend Request” where you can see parents completely shattering their child’s cool online persona, talking about “the runs”, reminding them of chores, questioning relationship statuses, and using Facebook as a glorified brag book.

My creepiness came to light because I commented (verbally, mind you) about a Facebook message thread.  At first I thought I was being called a creep.  Now that I know I’m just a creeper, I can relax, because it’s my job.  But if you think I’m going to go all parental here and talk about our responsibilities as a parent to monitor our children’s’ activity, limit their usage, check out their friends, lay low and take it all in, blah blah blah…I’m not.

But I do think it’s important to draw the line between acceptable Facebook usage vs. Facebook creeping.  And I’m not just talking about parents.  No, this goes for everyone.  I even consulted Urban Dictionary on this, because that’s the place to go for knowledge on hip and happening terms, as long as you’re willing to insert your own grammar and punctuation.  With that said, please humor me with the following little self-help quiz:

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Yes, Generation, We Have A Gap.

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A while back, my teenage daughter and I had a disagreement that sent both of us sulking to our respective corners.  Was it about curfew?  Dating?  Grades?  Nah, we wasted a perfectly good argument on our opposing views of music.  I know, I know…you’re supposed to pick your battles, but this is one I felt passionate about.  And like her mother, so did she.

It started when I ridiculed a song she was playing and apparently was enjoying.  You may have heard it…”Don’t Stop Believing”.  Great song, right?   Absolutely.  The sound of Steve Perry, aka The Voice, bellowing this beloved classic gives me chills even today.  I can still picture him belting it out on stage as he brushed back his perfectly feathered hair that I secretly envied.

But this was not your Mama’s version of the song.  It was the “Glee” remake, sung as a duet by a young couple, who as far I’m concerned, ripped the song to shreds.   What?  A Journey song without Steve Perry?  Or the guy who replaced him?  Or the guy who replaced HIM?  Such a travesty!  “You can’t remake a Journey classic!” I blurted.

A big Glee fan, she kind of took offense to that.

We went back and forth as I explained that I have nothing against Glee, but there are certain classics you just don’t remake.  As Simon Cowell repeated every week to American Idol hopefuls who mangled Stevie Nicks, Whitney Houston, and even Kelly Clarkson music, I agree that a song should not be remade unless you can top the original or bring something different to the table.  Each song title I rattled off as untouchable, however, was met with “they did that one too”.   I’m talking “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen, “Shout It Out” by Kiss, you name it…it’s been tampered with.  Untouchables, as far as I’m concerned.

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What? No Wire Hangers?

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By now, you might have heard about the two adult Illinois children who brought a lawsuit against their mother.  Yes, a 2-year legal battle began when Steven Miner II, now 23, and Kathryn Miner, now 20, filed a lawsuit against their mother, Kimberly Garrity in 2009. 

According to Illinois court documents, Garrity and her husband, Steven Miner, Sr.,  had divorced in 1995, and the children had been living with their father.  The father had reportedly “tried” to talk Steven II and Kathryn from pursuing the lawsuit, however, he was one of the three attorneys who handled the case.

The basis of the lawsuit?  Bad mothering, negligence, insensitivity, and basically being a mean mom.

The suit cited examples that allegedly caused emotional distress to the siblings, including :

  • Making the then-7-year old boy wear his seatbelt with the threat of taking him to the police station
  • Failing to buy toys
  • Sent a greeting card the son didn’t like (with images of tomatoes, one special one with craft-store googly eyes, and probably not enough hugs and kisses).  Oh yeah, and there was no cash or check enclosed. 
  • Haggling over homecoming dress costs
  • Insisting the daughter return the loaned car by midnight on homecoming night
  • Refusing to take the daughter to an auto show and a car race
  • Insufficient/infrequent college care packages
  • Threatening to call the police after the boy took back a homemade jewelry box he’d given her as a gift, alleging he stole a diamond necklace that had been in it. 
  • Once smacking the boy in the head, giving him “recurring headaches”
  • Changing her name after her second marriage which caused attention for her daughter at school events

    Damages?  $50,000 to make all the emotional distress go away. 

The point was to make Kimberly Garrity accountable for less-than-perfect parenting.

The suit, however was dismissed by Cook County Judge Kathy Flanagan, although the mother is forced to pay her own legal costs.  The judge referred to the siblings’ allegations, while erratic and sometimes spiteful, as “petty grievances” and “not outside “all possible bounds of decency”.  It was also added that such a lawsuit would open the floodgates of lawsuits against parents.

Now I’m sure there must be more to this story, but I think we have all the facts we need to say… 

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A New Set Of Rules – Soccer Parents 101

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Soccer season is “kicking” in, which explains the length of time since my last post.  With two daughters who have been playing for years now at various levels, my free time has come to a screeching halt.  What does this mean to you?  Not much maybe, but the start of a new season and a couple of scrimmages has made me think a lot about sideline etiquette.  And it has inspired me to improve on the current soccer parent rules distributed at that first parent meeting…those rules we know by heart, whether we abide by them or not.

See, we sports parents don’t really like being told what to do (we know it all already, right?) and we really resent having to sign our names to these rules, committing ourselves to good behavior for an entire season. We know we need to bring water so our child is properly hydrated at every game.  We know they need appropriate nutrition and a good night’s sleep.  We know to keep our cheers positive, with statements such as “Good job”, “Nice try”, and “Way to go”.  We know not to coach on the sidelines (okay, that may be going a little far).  But aren’t these basically common-sense parenting rules?

Well, the answer may be yes, but these rules are outdated, they’re over-rehearsed, they’re politically correct.  And they’re just not specific enough. Continue reading →

My Verizon Bill Is Approaching My Monthly Mortgage

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I wrote it here first.  My new cell phone was life-changing.  A month later, the inevitable happened…my 17-year old daughter couldn’t stand that I had the better phone. 

So we upgraded her.  We’re talking $200 phones at the Verizon contract rate and another $30/month for unlimited data. 

A month later, we just upgraded my 13-year old daughter.  Call me crazy, but she’s the only one I know her age that didn’t have a data phone.  Another $200…another monthly rate.

Tomorrow is Father’s Day and my hubby needs a new phone…we tried to just go ahead and upgrade him too, but he would have none of that.  See, to him, it’s just a phone and he finally started texting, and that’s all he cares about.   He doesn’t get the rest of us and our constant phone-mongering.

But here’s the thing…I’ve succombed to the fact that to communicate effectively with two teenage daughters, you should just give up on the face-to-face thing.  Unless they want it, of course…that’s always the ideal.  Call them and they won’t answer.  Talk to them and they won’t look at you.  But text them, and you’ll get an immediate response. 

Go figure.

This post was originally posted June 18, 2011 and was transferred from a prior blog.