or – Why I’m demanding a DNA test.

Ah yes, I was going to tell you my theory on why I believe Erin was switched with another baby at the hospital. But the proof is in the pudding and a picture is worth a thousand words. Behold:

She did NOT get that from me! She was all “I cooking” for hours Christmas morning with the sound of those “dancing shoes” clicking on the tiles. I swear I broke out in a rash just watching her!

But maybe these things skip a generation. Because later Christmas evening there was this:

Oh yeah, that’s my girl.

The other day I ran across a version of Oh Holy Night that was so bloody awful it was a thing of beauty. Tears were streaming down my face it was that good bad <– exactly.

Well, this morning around 5:30 AM I realized that I had that song stuck in my head. And I was re-writing the lyrics. And I could not stop. So I had to get up and write them down. I then was able to fall happily asleep again.

It’s now after 9:00 PM and I’m finally sitting at my computer. And what do I see scribbled on the notebook before me?

Oh holy crap!
The days are quickly dwindling
only six days till our dear Savior’s birth!
I’m not ready, no final preparations
I need to shop and what are we going to eat?
To stores, to stores, the crowded parking lots
I dread them all, I can not find a spot!

Fall on the couch
Oh hear my arches screaming
The crap, the crap
that I have bought to fill stockings
The crap, the crap
That I bought for Christmas morn

 
And this is why I try to ignore the voices in my head. Merry Christmas.

Every year I include one of Kyle’s school pictures with the Christmas cards I send to distant friends and relatives. Of course, I’ve also had to print pics of Erin the last 2 years. As I started filling out the cards this year, I started looking through my one million and two photographs for a picture of Erin and Kyle. Turns out I have no recent photos of the two of them together. In fact, I don’t even have a good shot of Erin that I want to print. So last night I pulled out my camera in the hopes of getting a nice photo of Erin in front of the Christmas tree. It didn’t happen and I don’t want to talk about it.

This morning, while Erin was eating her breakfast, I noticed my camera on the table. Buoyed by a good night’s sleep and a fresh cup of coffee, I tried again. Hey, remember this baby? You could just tell she was gonna be trouble. Well, this morning I think she start throwing gang signs at me!

and when I continued to shoot pictures she started mad-doggin’ me something fierce!

I’m wicked scared…

or: How to lose 10 lbs and 1 week of your life!

Now before you go and sign yourself up, make sure you are reading that correctly. Yes, you will lose the 10 pounds within the stated 1 week, but you are also going to lose that week. As in: Work? You won’t be there. Sorry boss. Plans already made? You won’t even have a chance to cancel them. You can apologize later. Family? Well, hopefully there is someone at home who can work the can opener. And they have pictures to remember you by right? You can catch up on everything you missed at the end of the week.

Still sounding good to you? Man, you ain’t right. First off, alarm bells should have been going off at “10 lbs in 1 week”, that is not healthy weight loss. Ok, what about this: you can not schedule this little “time out” from your life. It will strike randomly, probably at the most inopportune time cause that just how life rolls. It will roll on – without you.

Haven’t lost you yet I see. Time to tell you what this is gonna cost you. Because nothing in life is free baby and this little trip is gonna make you pay big time. And that is before the bills even come in the mail. This comes right out of your very being – form of: EXCRUCIATING PAIN!!!

All from a 4×7 mm kidney stone.

Still want what I had? I should think not. Trip to the E.R. 4 ½ days of vicodin/morphine and no food. Hospitalized. Mystery surgery. I recovered on toast, broth, Jello, and ginger ale. I felt like an 80 year old. Erin’s sleep patterns were disrupted. Kyle’s grades dropped. Chris has more gray than ever. My boss now calls me ‘Stoner’.

It is 8 days until Christmas. I’m a week behind on everything. I haven’t done any shopping. We haven’t even gotten the tree up yet. This year I am Santa’s most unprepared elf.

Hey Sain’t – If this was 22 years ago I would be stylin’! I would put that Dr. Milt Town to shame.