Beanies guide to Common sense Parenting 2: LET them fail (OR resting mom face)

I have a good friend, who tells me that there is no such thing as common sense.
And while he makes a good point and looks pretty while he does it, I still disagree with him.
I nod and smile while he argues his point because that's what you do to boys (and pretty things)

Common Sense (yes I googled it) means to "have good sense and sound judgment in practical matters."
So when I talk about common sense, this is to what I am referring too. (Also known as not being an fucking idiot.)

In my opinion it is our Job, as parents to create successful adults who will become leaders in our communities. To use their abilities to rationalise and react in a manner that will reap rewards or benefits for the good of themselves or their community as a whole.

And how do we do that as parents? Just how do we 'raise up' grown people who can think for themselves and foresee their outcomes using common sense and the abilities that we have nurtured in them.

The answer is simply stated, albeit intensely hard to do at times. You let them fail.
But you do it in a safe and protected way.
As our children grow up, we are to give them more and more space, until they are navigating through life on their own, and with good morals and standards of living, or more importantly, thinking.

From the time that our children are born to the time that they leave the house, every SINGLE moment, is a learning moment. Every trial no matter how trivial can be learned from. And sadly, when that moment passes it can never be recaptured. It starts small.

When Shane was 2, he was infatuated with our box fan. He would stare at the blades moving and creep closer and closer to it with every day that passed. Finally, I found him reaching out to it with his teensy tiny fingers.

What do you do?

A) Unplug the fan and hide it away in your attic until the child has left your home?

B) Demand that he NOT touch it and tell him he will be in big trouble if he does (Which, incidentally almost GUARANTEE'S that he will touch it.)

C) Recognize that there is a learning moment here.

First up: Teaching. It is our job to teach our children about life and everything in it. It is NOT our job to keep them from experiencing said life. Even at the cost of a cut teensy tiny finger.

"Shane, those blades will hurt you if you put your fingers in there."

He looked up at me and pursed his lips.
Children do NOT think with adult brains. (duh) they think with brand new brains that do not know (hopefully) much hurt, pain or consequences.

I turned the fan on low and walked back into our teeny weenie kitchen.

Soon enough I heard the fan stall and my son howl. He was holding his fingers and crying. I walked over, cuddled him and looked at the damage.

My heart was beating in my chest. Being 19 years old and the mother of a 2 year old, did NOT make me wise. I wasn't nor have I ever been a wise person.

 I simply wanted my son to trust what I have to say, and I KNEW that trust has to be earned and shown. Not told.

"What happened?" I asked him (Like I didnt already know.)

"The fan huwt me!"

"How?!" I gasped, (Being a parent is also acting)

He pouted and pressed his face into my chest.

"Did you put your fingers in there?"

He nodded into my chest, crying because the fan hurt his fingers AND his feelings.

"Yes. The fan will hurt you if you put your fingers inside of it." I reiterated.

So, what did Shane learn from this moment? He learned that the fan was a fucker. But more importantly, Shane learned that when his mom warns him of something, maybe he should listen. He also learned that it was okay to fail in front of me.

You can TELL, YELL and scream something at your children. But it is more important if they learn it for themselves.

Don't ever say "SEE? I was right!" To anyone.

That is just unpleasant and unintelligent. Yes you were right, you also just cost yourself the respect and admiration of the person (child, spouse or friend) that had a learning moment.

Basically your low self esteem just ruined it. YOU feel better about the situation. Everyone else just thinks you are an ass hat.

Our pride is not as important as theirs is. We are already adults. Who gives a damn if we were right. It is so much more important for them to feel safe failing.

As Shane grew, sometimes it was very difficult to let him fail. But I did.

When he was 12 years old and in Jr.High I took my first child development class and I learned all about positive discipline. "This is an actual thing?" I said to my teacher. She nodded and reiterated "This is an actual thing."

Basically it teaches your children to be aware and accountable of and for THEMSELVES.

It is not YOUR job as a parent to bundle up your child (past the age of 5) for a cold day. It is your job to let your child know that it is cold outside.
Let them decide if they want a jacket. If they choose not too, and they get cold...they will not die and they wont forget it again.

It is not your job to make sure your child eats all of their dinner. It is your job to provide dinner. If they go to bed hungry, they will NOT die, and choose to eat more the next night.

Do you see what I am saying here? Each one of these things is a learning moment. And it is IMPORTANT for your child to experience them. Make their own decisions about their warmth level, hunger level ect. Small stuff.
And once they learn how to make decisions about small stuff, Like what to wear on Tuesday, they will be able to handle bigger decisions and repercussions.

When Shane was 13 he was failing a history class.
I called him into the kitchen (RESTING MOM FACE firmly in place) and presented his report card. "Let's look at your grades."
We looked at them together and he winced when he saw the F in history.
"I'm sorry Mama." he said

"Don't be sorry to me, these are not my grades. They are yours."

He nodded.

"Are you okay with this F?"

"No."

"So what should you do about it?"

He thought about it for a moment "I will go to my teacher and see which assignments are missing and try to make them up." 

"Sounds like a plan."

"Are you mad at me?" he asked. Shane could never stand me being upset at him.

"You did not fail ME. You failed History." 

Shane ended up not being able to make up the grade in that class and as a natural consequence he had to take it again.

"UGH I have to take that history class AGAIN!" He vented to me one night over dinner.

"Why?"

"Because I failed it."

"And are you going to fail it this time?"

"No way." He answered, determined. And he didn't. He passed the class and learned a lesson. Work smart not hard.

Was I worried? Of COURSE I was! However, Shane learning this natural consequence was more important then ME making my self feel better by piggybacking my son's way through his education.


As our children grow up, it is important that we teach them how to made decisions about their own lives. Despite how others may think it looks.

When Emma was in Kindergarten, she dressed...like a train wreck.
 Sequence skirts overlaying jeans, a striped short sleeve over a plaid long sleeve and she always, ALWAYS wore cowboy boots. (We had them in every color.)

One day as we were leaving the school campus, her kindergarten teacher chased me down. "Mrs.Elam!!!!" She waved to me. I stopped and smiled. My smile slipped once she said what she needed too.
"Um...we notice that Emma's shoes are always on the wrong feet."

I glanced down at Emma, and sure enough..they were.

"Okay." I waited

"It's just...maybe you could fix them before school?" She smiled hopefully.

"Emma dresses herself." I stated

"Well...we are worried that she will fall."

"If she falls, she will switch them."

"Well, they MIGHT hurt her that way."

"If they hurt her, she will switch them." I looked down at Emma who was holding my hand and clomping her hot pink boots against the cement.

Her teacher smiled uncomfortably at me.

"I don't understand. Is Emma's boots interfering in her learning while at school?"

"Well no. Emma is the brightest child in her class."

I smiled "I am sure her boots are the brightest as well. Have a good day."

Did I make Emma switch her boots? Naw man. Naw. However the school DID call CPS on me.

When they showed up at my door, I was shocked. Embarrassed and more then happy to show them Emma's pink princess room stuffed full of clothing and every shade of boot available in Modesto.

When they left our home they apologized and promised things would be wrapped up quickly.
It was.

The most important parenting advice that I have ever given out, or will give out is this: Let your children fail. But be there for them when they do. Be a guide in their crazy life. Be a teacher and let them learn lessons.

Show them that it is safe to fail around you, that you will not rub it in their face when they do, or demand that they should listen to you. (because they won't EVER after that.)

Be a calm presence in the face of childhood. And Perfect the "Resting Mom Face"

ALL of the time.

One of my favorite things about having older children is...well....there are many favorite things about it.

When my children were small I use to worry about the day when their belief in Santa Clause disappeared in a haze of bloody booger meatball and teenage angst.

Luckily that never happened.

The tables have changed and I truly believe that my children go through with all of the family traditions and expectations for me. I am the one who is catered too.

"Santa is coming tonight Mama. Aren't you excited?" Shane said to me in between spreading the reindeer food and laying out the cookies.

He also patted me on the shoulder, sort of child like.

Waitaminute.

I am pleasantly surprised at how amazing it is no longer having small children in the home.

Once upon a time, I thought that teenager-dom would include slamming doors, rolling eyes and children running out on me at every opportunity.

My ex-husband once caught me on the floor in our living room crying when Shane turned 5.

"What is wrong?"

"Shaaaaane! He is growing up too fast!" *sob sob bitchfest and cry*

"Well that is a good thing!" He insisted

"A GOOD THING? How is that a good thing?"

"Well....." He thought for a moment "..... think of the alternative. If Shane stopped growing up...then he would sort of be dead."

*GASP!* "HOW is that comforting asshole?!"

"Well....Aren't you glad he is growing up now? Growing up is a good thing...being dead...not so much."

At that, I distinctly remember clutching my 5 year old son to my chest and sobbing into his bowl cut hair.

"Mom. I don't want you to cry. Wanna play Zelda?"

"Yes." I sniffed. And off we went to play.

Later, I did thank my husband for pointing out my ridiculousness.

"Thank you. You were right. Shane is much better 5 then dead."

" It's okay. You were right to cry too. That's what good mamas do."

(See what we did there? We were a good married people.)

My ex-husband had a point, and from then on whenever I got sad from my children growing up too fast, I did indeed think of the alternative, cuss him out in my head (because he was right) and celebrate the fact that Shane was 10...then 15...then 20.

I take great joy in my children being old. Yesterday I bought Emma a desk for Valentines Day and didn't feel the need to prepare it in a grand gesture for her.

"HAPPY VALENTINES DAAAAAAAY!" I squealed to her when she popped open her eyes and saw her huge new fluffy puppy and desk. (I am not one who believes in gifts on Valentines Day, but meh...she needed a desk.)

"THANK YOOOOOOOOU!" She exclaimed with delight and began opening it and assembling it. 

"Wan't help?" I offered.

"Nope. I want you to relax."

Once Shane woke up she wandered up to him "Happy Valentines Day! Help me with my desk?"

Together they sat on the floor and worked on it. Shane cussed. Emma navigated the instructions and I called over every now and again with "DO you need help?" and "It looks wobbly to meeeee!"

(Which got me even more ugly looks from Shane and caused them to whisper at my expense.)

I loved it.

On Saturday, I braved 10 different stores to find Emma's Superstar ADIDAS that were sold out at 9.

I kept referring to them as A-Dee-Dee's and the children laughed together and patted my shoulder with kind condescending tones and "It's okay mom. I love my A-dee-dee's." and "I'm going to ROCK these A-dee-dee's on Tuesday like you don't even know."

I know what Adidas are and I certainly know how to pronounce them. (My high school boyfriend and I had a matching pair!) However, I receive immense joy letting my children think that I don't know what I am talking about ALL of the time.

#Fully flawed.

Acceptance is the first step to practically everything.
Drug abuse, bad parenting, grief and even clothing addiction.

I know, because I googled it and everybody knows that Google is the smartest thing in the world. Google is on every cell phone and even housed in a pair of specs.

Heck,

Google maps even caught me sauntering into Buhach Preschool a few years ago huffing and puffing like a Sasquatch. (it's true..you can Google it.)

...anyway. I accepted a long time ago that I am a flawed human being. Fully flawed.

*********************************************************************************

#Flawedandfalling

Take last night for example...

At 5:47 I rush out of the lobby, excited to lock up the center and get my weekend started (because let's face it, a Netflix binge is in my future.)

At 5:57 pm I limp inside of the lobby with my (Juans) now broken umbrella shaking in my fist.

"What! What happened to you?!" At first Preeti is SO concerned.

"I fell! I fell down the steps!" I lifted my skirt to show her my knee. "You know when you're old (and fat) you don't even realize that you are falling until it is over." I then reenact my falling.

"Oh my God....Are you okay?" She smiles.

"Yes asshole."

"Oh myyyyy Gawwwwwd." She laughs. "I am sorry to laugh."

"Friends are supposed to laugh when you fall. I can't WAIT for you to fall. I'm going to shit myself laughing at you. Look at my knee!" I whine and limp off to text Juan about his broken umbrella.

I sort of fold it back up and prop it in place. "Maybe he wont notice that half of it is crunched." I murmur to myself.



*********************************************************************************

#Flawedandfailing

Emma tells me that I intimidate her friends.
"But I am the nicest person in the entire world!" I state.

"Just look at you! With your hair and clothes. Not to mention your red lips. YOU are intimidating."

I huff off. Worried that I don't look as nice as I feel inside.

On Wednesday Morning I was driving Emma to school. We pick up 2 of her besties on the way. It is usually so early that I never have time to talk to them, PLUS, I do the whole 'I am just going to drive and not embarrass my daughter' thing.

Well THIS Morning, Micheal was late to wake up and late to hop in the car.
What's a mom to do? Make conversation of course!
"Hi Gynnifyr." I turn and look at my daughters best friend.
"Hi." She smiles shyly.

SIDENOTE: Gynnifyr is ADORABLE. I love her and her freckles and blunt bangs so much, but usually I try to stay "chill." (chill is what my daughter says is quiet)

"Do you have a boyfriend Gynnifyr?" I question, noting that Emma's face is falling in the review mirror.
"No." she smiles and looks out of the window.

"Good girl. Boys are stupid. Do you have a girlfriend? Do you like girls? Sometimes that happens." I ramble.

"No!" she turns red while Emma's face glowers at me in the mirror.
"Uh oh." I murmur and turn back around.



*********************************************************************************

#Flawedandfullyaware

I am addicted to clothing. (See? I have accepted it. Which is the first step.)
The problem is...I don't really want to fix it. Unless fixing it means going to a shopping spree.
I am actually MORE addicted to men's clothing and follow several sites on the Instagram.

I love a fancy man in fancy clothes. Bespoke suits...*shudder

Talk fashion to me...please.

 'You had me at Prt-porter' is a shirt I would gladly wear.

The problem with me is my inability to keep my hands to myself when it comes to feeling clothing of items that I am drooling over.
The bigger problem is when Parents realize it and ask me if I want to touch their jacket, scarf or god forbid purse.

Uh oh they are on to me. I think while gladly feeling the texture of their jackets.

The other day Jana plunked her purse on the desk in front of me. "I got a new Bestey. Wanna smell it?"

"Bitch." I murmured to her and picked up the purse angrily. "Of COURSE I do." And I smooshed it to my face for a whiff.

Life advice to my daughter.

Now that my daughter is reaching the precipice of teenage-dom, I feel that it is important for her that I pass on experienced and jaded knowledge of the dating world, life and everything else.

(I have never felt so old as when plotting this Blog.)

RULE #1:

WAIT for a man like THAT

While watching Unbreakable, an amazing movie By the way, The only thing that kept going through my mind and I kept sputtering through my mouth was "Why don't they make men like THAT anymore?"

Men who were stranded on a raft after their plane went down WHIST serving their country.

Men who were STRANDED on a raft, who were hungry so they worked together to catch a FUCKING shark by the tale and kill it by punching it in the head.

Two men survived 47 days on the raft catching birds and punching sharks and dodging Japanese air raids.

Of course they did.

I feel like most men today would die after 2 days in a heap on the floor clutching their water logged cell phone to their chest and crying about no cell towers in the ocean.

As the credits rolled I looked over at Emma with a smile on my face and said "Emma, Wait for a man like that."

RULE #2

IF A MAN CALLS YOU BAE PUNCH HIM IN HIS THROAT

(or balls)

No explanations necessary.
If you are older then 13 and you say the word Bae in your daily life you better be talking about going to the ocean and watching the fucking whales in the Bay.

RULE #3

DO YOU

There is no one in this entire world as important as you are. Travel, make friends and mistakes. Work on becoming a fully realized woman. Don't set your self up to settle down.
There is plenty of time to relationship.

RULE #4

Make friends and invest in them.

Friendships are uber important in your life journey. If you have good friends, you are never lonely and are rarely allowed to be grumpy. Friendships are a relationship. You have good times and you have bad times.

You fight and then make up.

Don't give up on your friends. Especially when you get in a relationship.
Understand that when your friends are in relationships you are as well. You will rarely get to be alone with your friend anymore. It is a process. Accept it, and whatever loser or winner they fall in love with.

RULE #5

Know your worth.

The problem with most of the dating world is that it is lazier then ever before. You go out on one date and that means you sleep together.
Uh hello? Are you ganna give your vagina away for a $25.00 pasta plate?
NO THANK YOU.
Be the kind of woman that is worth it. Know your value and act like a lady.

RULE #6

Be strong.

Sometimes life is incredibly hard. Find something to look forward too.

Love the people who are good to you, know your strengths and work on your weaknesses.

Always strive to do things in life with your whole soul.

Look people in the eyes when you talk to them and give firm handshakes.

Speak clearly and decisively, Make your voice heard.

Fight for what you believe in, even if it is unpopular. ESPECIALLY if it is unpopular.

Ask for what you want and fight for it.

Fight for others who have no voice.

Be different, be unique and celebrate it.

RULE #7

Be a secret keeper.

Other peoples stories are not yours to tell.  Keep information to yourself. Ladies don't gossip about their friends. They are a safe place, a keeper of secrets.

RULE #7

Be honest.

Liars are ugly. Nobody likes them and they have poor soul hygiene. Also, they cannot be trusted. exaggeration is another form of lying....that is ugly too.

RULE #8

Read the Bible.

Even if you are wicked old when you do, at some point in your life, read it cover to cover. Inside of it there Is wisdom, forgiveness, life lessons and most importantly LOVE.

RULE #9

Don't be a dick.

And if you do, apologize.

There is no weakness in admitting your dick-dom. Only strength of every relationship. Friendship, husband or co-worker.
Be nice to people, forgive when asked and always love people back.

RULE #10

Nobody loves you MORE then I do.

They may claim to love you as MUCH, (not possible) but nobody in this whole wild world will ever love you MORE then I do.
Not your husband, your lover, your children or your bestie.

I will be there for you in every success and in every failure. I will wipe your tears and push your chin up. I will be proud of you, no matter what and I will always be your biggest fan.

Preschool Teacher on a soapbox.

To whom it may concern,

I am a Teacher.

I am NOT a Daycare worker.

The curriculum that I TEACH is researched, planned, written and executed with care and individual thoughtfulness.

My goal as a TEACHER is to provide an atmosphere filled with LOVE, routine and challenging thought processes.

At the beginning of the year my students learn how to properly hold a pencil, are given activities and tests that exercise their fine motor skills and by the end of the year, they are writing words that they have sounded out with said pencil.

They are learning literacy skills, sentence structuring and money value.

They are learning how to tell stories from the beginning and finish them at the end. But those things are FAR from the most important things to me.

I teach children MANNERS, such as raising their hands before speaking, asking to be excused from the table, waiting quietly and with patience when an adult is speaking.

I teach children KINDNESS, such as standing up for one another, helping a child who is hurt or sad and complimenting others on their actions (or cute shoes)

I teach children HONESTY, and that they can trust us with their story, information and heart.

I follow through when I say something, because it is part of my job as a leader to teach your children that adults are trustworthy, honest and can be trusted themselves.

Children are special and unique. Each one requires something different from their teacher.
I am silly when I can be and strict when I have to be.

I am not stuck in a teaching rut, I do not HAVE to be a Pre-K teacher. I want to be one.
I have considered what it would be like to work in a school district. And I cringe every time.

One of my school-agers brought home a referral from his school yesterday:


"Ms.Beanie, I have a note." He said miserably foreseeing written letters of apology and video game groundation.

I gave him a stern look, shook my head and began to read it.

"___________  splashed in puddles and stood beneath the water dripping off of the building, even when I warned the entire class beforehand."

I just stared at it for a moment before putting the note away.

"DO I have to write an apology letter Ms.Beanie?"

"Not today love." I replied

Later I stepped outside of the classroom to talk to his mom. " He got a referral today, Please read it. I want to follow through with discipline so I kept him off of the video games, however I did not make him write an apology letter for it."

She read the note and her eyebrows raised before looking back at me. "He's a kid!"

"He's a number." I said to myself.


I would fail miserably in the school district. I would hop in puddles and decorate the walls with paint splatter.

That being said, I do appreciate job offers. Thank you for thinking that I am amazing.

However, I do NOT appreciate being told that I deserve better. Because I as far as I am concerned, I travel an hour a day simply to work at the BEST.
With the BEST teachers and the BEST leader.

(And thank you Jesus, we have a long waiting list to prove it.)

When people have a passion for painting it is an amazing talent.
When you have a passion for Preschool it is considered a step below teaching.

This is untrue.

Preschool is IMPORTANT.
It is a valuable step in the development of a healthy and well rounded individual.

When we TEACH your child, we think about what values need to be instilled into them. Each and every one of them and as a TEAM we work together to provide it, while cultivating your child's need for magic, natural consequences and happy memories.

Some of these skills are invisible and cannot be written on their daily notes.
Can you imagine?

Daily activities:

 I learned how to stop being an asshole.

Today I learned to use my words instead of my fists to communicate. Also I stopped eating my boogers for dessert.

Today I learned that when Ms.Beanie says it is cold outside, I should PROBABLY grab my jacket.

Today I had to complete my work three times, until I have Ms.Beanie the kind of work that she expects from me.


It is my pleasure and indeed honor to have a small say in what kind of human being your child becomes.

Know that when WE as Preschool teachers say we love your child, we MEAN it.
We worry, hope and pray for them.
When they leave our classrooms we MISS them, think of them and sometimes cry because of it.

Penis.

I say the word penis, on average, at least 20 times a day.

"Don't kick people in the Penis."

"Put your penis away!"

"Are you rubbing your penis on my table?"

"We don't color our penises."

"Nobody wants to see your penis."

"Is something wrong with your penis? No? Then stop squeezing it, I'm sure your mother wants grandchildren someday."

You know, the norm.

Yesterday I rang my bell and made a lofty announcement " I am speaking to the boys. Please keep your feet, hands, crayons and elbows off of your own OR each others penises. We do not punch, hit, stare or even speak to another persons penis. I am tired of SAYING the word penis. If I say penis one more time to anyone in the WORLD, I will sell you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Ms.Beanie."

The boys all answered (and tried not to laugh)
Everything was going well until the one little boy, who couldn't help it whispered "Peeeeniissss"
to the great enjoyment of every single boy in my classroom.

My head fell back and I sighed before going into full whale breathing.

*Breathing like a whale makes you feel calmer, instantly...try it.

I chose to ignore the penis whisperer and decided to take the high road of brow furrows and tight lips.
That never lasts long with me, especially when another child tells the penis whisperer that he was going to be sold soon.

Tree Choad. (Or how to throw a fit when your 38)

choad

 As it stands, the word choad has three major definitions.

1) A short, fat penis that is wider than it is longer
2) The area between the scrotum/vagina and the anus.
3) A derogatory term used to insult somebody.

"Ducas has a fat choad."

"Last night your mom tongued my choad."

"Quit being such a choad."

It is almost October.

This is my favorite time of the year, not only do we get to celebrate Halloween, read Halloween books, wear Halloween inspired clothing and drink Halloween coffee...but in MY family, October 1st means that we make plans for the 'Other'  Holidays.

Eeeeeee! Holidays.
How I love them so.

The music, the smells, the lights. Ahhhhh
Encase you're wondering...I AM one of those people who end up on December 26th, trembling and teary eyed that Christmas is over... "But it happened so fast.." I always say.

How sad.

However, I am also the planner of the family, and after eating our weekly family dinner and catching up on everyone's week, I whip my phone out and demand "OKAY. Let's schedule pumpkins."

Brandee and I look at our calendars and decide which pay day is the best to visit Delosso Farms.
"That's not a payday, but the next pay day is too close to Halloween." She says.

I "Hmmmm" In response.

"I am working. I can pumpkin!" Shane volunteers.

"Yay! If we are broke Shane can pumpkin for us!" I exclaim

"No, we can save." Brandee says...like an adult.

We quickly schedule our pumpkin date and discuss which rides we will go on.

As I get ready to follow my children out the door I murmur to Brandee "Wish me luck with these two. I am like the BOTTOM of the totem pole when we are together."

Brandee wishes me luck, I squish Mandy's face to my boobs and I am out the door.

On the way home I am excited.

Filled with Glee even.

"OH CHRISTMAS!" I exclaim "I can feel you coming! We will have the BEST most AMAZING tree EVER!....Who's turn is it to pick our tree this year!?"

Shane claps with Glee "MINE!"

My stomach drops and I frown at him.
Shane has ALWAYS wanted the most depressing tree's at Christmastime. You know, the ones you feel sorry for. The ones with gaping holes or lopsided ones that cause you to look away so that you don't feel sorry for the tree. THOSE ONES.

"NO." I mutter

"YES!!!" He exclaims "And I am going to pick out the smallest, most chubby tree on the lot!"

"NO!" I gasp trying to still my sinking heart with my hands

"YES! It will be a tree choad!" He laughs manically which causes my daughter to laugh with him.

"But SHAAAAAAAAAANE! I don't WANT a tree choad!" I whine, which causes him to laugh even harder. His fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to keep the tears at bay.

"I know! I KNOW! But it is MY year and I want a tree choad!"

"Oh my god, and it will break in half when we put my shark ornament on it that Mandy got me." Emma chuckles in the back seat.

"But I want a big fat tree! I picked out the BEST tree!" I whined some more, trying to make them see it my way. LAST year was my year and our tree was magnificent!

"DO you mean the one that we had to cut a foot off of to fit in our house and it took us 5 HOURS to put up. THAT ONE?" Emma questioned

"YES! But wasn't it magnificent?" I whispered, still awed by my fat giant LOVELY tree.

"Well yeah...but you had to run to Walmart and buy a whole separate tree holder for it."

"But...well now we have one so Shane can pick out a giant tree!"

"NOPE!" Shane shook his head "I'm getting the choad and there is nothing you can do about it. It's MY TURN! Family rules."

He was still chuckling at me, even when I smacked him for it on his tummy.

By the time we got home, I was pouting (and stomping) Shane was STILL laughing and Emma was spinning around in circles, probably high with the knowledge that her mom was miserable.

Shane stopped on the front porch to our home and looked down on me walking up, " I'm over your tree choices! You know what Momma, your tree choices SUCK!"

I gasped appalled at anything that I have chosen sucking.

"The pink tree?" He questioned, his arms folded and his eyebrow raised.

"Well THAT was my divorce tree! I HAD to celebrate with pink tree icing and pink diamonds on top!"

"The tinsel tree?" Emma stood next to him, her eyebrow raised as well.

"AGH! That is a reminiscent of times past. IT SHINED so prettily!" I stomped up our front steps after them. Completely rethinking my decision to give birth.

"I don't understand why you two are Christmas ruining assholes! I am the best mommy EVER and have filled your lives with Christmas fucking joy. JOY!" I shouted and pointed to the sky.

I walked down the hallway, de-braing and stomping like a toddler.

Behind me I heard "Oh my. Mommy is so mad." Then laughter.

Lots of laughter.

"If those beasts think I am going to have a choad tree, they have another thing coming." I murmured to Karma.

She snorted (Which in Karma speak means: THOSE BASTARDS!)  and I was happy that I had ONE family member who would not be getting coal for Christmas.