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the point

Well, am I not just the most cheerful blogger in the history of ever? Sorry about that. I don’t want to make this blog all depressing, and at the same time I don’t want to make it all happy-go-lucky and fake. I don’t know. Is there a happy medium? A balance between the two?

Who knows.

you say cake, I say breakfast

I do know that chocolate cake for breakfast will do wonders. Until your stomach figures out that you’ve been skipping most meals lately in favour of greasy or chocolatey snacks. My body kind of hates me right now.

I’ve been doing my best not to be so grinchy to all the people who are getting into the “Christmas spirit”. Red Starbucks cups and Christmas music and twinkly lights … I just … I don’t know what it has to do with Jesus’ birth and I know that not everyone believes in that, and that is not my point, but I don’t see what the point is of it all. What is the point of this season? What is the point of decorating? There’s a huge build-up to Christmas Day and then … what? I’m trying to separate true Christmas and secular Christmas in my head and I’m having a really hard time.

Herein lies my problem. I hate holidays, apparently. And this is where Noah will tell you that I hate fun and I’m here to ruin his life. (He is Mr. Christmas.) Valentine’s Day? Stupid. It’s exclusive and exclusionary. Easter? Stupid. Do bunnies lay eggs? Were there bunnies laying eggs when Jesus died? Halloween? Hey, let’s scare the tar out of our kids, give them nightmares, fill them with sugar, and then send them to school the next day and expect them to function normally! (Secular) Christmas? Again, exclusive and exclusionary. What of the people who have nowhere to go? What of the parents who can’t afford presents for their kids? Why don’t we guilt our kids into being “good” and rewarding them by giving them everything they want, making them selfish and greedy?! I think the only holiday we can all agree on is Thanksgiving. Getting together with people to eat and focus on being thankful? I can get on board with that.

Just call me The Fun Killer.

Ok, um, I sat down to write a “happy” post. I’m not doing a very good job, am I? Sorry about that. Again, this is why I have not been posting.

We do Secret Santa things with both my and Noah’s family and I really love it. Our Christmas budget is lower, the stress is lower, and honestly, it’s more fun. I’ve still been grinchy about it, but I’m trying not to be. I even created a Christmas List for myself (and the kids). This is miraculous, people. If you ask Noah how much fun am to buy for, he will probably say ZERO. Noah is one of those people who loves to give gifts and I am one of those people who say, I dunno, just get me whatever. Or better yet, get me nothing. Saying this to someone who has a two-page — categorized, alphabetical, with prices listed by store — Christmas List is just not acceptable, apparently. And usually, if our budget is tight around my birthday or Mother’s Day or our anniversary or Christmas, I don’t let him buy me anything. To some dudes, this would be awesome. To Noah, this is torture. He has such a bad life.

Anyway, I’ll stop this pointless drivel. Thanks for the kinds comments/emails/FB messages on/about the last post. Often, when I write about something to do with anxiety or depression, at least one person emails or messages me saying Thank you for being so open about this, I’m so glad I’m not the only one. and that makes it all worth it. Letting someone know that they’re not the only one suffering, and that they’re not suffering alone. Because they’re not. You’re not.

And now, I shall focus on happy things. Like the look on the excited look on the face of the first-awake-from-his-nap baby at the sound of his friend waking up, and the way he runs to the door behind which his friend is calling, excited to start playing. Or how Preston calls cars “brrrm”s. Or how Liliana is so concerned about everyone knowing they’re loved. Or how Kaylie is growing up and getting more responsible (most days) and independent and can be such a good big sister when she wants to be.

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