I always thought “summer” and “homework” were mutually exclusive words. Not so much anymore, as I understand it. Read more here.
I know you’ll think I have it out for all household family pets but I really don’t. As I mentioned in a blog awhile back on Momaha.com, I think family pets play an integral part in some people’s lives and if those people are diligent and responsible about taking care of them, I am all for it.
I just don’t want one. And I don’t want yours either: especially not in the form of a Christmas card or a Christmas letter, written from your seemingly gifted cat or dog.
Christmas cards are for humans. They are sent to humans, by humans. I would love to hear about what’s been happening this year with you and your family but I’m pretty sure I can already guess that your family pet slept, ate and shat most of the year.
Some will say, “Our pet is like our child.” To that I say, take a family picture and include your cat or dog but don’t send me (and I’m sure there will be loads that agree) pictures of just your dog. Your pet doesn’t mean to anyone, what (s)he means to you so it’s just better to save the money spent on expensive picture cards and send a nice pre-printed card with a holiday sentiment on it.
…unless your pet can actually address, stamp and deliver the card to the post office. In that case, I’d prefer the video.
I tend to be pretty particular about my belongings… especially if they were gifts or items that I really love.
A good friend of mine recently gave me one of those heavy duty plastic drink cups with a twist on lid and a straw. Both of us have a newfound penchant for a fountain soda in the afternoons, so she bought me this cute cup with the built-in pink straw because I LOVE pink! I’ve had it for two days.
This afternoon, my husband descends from upstairs with his fresh soda, cascading over ice and housed in MY NEW DESIGNER PLASTIC CUP. As if…. we do not have half a million other large (and cute, mind you) plastic cups for his daily use. I quickly reprimanded him for using my new cup and told him that it was not his to use EVER….
Now, before you go thinking that I am just a raging, selfish bitch, please let me tell you about a few other things my family has glommed onto:
My husband is also a consummate coffee drinker. He daily pours coffee into one of two travel coffee mugs that we have, one that I put in his stocking for Christmas and one that I received as a gift for Christmas. I went to use my mug this morning for the long drive we had out to my parents house, who watched the kids for us on date night, last night and lo’ and behold – only my husband had a travel mug because mine was either A) still sitting dirty in his car from last week’s commute or B) has gone missing altogether because only the screw-on base of the cup is present… don’t ask my why?!
My children are of the “what’s yours is mine” camp. It’s not just me that suffers from this unpopular opinion. My husband is also regularly subjected to the, “Can I have some of your….?” It’s sad that we have to sneak snacks or seemingly uninteresting meals so as not to be apprehended by our two small children for a bite… or more often the entirety of our meal.
I also have a favorite comb that came from an Estee Lauder gift with purchase when I was in high school. It’s the most wonderful comb ever! One that I haven’t had to replace, nor would I be able to, because it’s that awesome!, since my sophomore year. Several times, my husband has taken my beloved comb on business trips with him thus leaving me to use the comb I bought specifically for him. It’s not that his combs are bad but they just aren’t as wonderful as my old beloved… and therefore tends to throw off my whole “getting ready” routine… a routine that needs no assistance in getting derailed since it’s rare that I even attempt it anymore.
I have bellied up to the bathroom sink several times to find an already wet toothbrush and a husband who claims, “oh, I forgot that color was yours!” Really?
I have emerged from the shower more times than I care to remember to an already soaking wet towel on my towel bar, one that even more often tends to be blood stained from a tragic shaving accident… not mine. Why? Because my darling husband forgot to get himself a clean towel to use, before he stepped into the shower.
The same darling husband went way over budget and gave me the most awesome gift last Christmas… a new MacBook especially for me because he had downloaded God knows what on our PC and every time I tried to use my profile to get on the Internet, I was plagued with pop-ups… but only on my profile. He told me that the Mac would be my computer, that it wasn’t for public consumption. Now I regularly go to pull up iTunes on my computer, only to find hundreds of songs that he’s been making mixes with for his family, his friends, himself… why? because the “file sharing” on our PC doesn’t work anymore and his own iPod crapped out.
I think my husband is a pretty generous person and I feel like I am, most days, too. But at this point, I have shared my body for many months with unborn children, I have shared my “potty breaks” also with said children, I daily share 99.999999999999999% of my time with the three other people in my life and I’m just thinking that my toothbrush and my “adult sippy cup” should be allowed to be mine. And mine alone.