Posted by Duff

Some people are awesome.  You’re probably one of them–the kind of person who remembers the birthdays of people with whom she went to elementary school without the help of Facebook reminders and sends actual postal cards that arrive in a timely manner. My aunt is one of these people. So is my sister-in-law. I swear, I used to be one of these people.

Some people are festive. They go out and get real Christmas trees (some chop them down themselves from planned tree farms) and they come home and bake cookies and listen to carols during the trimming. I used to be one of these people. Some people go out and about in the holiday season wearing reindeer antlers. These people, I have always thought, despite an often low tolerance for the corny, are doubly awesome. And yes, I used to be one of these people.

Some people are patient with children–some even work with them, daily, and come home cheerful and affectionate and ready to give their own family their full oomph. These people are rock stars. I am not now, nor have I ever been, one of these people.

I just wanted to say, if you’ve ever told me your birthday, there is a very good chance that I remember it, and on the days I’m sure of the date (not as common now that I don’t write/type/see it nearly as much as I used to), I DO think of you. Several times. I hope you’re doing well. I’m wishing you a good year. I’m thinking of funny things you said, or songs you loved, or times we spent together that no lack of my sending you a birthday card or Facebook wall posting can erase or lessen the importance of. I swear.

And I’m festive. It’s just that since I had kiddos, someone is always running a fever (or something else) at the mere mention of the Christmas tree, and I know those days will pass. As I type this, I’m drinking coffee out of a snowman mug next to a recovering Dervish watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I swear.

The patience, I think, is overrated. Someone who was born with it, please come over and help me, now that my SECOND child is pushing chairs all over the house and trying to singe himself on the stove or canonball into the toilet and scattering everything that was once out of reach EVERYWHERE. Before I swear. Too late.

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