Here is our holiday card this year.
And the back:
Isn’t it nice? Don’t we all look so happy? Doesn’t it look like the BEST FAMILY MOMENT EVER? Braaaa haaa haaa.
Shockingly I’m actually in the photo this year. Usually my Christmas card is a picture of my kids. A lovely, adorable photo of my kids that I practically killed myself to get. I’ll bribe. I’ll threaten. I’ll beg. I’ll do ANYTHING to get them just to stand still for four freakin’ seconds and look into the camera. It’s hell.
So when my friend and fab photographer Morgan Pansing offered to take our holiday photos this year, I was thrilled. Someone else could deal with my kids wiggling and giggling and doing everything BUT holding still for a photo.
“This is going to be GREAT!” I thought. “This is going to be so stress-free!” I thought. “What could go wrong?” I thought. Cue the horror music.
The morning of the photo shoot I woke up with Mount Zitvisus on my face. Seriously, the largest pimple I’ve ever had in my life appeared on my chin. I picked at it because, well, how could I not? If I’ve got a massive zit on my chin, I’m gonna attack it. After I did zit battle, it looked like I had a huge, gaping, massive wound on my chin. Which is way worse than a pimple. All I can say is thank the makeup gods for cover up!
After I attacked my face, I went to get the kids dressed in their photo outfits. My son refused to put his clothes on. He’s very picky and didn’t feel like wearing the jeans I picked out. When I finally wrestled them on, he claimed they were “too big” and went running through the house for thirty minutes screaming, “TOO BIIIIIGGGGG!!!!! TOO BIIIIIIGGGGGG!!!!!!” The irony is they're like two sizes too small. Because I suck. And they were the only clean pair.
Did I mention he had a cold too? So the poor guy had snot running down his face all day. And of course he wiped that snot all over me. Because moms are just big, huge tissues.
Then my mom sliced her finger on a knife and bled all over. I have a condition called vasovagal syncope, which means I pass out when I see blood. So that was fun.
Then my brother started chasing my daughter inside in a fun game a of tag. My mom and I kept telling them to stop. But you know, no one listens to moms. Not even two of them.
Suddenly we heard a huge crash and a blood-curdling scream. The iron fireplace grate had fallen onto my daughter’s head, leaving a big, red, angry welt right above her eyebrow. (Perfect timing.)
My daughter started screaming in pain.
My mom started screaming at my brother.
I started screaming at my mom.
Then Gabe started wishing he’d married into another family. Or at least a quieter one.
But fear not, his brand of crazy came out when he refused to put on the matching white polo shirt I handed him to wear. Why? I don't know why. I finally told him to stop acting like a 5-year-old and PUT ON THE DAMN SHIRT. To his credit, unlike the 5-year-old, he put it on.
By the time Morgan showed up with her camera, we all looked perfectly happy and put together in our matching white outfits (yes, WHITE! Because I’m crazy.) She never knew the drama that ensued just moments before she walked in the door. Thankfully. And thankfully Morgan is a total pro and the actual shoot was really fun, especially once we got in our Christmas jammies from our Holidays Are Hell video. Thanks for making us look good despite it all, Morgan!
Happy Everything, everyone!