Welcome back for part 2 of our Agent Santa series. Be sure to catch up on part 1 if you missed it.
Once the lists were created, it was onto phase 2: “Operation Bad Credit”, where all the magic is made. We’re well past the age-old practice of buying gifts and hiding them in the house, too risky. A while back, we switched to ordering everything online, but even that technique has outlived its usefulness. We grew tired of all the questions regarding this box and that box, since the mailman clearly didn’t understand the importance of delivering packages while kids are in school (talk about selfish). Now days, we order gifts online and have them delivered to a friend’s house, this way everything is out of sight; no questions asked. The only problem with this option is the hassle in getting all the gifts to the house and wrapped at the last minute. This is where my super-agent stealth training came in. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sneak box after box into the house, down 2 flights of stairs into the basement, and to secure them out of sight, without waking up sleeping children? I remember dropping a box at one point and going all Jason Borne and diving behind the couch for cover because I thought the noise startled the boys. Luckily, they didn’t wake up and I didn’t have to use my nerve agent darts.
I’m just going to go ahead and get this out of the way: yes, it is the end of February and yes, this is a post about Christmas. But before, you start throwing around words like crazy, delirious, and psycho; give me a moment to explain myself. I’m none of those things, well maybe a little crazy, but that’s not the driving force behind this “well past its due date” post. The true emotion fueling this late February Christmas post is selfishness. Selfishness is clearly in direct opposition to the meaning of Christmas, but hey at least I’m being honest. Before we move forward, let me elaborate on exactly how my selfishness has led us to this point. Every night as I drive home through my neighborhood, I am forced to view houses that STILL feel the need to showcase their holiday cheer by continuing to turn their Christmas lights on. Really people? We’re exactly two months removed from the holidays and you’re still turning those Christmas lights on? Listen, at this point, the only reminder of Christmas that I expect is when I open my credit card statement each month; I don’t need my neighbors reminding me every day as well. So due to the fact that I’m forced to relive Christmas every evening, I felt that it was only right that I spread the holiday cheer around to my readers as well. I mean, what are friends for if they can’t wallow in each other’s pain? So you see, I’m not actually being selfish; it’s quite the opposite, I’m doing my duty to ensure that each of you are keeping those friendship skills sharp. You can thank me later.
The difference a day makes….you know, I never really thought much about the significance of that statement; because up until today, there hasn’t been much that has drastically changed in my life over a 24 hour period. I mean sure, there have been ‘here today, gone tomorrow moments’, but nothing as substantial as a complete reversal of my beliefs from day 1 to day 2. Well that’s exactly what happened this time and honestly, I’m still trying to process it all. I feel duped, bamboozled, and a bit foolish; deception tends to have that type of affect on you from time to time. Yesterday, I wrote a blog post that had the following statement: “Usually, the parents are the shining stars after throwing a good party for their kid, but this year Ty stole the show and HE was my hero.” MY HERO, yes, I was proud to proclaim that my own child presented himself in such away that blew my moral compass off the charts and catapulted him well ahead of my previous hero, Wolverine. Well within a day, Ty has gone from hero to zero based on his counter-heroic actions. It actually pains my heart to write ‘zero’ in association with one of my kids, but unfortunately, it’s the way I feel at the moment.
We celebrated a birthday over the weekend, our dear old (emphasis on OLD) friend Ty turned 9 this past Sunday and boy did he lay on more than a few surprises. I was always under the impression that the birthday boy was the one who was supposed to be surprised on their special day, but this year Ty had other ideas lined up and turned the tables on us. His actions left both Fefe and I dumbfounded, confused, and caused more than a teardrop or two to form in our eyes. We honestly couldn’t fathom the fact that the little boy performing the actions in front of our very eyes belonged to us. The fact that he was acting so differently around his friends had us flabbergasted.
When I was a kid people would ask me if I felt older on my birthday? I always responded with a resounding yes; during the teenage years you might have even gotten a HELL YEAH out of me. Obviously, it was a lie; I felt exactly the same, but was so happy to be a bit older that I had to express how great it felt. Today I’m 30 and if you ask me the same question the answer will undoubtedly be the same but for very different reasons. Now the answer is yes because that’s the freaking truth!
A LOT has happened in the past few weeks, there’s been so much going on, that my computer and I nearly got a divorce due to the fact that we’ve spent next to zero minutes together recently. Let’s see, a quick rundown: My mom came to visit, Fefe’s Dad came to visit, we had Christmas, we had Tre’s birthday, New Year’s celebrations, plays, date nights, and the list goes on and on. But the most memorable moment of the past few weeks by far is the day I almost died. Could you imagine what your lives would be like had you lost your favorite Daddy blogger to a freak accident? I know, you can’t fathom the thought, so let’s move on and discuss my experience of flirting with the Grimm Reaper.
How many of you remember getting hit on your birthday as a child? One hit for each year that you’ve been alive and kicking. We called them Birthday hits, others called them “licks”. Given the fact that Ty’s girlfriend was in attendance at his recent party, I felt “licks” was more appropriate; more on that later. Back to getting hit as a child; what a horrible tradition, I mean, geesh, it’s your freaking birthday, your special day and to celebrate it, people beat you up? I don’t know about you guys, but I call that aggravated assault! You may feel that I’m going a bit far with the assault claim, but I vividly remember back in high school, kids would purposely get sick on their birthdays to avoid coming to school and receiving their birthday beatings hits. That’s just taking it a bit too far. With that being said, this past Saturday, I gave Ty 8 of the most viciously powerful hits that I could land without child protective services knocking at my door the next day. You’ll be happy to know that I did withhold the “pinch to grow an inch”, primarily because I’m just tired of buying new clothes for the kid.
The number 25 is significant in our society; there are many things that depend on the number 25 for survival. Gumball machines for instance, could you imagine how much revenue they would lose if that candy cost 26 cents? I mean who wants to dig for a quarter AND a penny while being hounded by a rowdy kid? And what if that silly “25 random things about me” list only had 24 things on it? Could you really go on another day without knowing that last thing about some person you barely knew in high school, but are now internet BFFs with? Of course you couldn’t, because the number 25 makes you whole, it warms that special place in your heart like no other number could do. That’s why when my wife turned a quarter of a century old, I had to put my best foot forward and ensure we celebrated in style.
With all the “stuff” that Moms put up with, one day to recognize their beauty, love, and efforts just isn’t enough. A lot of people I know have issues with “Hallmark” holidays; they feel that it’s a conspiracy by big corporations to keep their pockets fat while sedating people who are in stale or stagnant relationships. I totally agree! Holidays like Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and especially Valentine’s Day are built for those very reasons. Yet, I participate in full force every year and am proud to do so. Before you call me a hypocrite, check out this status update from my wife and be silenced:
My birthday was this past Sunday, yup, this year I got the distinct pleasure of celebrating my birthday on Easter. This is a privilege that has been bestowed upon me only 2 times in my 29 years on this planet. The last time that this occurred was in 2007 and it wasn’t that big of a deal at all. Actually, no one seemed to care too much. I guess if this aligning of the stars and planets occurred when I was a kid, I probably would have been thrilled about my Birthday and Easter being on the same day; I mean gifts plus an Easter basket and Easter candy plus a birthday cake, what’s not to love right? However, as an adult, this coincidence didn’t have much of an effect on me. My offspring on the other hand is a different story. The fact that my birthday and Easter fell on the same day caused one of the largest controversies ever to affect our family.