It is that time of year again.

Just like clockwork.

Sleigh bells ringing, Holiday cheer, Santa’s little helpers, lighting of the Menorah, a time of good will towards all…

SCREEETCH!!!

Flash that RED nose Rudolph!

This single handedly has to be the MOST stressful time of year – for anyone!  (Unless of course you are the Easter Bunny, a Leprechaun, or the Tooth Fairy….oh that’s right you are.)

Case and Point…

The Holiday’s arrive, no matter what holiday you celebrate or decline to participate in – they fashionably come storming in like Brüno in Funkyzeit.

There you are, standing in the kitchen with your wife or husband, contemplating the upcoming catastrophic events bound to happen over the next eight weeks.  What are we doing for Thanksgiving?  Who’s hosting Hanukkah?  Where are we flying for Christmas?  Is there enough alcohol to make it to New Years?  Silently, the two of you raid the left over Halloween candy stashed in the back of the cupboard staring vicariously into each others eyes.

Now that you have asked these questions….fast forward to the ‘implied’.

Why didn’t you already know?  YOU are supposed to host Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, and New Years!

Not too mention, both sides of the family are coming to town and staying three whole bloody eggnog sucking weeks!  Along with Cousin Mary, Uncle George, your sister’s new fling of the month and your neighbors are heading out of town so they asked you to watch their pesky animals! *bark* *bark* *meeeeow*

Quick…start pricing airfares, hotels, rent-a-cars – we are escaping the madness!

Wrong…

Reality…

You are married now.  You have spent a wonderful decade together, enjoying the perks of hand selecting which Holiday’s you will partake, where you want to go, and who you want to visit.  The winds of change are upon us.  It is your turn.  You have the child(ren).  The Holiday traditions are now your responsibility.  Parents of both sides are retired.  Everyone else is gallivanting across the world in joyous excursions.  No one gives a flying hoot that you both work full-time, both attend Uni. at night to finish your Masters Degrees, raise a toddler (of which the three’s are Chucky’s revenge!), and have absolutely no life whatsoever!

You need to slave in the kitchen preparing a 7 course meal, host the holiday extravaganza’s, catering to everyone’s lasting want and need.  It is YOUR turn kiddo!

At least that’s how my mother has implied this year’s holiday events….

The Holiday Tiara has been ever so BLUNTLY tossed into the hands of the Mrs. by a majority Mom rule – that is politely insinuated – EVERY holiday gathering is now her responsibility.

SCREEETCH!!!

Back that sleigh Santa!

Who says you must spend each and every waking holiday minute as one big drunken family mess?

Seriously, as I have stated to both sides of the family, “I married my wife, not all of you!”

Nor do I expect the Mrs. to be slaving away her Holiday time in a freaking hot stuffy kitchen, while everyone else gets smashed blabbing on and on….”when you were a child…..I remember when…..So and So did….”

I’m still pricing those tickets to Breckenridge, London, the middle of nowhere for Christmas!

Concluding, the Mrs. and I had this realization moment the other morning, the Tiara is now in her court.  Which undoubtedly means….my mother handed her over the matriarch title of the family.

I told you….she’s the BOSS!!

*SCORE!*

Peas Out!

~daddy b.