Christmas 2008

I like to write blogs as a stress relief.  And this Christmas season has been extremely stressful for me.  (Come on blog, work your healing magic.)   I have no one to blame but myself for this.  Our lives are really only as stressful as we make them, or let them be.  I made my life stressful but not because I like stress.  Then, "why?" you may ask.  I'll tell you.  I do it in the hopes that when I die, my kids will remember me for all those gingerbread houses I made for them and their friends instead of the homework nag that I am.  I do it so that instead of remembering me as the "Piano Nazi" (which I like to call myself) they'll remember all those great gifts I made them by hand for Christmas.  Instead of remembering me as the bedroom cleaning oppressor, maybe they'll remember me as the great mom who threw each of them their own individual Christmas parties out of the kindness of my heart.  Maybe they'll remember the trip to California/Disneyland over all those times I woke them up early and forced them out of bed to get ready for school.   And maybe, just maybe, Bryton will remember how I pulled him out of school and took him to a matinee and Sydney, Brooklyn and Whitney will remember how I dressed them all up and brought them to see the Nutcracker instead of how I was always telling them to get off the computer and turn off the television.  And why does writing this blog make me feel better?  Because I know that if I should die tomorrow, eventually my kids will read this out of curiosity and be forced to remember all my "cool momisms".  Thus I shall have one last chance to oppress them.

-The Dictator