Time for our yearly Christmas letter! Well, not really yearly, but there's not a term for 3 times in 5 years. Like, tri-half-decadely? IDK. I make shit up half the time, so let's just go with that for now and accept the fact that I can't be counted on to consistently write a Christmas letter. It's tough work maintaining this crazy, I tell you what. I can't be expected to maintain my crazy AND a yearly letter AND to publish it on this blog. One has to prioritize, you know.
Speaking of priorities...Charles finally decided that he should maybe make his health a priority and went to go get his knees looked at. Of course, they are pretty fucked up and he desperately needs a knee replacement, but quality of life means nothing to insurance companies so they keep shelling out for bandaids for the amputation here and keep doing more minor surgeries. In this case, it was repairing a torn meniscus (he likes to do that to his knees for funsies, I think...he had the other one done a few years ago) and cleaning up what little cartilage remains in his knee. The surgeon told me that the knee wasn't as bad as he expected, which considering that the knee he DIDN'T operate on is bone on bone probably isn't saying much. But, we at least got to work out the disability insurance we are paying for again this year, though for not quite as long as last year's surgery. He has been informed that this is not a trend that needs to continue into 2018, but no one ever fucking listens to me around here based upon the number of clothes that make it thisclose to being inside the laundry hamper vs on the floor. Other than that, he is enjoying being employed by a place that prides itself on increasing the level of desperation and despair in its employees eyes exponentially year by year whilst simultaneously wrecking his physical health and forcing him to dream of someday being a kept man.
I am continuing at the private practice, and have started up my own here in town because God forbid I should ever have things like free time or relaxation or reduced stress. I continue to try to run, not because I enjoy being lapped by the power walkers (which, let's be honest, probably would happen) but because if I don't, I tend to get incredibly cranky and turn to unhealthy coping mechanisms and a dark sense of humor in times of stress...wait, that happens anyways...so why do I run again...? I also participated in the Minimalism Game again this month and was again shocked by the amount of crap I threw away or donated, this time mainly from the little girls' rooms where they were hoarding miscellaneous puzzle pieces and random plastic pieces of various playsets like their very lives depended on it.
Elizabeth continues to do well at school. She has moved into an apartment with her boyfriend and cousin and two cats, who are now my grandkitties and I am enjoying being a grandma to because she better not fucking make me a human grandma before I am 40, goddammit. Plus I haven't thought of a cute name for the kid to call me because I'll be damned if I'm going by Grandma. My grandchild will be a bevy of originality and awesomeness, naturally, and my name should reflect this. So I'm not ready to be a grandmother based solely on my lack of an original name. Of course, there's the whole she needs to finish college first thing too...but I would hope that given that she pretty much went to college with me, that would be a no-brainer. She also continues to work for the private practice I am at, doing their social media stuff, and everyone loves her to pieces because I somehow have not fucked her up so much she is unable to be a productive member of society.
Alexis continues to dance and I continue to shell out extraordinary amounts of money for this. She is starting to run into the whole school activities vs dance thing, and I will tell you what, she certainly did not learn stress management from me! She decided to NOT do Student Council this year because she felt that she could not give it the proper amount of attention between 4H, dance, and band, plus maintaining her good grades. High five me, parenting WIN with her not picking up on my unnatural and unhealthy Superwoman complex! She also is continuing to barrel full speed towards adolescence and I'm continuing to hoard my imaginary Xanax to get through it as my anxious to please baby is starting to get some serious sass here. Imagine that, a child of mine being sassy? Must get that from her father.
Charlie is dominating first grade academics like the boss that she is and has not only continued her acro classes, but is also doing cheer. She wants to do swim as well, but I am having a hard time finding classes for her around here that aren't filled up by the members and I refuse to pay $300 for a rec membership to *maybe* get first dibs at swim classes that I will have to pay extra for anyways. She's already doing better than me in that department as she can tolerate, you know, actually getting into the water, and isn't that what parenting is all about? Your children having better than you? Well, she can sure as shit save herself from drowning and that is more than I can say for me (well, at least when I am trying to get out of swimming in gym as a freshman in high school...).
The animals are maintaining. We had to say good bye to Gunner as he had bitten someone despite all of the training we had put him through. Charles and Elizabeth had contemplated getting me another puppy, but honestly, I don't have the time to put into one right now with both practices and I am going to be semi-responsible and put the kibosh on that. We had briefly thought Deogie had cancer, but when we got the lump removed the biopsy, much to the vet's surprise (and Dr. Google, at least according to the pictures...) it was benign. He at one point did figure out how to get around the cone of shame to lick at his stitches, so he had to get a bigger cone, and it was really hard to not laugh at him as he continually misjudged the size of the cone and ran into shit. I'm probably going to hell for this, but the little shit did it to himself by being too smart for his britches and getting around the (smaller) first cone.
Seriously, the cone is literally the size of his torso...
Maximus and Toby continue to do well, as do the various fish we have upstairs. I'm still not convinced that the sucker fish is not going to murder us in his sleep one day as he is still unnamed and probably has an angry blog somewhere blasting the inherent unfairness of being a sucker fish, but I guess if it happens it will be well documented and I can say from the grave "I told you so."
Anyways, looking forward to a future where maybe my husband won't be going under the knife again and I will be only working one job, and not being a grandmother until I have an appropriately creative yet meaningful moniker. I'm hoping for 1, maybe 2/3 in 2018. Goals, amirite bitchez?
Laura, Charles, Elizabeth, Alexis, and Charlie