Holiday Hilarity: How to Deal With the In-Laws

When little girls carry around baby dolls and brush their hair and hold imaginary bottles to them, little do they realize what marriage and children really bring- holidays with your in-laws. Sure your own family is pretty crazy, but they’re a functional kind of crazy. Unlike your in-laws who you are sure half of the fake episodes of Jerry Springer are based off of. This is your guide for how to deal with your in-laws. Just remember that if these tips result in divorce or you being hog-tied, the author can't be held legally responsible. (but if either of those does happen please email me so that I can laugh mercilessly at you)

Alcohol, Lots and Lots of Alcohol- The easiest way to deal with the Holidays with the in-laws is to be lubricated before you hit the door.

Say What You Mean- If you think that your husband’s aunt’s stuffing tastes like puke, you have every right to say so.

Be Indiscreet- What better time to talk about the things you, your husband, and your marriage counselor have discussed than the dinner table in front of his extended family?

Talk Politics- It is your right to tell the family that you think that Barack Obama is a sellout and that Ron Paul should have been elected instead.

Announce That You Are an Atheist- Merry Christmas? Bah humbug!! There is no God. Religion is the opiate of the masses. Christianity has been used to silence the poor and suffering. This conversation is always a winner over the table.

Talk About That Rash that Won’t Go Away- That itchy thing on your backside is no joke. The table would also probably appreciate you being willing to show it.

Announce That You Are a Communist- The only reason we even celebrate the Holidays is so that corporate sponsors can make money on people buying expensive crappy gifts and food. Yeah, they make the money while the poor people in the factories make squat. What’s to celebrate about perpetuating the lie that the rich are unhappy?

Breakfast of Champions

I have relatively few flaws (it's true!), however there is one that slightly affects my mothering skills. Its just that I hate mornings. Somehow my son inherited, from my mother, an uncanny ability to wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with the sunrise. I consider this to be his one and only flaw. Aside from mommy not wanting to get the hell out of her warm bed, mommy also has to deal with her little angel suddenly having the gall to be hungry. How dare he want food after nine hours or more of sleeping?!

So anyway, therein lies my dilemma. Mama wants sleep, the boy wants food. I wish that I could say that I normally win this fight, but I'm not a liar (well at least I'm not in my blog). I'm proud to say that there have been mornings where I've been able to trick his little belly into going back to sleep. Sometimes I'll groggily walk into the kitchen and hand my little Pumpkin two slices of raisin bread and I'll let him wash it down with some juice. That's when I will walk back into my room with my little angel following behind me. The carbs and the heaviness of the bread and juice will then make my little dumpling fall back asleep at the same time that I do.

Those are the good days.

On other days, I'm forced to drag my butt into the kitchen to fix him something more substantial. I hate those days. Now for those of you that don't know, I'm quite a proficient cook. I love to cook beautiful and bright displays for a house full of loving guests. However, that Malika doesn't kick in until well after 12 noon or for the occasional Sunday family breakfast. What my little pumpkin is stuck with is whatever the hell mom can throw together. On his lucky days, I'll muster up the energy to make him some pancakes from scratch. Well if you consider from scratch me mixing the powder with water, yeah, they're from scratch. Sometimes we have cereal when mommy hasn't finished it off the night before, for dinner. Other times I'll just fix him whatever won't require me to do much. Is there leftover spaghetti? Spaghetti for breakfast! Leftover pizza? Pizza for breakfast! Fried chicken and stuffing? Fried chicken and stuffing for breakfast!

I feel almost kind of slightly guilty when I look at all of those psa's about how important breakfast is for children. Not really. But then I actually do feel kind of guilty when I talk to a friend of mine who is superwoman. Her children are always so well behaved and neat. And she actually managed to get her children on a schedule. Wow. I wonder what that's like. Anyway she'll tell me how she manages to fix the children oatmeal with bits of fruit or how she'll make them eggs, turkey sausage, and toast. She does all of this before I even wake up. Oh well, my son is still healthy, smart as a whip, and happy. Well he's not too happy during breakfast, but I'm not programmed to care about his happiness before noon. The microwave is my friend! And I'll be damned if I'll let anyone take it out of my cold, dead fingers.

I'm starting to think that the microwave was invented by a bored housewife that also hated mornings. And I love her for it.