Happy New Year, I’m going back to bed

You will have to forgive me if there are mass amounts of typos and things that do not make sense…but it was a long night. Happy New Year, by the way. 8 adults, 2 big kids, 3 toddlers, and 2 infants all made it to midnight in the Royal Kingdom and I’m very bleary eyed.

This month’s Order of St. Anne contest is heating up! You have until midnight to enter to win a free t-shirt! So far, the contestants are:

Christina and her Gift Hall of Shame

KDubs tear jerker!

…and then ANOTHER tear jerker from Andria

And then three (updated at 3pm) entries via email:

From Running2K’s:

Uncle Jim and Aunt Peggy’s Annual Lettter of Woe:
My Uncle Jim, not his birth name, and his wife Peggy, not her birth name, are the doom and gloom couple. Jim was born Jewish, and is my mom’s youngest brother. He went through the Bar Mitzvah, he was the “mistake”of the family (born to my grandmother when she was in her 40’s and not expecting to expect).
As a result of his chronic low esteem, or perhaps his acne, he fled off to grad school to become a man of earth science. Problem was, he never could stay motivated or hold a job, ever. He eventually married a very controlling woman, a very large woman who ate all of my dad’s grapes in once sitting 20 years ago and it is still talked about (take a breath here). For some reason, after he became Christian, he and his wife changed their names to Jim and Peggy. I really don’t know why.
Jim and Peggy proceeded to have 4 children, each what they called a different failed method of birth control. So for the purposes of anonymity, I’ll change the names in their annual holiday letter of woe to the method of birth control. There is the oldest child, a girl named Pill. Then came their son Condom. Their next son is Diaphragm, and their last son is Sponge. Jim and Peggy could not afford their 4 children, ever, and would often ask my grandmother for “loans”(aka money never paid back). They lived in very bad neighborhoods in very bad apartments and moved from state to state. They never thanked anyone for the help received–only kept their hand out for more.
Most people send out brag sheets about their family every holiday season. Jim and Peggy are no different. Here is their Holiday Letter of Woe (I added the “of Woe” because it is very apt, as you shall see):
Dear Family,
It is another year in the Woe family. Right now, we are in the process of moving to Pennsylvania. Our rental in Buffalo, NY still isn’t subletting. This is a shame because the kids really don’t want to leave our house, that the church provided, in Ohio. We are trying to figure out how we are supposed to pay rent in New York and Pennsylvania. We would have preferred to live rent-free in Ohio, but Peggy lost her job. As you remember, she was working to teach kids in the church, so they let us stay in that house. But they found out that we were attending service somewhere else, and they wouldn’t renew Peggy’s contract.
I keep trying to get jobs with UPS or Fed Ex. I couldn’t work in the pet store anymore. Peggy got a great job offer in Pennsylvania to work at another church. I hope I can find something to do there. As always, we can really use the income. Pill is getting ready to go off to culinary school, and Condom is talking about college. I hope they can find scholarships or help somehow.
Good news! We were able to get the state to recognize Diaphragm as having ADD and a learning disability, and they are giving us money to supplement him in school. Maybe he’ll get to be in a special program. We are also happy to report that the state will be giving us money for Sponge. They were trying to call him ADD, but we were able to finally find a specialist to say he has a mild form of Aspergers. This is great because he’ll have an aid in class, and we’ll get money for treatment. It’s too bad we never got Pill or Condom diagnosed with anything.
How’s everyone else doing?

And from Amy at Everybody seems to be Kerbabbled:

Your Royal Highness,
I decided against posting this on my blog because well, you never can tell how someone might find a picture of my mother dressed like Yasser Arafat as offensive. Thus, here’s the story:

We’re at my oldest sister’s house in Michigan, in the town where I grew up, and we’re all opening our presents on Christmas Eve (by “we” I mean my two sisters, their husbands and 3 kids between them, plus my parents, my husband and myself). My oldest sister gave each of us “girls” (mom, other sister and myself) baskets with handmade tablecloths in them, covered by various colors of kitchen towels. Mine was solid red, my other sister’s was green, and our mother’s was white with blue trim on the edges. Since I had opened mine first, I was silly and put the towel on my head while I opened the rest of the basket. My other sister followed suit when she opened hers, and when our mother (who just turned 70 by the way) opened hers, we told her she had to do the same thing. It wasn’t until the towel was on her head for about 30 seconds that I grabbed for the camera after realizing she looked a little like a former Palestinian leader. I couldn’t help it, it was really very funny to see my life-long Southern Baptist mother from Kentucky looking a little Middle Eastern.
Hopefully this wasn’t offensive … the picture is pretty funny regardless of whether or not you “see” the resemblance.

And from Monica:

“None Of Us Are In Jail, Selling Drugs, Under theInfluence of Drugs, Have Killed Anyone, or Plan OnDoing Anything Illegal”

The title of this story is something my sister and I tell our dad, in some form or other, every time he starts complaining about how his children never seem to measure up…and he realizes that it’s true…we are really okay…really…anyway…

History: Parents immigrated from Germany at the beginning of the ’60s. Me, the first child, born in 1961, my brother to follow in 1963. One last additionto arrive in 1977. My darling sister, welcomed by the four of us with wonder and amazement…and a little bitof trepidation since she came packaged with a strong will and the knowledge that she was the center of attention.

The years have been good to us. And they have been filled with moments of puzzlement over each other’s behavior. There was the year that my father and I spoke not one word to each other for something no one can remember. There are the strict rules we grew up with that still, to this day, make no sense. There is my headstrong daughter who continues to challenge me and step out of the mold that anyone would have dreamed for her…and I wouldn’t change a thing about her. The list goes on and on as it does in every family.

We have those little disapproving things that we do…disapproving from our parent’s point of view. My divorce and return to school at the age of 38. My sister bringing home that third cat when they think she should be bringing home a baby. My brother sending his girls to French Immersion School. My own child’s multiple piercings and tattoos. It’s that parental thing that they impose…that I’m going through now myself with my 17 year old girl: “I love you and want the best for you so why did you do that without thinking about it more and especially why didn’t you ask ME what the best thing is to do since I’m sure I know and could help you do the best and right thing”. Ah…on and on the merry-go-round goes.

Through it all, we love each other so deeply and have come such a long way that it fills me with pride and love and such deep emotion that it’s sometimes hard to convey. The five of us are scattered around the North American continent these days. My parents and brother(and his wife and 2 girls) are in the city of Kelowna. My daughter and I are in Vancouver. My sister and her husband are in Atlanta. We talk on the phone every day, my parents now understand the magic of email and the net. We share the simple things eachday…such as…”how do I make the red cabbage dish?” or “what’s the name of the movie you watched last weekthat you liked so much?” But the biggest and most important thing is the phone three times a day…it ends with that “bye, I love you”. There was a time when it was hard for my father to say those words to his children…and for us to speak those words to him…and now, those words are the backbone of my days and support me during this time when I have to live so far from them all.

I think I’ll send my family these words that I’m sending to you…and to them all…”I love you so very,very much and am oh so glad that I can call you mine.”


  1. Thanks for posting this for me!

  2. Thank you for posting this for me too! Happy New Year!

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