I’m sort of hesitant to list what I managed to get done today, because it’s a healthy admission of my degree of procrastination. I caught a horrible cold last week and worked through it from M-W, but crashed hard on Thursday. I worked Friday morning and left before I got everyone sick (I hope). Saturday was for playing and I didn’t get a single thing on the yucky list, done. 

Suffice it to say, Sunday was a shitty reminder of what a professional procrastinator I am. 

The ground thawed enough to allow me to pull my favorite stakes out of the garden, and drag in all the good hoses. All the tools. All the sprinklers. You know what prompted me to get out there and get my shit together? 

Snow flakes. 🙂 I don’t know why that surprises me, considering it’s DECEMBER. 

I cleaned up the playhouse (again) and put the toys away. The Dumpling had drug everything back out a few weeks ago and it’s all been sitting in the rain as I drove in and out from work, groaning every time I realized I still hadn’t dealt with it. I’m pretty sure the play food is a solid block of felt, ice and dirt… but at least it isn’t frozen to the ground, right? These are the surprises of single parenthood. Will I be remaking all those little fruits and vegetables? All signs point to yes. 

I put the patio table and chairs away. Which was a fucking nightmare. I loathe asking for help unless I am absolutely forced to, so I did it the hard way. The chairs were fairly easy. Four stack, but two are bitches that swing around and smack you from the wheelbarrow. The real delight came with the table. I quickly gave up trying to drag or slide it, and took it apart. The giant glass tabletop barely survived the journey, and I am a few new colors as a result. It was as unpleasant as you can imagine. Hmph. I did it though. 

I’m trying not to be sad, but I am. So I’m elbow deep in dead tansy, thistle and mud. Trying not to cry when the stupid cord thingy pulls all the way out of the rototiller and sits there, instead of starting it. 

I’m beyond frustrated, on every level. Sick of it. Annoyed. God damn tired of doing everything myself and ready to start throwing things.

Which is when my beloved rototiller decided to make my day a little easier and just start. Doug is the most reliable thing in my life. I can leave him for months (as in June until today) without attention (or gas) and as soon as I fill his tank and pull- he’s on his way back to the barn. Just when I needed a break… 

The exterior flood lights went out last week so I had to drag the scary ladder out and climb up on the roof. Not my favorite, but especially three times in a row because the bulbs were bad. I’m relieved the one facing the driveway is fixed. It’s the small things, y’all. 

I braved Walmart and did my grocery shopping with the other 8,000 people that thought it’d be slow. It was not. We got our picture taken with Santa whilst searching for floodlight bulbs. The Dumpling was not impressed, but did ask that I not tell Santa she hadn’t listened when I’d nicely asked her to clean up. He was complaining about the Romaine shortage so we got a candy cane and left. 

I had the grave misfortune of being in the line with a minor cashier so I abandoned my beer instead of waiting. Walmart never ceases to find new ways to piss me off. 

I made dinner, bathed the Dumpling AND hauled 4 giant boxes of Christmas decorations in while she was in the bathtub. 

I unpacked one box of snowmen, santas and lights. I searched desperately through the other 3…. and I still can’t find that godforsaken Elf on the Shelf doll. I’m running out of excuses and I can’t believe I can find the box, her book and all the optional clothes… just not the damn elf. Ugh. 

It’s the 3rd, y’all… she’s going to kindergarten today to hear all about everyone else’s damn elves, and our girl Hallie is a no show. I refuse to buy another one, but I’m damn close to caving and overnighting the overpriced decoration before the questions get more pointed. 

Ohhhhh and it’s Monday with the hot new guy, so the pajamas I really want to wear to work are out of the question AND I have to put stupid makeup on. Me and my bright ideas. 

I put things off until the very last millisecond, was able to get it all done without too much suffering, and woke up to snow this morning. Which does nothing to curb my Olympic level procrastination.

Terrible Holiday Letter

My goodness, this has been a hell of a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’m a big fan of checking in with myself and being honest about my struggle, because life is hard for everyone and I know plenty of people who are not comfortable sharing difficult feelings. 

I volunteer as tribute. lol….I’ve actually sent something out like this before, so my family wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest. 🙂

This is a heartbreaker podcast, but you should stop what you’re doing and listen.

Dear Friends and family, happy holidays!

It’s been a busy year in our household! Little Red graduated and moved into her own place. She’s running a tight ship and has threatened her boyfriend into putting the seat down and bringing home flowers, regularly. I’m so relieved she didn’t inherit the doormat gene. She’s a gorgeous hammer, and I have no doubt that she will do and have anything she wants. Heaven help the man who stands in her way. I’ve realized just how many dishes she actually washed, and desperately hope she moves back home. 

The Dumpling has stopped having screaming temper tantrums, no longer runs to the calming tent and has stopped shouting at the other children. It only took 8000 conversations and an extensive loss of popsicle privileges. Single parenthood from birth has proven to be the most exciting adventure I never imagined. We are a team and I treasure even the most trying moments, of which there are many. It’s a darn good thing she’s so cute and thoughtful. She’s a whole lot of heaven and a smidgen of hell… just like her mama.

Speaking of yours truly, it’s been a fantastic year. Ish. My garden officially died this year, as in: never-happening-again, died. $900 in water for a handful of potatoes, a couple tomatoes and a shitload of beets and gourds. It provided ample exercise, which helped carve 60 pounds off of me, prompting some terrible dates and a freshly broken heart. Though the garden changed, my love for unavailable men, has not. The longer I’m single, the more inclined I am to believe that it’s intentional and more a form of self preservation than masochism.  My professional life has never been better and it’s hard for me to be anything but happy when I consider all the amazing parts that make up my life. I’m a very lucky lady with an amazing bunch of friends and family. I love you, one and all.

xoxo Jenni & the girls. (my boy still isn’t speaking to me.)

Uck. Fun.  

My Grandpa used to send out an offensive holiday letter. It wasn’t funny and rude, he just only included his second round of kids. My mother’s blood would boil and so I began making it a tradition of reading it aloud with a twist. We miss those shitty, inconsiderate letters. 

When I got divorced, I sent one out that was awkwardly honest and everyone loved it. One of my sisters still talks about it. I think we all want to show the world (and more importantly, our loved ones) the rosy side of our lives. We don’t want to “burden” anyone with the sad stuff, even though Christmas really is the saddest time of year for MANY people. Myself included. When you share the real stuff, it lets someone know they are not alone in not giving a fuck about singing carols and hanging up lights. They’re just trying to make it through to January, too.

Life isn’t perfect, but it’s always worth it and changing. Even the worst times don’t last forever.