Christmas music instinctively makes me happy. Eleven months out of the year, we’re forced to listen to songs about “hotline bling” and “anacondas” (fact: it’s not actually about snakes) so it’s refreshing to hear lyrics about happy kids and a happy world when neither of those generally exists.
The only exception to happy Christmas music is that damn song “Christmas Shoes” about orphaned kids or childhood cancer or some shit. I try to avoid it because whoever thought that song would ever be a good follow-up to “Jingle Bell Rock” on the radio deserves a frying pan to the face.
But anyway, another Christmas song that drives me bonkers is the two-steps-away-from-jumping-over-the-ledge, “Grown Up Christmas List.” This is a deceiving title because when I think about what adults want, I think about booze and a high-yielding Roth IRA. However, apparently this “festive” bullshit is all about world peace and friendship which makes me fall asleep faster than watching a live Congressional vote on C-SPAN. For example, who in their right mind jams hard to this song with these lyrics:
So here’s my lifelong wish,
My grown-up Christmas list,
Not for myself, but for a world in need:
No more lives torn apart,
Then wars would never start,
And time would heal all hearts.
And every one would have a friend,
And right would always win,
And love would never end
This is my grown-up Christmas list
Who wrote this song? Mother Teresa? Gandhi? Am I the only selfish, piece of crap that actually wants things instead of universal love and free hugs for Christmas? If Bono and Angelina Jolie can’t get world peace then I’m sure as hell not about to waste a Santa-wish on it. Instead, I created my own “Grown Up Christmas List” that applies to a lot of thirty-something women that are such chronic messes; they’re known to accidentally put in (and wear) their husband’s contacts. I won’t mention any names, but…sorry, Ryan.
My (Own Version of) Grown-Up Christmas List:
- To never go to the gynecologist again. Unless I’m pregnant, accidentally slept with Kid Rock or my vagina is falling off, why do I need to be seen every year?
- That Adam Sandler would stop making movies. It’s painful for America as a whole.
- That the Oscars were on twice a year and that college basketball wasn’t on ever.
- That when I Google “baby constipation,” something other than a search result containing “rectal thermometer stimulation” shows up.
- That my boobs look as perky as Sophia Vergara’s and my skin is as tight as Sandra Bullocks when I’m their age. Or right now, actually. I look like shit.
- More wine.
- More wine, more often.
- To sit on the toilet as long as I want and get out all of my pee without interruption (or at least read one article in my US Weekly concerning Gavin Rossdale and/or Ben Affleck giving the nanny some overtime hours, if ya catch my drift).
- That the devil returns Kris Jenner’s soul.
- That overnight anti-aging creams actually work overnight.
- My son stops chewing his crib rails like a rabid, feral animal.
- My daughter stops telling me that I need a band-aid on my c-section scar. It’s been three years kid. That shit ain’t getting any better with a Johnson and Johnson strip slapped on it.
- That Barbie’s hair was more manageable. 10 minutes out of the box and she already looks like a low-rent hooker after a night on the streets.
- That I didn’t just discover an old milk bottle under my couch.
- That I had time and a functioning memory that reminded me to check under the couch for souring and smelly milk bottles.
- That coffee IV’s were real. People always joke about them, but I’m 100% f^%$ing serious about this endeavor. We send rockets into space, but we can’t safely pump my veins with caffeine so I can stay awake long enough to bathe my children and watch three episodes of “Full House?” Where the hell are the priorities in this country?
- That my children eventually like being clothed as much as they like being nude.
- That my son will stop peeing on the carpet while nude.
- To eat a warm dinner before being requested to grab a fork for someone, picking up half of the meal off the floor before I’ve taken a bite and most importantly, not wiping an ass mid-meal.
- A new mattress that I could get my regular maximum five hours of non-REM sleep on.
With less than 48 hours until Christmas and a botchy internet connection, I’m not sure this will make it to Santa on time. However, the liquor store is open until 10pm and I have a gift card for wine…
Merry Mom Christmas!