I ♥ my mommy

Just to give you an idea of what kind of childhood I had, the biggest fight I've ever had with my mother was that she wasn't mean enough. This ended with me shouting something incomprehensible about "THIS WHOLE FAMILY IS FUCKED UP AND NO ONE SAYS ANYTHING ABOUT IT" and her shouting back, "WHAT, DO YOU WANT ME TO BE AN OGRE?!"

The only thing that this proves is that I was an incredibly melodramatic fifteen year old, and it should be recognized that I have most certainly changed since then.

Anyways, I was talking to a friend a few days ago, and we hit upon the subject that every one of us, if we're lucky, is born with the best mother for us. That means that you might describe something your mother does for you to someone else and they might be like, "Man, that is incredibly fucked up," but to you she's perfect. And I don't know if that's because we grow up to be adapted to our own parents idiosyncrasies, or just because fate is funny. You could argue nature-vs-nurture until the cows come home and it doesn't change the fact that my mother might be perfect for me in an entirely different way than your mother is perfect for you.

When I was in second grade, I had ridiculous second grade projects for which there was always this expectation that your mother was going to help you make your Endangered Species Mask, or your Historical Figure Costume, or your President Macaroni Sculpture, or whatever. My mother... did not help me. And on project day, I had a shitty lemur mask made of construction paper and everyone else had, like, I don't even know, Manatees made with grey paint and cardstock and socks? Pandas hand-crafted out of felt? And I got to class on project day with my sad little mask and was like, "WHAT THE BLEEP IS THIS BLEEP." Because it was so ridiculously clear that I'd done mine all by my second grade self and everyone else's moms had stayed up until 2 AM gluing macaroni to a cardboard giraffe.

And then at some point I realized I was smarter because my mom made me do my own work, and started looking down on everyone whose parents obviously did their projects for them. Thus creating my fifth grade superiority complex.

My mother has always encouraged me to do my own work, and to be proud of my work, and that is why she is the best mommy for me. :)

ALSO, CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR ENGAGEMENT, ELLEN AND HOUMAN.

(I bet you thought I was not going to call you out on my blog, right?)

Happy holidays to YOU

I don't actually celebrate Christmas - you may have realized this by now. I am a Nice Jewish Girl - it comes with the territory. But I do have an awful lot of friends who celebrate Christmas. I grew up in the Southern United States, so this also comes with the territory. I also know a buttload of Christmas songs, and I inexplicably own a Santa hat with my name on it.

I really like the holiday season, though. I like decorations and fake snow and salvation army santas, and I like buying presents for people I love. Unlike some people I know, I don't mind being wished a "Merry Christmas" at checkout, because it's the season of love and joy and I'm sure the girl at the register is actually cynical enough 90% of the time without me lecturing her on being politically correct and doesn't need to be screamed at: HANUKKAH, I CELEBRATE HANUKKAH. I like gingerbread and candy canes and the Hershey Kiss varieties you can only find for about six weeks between Thanksgiving and the first week of January.

(Except the Cherry Cordial variety. Gross.)

So, blog readers, although I don't celebrate it, I would like to wish you all a very merry Christmas full of love and light and family, and a happy new year as well. (I do celebrate New Years, in case you are wondering)

My plans tomorrow? I'm going to go see True Grit with my family, and then will probably eat some variety of Asian cuisine. (Chinese is traditional, but we prefer Japanese and Thai.)

Here's a picture of me/A Nice Jewish Girl in a santa hat:

(My webcam mirrors everything. The lettering really does go in the right direction)