There are 30 shopping days left until Christmas. Only 3 days until Hanukkah begins (To my Jewish friends celebrating Hanukkah and Thanksgiving, I support your decision to drink your way through the stress so you don’t kick anyone in the baitsims. OY VEY!).
I know. Fuck you, Nikki. That’s what you want to say to me, because you don’t want to think about this shit.
Image via The Chive
It’s okay. If I weren’t me, I’d want to say the same thing. But I have a good reason for bringing it up. I don’t want someone to say “FUCK YOU,” to you this holiday season. I don’t want anyone to get kicked in the nuts. Unless they deserve it. Buckle up, bitches, because this is gonna be a bumpy blog ride. Especially for my husband. Because this is the story of how last Christmas, I wanted to say eff you, to him.
Yes. I’m throwing my husband under the bus in a blog post, so rarely do (It’s a deal we have, a deal that didn’t apply to my book, but he was okay with that bus throwing under too ). But don’t feel bad for him, because he can take it. He wants to take it. Because he fucked up big on Christmas, and he knows that forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting. At least not for me. Dude also knows that if he doesn’t want to be blog fodder, he needs to fucking behave. Last Christmas, he didn’t behave. He reads my blog, so if he doesn’t behave this Christmas, I’m going to kick him in the nuts.
Or crack them. Instead of calling me Dragon, my preferred nickname, he will call me Nikki Nutcracker!
The real reason for the season is Jesus for Christians, and for Jewish people, it’s about the miracle of light, but let’s not fuck around and pretend that the holidays aren’t also about giving and getting too. Not everyone is a believer, but good goddamn, we all believe in presents! This is ‘Merica! And I know, it’s the thought that counts when it comes to gift giving. It’s not about what you GET, but umm, well, there was NO thought last year.
This is what happened – (cue the foreboding music)
My children and husband opened up their many, awesome gifts, almost all of which were purchased far in advance, and lovingly selected by yours truly. Every last one! We don’t have a lot of extra during the year, so Christmas and birthdays are when we all get stuff. I love to give gifts. I felt happy seeing my family and it gives me great joy to see them enjoy their gifts. This is our family tradition.
We give gifts at Christmas.
I, however, didn’t receive any gifts. Well, that’s a lie. I did receive one.
My husband put a $25 dollar Amazon gift card in my stocking. He bought it when he went to the grocery story in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. I know this because I saw him hide it in his junk drawer when he arrived home with bags and bags of grub.
Basically, I was merely an afterthought. Well, a before thought, because technically, he purchased the gift card before Christmas Day, but I think it’s safe to consider the gift as an afterthought. If it wasn’t Christmas, I might have kicked him in the nuts and made it look like an accident.
My children didn’t even buy me a cheap little trinket at the cheap trinket table at school. I have them money to get some World’s Best Dad crap, but their dad didn’t give them money to get me some World’s Best Mom crap. Not cool. I love that crap. That crap makes me giddy. That crap makes me feel loved and considered. That crap makes me feel like the World’s Best Mom.
Suffice to say, I let my husband know that I was upset. I wasn’t upset because I didn’t get anything I wanted, or because my gifts were crappy and poorly thought out. I was upset because not one person in my family considered me at all. I was upset because it made me feel sad and bad and not special and appreciated.
My husband agreed that he was a jerk of the worst kind. He beat himself up about it, which pleased me greatly. He should feel bad. The day after Christmas, he went out and bought me some chocolate, smutty magazines, and Walking Dead Graphic Novel Book One – hardcover, motherfucker! But the best gift of all was that he took our son with him to buy the gifts and explained what he did wrong and why it was so inconsiderate, considering. He also took time to talk to my daughter about what happened.
They all felt bad. JERKS.
And so they should, but especially my husband. Families need to stick together, to consider each other, to treat each other with generosity, respect, and consideration. His lack of consideration was nothing short of jerky, and was poor role modeling for our children. He has no excuse. He didn’t try to make any either. One of the many reasons I love him so much. He owned the fail.
That was another gift he gave me last year – taking responsibility. Very un-jerky.
My story had a happy ending. Lessons were learned. Hearts were healed. I tell you this story because it’s like fucking therapy for me and I don’t want you to be a jerk and have someone say Fuck You to you this Christmas. And because my husband reads my blog, this is a reminder to him that if he hurts my feelings again, his nuts are gonna roll. Or crack. Nikki Nutcracker. I like the sound of that.
This year I’m asking for a few pair of these sweatpants from Crotchgear.
And I swear to the gods, if I don’t get them, I will crack him in the nuts. I think it’s what Jesus would do. I should buy these for him.
Check out Crotchgear, for sweats and boxers. You can’t go wrong using humor below the belt. Don’t fuck up and be jerky this holiday season. I don’t want anyone to get kicked in the nuts.
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