Our Modern Family
My Cup Runneth
If last year was difficult finding the time to get a holiday letter out, then this year has proven impossible. I just don’t have the time. When I’m not at the office discussing life’s events with clients or on the golf course, I’m trying to make the world a better place, hour-by-hour. I would have to give up sleep or ESPN and that would require a new hashtag: #dontcomenearmeimtired. I’m far better off utilizing my waking hours by helping people retire. Yes, I still love it. Love my spot at the beach, love that I can still do what I do, love being a Dad. The obligatory holiday letter? Not a fan. My apologies, I just can’t do it.
Don’t expect my better half to take over this year in letter writing. Sure, she loves to write and is pretty darn good at it. V writes something brilliant almost every day because she doesn’t have to. She rolled her eyes at me when I shot her an email on the subject (I felt it through the screen). How would she have time to squeeze in a massage or put food on the table? She just can’t get to it. Who will help the kids with homework? They are so demanding! And those dogs! Do they really need to go out twice a day?
Certainly Delaney is old enough and bright enough at the ripe age of nine to use the iPad and form something of a list of who’s doing what. My apologies. Apparently there is no time between hip-hop, soccer and her
excruciatingly busy social life. And her hair! When would she have time for all of the brushing, slicking back and re-brushing? Her high fashionista status would be in jeopardy in third grade, fo-shur!
Chase could surely write the letter. He is, after all, incredibly smart and tech-savvy. He reads all the time for pleasure. Yes, he’s his mother’s child. He’d no sooner go a week without Wii and his lofty goal of mastering Level XVIII (or whatever) then write a coherent paragraph and help the old man out. He could be coerced if we pretend it’s an actual homework assignment for a grade or if he gets a prize from the treasure box at school. If he’s allowed to wear flip flops, we could seal the deal and get this thing done. No promises.
If anyone could document our family the best, it’d be good ol’ Charlie, but please don’t call him Charlie Barlie. He’d have to text it from my phone. In fact, he was found texting during a tutoring session and he doesn’t own a phone. He got to show everyone how good he is at sitting on the planter. Course, I’d have to pry him away from handball, soccer and his evening nap on the couch. If I throw in an Oreo Blizzard from Dairy Queen, he just may bite.
Six-year-old Dylan would gladly color the letter in Crayola Neon Twistables, but I fear I’d be unfairly represented. She’d love the chance to read the easy parts (Level 2 at Barnes and Noble = so proud) but we’d have to filter and edit and that may upset her. In first grade now, she is incredibly busy with
her two best buddies and with jazz/hip-hop. Between all that and riding her bike, this girl is pretty maxed out.
I apologize for a lack of a holiday letter. Who has the time? The energy? Who has all of these great things to report year after year? You won’t know about how full our days are, and that I can’t recall a single thing we’ve done. You won’t know the day Mac threw up on my shoes and simultaneously my car wouldn’t start after I found the girls laying in the back listening to Taylor Swift (OMG she is so cool!). If I did write one, however, know that you are loved and we think about you often. Know that we are grateful for all of
you. Every single one. And….sorry.