It’s a miracle we even survived.

 

My Brother and I certainly were not spoiled children….that is until Christmas came. Along with Santa, came my Grandparents {my Dad’s parents} they loaded up their car in Miami with as many games and toys as they could fit in their trunk and spent each Christmas with Mark and I.

I must have been around 4 here. G’ma is trying to help Mark and I find our way through the bazillion gifts; I am lost, confused and beginning to go into shock.  Looks like 12 kids lived here.

{Please note the fire safety hazard: The brown electric heater in front of the fireplace loaded with paper and  a bottle of whisky crap, and then the ashtray filled to high heaven on the coffee table. I am sure there was a can of gas on the couch} 

Mark and I Christmas Eve {Suz 6?} {that is my G’pa in the background. I could bet you a million dollars he was playing solitaire and smoking cigarettes in one of those weird filter thingys}

Now, look at that tree above again. Is it just me or does it look like Helen Keller was in charge of the garland application?

Christmas morning. Mark has bed head….I look perfect. {I am holding my doll Cindy.  Right now Cindy is in my hall closet wearing a one shoulder nightgown and suffering with a severely bad haircut. Pogo Stick anyone? Check out the typewriter on the floor, it had windows 5}

When I got older, there were fewer gifts. Heck, I was not even allowed to open this ONE gift without performing first. {I look traumatized, whose idea was this?}

{I am guessing this is a wrapped bottle of Jim Beam.  Thanks Mom.}

My how times have changed. There is no smoking or electric heaters at our house, but my girls will each get a box of wine this year along with bedazzled/personalized shanks.

Ok, maybe it has not changed that much.

xoxo