Christmas with Anna

First, Donna did NOT ignore the cakes from Red Velvet. She ate 15 layer chocolate in front of me. Yes, I'm bitter.

This was Anna's first Christmas, so we spent our time making sure we scheduled time with everyone. Most of them came to our house, but it still seemed more hectic this year. And yes, I bought Anna presents. After I swore I wouldn't because she didn't even know it was Christmas. Oh well, commercialism wins again.

Our Christmas went pretty smoothly overall, so here's my Christmas gripe. If you don't know what to buy someone, get them a gift certificate you know they will enjoy. Not a sweater. And please, stop buying my child ugly clothes. I hate princess stuff. And tiaras. And anything froo-froo. Trust me it's a word. I know that one day my daughter may want to dress up as Cinderella, and when she does, that will be okay, but I'm not buying her pink frillies with tulle and sparkles. I want a little girl, not a Barbie doll. I have too many friends who think they can't be happy until their married, and not to just anyone, but to a Ken doll with a good job, good hair, and a great wardrobe. Doesn't matter how the prince treats her as long as he's rich. Yea, I'm the product of divorce. So, I don't want Anna to expect a prince, nor do I want her to play dumb to look pretty. I want a self-sufficient princess who can kick prince charming out of the castle when she finds him in bed with another girl in tulle. And if her prince is a real prince, he won't expect her to look perfect all the time and he'll let her express her opinion. And those princes don't normally want fairy tale princesses anyway. So what I'm saying in a not so brief way is buy my daughter books, or gift certificates or outfits that match my style or hers. Not red velvet with fur or cheetah print. She's a baby, not a streetwalking princess. Let's keep it that way.