I posted the above photo for your benefit and the below videos for me and my families' (mine and the in-laws). We are NOT a Norman Rockwell family. Not that we're not happy and full of love and good feelings. My family is the single most important thing to me and they are the best and highest quality folk I know. It's just that unlike a Rockwell painting, we have far more shit and fart jokes and the occasional, "I swear to god, I'll kill that kid if she doesn't go to sleep soon!"
In short: Norman Rockwell was full of fucking shit.
Every family has it's fair share of trouble, strife, bad times and hopefully a good dose of tolerance to deal with the former along with some really good times. I am a firm believer in 'Life is a bed of roses' so long as those roses were fertilized with a solid layer of shit. Nothing but good times would be boring and unappreciated without some annoyance (Dad, please let me hold the remote for more than 10 seconds next time I visit). Balance and contrast people. That's what I'm saying.
Don't believe me?
Which feels better? Sleeping under a light sheet because it's humid and hot in the summer or cozying up under a down duvet when it's cold in winter? Alright, admittedly using the word 'duvet' is almost outing myself but you get the point.
On to the good stuff.
Here's some videos of my girls because they are simply put, insanely awesome.
Alright, so I'm not fond of the thought of my daughter(s) dating. In fact, I might kill the first male to show up at my doorstep thinking he is going to take one of my girls out. I own guns. I now live in the U.S. of gun lovin' A. I will shoot to maim and/or kill and more than likely I will aim for your junk if you're driving a goddamn van. If there has to be a boy showing up at my doorstep I can only wish it is one of the sons of our friends. Otherwise, manslaughter charges might be pending.
Hunter Dutton, you will receive the benefit of the doubt because your parents are awesome people. You show up fifteen minutes past Miete's curfew and I put in a call to your dad the following morning when he's hung over and interrupting while he's watching Man United. Let your imagination run wild at what his response will be. Get her home on time and your proposal is pre-approved.
I believe in making the best of any situation. I'm the John Rambo of moving to other countries. I adapt. I overcome. Well, not really but I do my best. What therefore do you do with a three year old with waaaaay too much energy when you're a single mom? Ask Lisa and she'll say, "Enroll them in Ballet and Gymnastics!" Hence, the following video:
What's a holiday without a trained monkey? Alright, so I have no primate but Miete can play guitar and sing. "Play" is a relative term but love is blind and this is the mushy part of the blog where god forbid, I say I love my awesome kid. Uncle Dave will need to intervene at some point as this child is born to rock. Just no Skynyrd.
Now, I realize she doesn't do a lot but Eireland is a pretty awesome kid as well. She sort of does her own thing. By that, I mean she makes weird sounds and produces mustard from her bum. With a righteous hairdo she can simply "be" and carry a shot. This one is for the Grandmas.
In closing, wherever you are. Whomever you're with. The holidays is for having some good times and enjoying life. Please do so.
Merry Christmas.
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