Only 350 Shopping Days Left

Dear Loved Ones,

Let me begin by thanking you for sharing the recent holidays with me. They were... well, they were something. But I'm not here to talk about the past. This is a forward-thinking dadblog, and as such we need to look forward to the not-so-distant future when once again you will be confronted by another opportunity to bestow gifts of such awe-inspiring badassitude that I will be left weeping by the depth and profundity of your love for me. Because as we all know, there is no more true measure of love for the pater familias than holiday gifts. If they suck, you despise me. If they are jaw-droppingly jaw-dropping, you love me in the way I deserve to be loved. And let me be clear: I deserve to be loved the way I deserve to be loved. How should you love me? Let me count the ways.

• Wii
It's 2010, people. And in 350 shopping days, it's still gonna be 2010. AND WE'RE STILL NOT GONNA HAVE WII. Shall I give you the complete run-through of awful flashbacks I have on a daily basis when I think about this, and suddenly it's 1980 again and I'm the only fucking kid I know who doesn't have a fucking Atari 2600 and everyone else is playing Space Invaders and Asteroids and Missile Command but me? Oh noooooooooo... no fucking Atari for me, and all the other boys get together every day at recess to talk about their high scores or this awesome trick they figured out for popping through hyperspace or some other supercool new game they just got (My god! Pitfall! Alligators! Swinging vines! I saw it on TV!) and then there's me, standing off to the side, trying to be a part of things and yet separated from my peers by an invisible fence made of laser beams and bad graphics and THE LOVE OF OTHERS.

• An Electric Guitar
You know what I've learned over the past couple of weeks? That I may be the only guy in DadCentric who doesn't have and regularly rock an electric guitar. Can that possibly be right? Kevin? Warren? Fuck me. I'm alone here on Guitarless Island, and it's a lonesome and awful place. How can I ever achieve my most deep-set and hitherto unspoken ambition to become a critically acclaimed songwriter of immense wealth and groupies if I don't have an electric guitar? If you really loved me, family, you'd want me to have immense wealth and groupies. 

• A Fucking Shark
Dogs are great. Friendly. Warm. Cuddly. Protective. Cute. Cats? Well... from what I understand, there are people who like cats. But you put a fucking shark on a leash and walk around your neighborhood? You're a king. Everyone knows this to be true. Shark me hard, loved ones.

• A Boston Red Sox 2010 World Champions T-Shirt
This is not a request. It's an expectation.

• A Keurig
Eight days ago, I gave up carbs. You know this, beloved family, because I've been sitting at the end of the table drooling uncontrollably ever since as I've watched you scarf down muffins, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, mac & cheese, and bowl after bowl of cereal... even as I've tried to ignore the meager splash of lean meat and/or vegetable matter that somehow arrived on my plate like something crawling from the primordial ooze. To take the place of food that actually makes me happy to be alive, I've finally taken the plunge and started drinking coffee. Like, multiple cups every day. There's a Keurig machine at my job, and I'm pretty sure I love it now more than I love you. But you can earn my love back - oh yes you can, beloved family - by bringing my very own Keurig machine into the house so I can instantly brew (and drink) cup after cup after cup of coffee. Because something tells me that in 350 shopping days, I'll be back to eating carbs... but I won't have stopped drinking coffee.

• Two Straight Mornings Where I Can Sleep Past 7am
Do you know when I last slept past 7am two mornings in a row, children? Of course you don't. Because it hasn't happened once since you first infested came into my life six and a half years ago. And don't get me wrong: you're wonderful and magical and the best thing that ever happened to me and I can't imagine my life without you and blahblahblah but really: I'm fucking tired. And what's more, Mommy is fucking tired, too. Here's the thing: you all have clocks in your rooms, and you all know your numbers now. So sometime soon - on a weekend - you're going to play Santa and stay in your little beds and not make a sound until the first number on the clock is (if I'm asking, I might as well be ambitious) an 8. For TWO STRAIGHT DAYS. Got it?

• Bagels
Sorry. I just really miss carbs a lot right now. *wiping away tear*

In any case, consider this your starter shopping list. There may be updates along the way, but with only 350 days between right now and the moment I'll be unwrapping all of this... I figured you'd probably need to get started. Good luck, and remember: you're doing it because you adore me. And because I deserve it. All.

Love,

TwoBusy