I Hate Holidays

I just realized that for the most part, I can’t stand holidays. I have grand visions of how I want them celebrated and 95% of the time, it doesn’t work out how I envisioned.

For instance. 4th of July. On the 4th, and not the 3rd and in no particular order, we’d see a parade, have a party at our house with awesome food and drink and the kids would play. Or maybe we’d go hang out at a local festival and listen to music, visit craft tables, eat corn dogs and have coke in a cup with ice, a lid and a straw–no cans. Then fireworks. We’d go to a park with 40,000 other people, put down our blankets and watch the professionals light off awesome fireworks–including ground displays of the American flag. The town employees would take up a collection through the crowd to help pay for the fireworks show. We’d battle traffic on the way home or gloat as we pull out of our friend’s driveway–the friend that lives 2 blocks from the park–and easily make it home. Then the kids would wash up, put on pjs and go to bed. They would fall asleep without screaming, crying and having to “duck and cover” under the sheets thanks to the neighborhood pyrotechnic amateurs. We’d all be happy. ER docs would be bored. No arrests would need to be made.

Don’t get me started about New Year’s Eve, Memorial and Labor Days, or Christmas. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go call the ¬†police on the “over served” lighting off something a few houses down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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