I stepped into a lot of emotional realms I didn’t plan on dealing with today today. Slightly hungover first. Sleepless and delirious. Sad and broke loser, later and continually. I wasn’t sure if I’d be spending my evening curled in bed watching sappy television dramas about fairytale characters in the real world (oh my god, I can’t stop watching stupid tv) while randomly tearing up at each sappy sentimental scene. Things turned around. Want to know why?
Because it’s beginning to sort of, kind of, slightly resemble Christmas in our teeny tiny apartment. My boyfriend Patrick and I bought our first Christmas tree for our first home! Sure, it’s the biggest thing in our living space at the moment, but the place smells like pine. Yes, we only have one ornament to put on the tree, but it’s a fuzzy squirrel! But once we filled the little guy with those cheap CVS lights, my mood instantly lifted.
Now that I’m feeling the quick approach of the holidays skipping nearby, and even more so the stress that I haven’t bought a single present for anyone yet, I wanted to share the new game of the season. It’s #cheesycheer(s)ing and everyone [me!] is doing it!
I’ve become friends with several people after discovering their fondness for tequila rivaled my own. #cheesycheers was spawned from one of those friendships. As we would raise our glasses, my friend would always cheers to something both simple, and lame. We’d toast to friendship, and love, and dreams. We needed to progress. We needed to cheers to the beach at sunset or candles in the wind! So we did.
I’ve been trying to get this trend going for a while now. And by trying, I mean, I hash tagged a couple of my Instagram photos back in the summertime and proceed to clink shot glasses to “dancing like no one’s watching” on a fairly regular basis. But I think now is the perfect time to bring the rest of the world into the wonder and fun of cheesy cheer(s)ing.
The way it works is simple.
Step 1: Buy someone--anyone--a shot of hard liquor. My drink of choice is tequila, because it always is, and because tequila shots are a whole fun process in themselves.
Step 2: Raise your glass and propose the cheesiest toast you can think of.
Step 3: Drink.
Step 4: Repeat as desired.
You might be wondering why is this perfect for the holidays. Simple! This is that time of year where you’re going to be expected to go out: holiday work parties, family dinners, cookie exchanges, parties in one of your high school friend’s parent’s basement, and the dreaded New Year’s Eve. A lot of these events are going to be dull. But not if you engage in some good cheerful imbibing!
Oh, you’re also probably going to be expected to start exchanging gifts with some folks, right? Fear not, friends! #cheesycheers are the perfect gift! You buy the shot! You cheers some cheesy words of praise to your buddy! If you’re feeling really ambitious, get someone else to snap a picture of you pre-/post-shot and let’s get this hashtag moving up the ranks online. Wahlah! Cheap and sweet in a snap. Don’t be afraid of seeming like the broke friend (If you’re cheer(s)ing, you know you’re the broke friend!) The greatest gifts aren’t the ones we can literally wrap our fingers around. But presents that you can wrap your stomach around rarely go to waste. Here’s to Christmas trees, sugar cookies, and home is where the heart is! Don’t spend this holiday season sober.
I’ve been saying a lot of goodbyes lately. Not see-ya laters, really, but farewells--the probably won’t see you agains. To people I’ve known for more than three years now. That’s longer than I’ve known my current roommates, my boyfriend, some of my close friends; that’s also more than half of the people I’m saying my goodbyes to’s lives. Yes, I’m talking about kids. Yes, they’re going to kindergarten! And yes, it’s time.
Some of us have been over each other for a while. They’ve outgrown me and our school and the younger kids to follow. I’ve gotten to my wit’s end with their newly found love of sarcasm and know-it-all-ness. But these goodbyes are different than ones you would have with people you’ve had relationships with for three years. They’re going to forget me.
This year is the toughest of the three I’ve been teaching at this school, because these little nuggets were my first group, the only ones I’ve seen the whole way through school. In three years they’ve grown out of diapers, learned how to draw superheroes and ninjas versus scribbles, and finally understand the difference between a question and a statement. I’ve learned their habits and characteristics, their flaws and shining moments, just like they know me and my habits, and my likes and dislikes. They know my moods and the things that really tick me off as well as many of my family and friends. They know I don’t like peanut butter and that I like to sit in the blue chair at lunch. They remember when and how I broke my foot almost two years ago, and they harass me about having a boyfriend regularly. They know that singing “Party rockin’ in the house tonight...” is the fastest way to drive me insane. We have inside jokes and rituals together. All of those things they’ll forget.
I’m not saying I won’t forget, too. I will. And then I’ll hear a name I haven’t in a while, and I might think of one of them. I’ll think of Cars 2 and remember Graham’s frustration that someone had Cars-themed diapers and he did not (the injustice!). I’ll give someone the “I’m watching you” gaze and think of Caleb. A text message full of emotions will flash me back to naptime with Pirjo, and summer barbecues will remind me, always, about how Lorena called me Jayne Watermelon.
These little people spend more time with me than almost anyone else in my life. Forty hours a week, every week, for three years adds up to 6,240 hours. 6,240 hours of tantrums, hugs, and whys. 374,400 minutes of drawing, dancing, and singing. 22,464,000 seconds of love, frustration, and laughter that they have given.
Our goodbyes are for good. And I’m proud of them: they’re so old! They’ll visit, for a while, but you never have quite the same bond when they come back--catching up with six and seven year olds is a relatively one-sided conversation, and the familiarity of spending every day with each other fades quickly. They replace you with new friends and teachers and activities and knowing how to read, and you replace them with new kids in diapers. So it goes.
heavy heeled when walking; heavy handed when pouring a drink