Beth on Christmas

Dear Mom,

I know you check your e-mail every night before bed, so you'll be receiving this e-mail in about five minutes, and then you'll call home, because that's your routine.

It's Christmas Eve, and Mr. McKenzie forced you to stay in a hotel and work because that guy you work with decided that he wanted to be with his wife on Christmas.

He doesn't have three kids to support, one of whom REALLY wants an IPhone.

So you have to work. I get it. Jess gets it. Phillip gets it.

We all get it.

But it still really sucks.

Not that we don't love spending Christmas with Grandma, especially when she makes us wear the matching holiday sweaters and sing Christmas carols like we're the Von Trapps.

It's...fun...really...

Mom, I'm writing you this e-mail, because I know this year has been hard for you.

Dad left, you started working more, and I started dating that guy with the tattoo on his face who I could tell you were less than thrilled with.

And when you missed my prom, I said some really nasty things to you, because I really wanted you there, and I didn't want to hear that you had to work or I wasn't going to get the car I wanted.

I was being kind of unfair, but c'mon, I'm a teenager. It's, like, DNA or something.

Anyway, I have to say, even though I give you a hard time, Christmas was going to be really lame at home without you.

Phillip, by the way, guessed every single one of his presents just by touching the boxes. He would hover his hand over one and then say--'DVD Player.' I'm pretty sure he's an alien, Mom.

Jess might be following in my footsteps. She made me take her to the mall two days ago and I found her talking to this guy who works at the Tattoo Palace named Rico, who may or may not have been on the evening news last night during their 'Eye on Crime' segment.

I was so proud of her.

Even with all this going on, we really missed you.

So...I made an executive decision as the eldest child.

That money you've been saving to buy me a car? Well, I know where you keep it. The envelope under your mattress? Seriously, Mom, when did you grow up? The Great Depression?

I took the envelope, waited until Grandma was sleeping, wrote her a note, and then I called a cab for me, Jess, and Phillip.

The good news is, the bus station was having some sort of last-minute holiday discount, so I didn't even end up spending all the money, but my dreams of a convertible are definitely out the window.

The three of us arrived at the lobby of your hotel about an hour ago, and we've been sitting here watching 'It's a Wonderful Life' on hotel flatscreen.

Don't freak out. We just wanted to make sure you didn't spend Christmas alone.

And don't hurry down. This flatscreen is so much bigger than the tv at our house, and we kind of want to watch Conan on it.

I just figured I'd let you know that you're doing a pretty awesome job at being a Mom, and I kind of love you even when you're being a witch most of the time.

So this is your Christmas present, Mom. I hope you like it. And I hope Mr. McKenzie booked you into a room with two beds, because Phillip sleeps with his eyes open and it is REALLY creepy.

Merry Christmas, Mom.

Love,
Beth