Fruit of the Month

The week after Christmas is always a time of limbo.  You can get away with playing Christmas music and the decorations are all up and the stores are having after Christmas sales.  Everything is great until January 2nd.  Then you find yourself sitting on your sofa, looking at a room full of Christmas decorations and a tree and you are thinking: “Just who is going to clean up this crap?”

After about ten minutes of thinking this, you realize that you have just finished off the last of the red and green m&m’s and that you and only you will be putting all this crap away.  It is amazing how much fun it can be to decorate the day after Thanksgiving and how suicidally depressing it is to take it all down.

You realize it is no longer the most wonderful time of the year. Instead it is the time when the skies are mostly grey, the days are really short, and your children are moody because there isn’t another school break in sight.  The streets are lined with dead and depressing fir trees and at least one toy is broken.

And that is when you should sign yourself up for the fruit of the month club.  Think about it.  No one else is going to sign you up because it is surprisingly expensive, but if you sign up, you will get a nice shiny, yummy surprise every month that will also keep you regular.  How more perfect can a subscription be?  I love Entertainment Weekly, but it cannot keep me regular.  Perhaps that will be another resolution.

5 responses to “Fruit of the Month

  1. I love this idea. I always feel like a heathen mother because I am scrounging around the fridge for fruit to put in their lunches every morning. THIS way…always fruit for lunches…gold star for mom…and I can eat the hidden bag of red and green M&M’s I picked up on clearance from Target for $.58. Brilliant.

    • I buy plastic spoons and fruit cups or applesauce. I’m trying to get my kids immune to processed foods.

  2. I won the jackpot this year. My husband set up the tree with the kids when I was at work. And yesterday they took it down. Beats a massage, if you ask me.

  3. Pingback: Planning the Perfect Midlife Crisis | Comedy of Errers – Marianne Hansen

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