- A Christmas Letter -

To Our Dear Friends & Family -

What a wonderful year 2009 has turned out to be, on so many levels. It seems just
like yesterday I was painstakingly using my hand to write, with ink, both a
personal note and our names on each and every card we send out to over 500
beautiful families. Michael tells me people should realize it’s important to have
some kind of warmth added to these computer-generated marketing pieces, and in
spite of the carpel tunnel – I agree. Because we want all of you to know how much
we care, especially during this time of year.

Writing isn’t a problem now because I’m SO rested these days - mainly because I
was able to convince Michael to go through a series of procedures in 2009. We
had his tonsils removed, and his adenoids, and his uvula (the Dr. said it was
HUGE!) and now I even have him sleeping every night with a CPAP machine attached
to his face (the clear mask with the air tubes attached to a small generator).
Yes it’s a bit clunky to travel with, and it’s not particularly attractive, and
its scary to the kids (our 4 year old, Alex, asked one morning if “daddy was in a
coma”) but the nasal strips and the special indented pillow and the face wrap
wasn’t working. Neither was my nightly bottle of red wine and double- and
triple-dosing my prescription Ambien! Michael insists that married couples
should sleep in the same bed, through the entire night, and because he won’t give
up his drinking, it was off to the Doctor with him. I have to say I am so proud
of him – because you ask any ENT doctor and they’ll tell you, at his age, these
procedures are far more painful than childbirth. But that’s my husband! He’s
so thoughtful – and generous. If that wasn’t enough, for my birthday this year,
he got a vasectomy and gave me his old iPhone!

And you all know how creative Michael can be. Well in 2009, after years of
arguing whether or not we should spank our children, Michael created a way to hit
the kids, but make it a game involving money. The way it works is if Michael
smacks say, Luke, in the back of the head – without warning or reason – Luke gets
to collect a dollar. If, however, Luke does something to warrant the smack, and
Daddy feels compelled to whack him, then Luke owes Daddy the dollar. I can say
that once I got over the initial shock of the sound of his hand connecting with
that part of the back of the head (it’s loud, but sounds worse than it is), it’s
kind of fun and the kids enjoy it. Now, countless times a week I hear the kids
yell from all over the house “You owe me a dollar Daddy!!!” And Chayton walks
around complaining that Daddy doesn’t hit her as much as he hits the other two,
and Luke is bragging about his growing 529-college savings balance. There is
one, key rule: You’re not allowed to smack with any kind of instrument other than
your hand. That’s very important. We had to teach Alex that lesson - but waited
until after the emergency room visit with Chayton to explain it to the 4 year old.
Light sabers, even fake ones, are weapons, Alex. Weapons. I will admit – I do
find it a little irritating when the kids want to add to their weekly allowance,
or they want popcorn at the movie theater, or some new toy from Target, and they
line up with their heads down and say “Hit me Daddy!” and then Michael smiles and
winds up and WHACK’s them 5 or 10 times in a row, and then hands over the money.
I get concerned about reports from school at some point...

Speaking of school, the 3rd mortgage we took out this year allowed us to shell out
another $50,000 for private school for Luke (who’s in 2nd grade) and Chayton
(she’s now in 4th). This time next year, we will owe $75,000 for the privilege
of adding Alex to the mix – and we’ll have three kids in Kindergarten thru 5. Oh,
how the time flies! Michael and I have had a running argument this year about how
we should handle Alex. I say he needs to go to the same private school as his
brother and sister. Michael would like to conduct a social experiment and see how
Alex does in public school. Sort of like a champion/challenger thing. Michael’s
point is that you don’t really retain anything from Kindergarten, and Alex does
still wet the bed on occasion, and is basic letter and number recognition and
strong, fine motor skills really worth another $25,000? The argument got so
heated at one point this year that I actually took on an odd job just to quell the
discussion, so if you need someone who’s really good at picking out nits and lice
– I’m your gal. ($150 an hour). This has turned out to be quite a profitable
little venture, though it’s now sometimes tough to make sure dinner is on the
table every night.

Lice. Those little vermin invaded our private school this year, and my oh my!
what a couple of weeks that was. The upside, in addition to my new company
Nitpickers Now – We Pick Your Nits! (www.nitpickersnow.com or follow us on
Twitter), is that Mommy got to buy new couches and bedding and rugs this year!
The decorator winked at me when we decided that Michael’s prized leather chair
(read: eyesore), just had to be disposed of immediately. For fear of a relapse,
of course. What was he going to say, really? The two weeks of my life I spent
fumigating the house, and the kid’s hair, then doing a strand-by-strand nit & lice
hunt while HE was off on business in Puerto Rico, and Trinidad, and St. Vincent in
the Caribbean just left no room for argument. The kids and I got through it,
finally, and we all have new hairstyles to boot!

There is a bit of sad news to report – and that is we lost our beloved cat of 15
years, Fidgeameena Wallowitz (she was a pure bred Himalayan). The kids were
ultimately really devastated by the whole thing, we think – in spite of the fact
that when I brought home the sentimental little paw print in the cement thing the
vet gave me after we put her down, and placed it on the mantel and told the kids,
solemnly, that Fidge won’t be coming home and when Alex said “why mommy” I had to
say “Fidge died today Alex” and then Chayton said “YES we can get a DOG NOW!” and
high-fived Luke, it sorta forced a circle-of-life conversation that took a little
time, because I wanted them to at least appear morose when Michael got home. I
went away that weekend to a previously planned girls trip, and that darling
husband of mine decided to plunck down over five hundred dollars for a Persian
kitten, and then had the AUDACITY to tell me it was a Mother’s Day present from
the kids! I almost backed the car over that little hairy furball “Mother’s Day
present” when I walked into our playroom and saw the @#($*! hanging from my multi-
thousand-dollar curtains and it wasn’t too long after that we pluncked down
another $1000 to chop off both his balls and his claws. The kids named our new
kitten Bono. He’s adorable.

Michael and I have really been doing well. We only had 16 arguments this year
(down from 27 in 2008), and we’re trending well. What’s our secret, you wonder?
I have to say, together we watch the series “Mad Men” (AMC, Sunday nights), and
it’s really helped restore balance to our marriage. Mad Men is set in the early
1960’s – before cell phones, seatbelts, recycling, women in the workplace,
liberation movements, M.A.D.D., etc – and is eerily reminiscent of the marketing
company Michael runs today. So after a year or so of me sort of re-engineering
myself into a 1960’s wife, I decided to culminate and celebrate my transformation
by surprising Michael for his birthday. I dressed up like Betty, the lead
character’s wife, in Mad Men 1960’s fashion (hair done up and sprayed with a nice
flip, a beautiful dress, high heels, red lip stick, apron) – and prepared
homemade lasagna, meatballs, spinach salad with goat cheese, his favorite carrot
cake for dessert – ALL FROM SCRATCH mind you. Had the balloons ready. The kids
all clean and dressed like Leave it to Beaver, candles lit, and even had the
crystal goblet of scotch ready to go for his arrival at 5:30. When 8:45 rolled
around and I was into my 2nd bottle of white wine, and he comes in drunk because
his coworkers and friends took him out for a “couple of pops” it was all I could
do NOT to fling the scotch bottle at his head. “What would Betty do?” I said to
myself. “What would Betty do?!” So I kept on the 1960’s smile, and served up
that delicious, if lukewarm, lasagna, and we did the birthday thing as if nothing
ever happened. The old Shaheen would’ve behaved differently, I think.

I could go on and on and on about 2009, but I think that about covers the big
things from this year. As you can tell, we truly are blessed. We hope you all
have a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Sending you much love, from your very tanned and very prosperous friends in
Florida,

The Smiths

Shaheen (37), Michael (38), Chayton (9), Luke (7), Alex (4), Cheburashka (17), and
Bono (1)