Hey guys, how’s it hangin? Everybody ready for The Holidays? Trees trimmed, lights up, gifts wrapped?

Dave and I usually have it pretty easy every year gift-wise because my parents always ask for super practical stuff like swim class water shoes and campfire hot dog sticks. On Dave’s side, his sister is always ON IT when it comes to gift ideas for Pops and the rest of the fam, so we’re good. However what I didn’t know is once you have a kid, you’re entered into the kid gifting pool and are suddenly obligated to buy ALL THE GIFTS for all the other kids in the family because people are going to be gifting your little rugrat a bunch of crap too.


Jingly Balls.

I wish we could all just agree our living rooms look enough like a McDonald’s Playland as it is and maybe the little runts have enough.


But that’s the scrooge side of me talking… of course I want MY kid to have all the things and I’ve already cleaned out the Amazon Toy Department in my quest to do so. I really just don’t want to buy OTHER kids anything because I’m already broke after showing my little darling how much I love her with every product the Fisher Price line has to offer.

Don’t give me that look. You all feel same way. Don’t lie.

Even with that little speed bump, I am more than happy to say Dave and I got our shiz together early this year and as of December 19th, we are D.O.N.E. – done with our holiday shopping. I just have to go through one more round of wrapping because round one was cut short when I realized I bought wrapping paper with glitter on it.

For real, who thinks it’s a good idea to put little flecks of evil all over something that is going to explode upon your house come 12/25? It’s just cruel and I won’t do that to my friends and family, not even the D-list level F&F. So after a second (ok, 8th) trip to the Target Wondershop for a wrapping paper redo, the under portion of my tree will be fully populated come this weekend.

Can we take a second and talk about what Target calls “The Wondershop?”

You know what I’m talking about right? Every year, say around November 1st, Target erects this giant sign somewhere toward the back of the store that can somehow be seen from anywhere you’re standing with the words “WONDERSHOP” written in sparkly holiday type. Now you may have walked into target with the intention of buying the latest Streisand CD and dental floss, but before you know it, you blink and you’re in THE WONDERSHOP with a wreath under each arm and a box of multi-colored candy canes in your hand wondering WTF happened.


It’s a pine tree and cinnamon scented gravitational pull toward items that cost a ton of money for no discernible reason, but you can’t stop yourself from buying everything.

Five dollars for a roll of paper with cats in Santa hats on it? WHAT A STEAL! LETS GET SEVEN. An advent calendar with numbers that count backwards from twenty-five for a cool 50 bucks? HOW ELSE ARE WE GOING TO KNOW WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES??? IN THE CART YOU GO!

Every November I see the sign beckoning from the corner of my eye and that’s it, I know I’m fucked. If the hoards of other shoppers with glazed over looks in their twinkling eyes and monogrammed stockings piled high in each hand are any indication, I’m not alone.

You win, Target. And I’m not even mad.

After I lost count on how many times I got my passport stamped at THE WONDERSHOP I think it’s safe to say my family is armed and ready for all the holiday cheer to come. We’ve even managed to cross the dreaded family holiday card bridge and made it to the other side with minimal fights and frustration.

I honestly never thought I’d be the kind of person who sends holiday cards. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy getting them and seeing your lovely families sitting happily in a field every year. Is there like one field you all go to? Or are there many fields that are all owned by one Picturesque Field Corporation?


Dave and I have never been the type to send a happy photo card and perhaps that was our downfall. What I like to call our Holiday Card Kunundrum™ started innocently enough in 2013 after we got married. As part of our wedding photography package, we got a bunch of engagement photos done, but after photoshopping Dave out to use them in my LinkedIn profile, we were left with a bunch of prints and nothing to do with them.

So I had an idea. A terrible awful idea that would haunt me for years to come.

“Let’s take one of these and make a funny holiday card!” I said. “It’ll be fun!” I said.


And it was, it was fun riiiiiiiight up until November of the next year when people started telling me they couldn’t wait to see what we came up with this year.

I’m sorry, what now?

Apparently we had set an expectation to send funny cards every year without knowing it. So the panic and brainstorming began. A situation room was secured, white boards were utilized and the floor of our apartment became littered with takeout boxes as Dave and I put our heads together and banged out a holiday card idea that would be worthy of our audience.


And they were pleased.

The next year I mistakenly thought we’d given our audience two good laughs in a row and perhaps this was the year to get designy and creative. So I spent what was arguably the most amount of time I ever have drawing custom caricatures of each of us and put them together in a neat little holiday card package.



The masses were not pleased. Apparently it felt like a Jelly of the Month Club slap in the face after the humor expectation bar had been set so high and there was widespread disappointment.

Step aside Grinch, the Brehs ruined Christmas.

When 2016 rolled around I knew we had to step it up and go back to where it all began. Back to our roots! So we pulled out those old engagement photos – no bother that they looked nothing like us anymore – and slapped a good old Dave and Lindsey style caption on it.


BAM, redemption!

In 2017, with the previous years momentum, we didn’t hold back. My snarky sick-of-being-pregnant attitude was in full force by December and we just went for it.


(Note: if you’re confused as to why you might not have seen some of these cards and instead received a more PG rated version from us during some of these years, it’s because I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t offend people or scare the shit out of your kids. So on some years we did, in fact, create an alternative version to protect some of the more delicate flowers.)

And this brings us to the present. 2018 arrived and NOW WE HAVE A KID.


Here it was – our way out. This little bundle of germs and joy could be the beautiful baby storm that finally sinks this humor ship we’d been floating aimlessly on for the past 5 years.

It would be over.

We’d sail into the sunset on a new vessel that would eventually find land with a field where we’d take family photos of our own in matching holiday PJs one year and Cosby-style (the non rapey kind) Christmas sweaters the next!

The question was would we take the out?

Dave and I had a meeting of the minds – to funny or not to funny – and concluded that we would let our offspring decide the fate. We’d take the obligatory baby photos and allow the chips to fall where they may. The kid would tell us what to do.

Damn right she did.


Happy Holidays from ours to yours!

May your drinks be cold, your pie be warm and your unsolicited hugs be sparse.