decisions, decisions, decisions

Look! My blog got a face lift? Do you like? I hope so. I spent a solid 25 minutes on a lunch break trying to figure out if I wanted to pull the trigger or not, and landed on "yes" because my sandwich was getting cold.

That's how all the best decisions are made, don't you agree?

Anywhoo, I do hope you like the new blog outfit. If not, mmmk. Onto today's post...

*******

I have always loved getting mail.

When I was young, my mom would announce that she heard the post man drive by and I would beeline to the front door, stepping on my sister's ponytails, knocking my brother to the floor, all in an attempt to please let it be my turn to retrieve the day's take. And because this was before Fitbits, my mom was all too willing to accept my generous offer because really, who wants to walk out to the mailbox?

(Also, my mom was an adult and knew there was nothing in that mailbox that was going to give her anything but a headache.)

The mailbox deliveries were generally a disappointment to me. Coupons for a free car wash, a bill or two, an envelope from the Publisher's Clearing House with some white haired dude promising me a chance at 30 million. Yadda yadda. But it wasn't necessarily the actual bits of mail that would excite me anyway; it was the anticipation of what might be there. I lived for it.

As I got older, the mailbox offerings became less exciting and sadly, more predictable. Especially in the college years. I got a lot of "final notice" envelopes with big, scary, red block letters warning me that I was mere days away from having no electricity. This loosely translated to "YOU ARE ALMOST GOING TO BE UNABLE TO KEEP YOUR BEER COLD." 

Fast forward through my early career days, where mail didn't alter much from the college years. Bills, student loan reminders, and perhaps a few credit card statements from places I had no business being approved for. (WHY would JC Penney give a 22 year old a $1,000 credit limit?)

Then, marriage! And with it arrival of envelopes with "Mr + Mrs" on them. CUTE! Plus, packages filled with things I actually wanted, like fun accessories for the house that I could finally afford and order online! Sure I still got notices about renewing my car tags, but there were also wedding invitations and birthday party invites and random late-night purchases from Amazon. The mail had finally turned back into the exciting and unexpected joy it had been for me as a child.

But then - infertility. And the joy was gone faster than it had come. Once we started treatments, that cold, hard, shit-box only held instructions for my medications, invoices from the fertility clinic, and explanation of benefits (or lack thereof) from insurance.

Infertility stole many things from me, but one of the most significant was my euphoria in getting the mail. I suddenly despised the entire mail process. I avoided opening envelopes - and subsequently missed important deadlines - and wanted nothing more then for it all to go away.

Eventually, as you know, I did get pregnant and had my son. And shortly after some nasty bills from the hospital for this little gem of a birth story, the dust cleared, and once again, the mail returned to exactly what I wanted it to be: fun. A daily surprise that held possibilities!

I've been settled deep into the love nest of my mailbox for a little over a year, so perhaps that's what made this last week's parcel so unexpected. I went to retrieve the mail, expecting some lovely new shampoo that will give my tresses strength and volume and  

BOOM

There it was.

My fertility clinic wants to know if I'd like to pay the yearly fee to keep our remaining 13 embryos frozen or, let them go.

Cold hard reality set in and my heart sank. Not because I'm sad I have the embryos. It's amazing I have them! I'm simply sad because of the unavoidable realization that we truly are probably a one and done IVF family. 

In fairness, we always planned it to be that way. Even before infertility, my husband and I accepted that we already had two kids (two daughters from my husband's previous relationship) and therefore one of our own was probably all we could handle, financially and otherwise. We talked about it, we agreed to it, we decided on it.

But after the drama of infertility and working so hard to get our son, it almost feels vulgar to leave those 13 other embryos un-realized. Even though they've only been grown out five days, I still feel a motherly attachment to them. I'm not one of those people who believes that life begins at inception (though if you are, no judgment at all), but I do feel like there are 13 little (potential) lives in those cryogenic freezers just WAITING to make someone's life amazing. So why wouldn't I use them to make my life more amazing?

AND WHY THE HELL DID I DECIDE TO ONLY HAVE ONE??

Of course, nostalgia and the adorableness of a baby is not a valid reason to make a baby. I know in my heart that the right thing (for us) is to only have one child.

And yet...I still wonder.

My husband is on the anti-baby train all the way. In his defense, I think it's a little easier for him to separate out his emotions. Yes, he went through infertility with me, but he didn't take injections and go through hell in his head every waking moment...it was just a different experience. He knew from the beginning we were one and done, and he's accepted that and is good with it. 

But for me, the pull of another baby is still there - I feel myself wanting to go again.

Of course, the option for the last year or two has been easy. Pay the fee, keep the embryos on ice and deal with it in a year. But now here we are, one year later. Do I really need to keep paying this fee year over year when I know we won't be making a withdrawal from the baby embryo bank?

Lastly, there's always donation. We could release our 13 little loves into the abyss of the fertility clinic's database. And maybe someday a lovely, deserving couple would select one. But then my crazy brain starts thinking thoughts like what if someone gets one of our daughter embryos and my son ends up meeting her and they fall in love and get married and it's incestuous!??!! 

(I never said my thoughts are rational. Sometimes I go dark, people.)

So here I am here again. Confused, illogical, and really mad at my mailbox for ruining my week. Though, I do count myself lucky that I even have this predicament to begin with, as I know so many would kill to be in my shoes. 

Overall, common sense and my agreement with my husband says no. But that darn heart of mine sometimes says yes.

Maybe a letter will arrive in the mail telling me exactly what to do. Until then...

G Force: My Encounter with Celebrity Infertility Hero, Giuliana Rancic

Everyone seems to have a story about an A-list celebrity encounter. Your mom saw Oprah buying a hideous scarf at Hermes in Chicago. Your best friend totally stood next to that guy from Mr. Robot at Whole Foods in LA last summer. And your gynecologist went to high school with Paul Rudd's Mom.

But me? I have no celebrity story. No quirky tale I can whip out at an awkward Thanksgiving moment when the convo turns political. No cute story to tell strangers when our elevator gets stuck. Nothing. Nada.

Until now.

Amazingly enough, my A-list celebrity encounter happened last night, and in the process managed to make my whole infertility journey come full circle. I never even saw it coming. Let's back up.

A few weeks ago, I got a flyer in the mail that Giuliana Rancic was coming to Kansas City. You know Giuliana Rancic. She was the anchor for E! News forever, has her own wine and clothing line, and is married to the winner of the very first "The Apprentice", Bill Rancic. Oh, and she kicked breast cancer's ass and never has a bad hair day. She's basically a superhero.

The flyer said she was coming to town as the guest speaker for North Kansas City Hospital. They were promoting Club W, an organization that supports women through Wisdom and Wellness. (Go here to join Club W; it's amazing. And free. SCORE!)

Anyway, I saw the flyer and hyperventilated, then immediately texted my good friend and radio DJ extraordinaire, Jenny Matthews. I asked Jenny to be my date to this event because, let's be honest, Giuliana is our Holy Grail. If we were creating a celebrity squad, Giuliana would be President and CEO. Not just because she's pretty and has killer style (though those qualifications certainly don't hurt), but because of what she has done for the infertility community.

You see, Jenny and I are IVF warriors. Our three children (Jenny has 2, I have 1) are the result of countless hours of crying, testing, poking, prodding, wondering and waiting. Jenny's story is hers to tell, and you can read all about mine here on this blog, but the bottom line is, we have Giuliana in common. Giuliana went through the IF and surrogacy process for her son, Duke. She shared her story, and not just as a quick anecdote in a "10 Things You Didn't Know About Giuliana" glossy magazine story. Oh no. Giuliana and her husband Bill filmed her journey - from injections to conceptions - on their reality show, "Giuliana and Bill."

Big deal, you say. They had a reality show. Of course she told her story for ratings. 

Um, no.

Not even on my best day as an infertile did I ever wake up and think, "Damn, it'd be so great if there were a camera in my face right now." At no point did I stare at my swollen belly, rock hard with fluid and 26 eggs that would be retrieved in the most painful process ever and think, "This would be so fun for 854,000 peeps to watch. Sign me up!"

Infertility is pain. It is ugly. It is more tears than you knew your body could produce. It wreaks havoc on a marriage. And more than anything, infertility is the epitome of uncertainty. For Giuliana to tell her story without the guarantee of a happy ending is a) brave b) kind of insane and c) something to be celebrated. Besides, Giuliana was already a celebrity without the infertility angle. She could have easily just produced Duke at a press junket one day and said, "Oh, that baby? Yes, that's my son. Let's talk about my clothing line now." 

Instead, she made the decision to open her life, her marriage, and her journey (including breast cancer, eventually) to millions of women. Women like me who were watching her on television in the midst of our own failing fertility cycles. Women like me who watched her go to Colorado Center for Reproductive Medicine in Denver and  thought, "Maybe they can help me, too." 

Because of Giuliana's story, I was inspired to not give up. I was inspired to walk away from my current RE, pick up the phone and call CCRM. Because of her I traveled 622 miles from home to a place that I feel put just as much effort into me as they did Giuliana. 

Lastly, because of Giuliana Rancic, almost two years ago, I was inspired to do something I never planned to do. I took a deep breath, singed into Instagram and Facebook, and shared a link to this very blog. No more hiding. I detailed the good, bad, and ugly of trying to get pregnant. The curse words, the sleepless nights, and my own seemingly endless uncertainty.

And like Giuliana, I was overwhelmed with the response. Friends emailed that were going through their first IVF cycle. People I hadn't spoken to in years reached out to ask about a medication or a procedure. I heard sad stories of miscarriages and failed IUI's. I heard happy stories about twins and triplets. I listened to stories of cautious hope and dwindling optimism. Some of those stories are still ongoing to this day. 

And so I knew I had to jump on the chance to see the person that helped me get to this point.

So, back to my celebrity encounter. Because my dear friend Jenny is in radio, she was able to secure an interview with Giuliana prior to her speech. I was so happy for Jenny. She was going to meet our hero and I was going to live through her vicariously. Maybe she'd get me an autograph.

And then Jenny said I could come along.

And I died and the story ended.

No, not really, but close. 

Last night Jenny, myself, and our friend Shaylee (who also idolizes Giuliana) found ourselves in a small conference room at the Embassy Suites. And there, less than 15' away, was Giuliana, answering questions from several journalists in Kansas City. We were the last to go.

Jenny could have easily just sat me in a corner and been like, "Kim, you stay here and be quiet like a good girl, please." But she took my hand, stood me up and said, "You have earned the right to tell this woman what she means to you. You're coming with me."

And just like that, we sat down with our hero, Guliana Rancic. (Can I just tell you that Giuliana actually got up and rearranged the lighting so we'd all look better? The woman is a beast.) She smiled at us, a small black eye from a bounce house incident with her son peeking out from beneath her expertly applied makeup. And then she said, "Okay, let's do this!"

I think I wet my pants.

Jenny, being the pro she is, asked wonderfully poignant and professional questions. I, on the other hand, instantly morphed into Tommy Boy with my pretty little pet.

                                         

I fumbled words, made weird faces, and at one point practically leapt across the table to shove a picture of my son in Giuliana's face. Of course, she was completely gracious and as you'll see, handled my ridiculousness with the utmost poise. She was sweet, attentive, and charismatic. All the things she is on TV, she is in real life.

As Jenny and I say now, it was one of the top 5 moments of our lives.

Let me reiterate that this wasn't about her being a celebrity. Sure, that part was fun. At the end of the day, this was about her being a celebrity that put her voice and her platform to good. To talk openly about something that as recently as even 5 years ago was considered "taboo". In some places, it still is. But because of this amazing woman, I felt strong enough to tell my friends, family and clients what I was going through.

So, Giuliana, thank you. Thank you for handling my questions with a smile, for not running away after glimpsing my insanity, and for helping to make my son a reality. I owe you more than you'll ever know. 

A-list celebrity story? Level: Pro

Here's the taped interview, courtesy of Jenny and SheKCLifestyle:

      

Here's me and G (with her expert lighting arrangement):

                                        

And here's the picture I showed her of my son and my very handsome hubby:

What a Zoo: My Unasked-For Take on Harambe and the Little Boy That Could

I'm taking a minute away from the infertility world to talk about the Cincinnati zoo incident from the weekend. I feel like we need to discuss this.

I don't usually take a stance on controversial issues because I typically have friends and family with their feet firmly cemented on both sides of whatever topic is trending. But something about this particular issue stuck with me.

First of all, I am a huge animal rights activist. Cecil the Lion being shot absolutely gutted me. I hate puppy mills. I think Pit Bulls are lovely creatures who are misunderstood and raised by the wrong people. I don't like to kill Lady Bugs. I would never wear real fur and I've tried 29 times to become a vegetarian. (I'm still working on that one. Bacon, people. Bacon.)

However...

This was a child's life. An innocent little four year old boy who was doing what four year old boys do. Crawling, playing, testing boundaries. He managed to, according to the zoo, get "under a rail, through wires and over A MOAT wall to get into the enclosure."

Ya'll, he Mission Impossible'd himself in there. (The CIA should maybe recruit him after this hubbaloo dies down.) He wanted in and he was going to find a way to do it.

Reports have varied, but it sounds like at the beginning of the incident, the gorilla wasn't interested in harming the boy. Until the crowd got involved and understandably started to freak out. Then it agitated the gorilla and he became more violent, as the video shows. 

(Also, what kind of asshole takes a video of this happening? More on that later.)

All this aside, the fact remains, that little boy was probably going to be killed. Was the gorilla doing what gorillas do? Yes, it is a wild animal. Does that mean zoo should have sat by and let the little boy die? No. This was a total and complete freak accident that probably wouldn't happen again if you tried to recreate it three million times. 

What bothers me the most is the public outcry toward the mom of this child. I don't know her, and I don't know her story, but let me tell you a little story about me this weekend. 

My son is eight months old. He's essentially immobile, except when he's in his walker that he loves more than me. While cooking lunch on Sunday, I opened the pantry door to get out some bread. As I shut the door, I notice it was resisting. I thought maybe one of the hinges was broken. It never occurred to me that in the 2.3 seconds I had the pantry door open, my son had waddled over in his walker and stuck his meaty little fingers in the opening of the door swing. I HAD NEARLY CLOSED THE PANTRY DOOR ON MY SON'S FINGERS.

Incidentally, he's fine. There were tears and for a solid twenty minutes, I contemplated hurling myself off a bridge while screaming, "I'm a terrible mother!" on the way down. The fact that the one thing I love more than anything was hurt because of me was almost too much. And this was just some bruised fingers.

What if I had been that mom at the zoo? What if my squirrely little son had wandered off while I took a moment to ogle at the splendor of an amazing animal in front of me? 

Well, apparently you aren't allowed to do that in this world. The mom from the zoo has become a villain by the peanut gallery of nincompoops. Apparently she should have a leash or string around her child at all times. Because that's not weird or anything. 

Look, I get it. People think she was being negligent because that's an easy dart to throw. I, on the other hand, tend to err on the side of humanity and believe that she thought her kid was right next to her. For those that aren't parents, let me just inform you. Kids are smart. as. hell. They know when a parent is distracted and they take full advantage. Can we offer a little kindness to this mom whose son is laying in a hospital bed and whom she had to watch be dragged by a 400-pound (innocent yes, but still 400-pound) gorilla? Can we have some compassion, for f*ck's sake?

And now, the gorilla. My heart aches that Harambe is gone. This is by and large my main problem with zoos to begin with. We take wild animals and put them in enclosures so we can stare and laugh at them when they throw their poop at us. Then we're surprised when something unexpected happens and the animals act accordingly to their nature?

DID NO ONE READ CHAOS THEORY BY IAN MALCOM?

There's loads of outrage about whether a tranquilizer should have been tried first, but as I understand it, tranquilizers can take time and cause extreme agitation. The zoo had no way of knowing what the gorilla was getting ready to do, nor did they have time to sit around and think about what the Twittersphere would think. They had to act. 

And that sucks. The whole situation is a gigantic hurricane of suck.

I'm so torn. As a mother, I want the zoo (or amusement park, or Chuck E Cheese or Sky Zone) to do whatever they have to do to keep my son safe, even if he is being a little asshole. On the other hand, I know this gorilla  did nothing wrong. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and none of it was by his own choosing. He is dead because we feel the need to capture him and watch him for our own personal pleasure. But at the end of all of this, with the crap circumstances being what they were, I don't feel the  zoo was wrong. My heart breaks for the zookeeper that had to fire the shot. He didn't take that job hoping to get the chance to kill an endangered, beautiful, amazing creature. And yet, here we are. There is no cut and dry answer. There is a lot of drilling down into the nitty gritty that could potentially be explored. But that won't happen. It's easier to call the mom a piece of trash, the zoo trigger happy and the kid a brat.

Welcome to the human race.

I feel like this, along with other stories like fatal gun shootings, will fade into the background as the next news cycle comes in. And that makes me sad. Harambe is gone, but the boy is alive. A little boy who didn't understand the implications of what he did will reap the repercussions of this for a long time to come.

As for the mom in this story, I hope she's the innocent I'm making her out to be. I hope it doesn't turn out that she's a terrible mother who leaves her kid in a hot car while she runs in to the post office to mail a letter. I hope she doesn't sue the zoo. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt, because I hope someone would give it to me. I hope my daycare provider sees my child's swollen fingers today and knows that life happened yesterday. Messy, sucky, painful life.

Lastly, you better believe I'm not blaming the walker company or the hinge company for my son's injury. And he will still play in his walker. I'm not going to wrap him in plastic bubble wrap. 

Yet. 

Be kind to each other. Be kind to animals. And be kind to yourself.

XOXO,

Let's go to the movies - holiday style

The holiday's are officially in full swing, and if you're like me, you desperately want to get into the spirit and stay there for the foreseeable future.

For me, Christmas spirit usually comes without me having to coax it. I naturally love this time of year and am one of those people who love Black Friday and pumpkin pie and Christmas music stations. But this year is a little different. I'm in Denver for my first fresh IVF Cycle, doing a great impression of a human pin cushion every night and morning with my 3-4 daily injections. I'm away from home and missing my friends and family and Hubs (who will get here later this week). To make matters less jolly, Hubs and I aren't putting up Christmas decorations this year. There's really no point, considering neither of us will be home to appreciate them, thus leaving the tree to be terrorized by our two cats.

No thanks.

The IVF cycle has my mind moving a million miles a minute with "what if's", and it's sort of cramping my holiday style. So, because I'm feeling more Grinch than Elf right now, I've decided to lift my spirits by making a wonderful list of the Christmas movies that will put the jingle in my Kringle. These movies are guaranteed to make you laugh, cry and shout "Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good night!"

So get some egg nog and spike it (if you aren't pregs yet), snuggle up with your BFF or Hubs or life partner or dog or cat, and let's get some Christmas Spirit up in this bee-otch!

Kim's Holiday Movie Must-Watches

Die Hard: Why not start Christmas off with a bang and lots of curse words? And a super hot Alan Rickman being all English and nasty? If you're into explosions, plot holes, bad 80's hair and Bruce Willis being a bad ass, this is the movie for you. Yippee-Ki Yay, mother f*cker.

Funny Farm: Okay, it isn't exactly a Christmas movie, per se. But damn if I don't love it. This won't be the last time Chevy Chase appears on this list, either. Two yuppies from New York move out to the country to experience the quiet life and get anything but. Can the holiday spirit of a small town keep them together? There are so many one liners in this movie, I can't even get started, because I just won't stop. All I'll say is, "Cue the deer."

Elf: I mean, duh. Will Ferrell was born to be a cheesy, sugar-addicted human raised by elves. Only Will can accuse a department store Santa of smelling like beef and cheese and get away with it. If nothing else, watch this movie for the fantastic chemistry between Will and Zoey Deschanel. Adorable.

9. Polar Express: I hesitate to put this on the list, mostly because the book is so much better. But Tom Hanks is my spirit animal and he pulls off several roles in this sugary-sweet cartoon like the Christmas pro he is. Watch this film when you feel like all of your Christmas spirit has left you...you're guaranteed to get it back and "Believe."

8. The Holiday: For years people told me about this movie and I finally gave in last year and watched it. So glad I did. Cameron Diaz is spot on as a rich, Type-A Hollywood bitch, looking for an escape where no one knows her name. Kate Winslet is perfection as an unassuming, humble English gal, looking for a little adventure in the holiday season. The two strangers switch homes for Christmas and hilarity/romance/tears ensue. This movie makes me want to drink hot chocolate and marry Jude Law. What's more Christmas-y than that?

7. Serendipity: Calling all sappy, chick flick lovers! This one's a doozy. John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale play two perfectly gorgeous New Yorkers who meet by accident, fall in love in approximately 8 minutes, and then get ripped apart by circumstance. Can fate bring them back together? This movie will always be at the top of my faves list, mostly because Hubs and I have a similar fate-esque story, and I love to believe in holiday love miracles.

Also, Jeremy Piven as the comic relief is genius. 

Home Alone: Who doesn't love watching two bad guys get the pulp beat out of them by a kindergartner?  20+ years since this film came out and I will literally still watch it in the dead of summer when it's 102 degrees outside. I can't get enough of Katherine O'Hara as Kevin's neurotic mother, mowing down anyone who attempts to block her from getting home to the son she left behind on vacation.

On a sappy note, I love the theme of "I'm not afraid anymore." As adults, we're sometimes afraid to admit that things scare us. This movie always reminds me that most of the fear is in our heads and we've got to let those around us help when we're paralyzed by that fear. (Hello, infertile friends, I'm talking to you!)

A Christmas Story: Full disclosure: I used to watch this movie several times a year, until TNT ruined everything by playing it 24/7 on Christmas. I went on a 2-3 year strike and just recently decided to let it back into my holiday foray. I'm glad to have it back. After all, Ralphie is the kid in all of us - slightly nerdy but sensitive and sweet. And dammit, he just wants a BB gun. (For girls, that translates to an EZ Bake Oven. "You'll burn your hand off, kid.")

What I love most about this movie is, it's a glimpse into a different time. Seeing Christmas through the eyes of a generation that didn't have color TV's and iPads, or hell, even microwaves. It makes me long for a simpler time, where watching a dramatic event unfold happened on the playground rather than on The Real Housewives of Whatever. I love watching Ralphie gather his courage and beat the snot out of Skut Farcus and his yellow eyes. I love seeing Ralphie's mom cover for him when he almost shoots his eye out. This is the stuff of genius and I live for it.

The Family Stone: Boy meets girl. Boy brings girl home to meet his parents for the holiday. Easy, right? Wrong.

The Family Stone is amazing for a zillion reasons, but chief among them can be summed up in three words: Diane Freakin' Keaton. Diane stars as Sybil Stone, the bohemian-esque matriarch of her liberal, somewhat snobbish family, who are hell bent on making her son's new girlfriend (Sarah Jessica Parker) as uncomfortable as possible for the holidays. They succeed with gusto. 

This movie is truly a glimpse into the dysfunction that every family has, but will never admit. The over-arching theme is, "we all love each other anyway", and that always rings true for me around the holidays. My family drives me up the wall most of the time, but there is always love there, no matter our differences. This movie hammers that sentiment home with a mix of drama, tragedy and most importantly - laughter. 

Seriously, go watch it.

Christmas Vacation: Clark Griswold is the man. He wants to host the ultimate old-fashioned family Christmas, and he'll be damned if anyone gets in his way. 

I don't know many people who haven't seen this movie, but if you're one of them, rectify that mistake immediately. Watch as Clark endures a grumpy boss, asshole neighbors and one completely white-trash cousin in an effort to bring Christmas cheer to his less-than appreciative family. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll snort egg nog up your nose. And that's what Christmas is all about.

Scrooged: Bill Murray as a miserable grump executive who hates Christmas? Can that even work? You bet your sweet holiday nuts it can. Speaking of nuts, Murray gets punched in them a few times by the Ghost of Christmas Present in this holiday hoot with a heart.

Sleepless in Seattle/You've Got Mail: I mentioned earlier that Tom Hanks is my spirit animal. This couldn't be more true than in either of these movies. Tom is the perfect blend of sweetness, chivalry and sarcasm in both films. Meg Ryan is in her element as quirky, self-conscious and annoying. They belong together. Watch them as they figure it out.

Love Actually: I actually love the British. They pull every heart string I have out of its socket and then lovingly put it all back together again. This is the only holiday movie (except for maybe Christmas Vacation) that Hubs will voluntarily watch. He even asks to watch it every year! So, if you're going to make your macho macho man watch a holiday movie, break this one out.

Follow along as 8 love stories collide with hilarity, satire, loneliness, and passion. There's plenty of Christmas eye-candy in it too, including Hugh Grant (sex on a sugar-coated stick), Alan Rickman, Colin Firth and Liam Neeson. Oh, and that guy from "Walking Dead."

What else could you ask for Santa to bring you? (Well, one of those men naked in my living room would work fine.)

*****

There you have it, my friends. My fave holiday movies to get jingled with. And yes, I know I left off some major holiday cartoons (aka The Grinch, Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph, Charlie Brown, etc.) But those are a given.

I would tell you to get to your local video rental store, but those are obsolete. So get to your Netflix or Amazon Prime or Apple TV or whatever piece of technology you use to watch movies, and snuggle in for a long day of amazing holiday masterpieces.

And seriously, don't forget the spiked egg nog. 

Happy Holidays!