A Picture Book about what to do if you lose your moo

It's 2022, do you know where your Moo is? If you've read my New York Times Worst Selling children's book, The Cow Who Lost Her Moo, you know that your Moo is a metaphor for your Happiness. You're looking at a big part of my Moo in these three mongrels. I hope all of you can look around right now and see a few things that make you this happy. If not, for a large fee, I'll rent you these three---or at least the feeling of these three. Consider it my version of the Metaverse, called the KennedyVerse. What I'll do is come set a tiny tornado in your home and let it hang out for a couple hours. When it's gone, you'll feel so much better. 

Before pontificating on 2022, I have to circle back to a couple of leads I buried last blog. 

On December 17th I had a hip replacement of my hip replacement. Any of my veteran friends out there will not be surprised to hear that the VA put the wrong hardware in the first time around (after screwing up a hip resurfacing surgery a few years before). 

This has been my basic position for the past 2 weeks. 

Laid up on the couch with Quinn while Claire handles everything else in the KennedyVerse. She is a Saint and a true Warrior and probably slightly insane. She let me take off on 3 vacations with "the guys" in 2021, birthed another baby, provided most of our income, and is now playing Nurse Maid to critical acclaim. Even I look at the situation and wonder why she married me. I also wonder how much more I can get away with. She has to have a breaking point, right? Stay tuned to see if she smothers me with a pillow in 2022. 

The other lead I buried was that Calleigh June turned 2 on the 19th. This was a dreaded day for us, now that we know the Terrible Twos are just a mild precursor to the Off The Chain Asshole Threes. We're in for 2 years of hell. All signs point to the fact that what we experienced with LJ was a Category 3 Hurricane in comparison to the Cat 5 we have in Calleigh. Please send condolences and elephant tranquilizers.

Christmas was a success, I guess. Who knows. Calleigh could have cared less about any presents. Here she is watching Paw Patrol on my phone while LJ opens her presents. 

She refused to put clothes on. Attempts to do so were met with Exorcist type sound effects. She did reluctantly watch LJ open a few of her presents, but the rest still sit there under the tree as of tonight. 

It's like Bizarro world around here. What kid doesn't open presents on Christmas? Even LJ  was sidetracked for an hour when he opened a Ghostbusters coffee table book about the making of the films. I literally sat there holding Quinn, watching my daughter watch Paw Patrol, mostly naked, while my son flipped through an adult book for an hour while dozens of presents sat under the tree. Claire captured my dismay beautifully:

We really could have just given them their stockings and then wrapped a couple of rocks and sticks from the yard and they would have satisfied. 

My favorite gift was this replica of Larry that Claire gave me. She got a replica of Scotch as well. 

When Larry leaves us, hopefully many years from now, I'll have him stuffed and bury his replica. 

Claire's favorite gift would have been one of the many awesome clothing items I purchased from J. Peterman---and then canceled because, after a month of waiting, it became apparent they had no plans on shipping the items anytime soon. A good husband would have just accepted the supply chain snafu and allowed the order to come when it came. A bad husband would have just said, "sorry I canceled your Christmas presents babe." Add that to the list of reasons to ask Claire what the hell she's thinking. 

As we move into 2022, I find myself eager to embrace this arbitrary 'New Beginning,' as if I might actually be inspired to do something new, to be better, to change my ways, or to get a high score in Ms. Pacman. The real thing I have to do is get my acting career back. I've realize that my kids have no idea what I do. When LJ plays 'Mommy,' he sits at her desk and pecks away on her computer and says things like, "I have to finish this, people are yelling at me." When he plays 'Daddy,' he falls down on the floor and acts like his back went out. 

I will now go pop a bottle of champagne and ponder 2022 plans with Claire. I hope you are all mooved to do so as well---not with Claire, but with yourself or your family. I find there is power and magic in putting your dreams and goals on paper or at least verbally setting the intention--it gives them life, puts them into motion even if you don't consciously pursue them throughout the year. Nothing can come to fruition if we don't tell the Universe what we want. 

Merry Happy 2022!