In which I *am* the Grinch!
Ahh, the holidays. That wonderful time of year where families gather together in the spirit of love and joy, to give gifts and sing songs and eat food and share happiness. Right? RIGHT?!? Yeah, right. And if you're thinking this blog will be all happy at the end, stop reading now.
I gotta admit this to you guys, and you can ho and hum and call me Scrooge all you want, but here it is... I freakin hate Christmas! There. I said it. Go ahead, tell me I'm a Grinch. Tell me that my heart is ten sizes too small and my face is green and I talk funny. Tell me that I'll be visited by 3 ghosts and all little Timmy needs is medical attention but won't get it because I'm a hateful tightwad miser. I don't care. I really, really don't. Not even one little bit.
When I was a wee lass, Christmas was a magical time of year for me. Well, frankly, if there was a day that Hallmark made a card for, it was pretty special. Did any of you ever get a gift on Groundhogs Day, Flag Day, Labor Day? I rest my case. My mom had this way of finding something for every single holiday that you could possibly imagine. She loved giving gifts. She loved shopping. She had this incredible talent of finding the exact right present for the exact right person, every single time. I never got a single thing that I had to pretend to adore. She was just THAT good at the gift thing. Even with my kids, she was amazing. It was joy and light, just watching people open packages that she had lovingly wrapped. I even liked watching my brother open his gifts, because I knew he would have the perfect thing too. And did I mention that she did it all the time, even if we didn't quite have the money for it? We might be eating good ol' mac-n-cheese until April, but by God, we were getting the perfect gifts at Christmas!
Growing up like that, I was always in the Christmas spirit. I never had to fake it. I loved seeing all the snowflakes and trees go up, no matter how early. Christmas music? Couldn't get enough of it. And yes, I inherited my mother's talent for finding the perfect gift. I nurtured that talent so well, and for so long, that it became almost a magical thing. I was a shopper and a hoarder and one of those people that was totally done buying every single gift by the time October 1st rolled around. Really. I'm so not kidding. October 1st. One year, I was done by my birthday. That's in July, in case you forgot.
And the gifts? I bought them for virtually everyone I knew. Kids teachers, bus drivers, mail delivery people, favorite checker at the Food Lion, Preacher, friends, family, and of course about 4 different Angel Tree kids. I just loved finding and buying, and giving, and watching those faces light up on Christmas morn.
Four years ago, that all changed for me. Why? Well, five years ago, my mom died. Three days after spending her last Christmas with us. She was on her way home and she just...died. We buried her in January and that was the start of my Grinch-ness. That year, 2002, the Christmas joy also just...died. I think part of it was knowing that when I opened my gifts, I wouldn't find that perfect one from my mom. I dreaded Christmas morning for months, knowing that that one special gift would be missing from under my tree. Well, that one special gift and a calendar. Every year, she got me a calendar. Every year, it was different. Every year, it was just right. One year, it was Angels (my nickname). One year, it was seascapes (I luvvver the ocean). One year, it was babies (I like those too :) ). I knew that even though I'd hinted to my various friends and family that I'd really miss that calendar, it still wouldn't be there. And it wasn't. And even though I got some really great gifts that year, none of them were "perfect".
The years have slowly slunk by, and every time it hits October, I start getting this roiling in the pit of my stomach. As soon as I see that first green tree, or hear that first carol, I get a pounding behind my left eye and a tic at my jaw, and I just want to run and hide until January. I can't stand to shop anymore. I don't buy gifts for anyone unless I have to. And lately, I don't even like buying gifts for people that really deserve them. It makes me sad and mad and sick, but it's true. I have lost my Christmas joy.
I will buy for my children. I will buy for my husband. Anyone that does not live in my house is pretty lucky to even get a phone call from me at this time of year. I feel bad about it, but not bad enough to make myself pretend to like this season and go out and try to find gifts for other people. I've resorted to gift cards for Shane's family, because I can get those at the WaWa and I don't have to actually go into a store. They're the only people on this planet besides the ones living under my roof that I'm getting anything at all for, so I guess that's a bonus, right?
Much of it is because my mom is gone. I know this. I know she's gone. I know she isn't coming back. I know that I didn't do anything to make her leave, and that she knew I loved her when she left, and I even know she loved me. But she was my Christmas joy and inspiration for 29 years. Now that she's gone, I just don't have that anymore. Still though, that's not all.
I hate the whole "I want this, so this is what you must buy me" mentality that prevails during this whole damn season. What? My kids don't have enough crap already? We need a special day just to spend a metric butt-ton of money on stuff that will be broken or forgotten by the first of the year? Yeah, right. And grown-ups? Gimme a break. You have a job. You make your own damn money. Buy yourself whatever the heck you want and save me the hassle. WHY should I buy something for you? WHY should I feel guilty knowing that you're going to go out and spend $15 on a generic basket of bath stuff for me that I probably won't even use (unless, of course, you actually go to Bath & Body Works. They have really nice baskets full of stuff)?
I like giving stuff the whole year long, but I hate doing it at Christmas. It's just so forced. It's so calculated. It's so damn fake. Christmas is not about how many new toys or things you get. It's about the celebration of the birth of the Lord, Jesus Christ. Yeah, I know he wasn't really born on December 25th. I know it was actually a pagan holiday. But is it called "Paganmas"? No. It is NOT. It is called CHRISTmas. It's supposed to be about Christ.
So to everyone out there that is secretly thinking that you're going to get a card or gift from me, because you know deep in your heart of hearts that I love you and that you are special to me and that you are my ray of sunshine and I will surely want to express all of that this month... EXHALE. It's not going to happen. Yes, I do love you. Yes, you are special. Yes, you are the ray of sunlight that brightens my every waking moment, and I want to shout it from the rafters for all of the world to hear. But...get with me on this one, ok?
I hate Christmas.
I'll be sending you a gift for Groundhog's Day.
Thank me later.
Ahh, the holidays. That wonderful time of year where families gather together in the spirit of love and joy, to give gifts and sing songs and eat food and share happiness. Right? RIGHT?!? Yeah, right. And if you're thinking this blog will be all happy at the end, stop reading now.
I gotta admit this to you guys, and you can ho and hum and call me Scrooge all you want, but here it is... I freakin hate Christmas! There. I said it. Go ahead, tell me I'm a Grinch. Tell me that my heart is ten sizes too small and my face is green and I talk funny. Tell me that I'll be visited by 3 ghosts and all little Timmy needs is medical attention but won't get it because I'm a hateful tightwad miser. I don't care. I really, really don't. Not even one little bit.
When I was a wee lass, Christmas was a magical time of year for me. Well, frankly, if there was a day that Hallmark made a card for, it was pretty special. Did any of you ever get a gift on Groundhogs Day, Flag Day, Labor Day? I rest my case. My mom had this way of finding something for every single holiday that you could possibly imagine. She loved giving gifts. She loved shopping. She had this incredible talent of finding the exact right present for the exact right person, every single time. I never got a single thing that I had to pretend to adore. She was just THAT good at the gift thing. Even with my kids, she was amazing. It was joy and light, just watching people open packages that she had lovingly wrapped. I even liked watching my brother open his gifts, because I knew he would have the perfect thing too. And did I mention that she did it all the time, even if we didn't quite have the money for it? We might be eating good ol' mac-n-cheese until April, but by God, we were getting the perfect gifts at Christmas!
Growing up like that, I was always in the Christmas spirit. I never had to fake it. I loved seeing all the snowflakes and trees go up, no matter how early. Christmas music? Couldn't get enough of it. And yes, I inherited my mother's talent for finding the perfect gift. I nurtured that talent so well, and for so long, that it became almost a magical thing. I was a shopper and a hoarder and one of those people that was totally done buying every single gift by the time October 1st rolled around. Really. I'm so not kidding. October 1st. One year, I was done by my birthday. That's in July, in case you forgot.
And the gifts? I bought them for virtually everyone I knew. Kids teachers, bus drivers, mail delivery people, favorite checker at the Food Lion, Preacher, friends, family, and of course about 4 different Angel Tree kids. I just loved finding and buying, and giving, and watching those faces light up on Christmas morn.
Four years ago, that all changed for me. Why? Well, five years ago, my mom died. Three days after spending her last Christmas with us. She was on her way home and she just...died. We buried her in January and that was the start of my Grinch-ness. That year, 2002, the Christmas joy also just...died. I think part of it was knowing that when I opened my gifts, I wouldn't find that perfect one from my mom. I dreaded Christmas morning for months, knowing that that one special gift would be missing from under my tree. Well, that one special gift and a calendar. Every year, she got me a calendar. Every year, it was different. Every year, it was just right. One year, it was Angels (my nickname). One year, it was seascapes (I luvvver the ocean). One year, it was babies (I like those too :) ). I knew that even though I'd hinted to my various friends and family that I'd really miss that calendar, it still wouldn't be there. And it wasn't. And even though I got some really great gifts that year, none of them were "perfect".
The years have slowly slunk by, and every time it hits October, I start getting this roiling in the pit of my stomach. As soon as I see that first green tree, or hear that first carol, I get a pounding behind my left eye and a tic at my jaw, and I just want to run and hide until January. I can't stand to shop anymore. I don't buy gifts for anyone unless I have to. And lately, I don't even like buying gifts for people that really deserve them. It makes me sad and mad and sick, but it's true. I have lost my Christmas joy.
I will buy for my children. I will buy for my husband. Anyone that does not live in my house is pretty lucky to even get a phone call from me at this time of year. I feel bad about it, but not bad enough to make myself pretend to like this season and go out and try to find gifts for other people. I've resorted to gift cards for Shane's family, because I can get those at the WaWa and I don't have to actually go into a store. They're the only people on this planet besides the ones living under my roof that I'm getting anything at all for, so I guess that's a bonus, right?
Much of it is because my mom is gone. I know this. I know she's gone. I know she isn't coming back. I know that I didn't do anything to make her leave, and that she knew I loved her when she left, and I even know she loved me. But she was my Christmas joy and inspiration for 29 years. Now that she's gone, I just don't have that anymore. Still though, that's not all.
I hate the whole "I want this, so this is what you must buy me" mentality that prevails during this whole damn season. What? My kids don't have enough crap already? We need a special day just to spend a metric butt-ton of money on stuff that will be broken or forgotten by the first of the year? Yeah, right. And grown-ups? Gimme a break. You have a job. You make your own damn money. Buy yourself whatever the heck you want and save me the hassle. WHY should I buy something for you? WHY should I feel guilty knowing that you're going to go out and spend $15 on a generic basket of bath stuff for me that I probably won't even use (unless, of course, you actually go to Bath & Body Works. They have really nice baskets full of stuff)?
I like giving stuff the whole year long, but I hate doing it at Christmas. It's just so forced. It's so calculated. It's so damn fake. Christmas is not about how many new toys or things you get. It's about the celebration of the birth of the Lord, Jesus Christ. Yeah, I know he wasn't really born on December 25th. I know it was actually a pagan holiday. But is it called "Paganmas"? No. It is NOT. It is called CHRISTmas. It's supposed to be about Christ.
So to everyone out there that is secretly thinking that you're going to get a card or gift from me, because you know deep in your heart of hearts that I love you and that you are special to me and that you are my ray of sunshine and I will surely want to express all of that this month... EXHALE. It's not going to happen. Yes, I do love you. Yes, you are special. Yes, you are the ray of sunlight that brightens my every waking moment, and I want to shout it from the rafters for all of the world to hear. But...get with me on this one, ok?
I hate Christmas.
I'll be sending you a gift for Groundhog's Day.
Thank me later.
5 comments:
Cool. No one ever celebrates Groundhog Day anymore. I'look forward to it.
I love you. You are special to me and I'm not sending you a d**n gift either. Mwah!
Hi Dee, I jumped over to check out your blog. I have Christmas issues too, for the opposite reason--really sucky kid Christmases. I try not to meltdown in front of my kids.
Good luck this year. Can I send you a hug, even though I barely know you?
And hey, I homeschool too. :-)
Dee-
My grandma passed away mid-January and the other one passed away three weeks later- I'm trying to get into christmas this year- I have the tree, the nativity sets are out, and I still could care less if next Monday happens or not, because I know that a card that is often wrong, and yet oddly right, with my grandma's spider scrawl won't be in my mailbox. On the up side, I'm getting venison and shrimp for dinner.
I love you Dee but I won't be sending a gift either but I love Christmas. I love it best with snow on the ground and it looks like we aren't going to get any this year so it is hard to realize that it is that time of year. I know there was no snow where Christ was born but this is Canada. We are supposed to have snow. I also love to see all the houses decorated. It is so pretty to see all the lights.
I celebrate the birth of Christ but I also look forward to Santa Claus because I believe. It was more fun when our kids were little and watching the joy on their faces.
I like the idea of sending gifts for no reason too. It is fun to surprise someone with a gift out of the blue. I look forward to Groundhog Day although now that I know maybe we should pick another day to keep the surprise.
Happy holidays anyhow sweetheart.
(((Dee)))
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