To tell you the truth, I waffle a lot around this time of year. It starts at the beginning of November (but definitely after Halloween.) Gimme carols! Lights! All the pretties! Except–OMG, not that song AGAIN. What do you mean if I want lights, I have to go out to the shed and get them, and probably half of them don’t work? Look, if we put up a tree, it’s just a battle for weeks to keep the cat from eating it or taking it down. And our living room is small enough without putting a big tree in it. (My kid is convinced if it’s not scraping the ceiling, it’s not REALLY a tree. And don’t get me started on real actual go-pick-one-out-every-year formerly-live trees, and the fight there, to get one that will actually fit in the house…)
I want to bake cookies! I don’t want to effort. And I really don’t need cookies around. I need to find the perfect presents! OMG, these people are so spoiled! I do everything for them and their legs ain’t broke, why would I give them presents too? I want to give everyone food and hugs! OMG, get away from me. And my bank balance weeps…
Seriously. My Christmas spirit sputters like a candle in a drafty window, only it’s one of those joke candles that looks like it’s out, then comes back when you least expect it. Again and again. Christmas always wins. Then I’m that lady, looking for Christmas lights in WalMart then Target then Home Depot and three different Ace Hardware stores, because I waited until two days before Christmas to start putting up lights and now I Do Not Have Enough. I’m the one taking cookies to work after Christmas when everyone is trying to get back to healthy eating, because I finally got around to baking. I’m the one dealing with the bills because I went on a Spree at the last minute, showering my loved ones with Stuff.
Honestly, I love the idea of Christmas, way more than the reality. I want snow. I want cozy. I want everyone getting good presents, and I want a freaking Christmas Miracle (like, for instance, my two adult children to get Jobs and Apartments, maybe.)
But it doesn’t snow on Christmas here. And my house is cold because I’m too cheap to turn on the heat, and our fireplace is a space heater with fake flames, and cozy is just too much effort anyway. Also…I just all too often want to smack people. It doesn’t work with the love of the season, you know?
Accepting that I’m 93% Grinch is one thing. Adapting to it is something else again. I love my family though (and most of humanity, when they are nowhere near me) so I do what I have to do—when I’m not feeling it, I fake it. This year I’m proud of myself, because I got around to faking early (for me.)
I bought lights already. Cookie-baking is about to commence. The tree is up, and hasn’t been taken down by the cat yet. (Tying it to the ceiling helps with that.) I’m still waffling on the carols, but that’s not affecting anyone but me.
So bring on Christmas. I’m ready. And if you happen to have a line on jobs for two young people who, aside from their health issues, share one brain-cell between them and it’s usually in transit—let me know.
Please.