Right now I love the holidays. I’m excited about Christmas. I’m enjoying the newness of the decorations, lights, and Christmas carols. When I go into a store, I want to buy everything and decorate…decorate…decorate.
But check back with me in a week or two. By then I’ll be so tired of the decorations, the lights, and the Christmas music that I will want to run screaming from the stores. I’ll be tired of my fellow shoppers, many who are looking downright demonic as they scour the aisles looking for the perfect gifts.
The worst place to venture is the toy aisle. You can see the panic as people search for the right present for the children in their lives. The ones I feel most sorry for are the parents who have carts stuffed to the gills, toys plummeting over the sides, as they try to fulfill some need by over-giving. I wonder why they do this. Guilt? Vanity? Why do they think kids need a hundred different packages to open for Christmas?
Christmas isn’t the only holiday. But it is The Holiday Season and seems to be the one that I dread the most. I think it’s the sheer pressure that comes with it.
I feel a need to decorate the house like a Martha Stewart clone. I want a gorgeous tree be-decked with handmade ornaments and other baubles that I put together at night with my family. The reality is that the tree is a scrawny artificial one and we have plastic, shatter-proof ornaments because the animals tend to climb the tree.
We don’t even put presents under the tree until Christmas Eve because the animals tear up the wrapping. I’m sure you’re getting an idea of who runs the house here. It ain’t we humans!
Plus, Christmas happens in winter. Sometimes there is snow. I hate both winter and snow. I hate going out in the cold. I hate scraping windows and shoveling snow. I am not a winter person. Christmas comes smack dab in the middle of my winter doldrums where I am pondering why I ever moved to Illinois and why the hell do I stay?!
Maybe this year will be different though. I’m feeling a difference. I’ve started decorating, despite Jim’s a no-Christmas-decorations before Thanksgiving rule. But I’ve put up a few things. And the tree will go up this weekend.
I’ve had an urge to bake. Maybe this will be the year I make chocolate crinkle cookies. If I can find a recipe that uses cocoa powder. We’ll make fudge and so many batches of seven-layer bars that we get sick of them. I’m even considering doing cut-out cookies.
I know I sound like a Scrooge. I just can’t live up to the image we moms have forced upon us of perfect housewives, mothers, and hosts who do it all with a smile and nary a complaint. So I do my best and my family–hopefully–knows no different way of doing it. They don’t know–yet–that I am a Martha Stewart Finishing School drop out!