I’m doing rewrites on classic holiday songs…..

Not really.  But I am finally coming out. I’m letting the world know my secret.

< deep breath>

I hate Christmas.

With the white hot intensity of one thousand suns. There are so many reasons. First of all, I can barely get through the stresses of a normal day – add to that all the extras that have to get done during the holiday season, and I am the Grinch +Scrooge x Elmira Gulch.

I’m Santa’s Little Bitchface.

It hasn’t always been this way. Of course, like any child, I loved Christmas. Now I know that was because I didn’t have to do jack shit but stay home from school, eat tons of food made by possibly the two best cooks in the universe, open presents, and play with my friends and new toys.

I loved Christmas when The Kid was small and she was so excited about everything. I decorated every room. Outside as well. Front and back. Put up 4 trees. Mantel, staircase,  you name it. Hosed down with the Christmas spirit.  The Kid loved it. She did NOT, however, tolerate the Mall Santa.  Avoided him like the plague. Didn’t trust him.  Thought he was pervy she later told me. So no Santa’s lap photos.

Now she’s a very sensitive, highly intelligent, goth-ish, teen-aged writer who wants only iTunes cards and money. Still wants the tree, though. So there’s still a spark of hope that she doesn’t turn out like Mom.

Don’t get me wrong. I still love the spirit of giving, sharing, kindness, and gratitude and the nostalgia the season brings. Honestly, though, if you look around, that is in pretty short supply.  There are assholes everywhere, and not just during The Season.  And I can’t whip up holiday cheer for everyone, now can I?

 

 

As the years go by, times change. Roles change. Circumstances change. Attitudes as well.

My husband’s Christmas duties have always consisted of dragging the fake tree from the closet and hauling it out of the box. He puts up the stand, attaches the top half of tree to bottom half of tree. Plugs it into the power strip. And he gets out the boxes of decorations from storage for me. He purchases my gift online, so he’s finished shopping. Done. Off to watch football, basketball, hockey, Greco-Roman wrestling, whatever competition is on at the time.

Every other Christmas-y thing is done by yours truly.  All of it. From fluffing the limbs on the fake tree (or as we call it “ecologically friendly”) that has been crammed into a box for a year, to all the lists, scheduling, and planning. Christmas cards, cooking, gift ideas, shopping, wrapping, decking and undecking the halls. And there are always those last minute odds and ends. Plus, The Kid is home and sooooo boarddddd!

The truth is I’m too old for this shit.

 Things I Literally Cannot With Christmas

• Radio and Retail Christmas Music – Those god forsaken stations that play constant holiday tunes from Thanksgiving until well into the New Year. They always rotate the same 20 songs, recorded by every musician – living or dead.   I swear to god they have 250 renditions of Sleigh Ride and they play one every other song. After about 10 minutes, I want to gore Santa in the gut with a reindeer rack.
• That “War on Christmas” bullshit that Fox “news” created and the gullible  “victims” who lap up. It never fails to pop up every freaking year. Listen to me and listen to me GOOD. When I no longer see Christmas shit in stores in SEPTEMBER, then talk to me about a goddamn war on Christmas. And this year, bless your hearts, your fake War on Christmas outrage should be the least of you worries. Get over it! Jesus can take care of himself. He doesn’t need your help. Now, make yourself useful and find me a parking spot at the mall, bake me some cookies, and a festive cocktail would be nice, thanks.
• Same with the “Putting Christ back in Christmas” crap. Fine. Just put your money where your nonsense yammering mouth is.  I hate to break it to you, but Christmas is essentially a pagan holiday. Read a freaking book, why don’t you?  Start with the Bible’s conflicting stories about the  birth of Christ – read those.

• The same with that “We say Merry Christmas” absurdity.  My thought –  say whatever you want. I support the First Amendment and will embrace it as long as it’s still part of our Constitution, which may not be much longer.  But don’t expect me to respond in kind. You should be elated if I even make eye contact this time of year. Because of this manufactured outrage, you will NEVER get a “Merry Christmas” out of me. You have ruined that greeting. We say Happy Holidays, if you’re lucky and catch me in a good mood. Because, guess what?  Not everyone celebrates Christmas. Shocking, I know.  Because we, being Southern and enjoying our economic phrases, think saying Happy Holidays is more efficient and covers more ground – Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, Solstice, Boxing Day, and the New Year.
• The unmitigated greed.  Put Christ in Christmas, my ass.  Who took him out in the first place?  Until there are no more Black Friday Walmart brawls or mobs at the mall from Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve, scrounging and fighting over junk made overseas by exploited children who work for pennies a day, then shut up.  It’s sickening (and NOT in the spirit of Christ) to see people spending so much money they don’t have on so many things they don’t need when so many people do without everyday necessities. How about giving to those who really need help?  What would Jesus do?  I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be punching a complete stranger over some cheap Walmart towels, standing in line at Old Navy for 45 minutes to buy a $10 sweater,  or going into debt over a $400  F-15 ride-on toy.
• Other People’s Shitty Decorations – You know those people who just sling lights willy nilly on their leafless trees? Lazy asses. When the lights are plugged in, they look like a lazy ass just slung up lights willy nilly.  I also hate those damned inflatables. That, my friends, is cheating. And could someone PLEASE tell me what in hell Disney characters have to do with Christmas?  And explain to me the people who dress up their vehicles to resemble reindeer?  I’m at a loss.
• I hate decorating. Going through all those boxes, sorting, placing. Then, a few weeks later, taking them all down, wrap them, sort them, and place them back in the boxes. The dog is the only one in the house who seems remotely interested in the process, and I know it’s because some of his ornaments are made out of Milk Bones.
• I hate all the sweets. I am an admitted sugar addict.  I do pretty well controlling my addiction on my own, but my mother may as well be a drug dealer – she’s the Walter White of Christmas goodies. She makes at least 3 kinds of fudge, bourbon balls, chocolate covered cherries, date balls, at least 4 varieties of cookies,  and several cakes. Plus, the woman is an extraordinary cook. She is evil. Get behind me, Satan!
• The Marathon – We live 90 minutes from my family. On the 23rd, we all go up (and I mean all – me, my husband and kid, my brother, another brother, his wife and two boys. Plus four dogs. And the parents.  Ten people all cram into our small family home, sleeping anywhere we can find a spot. Then we all get up and have “Christmas Morning” just like we did when we were 9, 7, and 1. Or at least my mom thinks that’s how it is. We do it for her, because we love her and want her to be happy. Later that day, it being Christmas Eve, we drive back home, eat our traditional meal of homemade nachos, have our always-abbreviated family gift exchange, and sometimes we watch a classic horror film. Rosemary’s Baby is my personal favorite. Up early Christmas morning, and back on the road for the extended family celebration and meal at noon. Then back home. Again. By now we have made that 90 minute trek four times. It is at this point when I usually cut myself off from civilization and hunker in a corner with Netflix, the left-over tortilla chips, and a bottle of Jack Daniels, rocking and muttering to myself.

However, it’s a love/hate relationship we have, me and Christmas.  Well, just me. 

• About that ubiquitous holiday music – sometimes I catch myself singing along. Especially to the Carpenter’s Merry Christmas, Darling.  Don’t tell anyone, but I can nail that song, if I can make it through without crying.
• I actually like the history of how Christmas came to be celebrated. It gives me hope knowing that two vastly different religions could come together to create one holiday that encompasses both their traditions. You may say I’m a dreamer…
• I really like shopping, as long as someone else drives.  Also because I usually follow the “One for you, one for me” shopping format.
• I enjoy admiring other people’s decorations and all the effort they put into their displays.  Actually, it’s a family tradition to drive around listening to holiday music and admiring all that hard work and creativity. But not the inflatables. I draw the line.
• I love that the Dude likes to hang out with me and sniff the tree and all the decorations. I know he’s remembering.  It’s like having a perpetual 3-year-old. I also love those precious, quiet moments when The Kid and I sit by the tree with the lights out. We actually talk and bond and I wouldn’t trade those times for anything.
• Cooking is my mother’s way of showing love. And she really loves us.  I always end up eating the sweets anyway, and feeling like shit when my blood sugar goes haywire. But it’s once a year, right?  And who among us can resist homemade boiled custard and bourbon?
• Our family is very fortunate to be so large and so close. Everyone loves each other, gets along well, and no one fights or gets drunk and makes a spectacle of themselves. Unless politics comes up in conversation. Then I cannot take responsibility for my behavior.
•   Elf.  We watch religiously, as well as the Christmas Story marathon on TBS. We’ll  also be adding Krampus to the list.  I’m also partial to the obscure HBO special, Emmet Otter’s Jug Band Christmas.  It’s a sweet, backwoods retelling of O’Henry’s The Gift of the Magi.  Watch it on Amazon Prime for free. There is also a special place in my heart for The Homecoming – the Waltons’ introduction to network t.v. They showed it every Christmas Eve when I was a kid.  It’s rare to find it these days. We have a VHS copy.  It’s touching and highly quotable.

While there are many aspects of the holiday season that do pluck my last nerve, I’m still not so cynical and jaded that I can’t extract some joy from all the commercialized, blasphemous chaos. I have not yet gone full-on Ebenezer.

Cheers and Happy Holidays!

And Cheers!