Happy Happy Holidays!

May Santa Dodi actually leave presents under your tree, instead of stealing them as he generally does.  <3

Not So Bah Humbug

I always do what Heather tells me.

Okay, not always.  And this wasn’t even directed at me, specifically, but I know her and she’s very sneaky about getting what she wants…so it probably WAS directed at me, but she won’t ever come right out and say that.  Because that’s how she is.  Except for when she’s not.

So, by now I’m sure you’re all wondering just what I’m on about.

If you’re not already following the fabulously talented Heather D, pop on over to her blog today and read what she’s got to say about getting into the Christmas Spirit.

Now, I’m never full of holiday cheer (see last year’s post on the subject here) so, frankly, trying to come up with something for #6 on Heather’s list has had me in minor panic mode all day.

If you’re too lazy to click over there, this is what I’m referring to:

6) Share your memories. I love to talk about favorite Christmas memories. Bringing back the magic of my childhood warms my heart. Find someone to share your stories with, and listen to theirs. In fact, what I want most for Christmas is for my friends and loved ones to write out their favorite memories for me.

I had a mini-meltdown (they happen frequently when I’m sick) trying to come up with happy Christmas memories.  I don’t have many from my childhood, which is probably one of the myriad reasons I don’t care for this time of year.

See? Magic.

I almost decided to talk about the few years that we had season passes to Disneyland when my boys were younger, because the Magic Kingdom truly is magical in the winter, but passed that by in favour of a different story.

I’m warning you, now, though, it starts out a little sad.

5 or so years ago, I lost my job the week before Christmas.

At the time, my husband was recovering from an injury he’d received while on the job, and mine was our only income.  He stayed home with the kids, and I had a really good job that I’d been at for close to 6 years, but there were issues that I don’t need to go into here and now that led to my being fired right before the holidays.

Strangely for us, we’d already gone a bit overboard for Christmas that year.  We don’t generally go all out, but this year we had.  Most of the gifts we’d purchased ended up being returned or exchanged for their less elaborate counterparts.

I was totally distraught.  I’d been expecting to have a great Christmas (for once, something better than what I’d grown up with) and even though I’m usually not a commercial BUY ALL THE THINGS, BUY THEIR LOVE! type of parent, I’d wanted my boys to have ONE YEAR where they actually got the things they’d asked Santa for, damnit.

Anyway.  Fast forward to Christmas morning.

The oldest, of course, ripped into everything and exclaimed how much he loved everything (but this is the kid that was excited for receiving a BIG TUBE! one year, because he didn’t even think to look INSIDE the tube).

The littlies were mostly enthusiastic about the paper (smallest boy was only a little over a year old at the time)…until middle son opened what was LITERALLY the last thing purchased and wrapped.

A box of crayons and some colouring books.

He started colouring immediately.  He spent the ENTIRE DAY in his chair with his “colours” and didn’t want to eat or take a nap.  He just wanted to colour.

I’d been in tears the night before, not only because of the stress of losing my job, but because I felt like a crappy parent that couldn’t do anything nice for her kids for the holidays.  Watching his excitement and intensity with what amounted to a $3 gift is what brought me out of my holiday depression that day.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly down at this time of year, I look at this picture of him and remember how very little it takes to make him happy.

And then I try to be more like him.

You’ll get nothing and like it.

This is the kid that did “kung fu moves” while decorating the tree last year.

Me:  Hey, we should write letters to Santa, shouldn’t we?

6y/o:  YES!  Here’s a pen!

Me:  No, I meant you should write it.

6y/o:  Santa can’t read my handwriting.  You write for me, please?

Me:  Well, since you said please.

Me:  Okay, how do you want to open this?  You can’t just say “Bring me ALL THE THINGS!”  Santa likes it if you’re polite when you’re asking him for things.

6y/o:  I don’t think Santa cares about that.

Me:  …

6y/o:  Just in case.

Me:  Wait, don’t you think “very good” is a bit of a stretch?

6y/o:  Are you saying I HAVEN’T BEEN VERY GOOD?  MOMMY!

Me:  No, I’m just saying that might be overkill.  Also, “please bring me-”

6y/o:  Mommy, you can write your own letter.  This is mine, okay?

Me:  Fine.

Me:  Wait, like those web shooters you got a few years ago for your birthday that ended up ALL OVER the ceiling fan?

6y/o:  Yes.  Those were the best.  Tell Santa I want 2.

Me:  I think that’s implied by “shooterS,” don’t you?

6y/o:  Yeah, I guess.

Me:  Okay, what else?

6y/o:  A new Spongebob punching bag.  Since [7y/o] BIT A HOLE IN MY LAST ONE.

Me:  Are you trying to get [7y/o] in trouble with Santa?

6y/o:  NO!  …  Okay, maybe.

Me:  How about we just write a new punching bag?

6y/o:  Okay, but I don’t want Spongebob anymore.

Me:  All right, what next, dude?

6y/o:  I want a remote control car that has REAL working headlights.

6y/o:  Mommy!  That doesn’t say REAL.

Me:  No, I know, but Santa will figure it out.

6y/o:  I don’t think he will.

Me:  Will you trust me on this?  Which one of us knows Santa?

6y/o:  [dubious glare]

Me:  Come on, can we finish this up, please?

6y/o:  Fine.

6y/o:  No.  I said TOY STORY 2.  I don’t see a 2 there.

Me:  You know, if you wrote this yourself, you wouldn’t have to worry about me getting it right.

6y/o:  No, I guess that’s okay.  Will Santa know that Toy Story 2 is my favourite?

Me:  Of course he will!

6y/o:  Okay.

Me:  What?  You don’t even WATCH that show anymore!

6y/o:  I know but [sister] does!  If I ask Santa for something that is for HER then he’ll bring me more stuff because I’m being so nice.

Me:  I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way, bud.

6y/o:  Too late, you already wrote it!

Me:  [sigh]  What else?

Me:  Dude.  I’m pretty sure if Santa brings you that, you won’t be getting much else.

6y/o:  I know, that’s why I asked for a bunch of little things first.  If the thing I want the most is last, that’s what Santa ALWAYS BRINGS.

Me:  You’re too tricksy for your own good.

6y/o:  I know, I am the BEST at letters to Santa!

Is anyone else already tired of the holidays?

Santa Said…

…that she was a little angel.  I don’t care if he says that about every little girl that sits on his lap, it was true about mine.  <3

It's a good thing daddy took her, I wouldn't have been able to coax a smile like this from her.

Bah Humbuggery

I’m not a huge fan of this time of year.   Even my atheist friends get swept up in ‘the season,’ but I have little to no interest in decking halls and wassailing.  This is difficult for me because I have children that are super excited about Christmas, and I have to bring myself to feign interest for them.

I made a little calendar for them a week or so ago because I was tired of them asking me every morning “IS IT CHRISTMAS TODAY?!”  It’s pink.  The lines aren’t all that straight.  I had to scribble out some of the numbers because I (apparently) forgot how to count to 25 when I was making it.  [sigh]

I’m especially not interested in decorating.  I hate untangling lights and finding ornaments that aren’t where they’re supposed to be (oh, and we moved this year so finding things should be extra fun).  I hate having to look at what I wore while decorating last year so that I can make sure I don’t wear the same thing again this year.  Even though I only have a handful of things I like to wear, I don’t like looking like I only own two sets of clothes.

I hate people knocking at my door.  I just had to get up while typing this to answer the door to receive some religious pamphlets.  I haven’t yet brushed my hair today and I’m still in my jammies.  The woman looked shocked and asked if she was interrupting something.  Um…sure, we’ll go with that.  I made the mistake of not thinking quickly enough on my feet and gave her my real name, so I’m sure she thinks we’re besties now.  I have to remember to never answer the door ever again so that I don’t get sucked in to a conversation.  Thank goodness my husband is home today.

Really, I’m having a difficult time mustering up any enthusiasm for anything other than reading.  So…my friends, please don’t expect to see me online much until after the holidays.  There’s only so much peace and joy and lightness of spirit a Scrooge can take.

Especially when she knows she has this to look forward to in a few short weeks:

Ugh.