When I was a little kid I loved Christmas SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much. We would travel to my grandparents house in Wilton, CT where we would decorate the tree and listen to Bing Crosby sing White Christmas, and sometimes it would even snow! On Christmas morning my brother and I would race downstairs to find that Santa had come and left piles of presents! He also really liked the cookies we left out, and he even left us a note thanking us, which mysteriously looked like my Grandfathers handwriting, but I had no time to do junior detective work, I had a million presents to rip open like a wild animal!
As I got older my excitement for the holiday didn't wane, and even after learning that Santa wasn't real, and it was my family the whole time playing him, (I KNEW that handwriting looked familiar!) I still really enjoyed the occasion. It was fun to sit around with my family and do Christmas-y stuff. My Grams would smoke her Kent's and laugh a lot, Gramps would collect the wrapping paper graveyard and start the fire, and my Mom and brother, Brody, would spend out time entertaining ourselves with our new gifts, or occasionally sneaking a little bit of vodka into our tonic water, which was laid out in the garage in those small bottles. It was fun. It was the holidays to me.
Brody and me in Wilton, crushing it, per ush.
It wasn't until I became an adult and was living in New York during the holidays that I really started to resent it. New York is the best place to be during that time too, but it made the already cluttered city overwhelming, and the subway assholes even more assholey. I could never afford to go home anyway, so I would just work at whatever shitty restaurant job I had at the time, and would watch Friends re-runs in the apartment I shared with the guy I was in an ill-fated long term relationship with, who DID go home every year and didn't invite me. Or maybe I didn't want to go....I can't remember.
But you know what, none of any of this is why I don't like the holidays anymore. Not at all. It's because the let down is too great. All this anticipation for this ONE HUGE DAY and then it's over and you have to wait a whole other year for it, and guess what? It never changes. The hangover is never worth the anticipation for me.
Look, I have a wonderful family now and my lovely husband does enjoy the holidays. He sees me as a big old Grinch when I roll my eyes at the Christmas movies he wants to watch, or gag when we walk into Target the fucking day after Thanksgiving and it's practically barfing Santa all over the place, or immediately turn the channel on the radio if Santa Clause is Coming to Town. His family loves the holidays too, which is great, but I just don't feel that way. It's me, it's not you, I promise!
Now that I have a kid and people learn of my disdain for anything reindeer'd, I get the same response of, "oh, you'll love it again once Bo can really enjoy it!" I even got so tired of feeling guilty about the faces that I would receive after I easily spat out , "Ugh, I HATE Christmas!" that I would just beat those people to the punch and follow it with, "but I will totally love it when Bo is old enough, blah, blah, blah!"
Look maybe that's true, but chances are it isn't and I still wont. Will I absolutely love watching her tear open her gifts with glee? Yes! Will I cry with happiness when she says Merry Christmas to someone? Jesus, of course! Will I do anything for her and pretend to be Santa Clause, and write her notes thanking her for the delicious cookies? You bet your sweet red butt I will!
But no, I will not love it again like I used to. To me Christmas makes me sad and anxious and tired and even more broke than I already am. I often think back to the days of my Grandparents house in Wilton, and the traditions we had. But when they got too old to care for themselves anymore in that big house, they moved to San Jose to be closer to my mom until they passed away. And even though they were around for a few Christmases in their two bedroom condo on a gold course in a retirement community, and they still played Bing, and Gramps still collected the wrapping paper grave yard, and Grams, who had to quit smoking by then, still laughed at everything we said. And now I don't have to sneak anything into my tonic water, I can just opening pour myself some good cheer.
I will do my best to create traditions with our sweet baby that hopefully she will grow up and remember fondly. I will also do my best to have a place for her to come to always and forever to celebrate with, and will work so hard to always be able to pay for her to fly home during those times. I will do my best with everything when it comes to my lamb.
But I still think Christmas sucks.
As I got older my excitement for the holiday didn't wane, and even after learning that Santa wasn't real, and it was my family the whole time playing him, (I KNEW that handwriting looked familiar!) I still really enjoyed the occasion. It was fun to sit around with my family and do Christmas-y stuff. My Grams would smoke her Kent's and laugh a lot, Gramps would collect the wrapping paper graveyard and start the fire, and my Mom and brother, Brody, would spend out time entertaining ourselves with our new gifts, or occasionally sneaking a little bit of vodka into our tonic water, which was laid out in the garage in those small bottles. It was fun. It was the holidays to me.
It wasn't until I became an adult and was living in New York during the holidays that I really started to resent it. New York is the best place to be during that time too, but it made the already cluttered city overwhelming, and the subway assholes even more assholey. I could never afford to go home anyway, so I would just work at whatever shitty restaurant job I had at the time, and would watch Friends re-runs in the apartment I shared with the guy I was in an ill-fated long term relationship with, who DID go home every year and didn't invite me. Or maybe I didn't want to go....I can't remember.
But you know what, none of any of this is why I don't like the holidays anymore. Not at all. It's because the let down is too great. All this anticipation for this ONE HUGE DAY and then it's over and you have to wait a whole other year for it, and guess what? It never changes. The hangover is never worth the anticipation for me.
Look, I have a wonderful family now and my lovely husband does enjoy the holidays. He sees me as a big old Grinch when I roll my eyes at the Christmas movies he wants to watch, or gag when we walk into Target the fucking day after Thanksgiving and it's practically barfing Santa all over the place, or immediately turn the channel on the radio if Santa Clause is Coming to Town. His family loves the holidays too, which is great, but I just don't feel that way. It's me, it's not you, I promise!
Now that I have a kid and people learn of my disdain for anything reindeer'd, I get the same response of, "oh, you'll love it again once Bo can really enjoy it!" I even got so tired of feeling guilty about the faces that I would receive after I easily spat out , "Ugh, I HATE Christmas!" that I would just beat those people to the punch and follow it with, "but I will totally love it when Bo is old enough, blah, blah, blah!"
Look maybe that's true, but chances are it isn't and I still wont. Will I absolutely love watching her tear open her gifts with glee? Yes! Will I cry with happiness when she says Merry Christmas to someone? Jesus, of course! Will I do anything for her and pretend to be Santa Clause, and write her notes thanking her for the delicious cookies? You bet your sweet red butt I will!
But no, I will not love it again like I used to. To me Christmas makes me sad and anxious and tired and even more broke than I already am. I often think back to the days of my Grandparents house in Wilton, and the traditions we had. But when they got too old to care for themselves anymore in that big house, they moved to San Jose to be closer to my mom until they passed away. And even though they were around for a few Christmases in their two bedroom condo on a gold course in a retirement community, and they still played Bing, and Gramps still collected the wrapping paper grave yard, and Grams, who had to quit smoking by then, still laughed at everything we said. And now I don't have to sneak anything into my tonic water, I can just opening pour myself some good cheer.
I will do my best to create traditions with our sweet baby that hopefully she will grow up and remember fondly. I will also do my best to have a place for her to come to always and forever to celebrate with, and will work so hard to always be able to pay for her to fly home during those times. I will do my best with everything when it comes to my lamb.
But I still think Christmas sucks.
Comments
Post a Comment