Holidaze

Growing up, I was always forced into the holidays kicking and screaming.  I was and am, the kind of person to just go with it for the sake of everyone else's happiness.  It's not something that I enjoy.  I hate decorations.  They look nice, but I don't understand the concept of digging out all that crap to invade your home for less than a month just to have to clean the rest of your house around it and then find the motivation to put it away.  I was also made to believe that Santa was real until I was 12, and forced to keep up the rouse for my brothers who are 6 years younger than I am.  I am a realist.  I don't like change to my routine.  It's not seasonal depression if you hate everyone and have no desire to interact with any of them all year round, K?

I personally do a wreath of jingle bells at my door and those homemade paper snowflakes out of coffee filters because they're cute and make the kids be creative.  I have a tree, but I hate putting it up.  Last year I didn't, my son wasn't happy about it.  This year, I'm still very much on the sturdy fence about it.  My standpoint is that everything is in one place in the basement.  I work full time and run a household while the kids get home from school and after homework is done they do basically nothing else.  If they want to bring the stuff up from the basement and HELP put up the tree and other decorations, then we can do that and I will happily participate.  We don't do Little Red Hen situations in my house.  Needless to say, it's the weekend before Christmas, and everything is still in the basement.

Being a teenager with all those hormones is some hard work, ya know.  It's a miracle if they can get out of bed on time and somehow not destroy the house in it's entirety in the time it takes them to get up and on the bus to school in the morning.

Two years ago, my kids held an intervention, of sorts, about Christmas.  My son came to me as I was doing dishes.

*Hugs me*
"Mom, can we talk?"
*Me, a little concerned as his tone was that of someone about to tell you that they have some horrible thing wrong with them*
"Sure honey, what's up?"
*Boy takes my hand*
"I think we should go sit down on the couch."
*I can barely walk because now I'm convinced that they're going to have some kind of information about things I told them they're not allowed to do until they're 30.*
*Leads me to the living room where his sister is waiting in the chair.*
"I know."
"You know what?"
**I'm of course acting stupid because this could mean anything at this point and for all I know it could mean that he knew that I hid his candy bar in the back of the fridge.**
"*The girl child* told me that Santa isn't real.  I want you to tell me the truth."
*Sigh of relief.  Candy bar snatching secret is safe with me, no crime sprees were had, virginity is still intact and no one is dying.*
"Well, what do you believe?"
"Well I believe her."
*They both chime in together*
 And we want you to stop buying us useless crap that we get rid of by summer.  Just give us money so we can buy what we want."

And there you have it folks.  For the past two years my kids have gotten money, a stocking filled with random stuff, a family game, a family movie and a pair of pj's that they open up and wear on Christmas Eve.

When I was a kid, holidays were celebrated with vigor.  Not for lack of appreciation for the memories, but I don't understand why.  Things were not as commercialized as they are now.  Besides, who has time to pretend to enjoy the company of others who don't want anything to do with you for 85% of the year?  I don't.  I am almost stupid excited that my kids have inherited this one thing from me.

Give me a couch, ice cream, my dog, television and someone to snuggle up to any night of the week and I will be content for eternity.  I like low key and easy going when I'm stressed.  I've been stressed a lot lately. Who needs the worry of taking a second mortgage out just to buy presents for ungrateful assholes on top of regular life.

Adulting is hard.  There is no reason to make it harder.