merry holidays

Christmas is not my favorite holiday.  If pressed, I would have to admit that it probably doesn’t even make the top three. 

There.  I said it.

It’s not because I don’t love baby Jesus, the manger story, Santa Claus, evergreen trees or Charlie Brown.  No, I like the sentiment of the holiday, both secular and religious.  Children receive a present from a kind, magical man for being good all year.  Great!  God gave the world a magnificent present and people take time to remember and thank Him.  Awesome!

Of course, part of my dislike for Christmas is rooted in childhood and, more specifically, the divorce of my parents.  Christmas morning always meant the absence of one of my parents and, more often than not, my sister, too.  And, Christmas morning wasn’t always on Christmas or even in the morning.  If it was the year I was flying to MI to spend with my dad, then Christmas with my mom happened before I left or when I returned.  If it was the year I stayed in GA, then I would open the box of presents from my dad and then call him to tell him how much I loved them.  Yeah, that’s special.  Then, with step-parents and cousins of every conceivable permutation involved, it meant that I could possibly get four to six Christmases in one year.  The magic kinda wears off after Christmas number three. 

However, when I became an adult, I found another reason to become disillusioned with Christmas.  Again, it’s not the holiday itself that makes me cringe.  It’s all the hub-bub that makes me go hum-bug. 

I love presents just as much as the next girl, but the thought of someone searching for hours trying to find something that I may like because they have no idea what to get me literally makes my stomach hurt.  Imagining someone stressing over what present to buy me makes me more ill than when it is me wondering what to buy someone else.  Presents are supposed to be fun and Christmas turns them into a chore.  Not only a chore, but an obligation.  This self-imposed obligation gives us tunnel-vision and then people come up with ridiculous websites like StandforChristmas.com where shoppers can post which retailers say “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays.”

From the website’s front page:

Millions upon millions in our nation deeply value the great truths of Christmas and the holiday’s inspiring place in American life and culture. We hope you will take a moment to “Stand for Christmas” by sharing feedback about your Christmas shopping experiences.

Did they read what they wrote?  Since when do the “great truths of Christmas” have anything to do with shopping? 

The website has visitors rate stores as being either ”Friendly”, “Negligent” or “Offensive” to Christmas.  One of the highest rated “Friendly” stores is Bass Pro Shops.  Well, that’s all fine and dandy, but you want to buy a fishing pole, they will take your hard-earned money no matter what religion you are.  However, they just happen to know their customer base and market to them.  I think that using Christmas as a marketing tool is far more offensive than saying “Happy Holidays.” 

If I see something that I know someone will absolutely love, I will buy it.  If not, I will make a christmas ornament or bake something delicious or, as I am doing this year, I will give money to charity in their name.  I’m not anti-present, I just want the present to mean something.  That said, I will always buy presents for the children in my family.  To me, the gift-giving portion of the holiday should be really be all about the kids.  Presents are special and magical when you are a child.  If I want, I can have my own personal “Christmas” every time I walk into Target.

Whatever holiday you celebrate this time of year and however you celebrate it, try not to lose sight of what’s really important (hint: you can’t buy it at Bass Pro Shops).

another thing I love

My mother-in-law gave us a heated mattress pad for Christmas this year.  Score one for the MIL!  I didn’t even know such a luxury existed.  It even has dual controls so hubby can lightly simmer at setting 4 or 5 and I can bake at 15 (top setting is 20).  We turn on the pad about 30 minutes before bed time so it is all toasty when we are ready to snuggle in.  Extracting myself from the womb of warmth in the morning is now doubly difficult, but such a side effect is to be expected.  I highly recommend that you allow someone to purchase you a heated mattress pad this winter.  Or, if you’re made of money, you can buy one for yourself.  They are about $60 at Sam’s Club.  And, for once, the King size is the same price as all the other sizes!

Merry Christmas!

 

glow on, baby, glow on

The Christmas Season is truly upon us, heralded by the glowing, plastic visages of Joesph, Mary and Baby Jesus on my front lawn.  Oh, but it isn’t quite “my front lawn” is it?  No, I still have to share it with my in-laws.  And, once again, my mother-in-law has dusted off the blow-mold nativity scene and plugged it in proudly (on a timer, no less!).  Nothing says Christmas quite like an electric Jesus. 

Will I go to hell if I switch out the 20 watt bulbs with 100 watt ones?  How about red bulbs?  Or, if I install a switch so the bulbs blink in time with the greatest hits of Trans-Siberian Orchestra?  I mean, if you are going to have a glowing nativity, it might as well be the most bad ass glowing nativity that anyone has ever seen.  What better way to prove that you love Jesus more than any of the heathen bastards on your block?

tis the season

Christmas is not my favorite time of year.  It probably doesn’t even rank in the top three.  I’m not entirely bah, humbug.  I do like Christmas lights and trees and Santa and Nativity scenes.  I’m basically down with the decorations (except blow-mold anything).  However, I do not like being told how I should feel for a good month and a half (not to mention being told how I should spend my money, but my friend Jeff has already said this better than I could).  Stop telling me that I have to be cheerful and wish for snow or else I am some kind of freak. 

Of course, being as self-aware as I am, I know where this all stems from.  I had about four Christmases with both my mother and father together, and since they coincided with the first four years of my life, I really don’t remember much.  Then, after my mother and step-father moved me from MI to GA, much of my holiday was spent in a car or on a plane traveling to my father and away from my mother, then vice-versa.  I was always happy to see someone and missing someone at the same time. 

While in MI, with my father, I would have Christmas with my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.  All his family lived within a 40 mile radius of one another.  I lived 800 miles away and only saw them maybe twice a year.  They were my blood relatives and complete strangers, my father included.  I wasn’t any closer to my mother’s side of the family except for my grandma.

Christmas in GA was only slightly better in that at least I was in more familiar surroundings and it was seldom snowing.  It was really nice when my sister was there, but her father lived in MI, too, and she had moved out on her own, so she had her own Christmas to deal with. 

So, excuse me if I don’t want to bake cookies, or wear bells.  Don’t judge me because I don’t own any Christmas themed clothing and my decorations are blue and silver, not red and green.  Although I am very happy to be around any family this time of year, I can’t help but think about who I will not see this Christmas.

Deck the halls

There is a blow-mold nativity scene in my front yard.  Yes, nothing says Christmas quite like the beatific images  of Joseph, Mary and the baby Jesus rendered in glowing plastic.  It’s just another reminder that my front yard isn’t entirely mine.  I share it with people who’s taste in decoration (and pretty much everything else) is completely foreign to me.  At least my husband was around when his mother was setting up the scene.  She was attempting to run power to the plastic trio via interior lamp-sized extension cords and a power strip.  He explained to her that even though we were technically in a drought, rain was still possible, and he did not want to spend his Christmas telling the fire department how baby Jesus burned our house down. 

The lights are going up next.  That shouldn’t be too bad, though.  They are just the traditional colored lights that will frame the front porch and drape across the bushes.  At least there isn’t an inflatable Santa or anything.  If you’re going to have a nativity scene, you can’t also have Santa.  It’s one or the other.  Otherwise, you might as well just decorate your front lawn with bunnies, dyed eggs and crucifixes at Easter. 

Thankfully, most of my mother-in-law’s decorations are reserved for their apartment, downstairs.  I do not have to be a witness to her Precious Moments displays or the gazillion teddy bears or her tree.  Oh, the tree.  It’s artificial, pre-lighted with white lights and it spins.  Yes, spins.  She has a rotating tree presenting her with 360 degrees of Christmas cheer.  What could be more festive than that?  Well, other than a glowing Jesus, of course.

Have a sarcastic Christmas

Just havin’ a little fun and created some captions to these wonderfully retro Christmas images I found on a cool website, Plan59.  Click on the thumbnails to see them full size (trying to save file space).