Just Call Me Scrooge

O.K. Now that Nanowrimo is behind me, it's time for my annual holiday rant. I HATE CHRISTMAS! The holiday problem is a feminist issue. On top of all a wife and mother's normal work load, which is basically 24-7 to begin with, the holiday season brings on a whole host (the unholy kind) of extra holiday tasks, just when Seasonal Affective Disorder is kicking in with a vengeance and all I want to do is hibernate like a Grizzly bear.

First there is the decorating: hauling the boxes out of the garage attic (why didn't I label them last year when I was putting all of this crap away!) and decking the halls and mantles with boughs of artificial pine garland and ribbon and lights and pine cones. Oh darn, only half the lights on this strand work. Have to go to Target again and buy more lights made in China that are so cheap they only last a year or two. Fight with your spouse as you put up the Christmas tree and string more temperamental lights on it.

Next, and if this were done first if would not be such a problem, buy, wrap and mail gifts to everyone and your brother. And they need to get there before Easter darn it!

While all of this is going on, throw in a few fancy holiday parties where everyone else is going to be perfectly coiffed, spray tanned, manicured and pedicured and looking fabulous in their sparkly holiday dresses. I am too fat to fit into last year's outfit so I panic and start ordering all kinds of stuff on the Internet to wear and pray to God and baby Jesus that they will fit and look flattering on me and get here on time. Then I eat and drink too much at the parties which makes me feel even worse about my waistline and butt. I'll think about that another day, after January 1st when I make my perennial New Years resolutions vowing to lose weight and get in shape. In the meantime, I'll have another peppermint martini please.

Plan and attend a few school parties and holiday concerts, the more kids you have, the more divided up these precious few days left to get it all done become before the kids are out of school on vacation. Pass the Excedrin Migraine please.

Pick up the relatives that are coming for ten days at the airport and try to feel happy to see them. Smile.

And then as we get closer to the big event of Christmas Eve dinner, there is the meal planning, grocery and wine shopping, cooking, table setting (oops, I'm short one plate, a white wine glass, and two salad forks, wonder what happened to them?).

Put it all together and it is very overwhelming. But I have only myself to blame as a master procrastinator. Still I wonder why my spouse isn't as stressed out as I am. Why should he worry about all of this? That would be my job.

The Christmas spirit will kick in eventually, it always does, usually late on Christmas Eve when I am at a midnight candle light church service listening to my favorite Christmas Hyms, or sitting on the couch in the dark with my husband after the kids and grandparents are asleep (and Santa has come and gone) inhaling the heavenly fresh pine smell of the Christmas tree (it hasn't dried out and dropped all its needles yet because we just put it up yesterday!) and thinking about how blessed we really truly are, and how good it is that the holidays bring out generosity in almost everyone, even my inner Grinch.