Got a case of the Holiday Blahs? Yep, so do many of us. I have been giving this blahness some thought these past few days and I have determined
that, at least for myself, I am in a self-induced Christmas brain fart.
Every year the Season of Giving begins earlier, dragging out
the stress that inevitably comes from holiday festivities with any family.
We are being conditioned from the very first holiday cartoon
we watch that Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanza, or whatever you celebrate should be a
magical and perfect experience. The kind
of experience where children play in the snow, without coming in and out of the
house a million times, and can build a perfectly proportioned snowman, without
fighting with their siblings, that comes to life with the magic of the season.
Who can compete with that?
Who can live up to that?
My memories of Christmas have been altered to make me think
that I might really have had that Hallmark Movie Channel type of Christmas and
if I am a half decent mother and wife, I will create this same type of memory
for my own children.
When I look back on the reality of Christmas Past, it was a mess. Babies crying, dogs barking, sisters yelling,
Dad hiding, and the overwhelming feeling of joy that I got to experience this
madness with my parents and sisters. It wasn’t
a family holiday if someone didn’t storm out of the house or a few choice words
didn’t fly. That is what happens when
you put all that Lithuanian/Irish passion in one room. No one was ever permanently injured, so I
call that success and family tradition.
In my own house, the day approaches with growing anxiety
that I will disappoint my children with a Christmas that is less magical than
the ones that they too are now conditioned to expect. It is a vicious cycle that I am ready to stop
riding.
As I came to the unconscious conclusion that I would never
be able to bake like Betty Crocker or entertain like Martha Stewart, I began
over compensating with Play Stations, computers and other material things. This only created a new level of expectation
that became impossible to meet.
When the children are young, toys are plentiful because the
costs are relatively low. As they grow
bigger so do their wants, toys became computers, bikes became cars and Mom and
dad had to work triple time trying to maintain the level of expectation and
stay out of the poor house.
UNCLE…. I GIVE…. NO MORE PLEASE
The best advice I can give my children is to not look at
what everyone else is doing, and look inside themselves. What brings them joy? Being with each other, eating Mom’s Breakfast
Bake, a well thought out gift that someone has wanted or have mentioned that we
took the time to remember? These things
are more valuable than we know, and we never really know it until we no longer
have them.
Our sisters/brothers grow up and have families of their own; even our
parents don’t remain the same. My mother
has been gone for fifteen years and my Dad now lives 700 miles below the Mason
Dixon Line and doesn’t believe that northern winters should be experienced by
anyone ever. I miss those messy chaotic
Christmas’ in my past. I miss what my
family was but am grateful for what we are now.
This Christmas I will make a conscious effort to not overly worry
about everyone being happy with what I provide. Instead I consciously choose to
smile, the kind that comes from deep in my heart and give with the sentiment
that it is given with all the love that is in my heart. I will consciously recognize that God blessed me with another Christmas with my family and another opportunity to make that messy memory. That is what this season is about.
Merry Christmas to all of you and to your messy crazy
families!
