The Chasm of Christmas Commercialism

I have had a wonderful Christmas! Beloved family, amazing food, fantastic friends. I am truly blessed. Though now, I sit back in my chair and issue a sigh of deep, deep gratitude...

Really deep.

I am profoundly grateful another Christmas has come to a close. 

No more worrying about finances, or if something I ordered will arrive on time, or how I'm going to fit it all into the finite amount of time I have. 

No more thinking I've gotten my Christmas cards finished only to receive one from someone I didn't send one to and add them to my "Must Reciprocate" list for the following year - knowing I'll lose the list unless I put it someplace I'll be able to find it later. Except the following year is now this year and I've hidden my list so well I can't find it so now have to start all over again. (I wish I were more organized about such things, but I'm not, and I never will be. I am beginning to accept this about myself.) Thank you for not taking it personally.

No more questions from the kids about anything present/gift/Santa related.

No more trying to figure out where we're supposed to be, when, and what we're supposed to bring with us. (Sometimes I believe I need my own Personal Assistant to help me keep up with such things.)

I am - admittedly, and probably unfortunately - one of the millions of people who has fallen into the Chasm of Christmas Commercialism. (You like my alliteration?)  I worry an inordinate amount about what to get my kids, what to get my hubby, what to get other family members, what to get for people like neighbors, co-workers, friends! The list feels endless and suddenly I'm coming up against the dreaded point where I'm not done and yet my bank account is. It's a terrible cycle and every year I tell myself I'm going to start early and every year it's suddenly time to go through this all over again. I mean really! Christmas comes at the same time very single year so it's not like it should sneak up on me, but it does! Sheesh!

Does anyone else feel this chaotic during the holidays, or is it just me?  And if it's just me, is it because I'm terrible at organizing my life? Please tell me it's not just me.

***

I haven't discussed this with the rest of my family yet, but I have an idea for next year and I think it's a good one. Not only will it save me a TON of stress and worry, it will benefit others, too.

I think maybe I won't go into detail about it right now - allowing time for the idea to take root, and take shape, and grow into something tangible - but once that has happened, I'll follow up with you.  It could be a life-changing thing all around.

I'll just leave that here...

Happy New Year.  May your 2017 not suck.

TTFN
JMS

Unselfishness at Christmastime?

I saw something the other day that made me think.  It costs $0.00 to be a decent human being.  Now, to be fair to myself, I didn’t see that and think about what an awful human being I am.  With all my troubles, and even as difficult as I can be, I am not an awful human being and strive to keep my Good-o-Meter needle in the green rather than in the red.  (You may need to use your imagination there.)  With it being the holiday season you’d probably expect to see people at their best, their most giving, most charitable, most unselfish.  In fact we are at our most selfish and least charitable.  (I don’t have any scientific studies or poll results to back this up, so just pretend I know what I’m talking about.)  And if not that, we’re probably at our most exhausted.

Yes, we give to charities and kids who wouldn’t otherwise have any gifts under the tree and big scary motorcycle gang members wait in line for five days to buy out every single bicycle at the store to give to needy kids for Christmas.  We have Angel Trees and Operation Christmas Child Shoeboxes.  We feed folks who don’t have food.  We give extra money to the church or the Salvation Army bell-ringing guy.  We work hard at Christmas time to feel better about ourselves by doing for others.

At the same time, we’re making mental lists of stuff we might like to find for ourselves under the tree on Christmas morning.  We’re thinking about how this much money can stretch to buy this many gifts.  We’re worrying about what folks will think when they receive said gifts.  We’re worrying about which store has the best sale and if we can get there fast enough to get one of whatever it is before Sally Shops-a-Lot gets the last one. 

We’re putting time and energy into lights and decorations and trees and cleaning and cooking and showing off for relatives who don’t see us at any other time of the year.  We’re putting on a good face for the masses rather than admitting we’re tired, irritated, and broke, feeling thankless, stressed out, and really would be grateful to put our heads under the covers and hide until it’s all over.  We’re forcing ourselves into crowds we would otherwise avoid.  We’re pulling out the old family recipes because they’re tradition and because the only time they’re ever made is right now, at this particular time of year, but not really because we have time to make them, or even really want to, to begin with.

We all have good intentions, I think.  We all want to make the perfect spritz cookies in the shape of little green trees with the pretty mixed-color nonpareils sprinkled on top as candy ornaments.  We all want to make those mason-jars filled with a mix of ingredients with a happy little pinking-shear cut square of fabric adorning the lid with a tag of instructions tied on with a bow and all the recipient needs to do is dump it all into a bowl, add water (or milk) and bake at 350° for 20 minutes until golden brown.  We all want to hang our stockings 8.5” apart on the mantel (should we be lucky enough to have a fire place) with fancy weighted devices with hooks and add the sprigs of greenery interspersed with red and white Santas and other festive décor.  Maybe a string of lights to off-set the whole thing.  We want to add candles at different heights to our hearthstones to add depth and interest.  We want to invite friends and family over for a home-cooked meal and to sit around sipping laced eggnog or spiced tea and laugh about times past.  We all want the Norman Rockwell Christmas.

I, however, have to uncover my living room in order to put up a tree and some years haven’t even bothered with that.  We always have something for the kids, decorations-wise, but it’s festive even if it is sparse.  And they don’t seem to mind; they’re overcome with the spirit of things, as it should be.  We always have stockings.  But we have bucket-o-cluck with two sides and cookie-cutter biscuits for Christmas Eve supper on disposable plates with disposable flatware and napkins.  We keep it simple.  At the point where we come to Christmas Eve, I’ve had absolutely as much as I can possibly handle of cheery preparation and therefore we have resorted to this unsatisfying new tradition.

This year, I need to make cookies.  And candles.  Those are the two things I feel I absolutely must accomplish before the eve of Christmas is upon us.  Otherwise, I’m done.  Well, the shopping is done (bless whomever invented Amazon.com) and I praise myself a little bit for having pre-planned this year money-wise so, though I may be broke, my bank account won’t take a nosedive into the red (hopefully).  But I still have to spend time wrapping and cleaning and baking and making so I’m not quite there yet.

Oh, crud.  See what I mean?  Selfish.  The holidays make us selfish.  I. Me. Mine.

Therefore, it is with much sincerity I wish you Good Luck.  May you remain a decent, unselfish, human being…and still get it all done. 

TTFN

JMS

My Christmas Spirit took a hike...

Recently, I was asked by girl-child what I wanted for Christmas.  It was odd, because I had, just that afternoon, thought of an answer to the very same question.  I think it would behoove me to explain just a bit. 

I was driving home from the World of Wally and I got to thinking - admittedly selfishly - about how I have spent all this time, effort and yes, money, finding gifts fit for each of my family members and then some.  It's not easy and I am not Mrs. Moneybags and I'm tired, by golly!  (My Christmas Spirit had, apparently, taken a hike.)  Then I thought of how no one ever asks me what I want for Christmas.  Then I thought, if someone were to ask me what I want for Christmas, what would I even say?  There's really nothing I need.  Really nothing I want that badly that I would ask someone else to buy it for me as a gift.  So how would I answer?

Here was my inner monologue: Well, I would love to have a tablet.  And, either Adrian the momma cat who is at the Shelter or Promise the beautiful, sleek, black cat who is being fostered.  They both really need a mommy.  But really, I can't think of anything else I'd like to have, other than a clean house.  Hey!  That's it!  I want a clean house for Christmas!  One I didn't have to clean myself!  And, of course, World Peace.  I always want World Peace.  And I want people to stop being mean to each other...

I was satisfied.  Should anyone ask, I had my answer.

Getting back to that question asked to me by girl-child:

Girl-Child: Mom, what do you want for Christmas?

Me: Oh, honey.  That's kind of a complicated question.  I would like a clean house for Christmas.  And someone to set up the Christmas tree.  And I don't want to do it myself.

Girl-Child: Mo-om!  It needs to be something I can give you!

Me: I would love to have a tablet.  And, either Adrian the momma cat who is at the Shelter or Promise the pretty black cat.  And a hug from you!

Girl-Child rolled her eyes at me, gave me a hug, and walked away.  Shortly thereafter I left for a meeting at church.  I was gone for about 2 hours.

When I got home, boy-child met me at the door and said, "Mom!  I need you to close your eyes and trust me."  Uh-oh, I think to myself.  What's going on?  But I close my eyes and he takes my hand, telling me he won't let me run into anything but advising me not to open my eyes.  I trust, give him my hand, and follow - eyes firmly shut.

He leads me to the bathroom and tells me to open my eyes; I can hear the excitement and pride in his voice.  I open my eyes to see a sparkling clean bathroom and boy-child bouncing on the balls of his feet with a HUGE grin on his face.  "You said you wanted a clean house for Christmas, so I cleaned the bathroom for you, mom!"  And I hugged him so tight and whispered an emphatic thank you. 

I was so touched - and proud of my sweet boy - I could hardly talk.  I know it's just a bathroom, but he must have worked his butt off to do that for me in the 2 hours I was gone.  A better gift I could not have asked for, or received.

Not to be outdone, girl-child snags my hand and says, "Mom!  Close your eyes and come with me."  I obey, and she leads me down the hall to her bedroom and says, "Now hold out your hands, like you're going to hold a box," and places a box in my hands and says, "Open your eyes!"  I can hear the excitement in her voice, too.  I open my eyes to see a plain, cardboard box, with a multi-colored yarn bow tied around it.  Girl-child instructs me to open the box, and inside I find a hand-made trophy with TO: The Best Mom In The World written in pencil on the plate.  Undone, I cried. 

I couldn't have better kids.  I'm going to brag about them whenever I can to whomever I can, without apology.  I will follow the rules about bathroom maintenance boy-child so carefully wrote out and posted on the wall.  I will treasure my cardboard trophy and show it off with pride.  And for me, I think Christmas has already come.  I hope yours is as meaningful as mine.

TTFN
JMS