It’s that time of year again when we all rush around like mad buying this gift and that gift, making an extra trip for “fill ins” and making lists of lists of lists – what did we buy her? What do we need from Target? What will we eat for Christmas dinner? People go in debt and stress out and lose sleep and argue over just the right gift. Gas prices rise and stores get packed, you can’t even get in to a parking space to pick up your prescriptions because everyone is at the pharmacy buying Christmas presents. The PHARMACY for crying out loud! Which by the way,I fantasize about someone going to the drug store to get me some xanax to get through Christmas FOR Christmas, but to date, it’s never happened so why are you people clogging up the Pharmacy with your Christmas “spirit”? People who never go to church come out of no where and take your pew at church, and there is inflatable damn Santa’s in everyone’s yards.
I’ve never been a big fan of the commercialism of Christmas time. As you’ll recall, I’m not a big fan of Halloween either…sensing a pattern?
This year might be a little different.
Having battled sickness for a long time, you’d think that it would slap me into the realization that every Christmas could be the last Christmas that you celebrate, but it hasn’t. I haven’t focused on the important part of Christmas just because I take a handfull of pills to stay alive, I haven’t laughed more or given more just because I might not have the opportunity again due to illness. Being given 5 years to live hasn’t made me wake up and smell the poinsettia. Going through a divorce hasn’t shaken me awake to the fact that nothing in life is guaranteed so hey-momwich-smile-and-have-some-hot-cocoa, mmmmkay? I’m always a large grump this time of year.
No. Nothing has made me slow down and stop hating on the Hallmark Holiday of Christmas until this year.
This year it became painfully obvious that my Christmases with my children are limited.
Not because of illness, heck, anyone can kill over tomorrow, but because they’re getting older.
In two short sweet years, Grace will go off to college and while she might come home for Christmas if the hott-boyfriend-of the-month doesn’t convince her to go to his house, it still won’t be the same.
No more spreading reindeer food in our PJs on Christmas Eve and baking cookies, no more holding everyone in their rooms until the dark early morning hours anticipating Christmas, Christmas, Christmas! No more hiding the pickle ornament on the tree and waiting for the first person to find it and get a prize before the sun rises, no – none of that is guaranteed.
These Christmases are limited.
So this Christmas I’m not worrying about getting more,more,more to keep up with what their friends are getting, I’m not fretting about the last minute crap that seems to come up, and carrying around my bitchy grudge spirit. I’m just embracing the long lines that the fight for parking spaces without absofrickinloutely losing it! I just want to stop and breathe and enjoy this Christmas season, because Christ was born, because Christ loves me. Because of that, I was free to have children and raise them to believe, and eventually, send them out in the word to celebrate Christmases of their own. Even if I don’t want them to go.
Merry Christmas Momwich readers, leave a link to your Christmas post in the comments and I’ll come by and spread some Christmas cheer.