A Grinchy Year

I admit it. I'm feeling a strange mixture of Grinchiness and Christmas spirit.

I want to love Christmas. I loved it once. Now that I'm older and more cynical wiser, I'm learning how to tell the difference between the real Christmas I love and the Christmas that is being crammed down my throat.

The parts I love:

  • I love the closeness of my small family on Christmas morning. It's one of the few days a year that we are all together in the same room, in our jammies, in the morning. 
  • I love the feeling of hope and wonder that comes from The Birth of The Savior. Even these 2000 years later, to stop to think that a Savior was born is awe-inspiring and beautiful.
  • I love to cook a feast for my dear ones and have them enjoy it.
  • I love the warmth that permeates the town, the result of everyone's combined Christmas spirit.
  • I love to find a perfect gift for someone: something small or large that will be meaningful to them and make them happy.
The parts I don't:
  • The competitive decorators. Oh. My. Gawd. There's a street a few blocks over that is absolutely friggin obnoxious. Drape your house in lights, folks, I don't care. It doesn't matter to me if your electric meter is turning so fast it smokes. But the music? That is too much. I know it sounds Grinchy, but seriously. Your Christmas music blasting in the front yard, tormenting people three blocks away, is obnoxious. The part that kills me is that these are the same people who will bitch about some kid driving by with his woofers blasting, and THAT only lasts a couple of seconds! When I want to hear Christmas music, I will choose my own, thank you very much.
  • Judgement. People who actually feel entitled to judge if I am giving to the "right" charity. Which, of course, means the charity THEY like. I am sorry, to all you good causes out there: I do not have the funds to donate to everything. Being a person of limited means, I try to choose wisely where my charity dollars go. Friends, family...leave me alone, OK? You'll just have to trust that I'm not donating to a fund dedicated to freeing Zombies Wrongly Imprisoned.
  • You do this. You know you do. I do it. Everybody does. You say it every year. "Here, have another cookie." Please stop, now. Thank you for the plate of cookies. I appreciate it very, VERY much. I do. It's just that I can't eat them all (with you watching me). Please don't try to make me eat more than I want to. And I promise, I will stop trying to make you eat everything, too. Deal?
  • The Grinch said it. "Maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more." Dr. Seuss nailed that one. I don't need the next, newest, fancier, shinier thing. Really, neither do you. I think Christmas gifts should be meaningful and personal. That isn't to say that a cool new tablet can't be meaningful. That's what my youngest son is getting. (Sorry, son. But I doubt you'll read this anyway.) For him, it is a gift that is a vote of confidence in his recent decisions. Christmas gifts are a lovely way to express your affection and thoughtfulness. They aren't meant to be an expression of your bank account and your shopping stamina.
Merry Christmas, everyone. I really do love this time of year....warts and all. :D

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