I loved December when I was a kid. The beginning of the month marked the end of November, which had only Thanksgiving’s food consumption and the extra two days off school as redeeming qualities. I couldn’t wait for December to begin.
December was exciting. There was the possibility of snow, which meant staging snowball fights, making forts, sledding, and getting a pretty white frosting on the otherwise dingy landscape.
Another perk of December was the two-week break from school. It was heaven to look forward to staying home, sleeping later, and not having to work on composing complete sentences, learning about Brazil, and memorizing “times tables”.
I’m not sure that mom was crazy about those two weeks, but we kids certainly were. The main reason the two-week vacation was so great was because of Christmas. During the days before the holiday we waited in anxious anticipation, and in the days after we tested out our new presents.
In the glorious month of December we also had the benefit of my mother’s candy and cookie-making expertise. Mom was a one-woman confectionery shop, churning out pounds of fudge, piles of chocolates, stacks of toffee, towers of peanut brittle, and mounds of various specialty cookies. We were in sugar-sweetened ecstasy.
Mom made those goodies for family and visitors, friends, my dad’s co-workers, the mailman, and the newspaper delivery person. I wonder sometimes how she survived those Decembers, when all three of us kids were hopped up on sweets and she was trying to maintain order in the house, while still getting all the holiday preparations done.
We had our traditions. Dad always put up the Christmas lights outside, and we cut down our own Christmas tree at a farm. In the week before the holiday we went for a long drive on a snowy night, looking at all the outside decorations. It was a great way to enjoy the month of December.
But sometime during my adulthood I lost enthusiasm for December and Christmas. Perhaps it was the loss of innocence, the realization that someone had to put in a lot of work to make it all happen. I got tired.
I was fed up with holiday music and decorations in the stores before Thanksgiving. I was through with the stress of impossible expectations. It seemed like Christmas was more of a retail event than anything else, and that didn’t sit well with me.
So last year, I gave it up. We had a tiny tree, but no other decorations. I got presents for my kids, but otherwise I was absent from the holiday. I think it was more than just tiredness. I wanted the innocence back. I wanted all of my holidays, heck, I wanted all of my ordinary days, to be genuinely joyful. I was shooting high, I know, but you’ve gotta aim somewhere.
I turns out that my holiday boycott of last year set me free. After giving up my expectations, I now feel like I can enjoy December any way I wish. I asked my kids what activities they like most about Christmas, so we will do the things that make us all happy, and not one thing more.
I feel like the Grinch in the Dr. Suess tale, after he was enlightened. I have room now in my heart for the spirit of Christmas. I love that. December is here. Let the joyfulness begin.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan, on December 2, 2006
No comments:
Post a Comment