So. It’s coming up on that time of year again. The holiday season. It’s approaching rapidly and there is nothing we can do about it.
Last year, I saw my first Christmas commercial in October. Christmas decorations and craft items were put out in stores in August. Before Labor Day. Right next to the Halloween stuff, which had been out since June.
Maybe it’s just a sign of getting older, but are all the holidays sort of blending into one another lately?
Don’t get me wrong. I love the holidays. I love Thanksgiving. The smell of turkey roasting in the oven, the parades and later, football on TV, family gathered at the table — I love it.
However, I do not love getting up at the crack of dawn to wrestle a raw, cold, wet, slippery and heavy turkey into the oven without dropping it on the floor. And yes, before you ask, I have dropped turkeys before.
Hint: if no one sees it happen but the cook and the dog, then it never happened. And oh yeah, by the way, turkeys don’t bounce. They splat and then skid.
I also love Christmas. I love the build-up to Christmas the best. I love seeing the decorations, the lit houses and trees, the wreaths, the candles in windows.
What I do not love is trying to figure out what gifts to get people. My husband, for example. I ask him what he wants for Christmas and he answers, “Well, I don’t need sweaters, or cologne, or shirts or pants. I don’t wear jewelry too much anymore. I have a lot of workout clothes and sweatshirts. I need shoes but I have to try them on first. I have a ton of coats. Don’t need any more suits. Underwear. Get me underwear.”
Now there is only a certain amount of underwear that one man needs. One year I got a big box and filled it with packs of V-neck undershirts, crew neck undershirts, tank tops, boxer briefs, white socks, black socks and dress socks. The man still has not opened all the packs of underwear from that year yet.
He hides them so our sons, on visits home, do not help themselves to any of it. At any given time while cleaning our bedroom, I will come across an unopened pack of boxer briefs or socks or undershirts under the bed or in the closet. I feel like collecting them and re-wrapping them for this Christmas. Guarantee he would not even know the difference.
My sons are the easiest people to buy for. After I nag at them for about a month, they send me links to the stuff they want for Christmas. This was not always the case. I would buy them clothing that I liked, that I thought would look good on them, and then they’d have a field day exchanging them for the stuff they’d actually wear.
Nowadays, we get them a few things and give them money. It’s easier, and they are always happy about cash. And no matter how old they are (and they are grown men, mind you) I always fill a stocking for them. And their girlfriends.
My dad lectures me every year about not getting him anything. My replies to this range from, “Be quiet,” to “I’m sorry. We must have a bad connection. I can’t hear you.”
I always get an article of clothing for our dog Mojo. Huge waste of money, because he won’t wear any of it. Last year I got him Puggs, which are little suede boots. Took me 10 minutes to fight them onto his paws and when I was finally done, he refused to move. Stood there with a pathetic look on his face and his paws planted solidly on the ground. When he finally did move, rather than walking, he marched. One leg at a time, stretched out and skidding. This year I’m thinking raincoat for him.
In all the hustle and bustle of the holidays, I hope that you take a moment and savor it. No matter what holiday you celebrate, be thankful. I know I am.
