It’s December 22, and I am over it. All of it.
I know how I am supposed to be feeling: jingle bells, peace love joy, white lights and warm fuzzies. I’m supposed to be counting my blessings instead of sheep and humming tunes about roasted chestnuts and getting excited about my annual chance to play Santa. I’m supposed to be cuddling on the couch with my kids watching Christmas movies and eating candy canes and whatnot.
But I’m not.
It’s Sunday night, and my kids have been out of school since Thursday. I’m having a panic attack because it’s just about the end of the road for Amazon orders that can arrive before Christmas. A strand of lights already burned out on my tree, and I am negotiating with myself over whether or not to replace them. I’m sick to my stomach from Christmas treats. I’m haunted by the nagging feeling that I have forgotten something or someone, and I am 110 percent certain that I will not remember where all the gifts to wrap are hidden on Christmas Eve.
Most of all, though, I am over my children. They have run over my Christmas spirit like reindeer on a grandma. Between surly tweens and stubborn little people, I am all tapped out of ho-ho-hos.
“Do we have to listen to Christmas music, really?”
“Can we go home now? I don’t want to look at Christmas lights.”
“A cookie exchange?! Mom, I’m eleven. I don’t go to cookie exchanges.”
“Are you seriously going to make me wear a shirt with a collar on it?!”
“Disney? We have to go to Disney? AGAIN?”
Something about working 24/7 to engineer a magical holiday for them — complete with their dearest wishes and every holiday tradition I can pull off while also caring for four children’s various and sundry needs — makes their obvious lack of appropriate gratitude and cooperation glaringly more obnoxious than usual.
Here’s the truth: By Tuesday night, we’ll be on track. The Christmas Train will have left the station, and everyone will cooperate: my kids won’t call each other “losers” and fight over every ridiculous thing. They’ll wear what I ask them to for dinner. They’ll be so excited, I won’t be able to help being excited too. We’ll leave out cookies for Santa and carrots for reindeer, and they’ll go to bed on time and stay there. I’ll wrap presents with my husband while watching Love, Actually and It’s a Wonderful Life, and I’ll cry because love is actually all around (also, Colin Firth) and because George Bailey really is the richest man in town. I’ll go to bed exhausted and be awakened before dawn by giddy children, and I’ll watch them tear into brightly colored tissue paper and hug baby dolls and laptops, and it won’t matter at all if I replaced that strand of lights or not. My kids will be grateful and they will hug me and then I will collapse in front of the A Christmas Story marathon on TBS like I do every year and hope the kids don’t tear the house down while I am in my post-Christmas morning coma. It will be wonderful, messy, and perfect in its own way.
But tonight? Tonight, I mentally returned every present I bought my children. I threatened to call Santa and cancel Christmas. I used my foot to push the writhing, whining 6-year-old back into the bedroom he shares with his older brother and I closed the door, telling him I was done and he was to go to bed already. I ignored the tweens’ protests when I sent them to bed early, hoping they might sleep and be nicer tomorrow. Merry Effing Christmas, I thought. And then I cried thinking about how I will get through tomorrow. I really do love Christmas and I really do love my children, but sometimes I don’t know if I will survive until December 25th.
So just in case the holidays aren’t going so magically at your house tonight either, I want you to know you are not alone. And as always, now I feel guilty, and I am swearing I will do better tomorrow to try and keep my patience more — to, you know, enjoy the magic and the wonder of the season. Or something like that. In the meantime, I have a little laundry to attend to due to a week full of class holiday parties and last-minute shopping preoccupation.
Merry Effing Christmas, fellow moms. Hang in there.
You know I feel your pain!
this is exactly how I felt tonight as we drove around looking at lights and my youngest complained every minute of the drive. Just like she had complained about wrapping, baking, and every other Christmas thing we have done. They didn’t even want to go see Santa. what is the deal with that! And yes after I snuggle them in to bed I feel guilty for all the yelling and threats of no Christmas I said.
I laughed all the way through this and even though this year its pretty relaxing in my house I so feel your pain. Usually it’s my husband that sucks the Christmas spirit out of me but this year he is trying really hard.
Thank Santa for small favors.
Julia
You nailed it. The end. Exactly how I have been feeling (and how did you get a picture of my laundry…that is creepy, did the Elf on the Shelf take it for you?!). But like you, I know tonight it will all be worth it and tomorrow will be magical. Gotta run, though, because it is almost time to make a gingerbread house…hold me.-Ashley
love it!
Amen, sister. Take away the husband, add a full-time job and we’re practically twins 😉 It’s effing Christmas Eve and here I sit, surrounded by teens awaiting the arrival of their father, who will whisk them away for what I’m sure is a magical and enchanting Christmas Eve celebration with his shiny wife and their super shiny toddler. I always vow to not get bitter and sad, and this year I made it up until December 23rd. I’m claiming victory because I can.
Thanks for sharing these thoughts, it’s good to know not everyone is thinking thoughts of comfort and joy!
I so appreciate the honesty. I was sort of trying to get at this truth when I wrote a piece for Kveller this year called “Let My Hanukkah Go.” I wrote about how the best thing we have going for Hanukkah is that it is so small and no big deal. And here we’ve allowed Target, etc, to dedicate aisles to Hanukkah decorations and all that stuff that we DON’T HAVE TO FRIGGIN DO. I was trying to be funny and point that Christmas is a ton of work and why on Earth are we trying to create that kind of work that we just don’t need. Not everyone seemed to get it and some friends and some people in my husband’s family were VERY offended–they felt I was making fun of their decorations. Le sigh.
Hang in there, my friend. I will be thinking about you putting together all those toys and cleaning up the wrapping paper! ;)I know there are happy times too, but I also know that in a house of four kids and no school days–sh@%T gets nutty.
Ha~ I was feeling the same way this week. To top it off, this morning when I was trying to publish a post on “How to Avoid Punching People in the Throat at Christmas” it took three attempts and a chat with customer service at my site host before it went up! Ah, the joys of the season.
I know you love your children. Me too. And let’s hope we all have a Merry Effing Christmas! 🙂
Wonderfully real!
I’m reading this in January! I was feeling the same way, but then mom (me:)) and one of my four kids went down hard on the 19th with the flu. Oh, it was bad. Worse was my fever induced breakdown on the 23rd, when I realized I wasn’t don’t, would be done, and maybe wouldn’t even be out of bed for Christmas! All our guests canceled, the kids were freaking. But in the end, my family of six, had a very nice and quiet, surprisingly drama-free Christmas.