This one comes from member Gettysburg Mom:
Let’s start with the glass half full, shall we?
- Sliding across the hardwood floors in wool socks.
- The smell of wood-burning chimneys even though I know they are terrible for the environment. You know what else is? My butt.
- Really gaudy Christmas light displays, especially ones involving giant blow-up versions of cartoon characters that have nothing to do with the holidays. Like a 15-foot tall SpongeBob. That shit is Christmas.
- Donnie and Marie Osmond.
- That one animated version of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer because it “creeps” Leta out.
- The look on Chuck’s face when he sees me approaching with
an enema a string of garland.
- Witnessing my kids explode with excitement and remembering how electrifying that used to feel.
- Christmas ornaments from my childhood.
- Watching The Wizard of Oz as a family in our bed after all the presents have been opened and then assuring Leta that green witches do, in fact, exist.
- Moments like this morning when Leta asked, “You know how Santa, like, is always aware of when I’m bad? Well, then why doesn’t he just know what I want for Christmas?” And because I hadn’t even put on my clothes or had my coffee, I hesitated a little too long. So she answered her own question, “I just have to say it out loud so he can hear it, right?” I’m pretty sure she’s safe to raise herself from here.
Least favorite things (here’s where you read my website, and then when you meet me in person you’re like, “I thought you were going to be so mean!”)
- Christmas music in stores.
- Christmas music in the car.
- Christmas music at my mom’s house.
- The ceramic Christmas rooster at my mom’s house.
- Wrapping presents. (What? That’s your favorite part? Then you can come over and wrap mine. I’ll give you pizza.)
- Figuring out what presents to buy for everyone. This is Jon’s most favorite part, so Christmas shopping is the most harmonious part of our marriage. We happily skip through stores, and then I stop and punch a giant Christmas bear in the face.
- When people ask me why I still celebrate Christmas when I stopped going to church. Last time I checked, the church doesn’t have a monopoly on the desire to spend time with your family and generously give to those who are important to you and those who are in need. Or sometimes I’ll just be ornery and say, “Because Santa died for our sins.”
Scraping snow off of the car. Oops, sorry. Broken record.
- When my mother purposefully gives my children toys that make loud noises without an option of volume control. Inevitably, those toys mysteriously end up crawling into traffic.
What about you guys?