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Sunday, December 25, 2016

Behold! The Grinch!

I'm trying to remember if I do a Christmas thing every year, and I suspect I do, but I'm too lazy, and hungry, to look right now.

My #2 son got me a leather bound edition of Nail Gaiman's American Gods and Anansi Boys and I am over the moon about it. I love Neil Gaiman. The kid always gets me leather bound editions of my favorites that I have digitally, but treasure more than I ever did all those paperbacks I held on to all those years. Banner Christmas if you ask me.

When I was a young woman I loved the Holidays. I was excited from Thanksgiving on, all the cooking and baking and decorating. Now, well into middle-age, I could do with a vacation this time of year, away from all of the shopping and madness surrounding the holiday season. In between posts of manic Christmas Cheer and phone numbers for suicide hotlines, there is me.

I keep thinking, perhaps when the grandkids are a little older I'll get that feeling back. Maybe next year, and each year my apathy grows until I am sat at my computer looking up holiday bookings for Yellowstone Park next Christmas. I am determined to whisk my husband away and go look for wolves and get away from everything that drives me batty this time of year.

I remain at a loss at what to get most people. My #2 son is great. He posts online things he wants. People ask me what I want but telling a struggling young adult that all you really want for Christmas is not to have to cook for anyone comes out all wrong. Quite honestly, if it were left up to me, I'd fix myself a ham sandwich and be done with it, either reading or watching TV movies all day.

As I grow older I realize that I've begun to really resent the expectations of those closest to me at this time of year. As if, I don't do these things, they can't be happy. Their happiness makes me happy, so I do them. But, here's the deal, they really don't care about my happiness. Well, my husband does. He asked me last night what I really wanted for Christmas, and I told him I wanted to be left alone with no one expecting anything from me for one day. It floored him.

I want one freakin' day a year where I don't have to plan dinner, prepare it, cook it, serve it. I want one day where no one asks me if I know where X is, or what they managed to do with their keys/wallet/phone.

It's so bad I've gotten to the point where I am liable to punch the next moron who asks me when dinner will be ready.

My husband, God Bless his little heart, wakes up and immediately begins haranguing me about breakfast. WTF? So I told him to fix it himself, only he can't even manage that, because it's baking, basically heating up chilled cinnamon rolls, but NO! He can't just reach into the cupboard and pick out the pan I always use for this that is right there, in front on the right hand side... he's got to completely discombobulate my arranged baking dishes because he CAN'T FLIPPIN' LISTEN TO ME.

Then the boys at 8 AM, "When are we eating?" When you learn how to feed yourselves you blasted fledglings.

#2 son is the only keeper. He faithfully remembers Mother's Day, my Birthday, Christmas. And, furthermore, he ALWAYS gets me gifts I love, leather bound books, anything Wonder Woman. But, he's a moody git, so it's iffy.

The others just sit back and expect to be served.

This next year is going to be fun.

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