I know that there are many that yearn for those first sounds of holiday music. They feel a little tingle when they see pumpkins spice this or that advertised. Sugar plums are dancing through their heads. Not me. All I see is a pit of stress and anxiety. All of sudden your family interaction triples which means fights and annoyances triples, traffic becomes unbearable and your thin bank account becomes glaringly obvious. Why for 363 days of the year is it fine to ignore and put out as little effort as possible? The holidays come and poof! we are "Hallmark Card" commercial family close. So if am there for you all year long but I don’t want to do the holidays am I now a bad person? Is everything I have done erased? If you were a crappy family member all year long but you give Christmas presents while listening to sub par music on repeat you are now the shining beacon of what family is? Why is it my responsibility to ease your guilt by bending over backwards so you can have a Christmas? Why can’t it be like birthdays just shoot me a text or a Facebook message and be who we really are? I can understand if you're religious. It is an important time. Let's be honest though a lot of people only go to church for Christmas and Easter. Do you think God has some point system where you triple points for special occasions. “Well Betty missed every Sunday and 3 funerals but she made it to Easter so right to the top she goes.” I don’t think it works that way. If you're not religious then why does sitting around a table eating too much food and drinking while waiting for a large bearded white man who works his weaker employees to the bone while he munches away on a cookie, important to you? Not to get sidetracked (I know - shocker) but what’s with this whole Santa thing anyway? How is it a good thing to tell my kids “Hey if an older large man breaks into your house and brings you presents you should welcome him.” Isn't that against everything we teach our kids? Also, I am sorry, but I work my ass off to buy presents for my girls. I’ll be damned if some Privileged White Dude who barely works get credits for my hard work. In my house Santa brings socks and underwear. Suck it Santa! You aren’t stealing my thunder!
Ever wonder what those people who sit in traffic so they can head to an overcrowded store and fight lines of people to snag 40% off some cupcake scented candles are thinking? What pleasure do you get from that? I have been told by my own children that I am not even allowed to head to that part of town during the holidays. My oldest last year said, “Mom you're going to have a heart attack and we need you to pay the bills.” Oh, all the love. I accidentally made the fatal mistake of going to a department store during a Christmas Sale. I walked in with the purpose of finding a skirt for my daughter's recital (that she, of course, told me about that morning). Here I am walking in worrying about how I can move $40 from the food budget to cover this damn skirt and how the hell I am even going to afford Christmas presents for three children. I walk into madness. People walking around with stacks upon stacks of boxes, clothes wrapped around them like they told to put everything they own on their back. Women yelling at each other over one of the ugliest pairs of shoes I have ever seen. I always say a little bit of your soul dies when you go to The Mall and here was my proof.
So to everyone in my life, please don’t buy me anything. I don’t need another candle, we are all scented up here. I don’t require another pair of slippers. I live in the South and unless they cool my feet they won’t get much use. I am a grown woman. I will buy my own things as needed. Spend that money on kids. Christmas presents should be for them. My Girls will be way more excited about an extra present then I will be over random kitchen tool that I will use once because we all know a knife already does its job.
Why can’t we call a spade a spade? It’s all for show. Okay, I know I sound bitter but I really do like the time with my immediate family. I love sitting around the table drinking coffee with my parents and my brother while my children run around laughing and enjoying their days off of school. I love when we do this no matter what time of year it is.
I can’t stop the madness but I can rebel in my own little way.
This year we are leaving town. I am taking my little family and we are going to spend time with each other and try my hardest to start loving the holidays again. So, I will not post the obligatory turkey post, and the pumpkin spice ladled desserts. I am not going to put a spin on an old classic dish ( come on y’all just make mashed potatoes they don’t need fixing.) I am making a spicy meatball soup. It has nothing to do with Christmas. It's just a really damn good spicy meatball. Now don’t think this doesn’t mean I will cook too much food I use Groundhog Day as a reason to cook in excessive amounts. This recipe is for my fellow please make it stop, why must I sent next to my racist cousin while shoving bread in my mouth to refrain from calling him a small-minded bigot. The fellow judgers of people that bring bad store-bought pies. The ones who rather stab themselves in the eye than go to the mall. The counter down of minutes till they can leave people. Let’s make a stand. I say take this spicy meatball and shove it! I will not be controlled by your need for a smiley happy photo on Facebook to convince people we are who we are not.