Wednesday, December 15, 2010

I hate Santa.

I am most certainly in a Bah Humbug kinda mood.

I am totally, 100%, without a doubt over-stressing about Christmas to the point where I hate Santa Claus.

The whole idea of him, I know, is to create a sense of wonder and magic for children. But eventually they're going to find out he's not real anyway, and then I'll have spent hours every year, stressing over picking out just the right gifts that will come from Santa for no real reason.

Can't we create a sense of wonder and magic about just getting presents period?

Cuz, you see, I don't want the good gifts to come from Santa. I work too hard to make my money, then put good thought into which gifts will make my kids' eyes light up the mostest on Christmas morning to let some fat smelly old man get all the credit.

Don't get me wrong - Santa shouldn't bring socks and underwear either - but at the same time he shouldn't get to bring the hand-held video game system my son wants, either.

But at this point? (And I admit - its still early.) I'm done with it all. I hate shopping and want to be done with it. I want to be at the point where I'm wrapping it all up so that it can sit and look pretty under the tree and *I* can sit back and enjoy some of the magic of the season too, dammit.

There are parties to tend to, spiced wine to be sipped. Decorations that haven't yet made it out of their boxes. Cookies to be baked. Floors to be cleaned before family comes over. Baileys that is yearning for its dark, hot Colombian mate.

I guess what's getting to me, on top of the Mama vs. Santa drama is the general family wack-a-doo-ness that occurs with increased frequency in December. Not only are both my husband's and my parents divorced (that's four Christmases -- FOUR!) but it seems that for one of the get-togethers in particular the details just can't ever come together smoothly. There's a lot of uncommunication...a lot of assuming that things either are or are not happening...leaving me to deal with the mess of what really IS.

It sounds dumb talking about it in these generalizations, but really, there is reason for my ire. Its just that if I started talking about it here I fear I'd never stop.

So what I want, more than anything else, is someone to stop and take care of something for me.

Not as in, "Oh, here's that little trinket you really wanted!" but as in, "I know your hubby works wicked crazy hours and you've had nearly ZERO time to shop for your kids when they weren't actually with you which is why you're now dealing with 32 shipments of stuff you've ordered online that may or may not be here in time for Santa to swoop in and take all the credit for...let me watch your kids for you for a few hours!"

Cuz sometimes being the Momma SUCKS and I just want to pop a bearded old man in the kisser.

No comments: