Add me to the 'Bah, humbug !' list. I've never been big on Christmas - it was always a huge windup and a major disappointment, even when I was a kid. For some reason, if I had a request for a gift, 'Santa' had objections to it and would get something else that wasn't even remotely attached to the idea of the original wish. Every. Single. Year. Of course, I had to buy precisely, exactly what was on my parents' wish lists, and woe betide me if I get the ExcellPlus car cover instead of the NePlusUltra car cover. (sigh)
I got over it and myself, and tried, really tried, to get into the spirit of the holidays. I sang carols like a shrieking eel presented with appetizers, baked cookies by the metric ton, decorated like a lemur-based Martha Stewart clone, and donated toys every chance I got (that was the best part, for me). And I just couldn't shake my shameful secret : I still didn't like or enjoy Christmas. But you couldn't tell by lookin' at me, I had the 'acting happy' part down pat.
This year, I'm gonna be me. I'm tired of pretending and maintaining the facade of endless family joy and holiday merriment. We're scrounging-for-change broke, very few parents in Dearest Son's class contributed to the holiday party, so I spent about $20. of our grocery cash to ensure they had a decent one, and my in-laws are being evicted but they're happy because they don't have to worry about where to live, since their son (my Beloved Hubby) will surely take care of them ! I've been making gifts like an assembly line from Hades, so I haven't had much time to myself, and now no one wants to have Christmas, because of M&FIL's house foreclosure. Yet I'm happy because I won't have to lie and pretend - just wrap what I've already made, get the few presents we bought for Dearest Son ready - if only I could sew Lego ! - and finish decorating that &^%$ tree. I'm scared because having M&FIL living with us will have me walking naked down the middle of the street, barefoot and humming to myself inside a week, but I've come to expect crap for Christmas, so it's not that bad. Things have been known to get worse.
So, yeah. I don't feel like celebrating this year. Or any year since 1974, if you want the truth about it. Anybody who wants to try to change my mind can line up here, but you'd have more success talking to a wall of reindeer-based grafitti.
DB, eagerly awaiting Dec. 26 the way Dearest Son's anticipating the day before.