The Let Down

I always feel more tired after Christmas than I do in the days leading up to it. Somehow my adrenaline keeps me going until after the day is over and then I just crash and burn. And that's exactly what I'm doing today. Back to work, not feeling it, wanting to crawl under my desk and hide.

Christmas is becoming almost a chore and, frankly, I'm always glad when it's over. I feel the pressure of having to shop for all of our family and friends, the pressure to do all of my baking, decorate the house, having family over, going to family's houses, trying to make sure all my loose ends are tied up. And it's funny that it almost always lands on the wife/girlfriend. Not that I resent it, I don't at all. I'm happy that I can postpone all of my shopping until the last minute, and with lists in hand, complete all of my Christmas shopping in one fell swoop in a matter of hours. To me, that's beating the system. Only a few hours that I have to deal with the horrific sounds that pass as Christmas music blasted over the store speakers. Only a few hours to deal with lines and traffic and rude people. Then it's done. Husband does and did do an excellent job of helping me wrap.

Then I have to make sure that I've got my potatoes to take to Husband's family at the buttcrack of dawn on Christmas Day. I have to get the pecan pie baked to take over to my family's after we see Husband's. This is always fun because Husband's mom is a freak. No exaggeration. She's got some serious problems. But she's always surprised that I have a family to go see and that we won't be staying for dinner at their house. Every year this surprises her. It doesn't matter how many times Husband tells her what our plans are. See, she's all into Christmas morning. Christmas is for the kids she says. Not for grown-ups. Well Husband's sister, the one sister who lives in town, is the only one with kids, who are now 6 and 8. His other sister lives in Florida with her two kids. Husband and I are the only losers without kids. But since Christmas morning is a big deal to his mom, we go over there to share in the "festivities". This is a joke because we eat, open gifts and then just sit around. The conversation is very limited and typically consists of Husband trying to explain, yet again, that my family lives 10 minutes away and that's where we'll be for dinner.

And that's where we end our long Christmas Day. At my parent's house. It's always pretty uneventful since my mom's family is dead. See the link for that story. http://natureswonderland.blogspot.com/2006/12/on-serious-note_12.html
Anyway, by the time we're done with dinner and gifts at my family's, I'm done. Done with the day, with driving (we have an hour drive each way), with the thinking about others, with all of it. I'm actually glad when the day is over and we can proceed with our normal lives. I'm sure this makes me a Scrooge, but I really don't care. Christmas has long since ceased being full of magic and mystery (keep in mind we never believed in Santa), ripe with possibility and hope, a season of caroling and baking and decorating. Where you can present your dad with the construction paper tie proudly, knowing it's the best gift ever. No, now it's a requirement, an obligation. And if our prayers are answered and it's an enjoyable day, that's just a bonus. We prepare and expect the worst and that way we're never disappointed.

Yes, I'm very glad that it's over. Now we can start planning our New Year's festivities, which will most certainly involve imbibing a ridiculous amount of alcohol and other illicit substances.