I am turning into one of the people I hate. I spent most of today going "Fuck Christmas!" and cheerfully wishing all the people I saw straight to hell.


I have never felt less like celebrating Christmas in my entire life. "But, Surreal, haven't you had stillborn children?" Yes, I have, and Christmas was hard each year, but I wanted to celebrate it because Christmas is a time of renewal. End of the year, and good tidings, and family, and friends, and even complete strangers who get touched by the Christmas spirit and try to spread the joy.

This year, there is no family. No friends. Nothing comforting.


And I want to just sleep until December 26th.


Sleeping til December 26th sounds very appealing. We've already pretty much given the boys their Christmas gifts (so they'd have time to play with them since they have to go to their bitch of a mother's early on Christmas morning) and we aren't planning a conventional Christmas dinner.
I'm mostly grouchy because the past two weeks have been horrid at work. The holidays really bring out the crazy fucking assholes. I've had 4 sobbing at my desk meltdowns lately while my coworkers peeked on in horror. Mean people suck.

This is the first time in almost 20 years that my body is going without the tasty goodness of birth control pills and I might be a bit sensitive while I adjust to being "normal". This is great fun.




This has been the absolute week from hell. Food poisoning or a stomach virus last weekend followed by a tooth extraction on Monday - which was not the lovely sort of "conscious sedation remove your wisdom teeth" sort of extraction but full blown present in the moment instead. That was followed by finishing up Christmas shopping, Christmas wrapping, and my husband acting like a royal jackass last night to boot. Throughout all of this have been the record rainfalls (aka torrential downpour) for days on end and I have to wonder if the suicide rate isn't going to be up this Christmas because of it.

I am honestly usually such a freak about Christmas, those who have known me for years know I've never been the "bah humbug" sort but this year I'm dangerously close to it and it honestly frightens me. I'm trying to rebound today, though. I've got a batch of gingerbread dough chilling in the fridge, I'm getting ready to make a batch of sugar cookie dough so I can spend the afternoon with my 6 year old decorating cookies for Santa. My greatest fear is my shitty mood ruining the magic of the season for her. I seriously don't need another reason to hate myself and that would definitely be it.

Still there are moments of bitchy sunshine. Literally and figuratively. The rain has cleared for today and tomorrow thankfully, the sun is out. I had the sheer joy of waking my husband (sleeping off a hangover on the couch this morning) by blaring "Miracle on 34th Street" on the television and banging about the kitchen as loudly as possible and my oldest teenager is my slave for the day currently scrubbing pans in the kitchen and getting ready to vacuum. Revenge is not best served cold, my friends, revenge is watching someone else clean your house on Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas, bitches! My sincerest wish is for a far merrier Christmas for us all next year.

The best Christmas ever... that's a tough call. Not counting the ones when I was a small child, as those are always the best one ever, I'm not sure one qualifies as "the best".

I have moments from every Christmas that are wonderful. I know that sounds sappy, but it's true.

When my brother was small, he liked to jump. No idea why, he just jumped when he was happy, or hyper, or really excited for something. He got a toy for Christmas that came in the plastic packaging that requires a blow torch and a college degree to open, and he (at three/four thought his older sister could do anything) handed it to me with "Here Sissy, you do it."

I can still remember the feeling of his hot little hands on my kneecaps as he jumped up and down in front of me while I wrestled with that stupid damn package. Eventually I got it open, he screamed "Thank you Sissy! I love you!" and spent the rest of the day playing with it.

When I was eighteen, I got a cell phone for Christmas. I'm sure you can figure out why a teenager was thrilled to get her first cell.

At twenty-two, I got woken up early by the jumping little brother (who was no longer so little and no longer jumped when excited) and spent the day in my pajamas with my mother watching the holiday parade and fielding phone calls from family.

Last Christmas was both wonderful and awful. It was wonderful because it was a day of family, both blood and adopted, and awful because my then husband called and made me feel bad.

I went with my mother, my best friend, and my not-bio dad to see Sherlock Holmes when it opened. We gorged on popcorn, then went out to the bar. I thought it was strange, going to a bar on Christmas night, but I spent the time with friends who mean the world to me.

This Christmas isn't ever going to be "the best", but it's better than others. I'm poorer than ever, but I'm free to celebrate my way. I can decorate a tree however I want, I can cook whatever I want, and I sing whatever Christmas Carols I want, because the only one who is around to hear is the dog, and she thinks I'm perfect either way.

Oh, Christmas time, you're the Pink Elephant for overspending and proving that money spent equals how much someone loves you.

I understand that, if someone has the ability to buy it, they can go for it.

But I don't understand spending several thousand dollars on ONE gift, and still getting other gifts for them.
Maybe they think that, the more expensive it is, the more they're proving their love.

Me, I'm glad that my idea of love is not money based. Excluding shipping gifts out, I spent less than $50 and made ten gifts. The 'big' gift for Ma Mere, the supplies I used were free. Ma Mere won't see it as me being cheap, she'll see it as I spent a month making it and won't care about the price.



Christmas bitching! A lovely idea!!! I am also hand-making gifts this year. Not everything, but a lot of it. I'm stressed to the max and hoping that by the time the big day comes I will be able to settle in and roll with it in an enjoyable manner. I hope. The older I get the faster December flies by and the less I enjoy it. I feel like a grinch for saying that. I know it's all "in" right now to grinch on Christmas and make Scrooge-y faces and what-not, but it's just not me to do that. I don't have any animosity toward Christmas I just don't have that giddy Christmas spirit that I had several years ago. I miss it. Lots.

What disturbs me the most is the relief I feel after all the Christmas decorations and things have been cleaned up and put away. I relish the return of my usual space whereas there was a time not all that long ago that I felt sad when the tree went away.

Dear Santa, this year I'd just like my Christmas spirit back and to not burn my wrists or the top of my hands taking the freaking ham out of the oven.


I’m sick and tired of having it shoved down my throat that I need to donate and volunteer at this time of year. You have no idea what I do or how I spend my money when I’m not at work or in your orbit so butt out.

I’m not a bad person because I’m not spending time at the church, nursing home or homeless shelter. Maybe it makes YOU feel good to email/extoll the wonderful feeling you get from doing such but I don’t feel the need to tell everyone about every little good deed that I do.

And it’s not nice to belittle people for donating money to places instead of physically volunteering. Doesn’t the soup kitchen need money to buy the food that you are so wonderful to serve? I know that the shelter animals need to be walked and played with but doesn’t it take money to pay for their vaccinations and food? Wouldn’t all the organizations have a bit of a pickle on their hands if everyone decided to donate time instead of a few recluses donating money too?

I was this close to doing a payroll deduction to donate to the organization that you work with (my employer will match up to $1000 per year) and then your email came rolling in where you talked down about people “throwing money” at problems instead of "getting their hands dirty". Fine. I’ll keep my money in my pocket.

So I didn’t pick an angel off the angel tree...I happen to actually know a family going through a rough time and decided to help them with their Christmas instead. But you don’t know that, do you? If I was a real tightwad meanie, I’d just pick a fucking angel off of the tree because it would be a hell of a lot cheaper.

Maybe I do random nice shit all year long when funds allow and not just at Christmas. My own husband doesn’t know about most of the things that I do because it’s not even any of his business.

You can take your candy cane and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.

As I sit here trying to force my cold medicine fog induced brain to think of Christmas gifts, I really can't think of any truly awful Christmas gifts that I have received. I have already covered the dead grandma's shoes from my Mother-in-law. And really, it doesn't get any worse than that for creepy.

The second Christmas that my exhusband and I were together was the first time that my father met him when he stayed a few days with us.

Ex spent every spare moment drunk with his cousin.

The tree was up, there were presents for him under it but not a single thing for me. We’d put our stockings up at the same time the tree went up and the plan was to fill them for each other up til Christmas morning and then look into them. His stocking was nice and bulky and mine didn’t have a damn thing in it.

My father was kind of curious as to why there still wasn’t anything for me under the tree when December 23rd rolled around. Ex comes home with something wrapped up that looks like a giant can. He is drunk and tells us that he bought a can of beans while he was out. His cousin keeps telling him that he should get me something else but Ex says that I love him so much that I’d like anything, even a can of beans, for Christmas.

The mood is kind of strained around the house for the next day and a half. The only thing for me from Ex was that package.

I start to open it and get it about halfway open when I see that it REALLY does look like a can of food. My father asks Ex if he needs to take a few minutes to get me something else or did he really want me to finish opening the present. Drunken Ex says I should go on and open it.

It wasn’t beans. It was perfume that came in a container that looked like a can and drunken Ex thought he had played the best joke EVER.

It was a shitty present because the week leading up to it was horrid.

I still wear that kind of perfume occasionally. Current Husband likes it but I don’t think I’ve ever told him the story of how I was introduced to the perfume.

Men, let me let you in on a teeny-tiny little secret.

Lingerie?

Not an acceptable gift.

Especially when it's crotchless thongs (two sizes too big) and the world's ugliest teddy with ugly gold hearts sewn on the removable cups.

Because that shit? Means you'll be getting the freeze out, on ALL fronts.

He said he was trying to be subtle about sex.

Subtle as a fucking brick to the head.

Worst Christmas gifts ever are the topic this week. I'd love to say "my sister" but that's mean and she was born in September so it doesn't quite work. ;)

I should preface this by saying that if you get someone Christmas ornaments or Christmas decorations FOR Christmas - it's a bad gift. I'm sorry... I'm a Christmas enthusiast and to unwrap even the most gorgeous or adorable Christmas decoration ON CHRISTMAS is like winning a free box of fireworks July 15th. I don't want to have to wait a whole year to use anything!

As well-intention as my stepmother is and as thoughtful and wonderful as she can be... she's really bad about giving Christmas decorations on Christmas. It's okay, I have a system now, those gifts get put behind the tree so that when I take down all the Christmas decorations they get put into the boxes with the rest.

Except for a couple of years ago when I received bizarre looking santa coats with santa heads on the top and snowmen bodies with heads attached as well. It took a bit for me to figure out that they were dining room chair covers and the following Christmas I got a red table cloth trimmed in white faux fur complete with Santa's black belt printed down the middle. *sigh*

My husband recently asked, "I wonder if she ever wonders why we don't use those?"

We're covered. We have one of those huge, chunky, heavy wood dining tables with the farmhouse style benches on either side since we have an "eat in" kitchen that is open to the living room it made sense to go less formal for our dining arrangement. In short, we have no dining room chairs to adorn with such festive chair covers.

The table cloth doesn't come close to fitting on the table. Another save.

Barely.