the soul-hydroptic

Why do the holidays start on November 1st? Who made that rule? I distinctly remember that the holidays used to start the day after Thanksgiving. That means in my lifetime (which hasn’t been all that long) someone, somewhere changed things and I don’t like it.

I don’t mean to sound like a grinch – that’s my husband’s job – but I find it hard to really enjoy the holidays when I am force-fed an endless tirade of Christmas commercials and sappy elevator music-style carols and holiday coke cans and “very special episodes” a full two months before the big day.

It’s overkill. It leaves me completely drained by the time Christmas actually arrives. And while I should be the giddy, bubbly wife who hurries around trying to make things just right for her first holiday with her new husband, I’m thinking more along the lines of taking some sominex and laying down for a long winter’s nap…right up until the spring thaw.

Maybe I would enjoy the extended edition Holiday season if Jeff and I had more money. I don’t know. All the people in the commercials seem overjoyed at the idea of spending upwards of $1000 on their loved ones to express their appriciation and gratitude for everything they’ve done during the previous 12 months. I find myself looking at those people and wondering – if we had $1000 to spend on Christmas, would we enjoy it more? I do love finding special gifts for my friends and family. It means the world to me when they open a gift and find something they would never have expected, but will cherish dearly.

Or perhaps if I had a larger family I would find the Holiday-o-rama less daunting. But Jeff and I are both only children. That means no aunts, no uncles, no cousins…just us and our parents. It’s small and quiet when we get together for the holiday meal and the gift exchange. There’s no big production to be had; no great stories from some long-lost relative you barely know; no mountains of food to be dug through quickly, or else risk the pumpkin pie will be gone.

No, at our holidays Jeff and I sit quietly with our parents (his on Christmas eve; mine of Christmas day) and eat a small, sensible meal. Then we quietly file into the living room to open the couple of presents we each received. With my parents, we read the Christmas story from Matthew. And that’s it. After a couple of hours of hanging out, we head home.

Or maybe … Maybe there’s nothing wrong with the way we do the holidays, afterall. Sure, we’re not the target audience for all those Sears ads with the jumbo sized presents filling the whole house. And yes, we buck the system by not tripling our Kroger bill for one meal (only to throw most of it out). But, I have some amazing memories from my childhood Christmases; memories I wouldn’t trade for the world.

So pardon me for not quite fitting in this time of year. It’s just a minor discomfort and soon all will be forgotten. Just let me tarry in Autumn a while longer, would you? I’m not quite ready to dig-out my copy of Holidays on Ice yet.