Growing up I always loved Christmas. It was my favorite holiday. The magic of traditions, the beautiful church service, the gifts, the lovely meal, relatives filling the house. I know exactly what I loved about it and while I want to give my children equally wonderful memories, it’s now become a lot of work. By Christmas Eve I’m usually so done with the whole thing that I’m counting down to the New Year so it’s all over.
I try not to get lost in the commercialism of Christmas. I see the Christmas ads starting in September and I roll my eyes. Christmas before Halloween? No thanks. But then Halloween hits and we’re in full out panic mode. I make my list of gifts to buy and it tops 20 people. Then I start putting together my own children’s lists. Except well-meaning relatives start asking what to get them and one by one the gift ideas disappear. Even after I manage to put it back together, I realize I forgot about the stockings. MORE STUFF. I get to know my UPS driver on a first name basis. Then the last minute add ons to my list- the garbage man, the mailman.