Anybody who knows me pretty well and sees me on a regular basis will know that I hate the holidays. As in, really. don’t. like. Bleh. We don’t decorate our house (gave up on that a couple of years ago after a really whiny tree-cutting excursion with Workaholic…and I’m sorry, fake trees are just not the same as the real thing. They’re so….fake!), we rarely go to other people’s Christmas parties (this year though, we got invited to one that we’d really like to go to…but we have a wedding that night!) and even our gift-giving isn’t very exciting. Workaholic is hard to shop for, mainly because if there is something that he wants, he just goes and buys it. (besides, what do you get a guy that has no hobbies? I am not going to buy him tools that he will just break at work) Me? I cannot ever for the life of me make up a Christmas list. (a couple of years ago, he wound up getting me a camera that he wanted…which I love, but am not very good at using)
There are several reasons for my Scrooge-ness. It’s not the shopping for other people that I don’t like, or even the Christmas music (as long as it is after Thanksgiving), but it’s the general stress of it all. The planning, the rushing, the trying to make everyone happy, (but no one really is) of it all. I feel like there is such a high expectation on Christmas, it’s when everyone gets together, it’s supposed to be the time when you see everyone that you are supposed to, and all is supposed to be jolly and well. But invariably, something goes awry. Someone doesn’t show up, there is a snowstorm, or it is just impossible to be in two places at once. No wonder depression rates hit the highest during the holidays.
So I went to church yesterday, (I just joined this new church, and it’s weird to say this…but they are a bit…preachy?) and the homily was all about how this is the time for preparation, and basically we are supposed to remember the reason for the season. So I think to myself, “Self…maybe that is why you hate the holidays. Maybe you just need to put it all in perspective.” And then the priest talked about how today is a holy day, (and I had to go home and look on wikipedia to find out exactly why it was a holy day) and how this week we’ll be doubly blessed, and there will be a special blessing for all expectant mothers at all masses. So I think, “Hmmm….there is a 7am mass that I could make…I’m up anyway, might as well go. At least I’ll get a little blessing out of it and maybe it’ll help me get more in the spirit.”
So I go (and BTW..I was shocked at how many people were at the 7am mass…about 10 times the number I thought would be there) and it was pretty quick and I was feeling OK about life, until we got to the final blessing…and guess what??? No blessing for me. (And BTW??? I was sitting about 5 feet from the priest) You mean to tell me that I dragged my sorry 9 months pregnant butt out of bed at 5am and I didn’t even get my stupid blessing?? Geez. (either it's a sign that God is mad at me or he doesn't feel like me and the baby need to be blessed) So that’s how my week is going to go. As I walked out, I purposefully walked near the priest, but not so close as to where I actually had to shake his hand, and he said hi and sort of gave me a funny look. I’m sure that he just forgot, and my belly reminded him of his error, but still. Not a good sign. Hopefully I’ll be able to relax and just enjoy the season…either that or I am sure that I will go into labor on Christmas Eve. Ruin Christmas for everyone.