A Very Un-Merry Holiday Season

OK. I'm sick. I've got an AWFUL head cold which was preceded by being thrown up on by my youngest bundle of joy and a 24 hour vigil while he spiked a high fever which made him so warm it was difficult to even hold him without sweating myself. I wanted to disclose such information because maybe I'm just cranky and sensitive right now - but it seems like there are an overwhelming number of blog posts by friends about how stressed they are, how much is going wrong in their lives, how they aren't looking forward to Christmas (for a laundry list of reasons) or how people are inconsiderate and play the guilt game . . . It just seems like the Internet is filled with all the reasons why the holidays suck and it's not even December 1st yet!!!

And it makes me sad.

It makes me sad because I remember how happy I always was the day after Thanksgiving because it meant that Christmas was on its way. It also meant that my birthday was coming too and birthdays were always very special when I was growing up. (Just ask my husband who has already heard at least a half-dozen times how many days until my birthday or the other night when I asked for a glass of water and said, with puppy dog eyes, "Well, it is almost time to celebrate my birthday month.")

A couple of local radio stations have started playing 24-hour Christmas music - and yes, I'm one of those people who love it! I can't listen to it 24/7 but I like having the option to listen to it when I get in my car everyday. (Although even better was this morning at 6 a.m. when my older son climbed into my bed and started quietly singing Jingle Bells to himself to, in his words, "try and put myself back to sleep. But I can't because I'm too excited about Christmas!")

Yes, the holidays are supposed to be about peace and love and hope and light and all things good - after all, isn't their an unwritten law about cease fires in times of war on Christmas Day? But instead we are bombarded with images of war, shopping, credit cards being maxed out, stressing out because we can't think of what to buy great aunt Edna who we only see on Christmas, but the commercials on TV tell us that there's something (expensive) for everyone and all we have to do is find the "right" gift and our holidays will be bliss.

And yet you're all miserable!!!

Why do we do this to ourselves every year? Why do we buy gifts we can't afford and then paying for them over the next 11 months? Why do we complain about the commercialization of Christmas and yet continue to support said commercialization with our wallets? Why do we buy a gift for great aunt Edna anyway? Does anyone actually give to charity in a recipient's name for that hard to buy for loved one? That would make too much sense, wouldn't it? Give money and services to people who actually need it instead of stressing out about great aunt Edna?

It just angers me to no end that the Christmas season I knew as a child no longer exists for most of us in the adult world. I know it's still there for the kids - my son reinforced that this morning at 6 a.m. - but where did it go for us grown-ups?

In search of an answer, and lower blood pressure, I've made a pact with myself this year. I'm buying a few toys for the boys, only useful gifts for my immediate family (nothing expensive either) and for those that don't need anything - I'm donating the money I would have spent to a local charity. I'm not going to stress. I'm not going to get all wound up about finding the "right" gift. If I don't get all my shopping done - so be it. The world will not come to an end. (At least not because of me)

What's important is family and spending time with them. What's important is seeing joy and peace and wonder in those around you and in your own circumstances. Many of us may be broke - but we've got computers to blog on, roofs over our heads and food on our tables. There are millions of people out there that can't say that - they sleep on cold, wet sidewalks or give their children the last piece of bread they have and go without or they watch their loved one die from hunger or AIDS or neglect - while we watch a news story about a man who was shot in the chest while standing in line to buy a Playstation 3, which many of his fellow line-mates were going to buy and then sell on EBay so they could make more money.

It's time to get our priorities straight, people. No one's going to do it for us. We're on our own. It's time to simplify. It's time to take a step back. It's time to remember that Christmas marks the birth of a baby and the joy that such a miracle brings to the world.

You can't buy that anywhere, at any price, but if you look into the eyes of your own children or your nieces and nephews, grandchildren and godchildren - you'll find it and it's absolutely (stress) free.

And now, I'm off to read poetry with my son.

Crazy Days of Autumn

I've been selfish lately. And I'm not sure how I feel about it.

Lately I've been very focused on my own needs - and tonight was a perfect example. Yet my conflict stems from my not feeling conflicted enough - I mean I'm not mad at myself for being selfish, I'm more upset about not being more upset regarding the lack of time I've been spending with my children . . . Let me try to explain.

Over the last six months or so I have rediscovered the writer inside me that has been dormant for years. I've been writing short stories, blogging (obviously), journaling and now I'm thinking about writing a novel - something I have been thinking about doing since I was a teenager. I've always had this feeling inside that I have something to offer the world of publishing. I just always felt that it was meant to be, but like many things in my life, I've had trouble putting in the work and have struggled with the follow through.

But over the last six to eight weeks my desire to write a novel has grown and with NaNo coming up in a little over two weeks, my drive and focus has intensified. I've got an outline going, I've got characters running around inside my head, random scenes written on notecards (I've even color coded them and for anyone who knows me they know that I've never color coded anything). I've purchased a couple of How-To books and I'm currently reading some non-fiction regarding the topic of my novel.

This is where the selfishness comes in.

I worked at my "day job" today, then came home and hung around with my boys. My youngest was in desperate need of a nap (read whining incessantly) and my oldest son was doing anything he could to increase the volume of his brother's whining. So I laid down on the couch with my little one and he quickly fell asleep on my chest.

After a while, I gently moved my precious sleeper off of me and headed to the computer. I checked my email, I checked my myspace page, my writing group forums . . . Meanwhile, my older son was watching tv. I know, I know - Motherly sin of all sins; letting the television babysit my own child. There's guilty seed number one.

I continued to work on a short story I'm trying to finish before NaNo until my son woke up. I went back to the couch to hang out and then my sister called. I knew what she was calling about, I had left a couple of messages for her, so I figured it would be a quick call. Well, I started talking and couldn't stop. I just started going on and on about her wedding, an aerobics class we want to start taking, family stuff, relationship stuff, my writing stuff . . . an hour, and several attempts by my children to get my attention later, I realized it was getting late. Guilty seed number two.

It was dinner time - past what would usually be referred to as "early bird" dinner and our usual mealtime, so I made some chicken nuggets and the two boys sat down to eat. I wasn't very hungry and so I skipped eating (until I had some cereal, alone, about an hour ago) and started reading a book. When the boys were done I was still reading, so I let them play together for a bit. There was some friction (probably because they were trying to get my attention) and finally I exploded about all the fighting and the yelling and the running in the house . . . Guilty seed number three.

I sent them into the bathroom for baths, got them dressed for bed and did our nightly bedtime ritual of reading books and tucking in - too bad I was putting them to bed 45 minutes late. Perfect for my older son who has to wake up and go to school tomorrow morning. Guilty seed number four.

But while I feel guilty for taking time out to do what I want, when I want, too, I don't feel that guilty and I feel worse about not feeling guilty enough. Does that make any sense?

I know that I am a person and not only a mother and therefore have the right to do my own thing. I'm a strong proponent of that very mantra in fact. But I know that between work and my own timeouts I'm not giving my children the best of what I have to give. In fact, I'm short with them and lax in keeping their routine. Yet, I don't want to give up the time I take throughout the day.

And that's even before I start thinking about the state of my relationship with my husband. We work opposite schedules. We watch a lot of tv and spend plenty of individual time on the computer. We read. Basically the time we have together is spent doing individual activities - kind of like what's referred to as "parallel play" with toddlers. And so when I devote large chunks of time to my writing when the boys are asleep and my husband is home - there's guilty seed number five.

So I think that while we have been taught we can have it all - we can't. There are always sacrifices that must be made and things we will miss out on. The question is how do you balance it so that one person isn't always making the sacrifices, the same person isn't missing your presence in their life and the guilt doesn't eat away at you?

I don't think that I need more hours in the day (I'm exhausted enough as it is), but better management of my time - Something else to think about I guess.