Reflect, Recap and Renew — That’s what most of us do, or at least should do after the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, just as we prepare to bring in a brand new year. December is the month that my procrastination really rips through my hidden perfection as I haven’t mastered the art of budgeting six months in advance to complete the holiday shopping during the summer, versus shopping with all of the other procrastinators
. Of course, me and my honey usually pick the two weeks before Christmas to begin our shopping, and though our shopping sprees are filled with shots of Remy Martin, laughter, food, and empty wallets — at the end of the frenzy we both are absolutely exhausted, yet happy and cheerful.
Christmas Morning, I awake with my son starring in my face, as if he’s making sure I’m still breathing. Unknown to him, mommy and daddy only slept for two hours after lugging in all of the hidden gifts from various locations. I had to laugh at myself when I zeroed in on my random hiding spot, the clothes dryer (don’t judge). I heard my son trotting down the stairs one night, and the dryer was the first spot that was close enough to retreat the gifts — especially because my son hates to help me with the laundry. The beauty of the holiday shopping stress is the lasting result of seeing my son’s bright smile light up the room, brighter than the star on the Christmas tree, as he tears open the gifts that he thinks Santa Claus delivered.
Image Credit: CrazyFrankenstein.com
It was a beautiful moment that began after I yelled internally with a rage for recognition. Yes, I said recognition. I am human, so don’t judge when I reveal the following words: I HATE SANTA CLAUS! Okay, I’m back. I love the idea of Santa and the myth that we all continue to pass down to our children. I love that my son’s innocence is still in tact which allows him to believe in the magical myth of the jolly, fat man; and he definitely understands the reason we celebrate Christmas is to appreciate the birth of Jesus. However, I secretly wish recognition would flow towards me and his dad instead of past us, and directly to Santa, while he gets the credit for the hard work we put in to ensure there are numerous boxes under the tree. Yes, I know, it’s no one’s fault but ours, to allow our child to believe that Santa Claus flies in on his red sleigh and his red nosed reindeer; he parks his sleigh on our roof (whether it’s snowing or not); he shimmies down to the front door; and then he implements his secret knock to prompt us to bring our cash to the door before he enters with his large, red, magical bag of specific toys that my child has requested. Attention everyone, I blame my parents and society because they’ve put so much pressure on my generation to continue to play the game, as we dispel an addictive inheritance onto our children. But don’t confuse my rants for holiday blues. It’s just a slight case of indigestion leftover from alcohol and food that I ingested during the holiday shopping spree.
My holiday blues turn into a list of resolutions that I vow to carry out upon the arrival of New Year’s Eve. As soon as the sun goes down and my family gathers for our annual game night, I begin to feel renewed and refreshed from the excitement of a new year and revitalized resolutions. The new year is the perfect time to leave the past behind us, and to make our mark for new beginnings, new goals, and new outlooks. I just hope I don’t get stuck in the silo that I often find myself in by mid March, and I’ve returned to cursing, yelling and spitting at my treadmill — because I’ve allowed the joyous occasion of the holidays fall behind as a distant memory, as my New Year’s resolutions are long forgotten.
HAPPY NEW YEAR – 2012!