Don’t hate on me for this Christmas story

Not everybody loves Christmas. Some even hate it because it is a sad time or a stressful one. Me, I love it until it’s over. I love setting out my Thomas Kinkade village (thank you, Barbara!) and decorating the rest of the house. Once the celebrating is over, however, I’m ready to pack it all away.

Growing up in a time when kids never got anything except on birthdays and Christmas, it was my favorite time of the year. After all, how else could I get those toys I drooled over in the Sears Christmas catalog? Like a lot of kids, I didn’t always get what I wanted. One year my Chatty Baby, a doll, that talked when you pulled a string, didn’t talk. Mom exchanged it at Thrifty’s later. She kept that doll, and I now have it stashed in a closet. She no longer talks. After all, she is 54 years old. That’s old for a doll.

The next year all I wanted was a Barbie dream house. When I opened it and Dad saw that it was heavy-duty cardboard instead of plastic, he sent it back, saying it cost more than it was worth. I’m sure they gave me something to replace it, but I really don’t remember what was. One year all I wanted was walkie-talkies. I got a maple desk and a plastic model horse. I loved the horse because I collected them, but I’ve never quite figured out the desk, especially since it didn’t even get placed in my room. That 52-year-old desk is now my daughter-in-law’s vanity table. They painted it, and it looks pretty good.

Don’t get me wrong. I received some great presents over the years, and like the ones above, some not so great. My kids could say the same about my attempts at gift giving. And like all of us, once I grew up, the gifts weren’t the important thing anyway.

Religious beliefs aside, being with the people we love, whether family or friends, is what makes Christmas special and is also what makes some people stressed and others depressed. Christmas is not always a Hallmark movie or a Jimmy Stewart movie. Sometimes it’s more Christmas Vacation. Being alone is ten times worse during the holidays. Missing loved ones who live far away or have passed is magnified.

I know all that, which is why what I’m about to post may come across as . . . well, wrong.

You see, my husband and I have lived in the same town as our parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc. our entire married life. My brother and his family are and were miles away, but other than that, the rest were all right here. We saw each other on a regular basis. Very regular.

Every Christmas, we had a minimum of three places togo. No one was willing to celebrate on any dates other than Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so we went to my parents’ house, his parents’, his grandmother’s, and my aunt’s. We were expected to eat everywhere we went. You might know the drill.

When we had children, this became nothing short of a nightmare. Have you ever taken a six-month old baby to one set of grandparents early Christmas morning, then to church, then to the great-grandmother’s for the huge extended family get-together, then to your aunt’s for another extended get-together, then finish at the other grandparents’ house? Any idea what mood that baby was in by the end of the day, not to mention his weary parents?

Not all Christmases were like that. But they were always busy, and it got harder and harder to pull the kids away from their toys to go to someone else’s house for more presents. And food.

In 1994 or 1995, though, everyone in my family of four got a stomach virus about a week before Christmas. We took turns, so it took a full week to go through it all. I think I was the last one to get sick, and Christmas Eve was the day I finally started to feel better.

But no one wanted to risk catching it. So we told them to go ahead and celebrate without us.

And it was one of the best Christmases we ever had.

That sounds harsh, I know. Keep in mind, though, that we saw most of our loved ones on a regular basis. Spending time with them was great, but it wasn’t extra special because it was the norm.

The boys played outside all day, my oldest with his street hockey set, my youngest in his pedal racing car. We have a very long driveway, and it was their playground that day and the weeks that followed. I cooked a normal meal, nothing special, but o one cared The working mom and dad had a relaxing day off, and the boys enjoyed their new possessions to their heart’s content.

Don’t get me wrong. Several of those people with whom we once shared Christmas are now gone, and we’d love to have them back with us. This is not meant to disparage their memories in any way.

But that year, the relaxing day that the four of us shared was worth more than any present money could buy. It was family time, all right. A very special time for our little unit.

Whatever your circumstances, I hope your holiday is one that brings you joy, not pain; laughter, not tears; and peace, not stress.

Merry Christmas, everyone.