How I stopped the insanity

December. Geez, I was just getting used to the end of summer and now we’re slip-sliding into the end of autumn and careening into the beginning of winter and Christmas. LOML and I have just made soup with a frozen carcass of the Thanksgiving leftovers. Heck we haven’t even raked up all of the last of the leaves, nor have we put the backyard grill away, and now it’s the first week of December. We have to find one warm day to put the Christmas lights in the trees, and the garland around the front porch rails—or not. Yup, we’re committed and organized. On the plus side, the outdoor lights and the garland are taking up real estate in the front hall, and the bundle makes a great place to rest our jackets and hats when there’s a crowd in the house . Now, for those of you who know me (and many of you think you do) you know I’ve learned to love Christmas. I wasn’t such a fan years ago. I’m a fan now. Not only that, I believe in Santa Claus, again.

Years ago, I had a bad case of measuring up. I thought I had to create the picture perfect Christmas for my family. The decorations had to be like a magazine layout. I dreamed of a matchy-matchy Christmas tree, decorated where only blue and white decorations hung – the kids never let that happen, thank goodness. Regardless, the tree had to be real and it had to be big and perfectly shaped. The gifts had to be wrapped just so and there had to be plenty of gifts. I didn’t tolerate gift bags or cheap wrapping paper or shiny-distracting scotch tape. Every gift had to have a bow on it, a bow that would make Martha tearup. The gift tags were written with gold or silver pen, as appropriate. I cooked too much. I baked too much—anything overly browned was scuttled. I shopped too much. I decorated too much. I drank too much. I ate too much. I sent Christmas cards to at least 200 people, many of them probably wondered why the H E double candy canes they got a card from us. And at the end of December when I toted it all up, the receipts were too high and the credit card bills were far too unbelievable. Christmas wasn’t real and it was all just too much. And, oh my goodness, look out if it rained on Christmas Day! I was unbearable if rain happened and snow had taken a powder.

And, usually in January, I would promise myself I’d never go there again, as I downed bottle after bottle of Pepto. I’d resolve to make Christmas more fun and less stressful and eventually, even the promises I made were too much. The cold and the snow, sometimes the rain and the sleet were jammed into my life, along with a job I loved, but the commute was epic and the boss was an arse of Scrooge-like proportions. I was giving Christmas and winter a bad rap and I was well and truly miserable. And then, I crashed. I’d had enough. I’d brought it all on without any help and I needed to stop the Christmas and winter insanity. And, so I did. I quit cold, leftover turkey. I stopped the endless gift lists, the extravagant shopping and the gutwrenching stressing. I bid my job in Markham adieu, which ended the lengthy commute and the misery of working with a person who just didn’t understand museums. I put my credit cards away. I began to enjoy the seasons, just the way they happened. Rain happened. Snow blew. Wind howled. The sun shone. My bank account dwindled cuz we all know, no job means no income. But I was happy, and decided to ask my family what they thought of a pared-down Christmas. A handmade Christmas. A Christmas where, “If you don’t make it yourself, don’t bother bringing it to our home to give.” I, actually, let other people trim the tree any way they saw fit and throw tinsel. Throw tinsel! I let other people help with the baking and cooking. I said yes if someone offered to help, and I actually started to ask for help. And then a crazy thing happened. I started to love family gatherings at holiday time. They were never perfect. Sometimes the gravy was lumpy, sometimes the cookies looked as though they’d been to the tropics. I got excited when my kids, their children, their friends, my brothers and their families said they were coming. I didn’t freak when they all showed up at the same time, on the same day, or with extra friends. Filling our house with family and friends is well and truly what Christmas is all about. You can’t buy it.

In past columns, written at this time of year, I’ve said I believe in Santa Claus. Not too many years ago I became reacquainted with a belief in Santa Claus. I wrote about how we can all be Santa Claus. Indeed, many of you asked me if I’d written those columns just to make a buck. I assure you that wasn’t the case. I believe we all have the potential to be Santa Claus if we just let go of the glossy expectations. To be Santa we don’t need to buy an expensive costume or a white beard. We don’t even need to have reindeer or a sled or elves or live in the North Pole. For me, I just needed to stop the insanity and love the season. I mean, seriously, how many other seasons are punctuated with candy canes and gingerbread? What’s not to love about candy canes and gingerbread?

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca