You're a smart one, Mr. Grinch. By avoiding all the crap! The only thing that would make more sense is if the Grinch were actually a woman. More specific, a Mother. We really get the raw deal when it comes to holidays.
Regular readers know my favorite holiday is Halloween. Why? Nobody hands me a list of shit they want me to buy for them, there are no gifts more complicated than a candy bar, and the most important, nobody expects me to create some elaborate meal. Now I can hear the good little Susie Homemakers out there now, fretting about their witch hat cookies and finger wrap hot dogs and the like. And sure, they are fun if you have too much time on your hands, but also totally voluntary. That's the key: you can make them if you want, but nobody expects them out of you. The other holidays are a whole different story.
It starts with Thanksgiving. Creating the feast is a truly thankless task, as all who do it every year know. Last year I was broken, literally. Both wrists casted. So we had a small simple meal for 4, with me supervising the culinary challenged Cleveland on what to do. This year, though I'm all back to normal, so the holiday has to be, too. That means closer to 11 people, and everything up to me. Normally, I get up fairly early Thanksgiving morning, get the turkey into the oven, then sit down and watch the parade alone until my family wakes up. This year I tried a marinade, so I did the bulk of the prep the night before. This changed the routine, so everything was different.
First, I had company while preparing the turkey. This was new, but all right since it was just James and Leroy, the most helpful of the bunch. They were almost as horrified as me when I had to reach into the turkey's ass and pull out its innards. Really, this practice should be abolished immediately. It's not bad enough we kill it, we then have to shove its own (presumably) body parts up its ass? If we treated dead people like this.... Well, anyway, I get it all empty, then prepare its marinade. A recipe from the wife of the co-worker to my right, called Drunken Turkey. Apple juice, brown sugar, and whiskey. It started as a simple conversation with Leroy, but it got me thinking later.
"Is it normal for us to put whiskey on the turkey?" (Notice he says "us," like he's helping or something. Cute.)
"No, I'm trying something new this year."
"Oh." Long silence. Then, "If it turns out bad, it's all your fault."
But if it turns out well, which it did, is that my doing too? Apparently not. After last year, Cleveland did remember to thank me for the meal. Of course the guests who don't live here always remember to say thank you. But the cretins I'm related to? Still waiting.
And this is just the beginning of the holiday season we all are supposed to look forward to every year. Now it's time to prepare for Christmas! The decorating, the wrapping, of course the buying, and certainly another few meals will be expected. And who gets to do all of this? Mom, of course. And if it turns our bad, who gets blamed? Mom, of course. But when it turns out magical, who do we go thank? Santa, of course!
Lois Griffin said it best: (I know she's a cartoon character, but I can still quote her) "You think all this holiday cheer just falls right out of the sky? Well it doesn't! It falls out of my holly jolly butt!" And if you want to be honest about it, when they have to shoot her out of the tree with a tranquilizer dart, a little bit of every mother out there said "I feel you, sister." I know I said it out loud. Then my family stared at me like I grew another head and promptly shushed me.
But she's right. What does Dad do at holiday time? Watch football and fall asleep. Put together a few toys you had to beat people over the head to get to and watch you wrap everything else. Plead ignorance when it comes to being able to hang, bake, or buy anything. Yes, I can still hear you, women married to the perfect men. I know YOUR husband makes the cookies, decorates the tree, buys and wraps all the gifts. Well, shut up, bitch! Here in the real world, we have to do it all ourselves!
Not that I'm bitter or anything. I really am happy to provide my family with a fun Christmas. I just refuse to kill myself or my sanity in the process. Susie knows what I'm talking about. It's already a thankless job, why do we make it so much harder than it needs to be? Your tree does not need to be the prettiest one in town; your kids don't care. Your house doesn't need to be perfectly decorated; your real friends don't care. And fake friends, well, if they judge you, who cares? I know. We do. Every single one of us.
So here's my solution, another What Would Jill Do adventure. This year, instead of asking for a Christmas list from my kids (which they have already given to Cleveland, by the way) I'm going to force them to make a list of what they would like to buy for others. Will it change them? No. But it will make me feel better. If anybody doesn't like my decorations, or if I don't like theirs, the only acceptable reaction is silence. And when I open the hand made gifts that kids work hard to create, I will remember that this is what makes all the crap worthwhile. Happy Holidays!
No comments:
Post a Comment