Brian called me Scrooge yesterday.
"I just don't feelllll like putting up Christmas decorations," I whined and sulked as I hung lights around our tree.
"Ok Scrooge," he replied.
"Ebenezer Scrooge wasn't that bad," I snorted back, "he was merely misunderstood."
Deep down, I knew he was right. I was acting like a whiny, bitchy, baby. We were spending time together and decorating our home for the upcoming holiday season and I wanted no part of it. None. Zip. Zero.
As I get older I get less and less fond of the holidays. I dread the stretch of the year that starts with Thanksgiving and ends with Easter. The constant hustle and bustle. The spending of money. The running around. The stress. The stress at work to "keep up the momentum" because the "holidays are coming." The eating and the expectations to eat because hey - it's the holidays - you're suppose to eat pie and cake and cookies even if you don't really feel like it. The feeling guilty for not meeting loved one's expectations when it comes to gift giving or the time spent with them not being enough time. And YAY, Happy New Year - you're another year older, WOO HOO! Not to mention the other stresses in life don't go away during this time - laundry still needs to get done, and groceries and dishes and vacuuming and bills and SIGH. It's all so exhausting.
How do people do this with kids?
So yeah, I'm admitting it. I'm not looking forward to the holidays.
Is anyone else NOT floating around like a perky little elf this season - or am I truly just being a big fat Scrooge?