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I'm
ready to have a Yuletide anxiety attack. It just hit me that in a couple
of days, the calendar will mark the fact that it is Thanksgiving Day.
When I was a kid, Thanksgiving had very little to do with Christmas at
all. In fact, in those blissful days in the late 60's and early 70's,
the two holidays were ENTIRELY SEPARATE! Imagine that! Now, in 2004, the
MOMENT Halloween is over, trees full of lights and decorations start
sprouting up, as if by magic. It's enough to make a person go berserk. I
can't hardly even muster up thanks this Thanksgiving; so great is my
angst over my total lack of preparations for the holidays. I haven't
made lists; I haven't checked them twice- and although I know who has
been naughty and nice around this joint, at least, I don't have time to
do anything about it!!! No switches and coal; no sugarplums or oranges
stuffed with cloves; I haven't even put the Halloween decorations
completely away. I
figured that I probably wasn't the only one feeling overwhelmed by the
onslaught of the holidays, so I broached the subject with my friend
Alicia. "Have
you even STARTED TO THINK about Christmas shopping?" I asked her in
a hushed tone. I was pretty sure she'd be on my side; her life was
perhaps even more hectic than my own and she had to be way behind the
eight ball like me. "Oh."
She looked at me strangely. "Ummm, yes. Actually," she cleared
her throat, "I am almost done." Then she gave me a sad look,
almost pitiful, and said, "Have you not even STARTED?" "Well."
Now it was my turn to clear my throat. But it wasn't even Thanksgiving!
I still had all the time in the world.....right? Except.....
a tiny voice in my head (and the look on Alicia's face) told me that I
DIDN'T. Not only I didn't; but I was doomed as doomed can be for my
procrastinating. A good holiday shopper, everyone knows, begins their
Christmas shopping AT LEAST by August. Cards should be addressed and
stamped no later than Veterans Day, and for goodness sake, all parties
and outings must be on the calendar no later than Halloween. For my
unwillingness to do this (again); I would be punished. I would be
spending the holidays in my usual tumultuous state of being; running
from store to store like a madwoman; frantically sending identical gifts
to virtually everyone in my husband's family. And
yet.... I play it cool. When my husband starts to get a fearful look in
his eyes ("don't you think we should at least THINK about what we
are going to get the kids?"), I am the one who says, "Come on;
what is wrong with you?! It's not even Thanksgiving yet." I
close my eyes and try to conjure up the Thanksgivings of my youth-
sitting at my Grandma's dining room table (which is now in my WAY less
clean dining room); picking grapes out of the cornucopia with nary a
thought of Christmas in my head. I try to stay in that state as I return
to the present and am bombarded with messages that remind me this is NOT
the past and baby, if you haven't started your Christmas shopping before
Thanksgiving, hang it up, because it is pretty much over for you. I
read in a magazine the other day that most people, when asked, state
that what they REALLY want during the holidays is a return to
simpler times. Less fuss; less scurrying; less running around; just
quiet and meaningful times spent at home sipping the hot chocolate and
nibbling on homemade cookies that....... and I as I read this I realize
SOMEBODY had to bake. That SOMEBODY, would be, in this scenario:
ME, so again I am filled with worry because, oh my gosh, I forgot to
bake cookies. Now we can't even spend a meaningful time together as a
quiet and loving family because old Mom forgot to bake the darn cookies. Sheesh.
It wears me out. Frankly, I almost am fearful for the calendar to turn
past the Thanksgiving Day. As I imagine it, the closer the days
tick towards Christmas, the further behind I shall fall. It will be like
I am chasing a speeding train called THE HOLIDAYS; while everyone else
enjoys the ride I will be wheezing and near death from trying to catch
the train which NEVER SLOWS DOWN to wait for me. Somebody,
quick, turn the calendar back to 1968 before I have a Yuletide meltdown.
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