HOW MANY MORE DAYS UNTIL IT'S NOT CHRISTMAS?

In my blog last week I had indicated that Christmas is a challenging time for me. I don't get all wrapped up (no pun intended) in the extravagance of it all. My wife and kids do. I mean they REALLY do. They are the citizens of Whoville and I am the Grinch. I'm more of a Boxing Day kind of guy. Hopefully, everything goes back into boxes (which it usually doesn't until the New Year.)

While Christmas itself doesn't burn a hole in my calendar, I do have one simple rule. Not with the actual day itself but with the reconstruction of the entire house to turn it into the North Pole. NO DECORATING UNTIL NOVEMBER 12th. November 11th in Canada is Remembrance Day here in Canada. All I ask is that the day is kept to itself in honour of fallen heroes. Once we have crested that hill, I surrender all control to the Whos. Like it or not, Christmas is coming.

November 12th or the weekend following in our house seems to draw as much anticipation as Christmas day itself. There's a whirlwind of excitement. The tree is erected in the living room. Box after box of ornaments and decorations are laboured upstairs from the crawlspace. Endless playlists of Christmas music are streamed throughout the house. I sing along... in my head... with my own lyrics... "All I want for Chritmaaaaaaassss.......is yoooouuuu........to stop singing this stupid song."

In the weeks that follow there's baking with Grandma (ok... I do like the treats) and crafts galore. There's the steady arrival of packages and cards from distant loved ones. There are ugly Christmas sweaters to wear and the annual family calendar and photocard to mail out. The pace of it all just adds to my distaste for the season. It's SO BUSY.

Christmas wasn't always a chore for me. As a child, I had a much more innocent desire for the holiday season. The last few days of school were always lax and there was the school Christmas concert. There were timeless Christmas shows to watch. The original Grinch, Charlie Brown, Garfield, Frosty and Rudolph. There was Christmas Eve with my Mom's family. Christmas Day was just us. Boxing Day was always with my Dad's side. Three days of great food, treats, and presents. What kid didn't sit in awe and wonder about the gifts under the tree? Who didn't believe when on Christmas morning there were gifts from "Santa?" The plate of cookies and glass of milk (Crown Royal in my house) had been finished. "He'd been here." Looking back, my parents must have been exhausted.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment Christmas lost its lustre for me. But I do know that it coincided with my parent's separation. They say that when you lose someone close, the first year is always the hardest. The same can be said for a broken home. The first year is hard. So is the second. And the third. Depending on how amicable the split goes determines the duration of difficulty. One family becomes two, and Christmas is probably the most difficult hurdle to overcome. My parents didn't intentionally set out to make it hard. It was just the way it was. Their worlds had changed too.

Becoming a father rekindled awareness for the season, if only for the sake of the kids. It's hard not to be warmed by a child's genuine excitement and belief in the magic of it all. It reminded me of when I felt the same way. So when my girls' mother and I separated, I was overwhelmed with guilt and fear. I didn't want Christmas to become heavy and burdensome for them as well.

Thankfully, it hasn't. We can respect and understand that the girls need to have ample time with us both. Even when there was conflict between us, we found the wisdom to call a ceasefire for the well-being of the kids. The same goes for Shannon and her girls. It's all about the kids, and egos are put aside. Everyone will get their special time to celebrate the holiday.

My family's eagerness for Christmas has forced me to come to terms with my lack of enthusiasm for it all. I wave my white flag of surrender, though somewhat still reluctantly. But like the Grinch, my heart softens a little bit more day by day. I see the excitement and joy they all feel, especially the kids. It's hard not to find it contagious. I remember moments as a kid that made me feel special at Christmas. This year it was a book my Uncle and Aunt got me when I was about nine. Or my first keyboard at twelve that I still have.

By the time December 24th rolls around, my three Christmas ghosts have all paid a visit, and I find redemption. I'm no longer the old miser that detests everyone and everything during the holidays. When we can all get together, I am as excited as the kids when they open their gifts. Partly because I get to see what I helped pay for. But it's mostly the atmosphere that surrounds them. The mayhem of flying gift wrap. The exuberant screams of children. The smell of Irish crème laden coffee. Across the insanity, I'm able to share a loving gaze with my Wife who has orchestrated this chaos. I'm truly grateful for this moment.

And like that, it's all over. We will wrap up the year and head into the next one. Like clockwork, I will begrudgingly wave my white flag of surrender on November 12th, just like years past. And once again, my family will chip away the stone and win me over. I'm not sure if I'll ever be ecstatic for Christmas. My wife and girls think that once I'm a grandparent, my walls will come down for good. It's hard for me not to smirk when I think about it.

Just like it's hard for me not to smirk about the picture below. ;)

From our family to yours, Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays!!!

And a Happy New Year to you all as well. We will be returning with a new blog on January 2nd, 2022!!!

Have a safe and joyous holiday season!!!

Mike - The Herdfather