Oftentimes I am the butt of jokes for not liking Christmas music. Self-proclaimed psychologists in the family analyze my childhood and try to get to the bottom of how on Earth someone could actually NOT like Christmas music. Sorry, folks. I just really don’t. No mental imbalance here, I just really don’t like Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas,” unlike basically everyone else in the world.
I didn’t really start allowing it to even play until we had our first child, and even then I just tolerated it because, after all, it’s what parents do. Right? Our children inherited my genes, thankfully, because even they seem unfazed by Christmas tunes. They really just like watching Transformers and Frozen, regardless of the season.
Deep into a bottle of wine with my girlfriends, all of whom were lamenting the stressors of family coming into town and having to be that perfect hostess, mother, wife, friend, daughter, sister, etc., it suddenly dawned on me why I don’t like Christmas music. (Aside from hearing about a young child witnessing her mother “kissing Santa Claus” yet not being the least bit concerned about the ramifications of said mother being intimate with a much older, portly, hairy man not, to her knowledge, her own father.)
I don’t really like Christmas music because it is a musical ticker, reminding me of everything I need to do, haven’t yet accomplished, and must focus on in order to make the holiday special for everyone else. Just like the lyrics in those fairy-tale songs. Except that depressing one about Christmas shoes, which makes me cry every time I hear it.
With each “Silver Bells,” I am reminded that we don’t really have silver bells on our Christmas tree, and about the (large) disagreement about which tree we picked. Oh, and the fact it fell off the car on the way home from the lot.
And Rudolph? Well that’s just depressing. His friends didn’t let him play any reindeer games until Santa (apparently after kissing someone’s mother) tapped him for frontrunner status on the sleigh? Which reminds me, did I forget to send Christmas cards to certain people? Great. Now I’m one of the mean reindeer, forgetting to include certain people on our list because we needed to save a few bucks here and there.
So while in some families, there will be “much mistletoe-ing” and plenty of social media photos that portray a Normal Rockwell-esque situation. . . You can rest assured ours will involve children who refuse to sleep, parents trying to sneak gifts from Santa under the too-big-to-fit tree(did I mention it’s eight feet in diameter?), the dog will get into sugary confections that will probably result in gastrointestinal issues, and all the while we’ll be entertaining loved ones and trying to plaster a smile on our faces. Stressful? What’s stress?
But despite the opining above, there really is one thing that I can buy into. While it’s not really “the hap-happiest season of all” (I prefer Spring, personally), it really is the most wonderful time of the year. Because at the end of the day, you can’t beat the excuse to tell someone you love that you care, spoil people with presents and cards, and take heart that there’s one holiday dedicated to forgiveness and new beginnings.
Now THAT makes it all worthwhile.