Reporting for Duty

Who was it exactly that put me in charge? I don’t remember signing a contract or any long meetings to describe my duties. No elves came to my house to instate me as honorary Santa Claus of my household. Neither did I receive a notice from the Easter Bunny or the Party Planning Commission.

I get hives at the first sign of Christmas gear in the stores, mostly because they are putting it up before Halloween has even arrived. Everything else in my life is hurried, do we have to push aside Halloween and Thanksgiving, because those are the holidays that I like best.

Instead of hearing Christmas Carole’s I hear Freddy Mercury and David Bowie’s “Under Pressure” playing in my head over and over. Why? Because the holidays are my sole responsibility, the responsibility that I didn’t sign up for but have been pushed into when I became Mom. Maybe my holidays duties were assigned and given in all the paperwork that the hospital gave me that I never read when I gave birth.

The topic of Christmas is on my mind because to pull off this much holiday cheer I need to get a running start. That means that I need to start all the planning and purchasing. Because come Christmas time, you won’t find me anywhere close to a mall, mostly because there is no parking. I can’t handle all the people jostling me about, the long lines, and the parking lots. I think most people feel that way. But not only do I have to arrange presents for parents, kids, friends, in-laws, I need to arrange for pictures, cards and baked goods. If I start now, I am more organized, mostly on budget, and a lot less stressed. It’s a lot of pressure being in charge of creating life-long family memories.

Not only that, when I married Mr. Snarky, I took on HIS family tradition of writing the Christmas letter. It's the letter where we condense a whole year of living into cute little anecdotes to let every one know what our year has been like. We don't even talk to his brothers and sisters, so this seems a little pointless for me. Like the holiday cards weren’t cumbersome enough. I do the letters because he has no time, and if I don’t do them, I get an earful from the mother in law. The earful is worse than the torture of writing the letter, so I normally write the letter.

And what does this hardworking elf get in return? Do I get a little something in my stocking? No, I normally don’t even get a lump of coal or a tooth brush. It’s normally empty. It’s the one day a year I actually almost believe in magic and hope that by some miracle someone left something in my stalking. I would take lint. For all the work that goes into it would be nice if Santa could at least spare a little See’s candy and a little note that said, “Good work keeping the spirit alive”. It’s not that I don’t get wonderful gifts, I do. I get spoiled by Mr. Snarky all year round in big and little ways. I am in charge of the checkbook and all the money, so it is really hard to surprise me, I get that, but for one day, I think I could use a little magic too. And buying something for me and putting it in there for my self doesn’t seem to cut it.

So here I go, I am strapping on my elf boots and hat and jumping in my station wagon to bring the holidays to my family.