Particularly in this pandemic year, when life is abnormal anyway, with all of the added stress and worry about getting together or not, getting gifts to the right destinations, and remaining safely sequestered through the holidays, to say nothing about sending and receiving Christmas cards and yearly communications, watching “Muppet Christmas Carol” and “Holiday Inn” yet again, it’s time to regroup, take a deep breath, and resume sleeping nights.
For those of us that may not be too severely affected, with vaccines on the horizon or so we tell ourselves, there is still anxiety. Where did we put all the sales slips in case something needs to be returned? They were right in the drawer over . . . . . . I know I saved them. How much wrapping paper is left, or should we buy two dozen more rolls while everything is half price? Does Amazon have what we need? We’ve always shopped at the Hallmark store before. What about bows? I don’t know what colors will be stylish in 2021. Oh, God. Where am I going to put everything Santa brought? I don’t need more clothes – my closet looks like Target just restocked. Should I get rid of something? No, I like what I have. In case I need a new car, how long before the next Toyotathon?
As children (and for some of us, well into early adulthood) , we can remember the tremendous letdown the day after Christmas. I know, we had all that new stuff to play with or wear. It was a tradition in our family to put on anything new as soon as possible, up to and including on Christmas day. In Herself’s family, that was sacrilege. Everything new had to wait for days or weeks before putting them on. The Daughter has inherited my traditions, incurring the inevitable “You are such a Walters”, said with an edge of derision from her mother. My favorite holiday clothing story involved a dear friend of ours, a teacher who, having peeked and discovered a new outfit her husband had bought, unwrapped it, wore it to school, and then rewrapped it and put it back under the tree. Opening all the loot was spectacular, but now it’s over until next year. Can we wait that long without our heads exploding? There should be a birthday in there somewhere, but that isn’t quite the same. Nobody brings out boxes of birthday decorations. No special wreath for the front door. The turkey dinner will have to wait until Thanksgiving. My birthday is in early December, and while it was never overlooked – my parents were good about that, it did get lost a little in the energetic runup “whoosh” like a plane on the runway to Christmas. Nobody ever went caroling with “It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Tom’s Birthday”. Let’s face it – for kids, there’s a definite letdown after Christmas. Memories of that feeling on Christmas night lurk in my brain. New Year’s Eve never fulfilled the same expectations. We’d watch the ball drop and then off to bed. (Plus, we’re going back to school the day after. New Year’s Day is a lot like the last Sunday night of summer.)
As adults and young parents, that letdown is mixed with a certain sense that life can return to some form of normal when the Christmas tree goes to the curb and the decorations back to the attic. A brief, modest sense of relief. Whew, we made it again this year. It’s mixed with some anxiety. Did I get enough stuff for everyone? Did I spend enough, even though the credit cards won’t be back to zero until June. Some of the “Did I do enough?” recedes into darker regions of our consciousness. It’s too late, so we have to try to let it go. Parents too have anxiety about balancing the numbers of presents for each child. Were they equal, or did we show favoritism? My parents agonized about it every year – particularly my father, who didn’t do any shopping except for my mother. My secretary, one hilarious year, had bought one daughter a set of tires for her car. Did that count as one gift or four? We have an only child, so balancing wasn’t an issue so much a deficiency issue: “do we have enough” changed to “holy crap – look at all the stuff she’s getting” after everything is dragged out of hiding. The Head Shopper does it all online now, so we don’t see the piles collectively until the wrapping starts. It’s difficult to send anything back, giving as a reason to retailers for returning items, “We’re so sorry – we just had too much this year. Do you mind restocking these?” That and the fact that many of Herself’s purchases come from China or third world countries, which don’t have friendly return policies. Children usually focus single-mindedly on the holidays themselves, not understanding that adults have holiday preparation on top of everyday living – jobs, meals, washing clothes, schedules.
We’re now into the retirement phase of life, when Christmas becomes a pleasant diversion. We can go to the stores during the day (with permission from the Pandemic Police) or shop online at reasonable times. In fact this year, nothing was bought “at the store”. No shopping at 10 PM, when the kids are asleep. Prime shopping for Her Ladyship is just before lunch, unless she’s into “Price Is Right”. Then, it can be moved up. I don’t even go to the grocery store (technically, I’m not allowed – it’s forbidden by decree and the Gods of Instacart). Not even trips to Walmart, as The Daughter describes it, one of my “happy places”. We decorate at our leisure. In fact, each year we tend to scale back the house decorations to special items, special gifts, It’s all about choices and living in the moment. There are boxes of tree ornaments in the basement that we haven’t used in years because, well, honestly, we have enough to decorate the woods behind the house. I didn’t put up the outside lights either because we had major snow that came early in December and caught me by surprise. There’s a small window of opportunity for setting up outside lights – too early and they step on Thanksgiving’s toes – too late and the heck with it. Also, I don’t like running electrical cables across piles of snow. In truth, I don’t fully trust outside electricity. Another disappointment for The Daughter, who still is obsessing about the lilac bush lighting incident of ’88, about which I’m sure you’ve read in previous writings.
The house now returns to its fairly peaceful self. I get my couch back, for example. We return, as the broadcast networks say, to our “normal programming”. We tend to watch our television shows on their duly appointed nights. The occasional DVR, but mostly what’s on at that moment. The Daughter watches virtually nothing in real time except for award shows. The Emmys, the Oscars, the Golden Globes – that’s pretty much it for her. Everything else is in electronic deep storage.
I’ve finished taking the tree down, and the house decorations are gone too. Some folks like to keep them up well into the new year, and the more persistent ones until Valentine’s Day. Our neighbors still are lighting their outdoor lights – why, I have no idea. For us, the sooner they’re safely away, the sooner the transition to normality is complete. Here again, is New Year’s Day too soon, and is the following weekend too late? Then, if New Year’s Day is on a weekend, we’re totally flummoxed. What happens to uneaten Christmas cookies? (Yes, you’re right – that never happens.). Oh, God. I ate all the Christmas cookies, and the fruitcake, and the plum pudding. Is the eggnog past its expiration date? (Throw a little alcohol into it and that will kill the germs.) The president has contributed his bit to post-holiday anxiety by continuing to send his teams of legal misfits into the field to contest an election decided months ago. Just what we needed, a bit more chaos adding to pandemic inflation.
As we ride off into a new page of the calendar, actually a whole new calendar, making resolutions we probably won’t keep, let’s all remember to “make the New Year bright” and put the anxieties and disappointments of the holidays behind us. God rest us, merry Gentle People. I think I’ll take a nap.
I'm Thinking...No! 