'Tis The Season

It’s starting to look a lot like Christmas.

No. Not because there is snow on the ground. As of right now there isn’t any -at least by me. No, what I’m talking about is the zombiefied asshole shoppers that seem to gravitate to where ever people are congregating, pawing at wares for sale as if they were fresh meat, fighting over the last morsel of whatever it is they think they want that is still on the shelf as if it were a chicken wing; those lovely festive holiday gatherings with family or friends or coworkers that always seem to end in one of two ways: drunken idiots that end up in fights, or drunken idiots that end up in some kind of compromised situation that they rather forget.

Myself I’m always up for the latter than the former. But I digress.

I was never one for the holiday season that seems to grow longer and longer with each year. Who thought it was a good idea -or okay even- to start putting up Christmas decorations when Halloween costumes are still on the shelves.

Christmas has never been my thing. I was never one to get excited about going over to where it was that we had to go. When I was a kid Christmas Eve was at my stepfather’s parents' house. That or his brother’s. It depended on who did Thanksgiving that year. Remember how I said that gatherings usually ended in one of two ways. That’s right. More times than not those drunken idiot fests usually ended in some kind of argument. Something that almost always carried over into the car for the ride home, and something I always had to listen too while I tried to pretend I was asleep. Those lovely times always made the next day (Christmas) awkward to say the least. My mother and her husband would still be pissed about whatever, so she would take my brother and I to her parents (my grandparents) for the day leaving him behind. The only real time that my stepfather had actually been at his wife’s parents' house for the holiday was when we lived with them. Then he had no choice BUT to be there. (I pretty much grew up at my grandparents (my mother’s parents). My parents were divorced so before she married I either lived with them or -since my mother worked- was where I went after school.) One of the best Christmases I can remember was when my father out of the blue stopped by unannounced in the morning before anyone was really up (except for my grandfather who always got up early and as you can probably tell my father wasn‘t much in the picture after the divorce) and brought me a TV. It was nothing special. Just a little twelve inch black and white. But it was mine and it brought me the freedom to watch whatever I wanted too when I wanted.

As I grew older the less I went to my mother’s in-laws. Opting (with an argument anyway) to either stay home alone or end up with my grandparents. But that soon came to an end as I started dating girls a tad more seriously. Then I found myself at the girlfriend’s house to celebrate with them. Something that I never pictured myself having to do, and was never much into. It wasn’t that I didn’t like them -whatever girl's family it was. It was more that I always thought myself  to be somewhere else. Bar. Beach. Anywhere but were I was ending up. And sometimes that was exactly where I ended up. Usually at some bar. Was it better? I don’t know. Maybe.

But when I got married and had kids that all changed. The Eve was always spent with MY in-laws and their family (which wasn’t bad. They are a fun bunch) and the Day of at my grandparents with my family. These gatherings were and are far less problematic, unlike the days when I was a kid and spending that time with stepfamily. But it never seemed to fail that if we had a goodtime at one place that the other would always suck and be boring.

And now, as my kids are older and we have our own system of doing things for the holidays, I find that old forces and habits want to intercede and try to take over. Like the plans we have should be changed because certain people want to do something for whatever the day (Eve or Day), inviting themselves and the rest of the fam over. And it’s always the same argument: We'll bring things and help. But that’s never the case. It always seems to fall on mine and my wife’s shoulders of cleaning and cooking and shopping, while the rest do the bare minimum. Never helping with the cleaning before or after, and when they bring food it’s just finger food that is never enough and gone it seems in seconds.

Ah, ’Tis The Season.

The season where I’d rather be pretty much anywhere than where the hell I am.

Can't wait for it to be over and done with. Just 371 more days until the next family fun time. Hopefully I can just send a card or phone it in.