trying to be happy

I was in Wally World a couple of nights ago. Yes, the whole raison d'etre of this blog originally was to protest WM's corporatization of America. Well that was then, and this is now. I was far to emotionally and financially stretched that night to wander around at five different stores looking for the handful of items I needed. And I was in no mood to deal with what passes as driving skills in the commercial areas of our town. No indeed.

Anyway, I was in the grocery section and ran into a woman I know only casually--I've talked to her at several events I've been to recently. Honestly, I don't even know her name, but we recognize each other. I greeted her with "How are you?" and her response was, "Trying to find a reason to be happy." I laughed, because she said it in a sarcastic sort of way, but my retort back to her was to tell her how damn grumpy I felt just walking into the store, and that I had realized as I walked through the parking lot that I must look like hell on wheels, because I didn't want to be there, but it was the most efficient place to go to get the things I needed. The woman, and her husband, both laughed at this and said that just walking INTO WM can make the happiest of people grumpy.

But I knew the point of our conversation wasn't WM -- although it is a miserable place on a Saturday night in mid-December. The point was unspoken. The point was that we were both fed up with the holidays. There is so much emphasis each year on making a perfect holiday for your family. To have the perfectly decorated tree, and most welcoming house in the neighborhood. To find the perfect gift for your children's schoolteacher, piano teacher, and dance teacher. To attend all the holiday events at your children's school, and after-school activities...and yet still have time to wrap your presents in a way that implies creativity and a great deal of thoughtfulness. Those of us who cannot wrangle a length of 1 1/2" wired ribbon into the perfect huge bow for our presents are clearly not trying hard enough, and if you resort to using pre-made bows, well, you don't care WHAT people think, do you?

Now on top of all this you are supposed to have a stocked refrigerator and pantry in the event that friends stop by for holiday cheer. Great idea, but no one does that anymore because everyone is too damn busy out buying food to stock their pantries for unexpected guests and wrestling with wired ribbon to have time to just casually drop by a friend's house.

So yes, I am grumpy, and I am just looking for a reason to try to be happy. It is hard to see the forest for the pine trees this time of year, and even though I am so unbelievably blessed with family, friends, and just having food on the table (remember that overstocked pantry?) I am constantly reminded that I'm not measuring up.
Gifts purchased? Mostly.
Gifts wrapped? No.
Gifts wrapped with beautiful bows or creative and elegant touches? Not even.
Cookies made? Yes, but everyone I know other than my children are on diets, so why did I make these things?
Tree decorated? It's a work in progress.
Carols sung?
Bells on bobtail rung?
Snow dashed through?
Halls decked?
Is my holly jolly?
And lastly, have I had myself a merry little Christmas now? No.

With three days to go I'm officially signing off of the holiday merry-go-round. I've ignored my children trying to make a perfect Christmas for them. I've gotten mad that they were out of school this week for an ice storm because it put me three days behind in my preparations, rather than relishing the extra time with them that I crave so much. I have been pissed off at the world, and literally trying to find a reason to be happy in a W.M. on a Saturday night. And apparently I'm not the only one, if my friend is any measure.

There is a reason we celebrate Christmas, and short of talk show hosts arguing over whether we should say "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays" in the advertising for big box stores, the point of the holiday is just missing now. We can't love one another with presents. We can't buy happiness...not even at a W.M. Supercenter.

So starting tomorrow night I'm going to read the real Christmas story to my children. Not the ones with Dasher and Dancer, not the one with the huge freakish snowman, and glowing reindeer noses. Not the one with a Grinch. I'll read them the one about love, and the greatest gift of all. And that's where I'll find happiness.