Despite the fact that I may have a Santa hat that I typically wear every day once December 1st rolls around (for the past 7 years anyway, this year a coworker reminded me that I didn’t have my hat on until the 8th), I really fucking hate most things about Christmas.
Particularly, it’s all the commercialized crap that I don’t like so much, like the greeting card industry, the frenzy for the hot new toy, the people who make those ugly sweaters and the expectations behind what often feels like forced, uncomfortable revelry. There are all sorts of parties that you’re obligated to attend that are full of food you don’t want to eat, and people you might not want to spend time with, but heaven forbid you appear unfriendly or unsociable by just saying no, so you go. As if that wasn’t enough, people then start throwing around ridiculous sums of money in a holiday pissing contest to try and find each recipient the “perfect gift”. As much as we all enjoy the surprise of unwrapping a good present, 99% of the time nobody has any idea what you like or what you want anyway, so money is essentially wasted. And though it may be the thought that counts, sometimes you just can’t fathom what thought the other person was trying to have in the first place. As was drilled into us at that course I took last month, “people will tell you everything you need to know if you just think to listen” which is a smart mantra t0 keep in mind when hunting for a gift is required. If you still have no clue by the middle of December, perhaps you shouldn’t be buying that person a present at all because you either weren’t listening, or you don’t know them very well. Personally, I think that no gifts are better than bad gifts because then the other person doesn’t have to put on the pretence of liking said gift, which is exhausting all on its own. Ever gotten something you wanted to re-gift as soon as you opened it? Then you probably understand exactly what I’m talking about.
Last night I got to thinking about how my own family hasn’t really had too many holiday traditions to make the whole rigmarole seem worthwhile. As a young child of divorce, all holidays thereafter seemed disjointed and false without my family assembled in one room. In fact, I can’t even remember any that we spent together before everything imploded either, being I was only 6 or 7 when that happened.
My few fond memories of Christmas include the time my stepfather bought my mom that hideous purple leather jacket (and our reaction to it), the annual quibble between my dad and I over the last slice of mincemeat pie, and the Perreault family gift exchange that often devolved into friendly fisticuffs from all of the plotting and stealing that ensued. Beyond that, the separation of our family somewhat dampened celebrations (despite my older sister’s best efforts to keep them going), to the point that it just stopped being a big deal. Spending the holidays with each of my parents became a dichotomous affair. Dinners with mom were always perfect fetes complete with plum puddings, croquembouche-like towers of Godiva truffles and champagne, while those spent with my dad were restrained and quiet, usually consisting of nothing more than a roasted chicken or small honey ham and a box of Stovetop stuffing. For the most part the two versions left me wanting to just pack up and forget the whole event altogether, so while I get that some people love the holidays, they just don’t resonate with me.
To be clear, I don’t hate the holidays; they just don’t mean much to me. More than anything it’s just an excuse for me to find new and wonderful things to bake.
Since they aren’t really that big of a deal to us, I don’t often see my family at this time of year. They’re also so spread out and far away that it’s hard for non-driving me to make it to see them even if I wanted to, unless I book a bunch of time off to accommodate travel. As such, I don’t have most of those experiences that would make it feel like home, like family, like tradition. Growing up poor meant that we couldn’t really afford luxuries like gingerbread houses or icing sugar cookies, but my Dad always tried to have his peanut butter jumbos around and Mamere always sent her mincemeat for pie. Now, wherever I go (usually to see the Everyman’s family), I try to include something that reminds me of how things used to be. But, I also enjoy thumbing my nose at convention, which is why I make things like gingerbread pigs, or as depicted in the photo above, limbless red velvet cookies. The red velvet shortbread recipe I found online tasted atrociously awful, but the sheer enjoyment I got out of shocking people with the dismembered cookies more than made up for any shortfalls in edibility.
Because really, Christmas (or any of the other denominational holidays) does not have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be anything; least of all this frenetic insanity that most people usually make it out to be. If everyone stopped trying to live up to others’ perceived expectations and just spent the time enjoying their family instead, it’d probably be a much better experience for all of those involved.
So this year, perhaps it’s time to take a long, hard look at your planned celebration and dial it back to reality a little bit. Because honestly, we don’t all need to be Martha Stewarts, you know.
Until next time…
