Earlier, I wrote about my lack of Christmas spirit this year. There are several contributing factors, but yesterday I think I figured out what was driving this cheerless horse wagon.
My oldest niece is 11 years old. She's tall, athletic, beautiful, smart - the kind of girl that every father wants, and every father worries about. She's in fifth grade right now, so boys are not quite in the picture...but they're starting to invade the perimeter.
We had our family Christmas this past weekend (we had to have it a week early due to the distance between the families), and after a joyous occasion, everyone was packing up to leave. I was giving out hugs to my nephews, leaving only my niece. I asked her for my hug and she said "No! I don't want to be picked up!"
I persisted, and she went into full freak out mode - shouting "NO! NO!" over and over. It was extremely uncomfortable. I asked why I couldn't give her a hug (and please save your "creepy uncle" jokes - that's not appropriate). She said that she was too big for hugs now, and resumed watching TV.
Too big for hugs? Really? This was the same girl that I used to be able to hold with one hand when she was an infant. She was approximately the size of a burrito from Chipotle. I have changed her diapers (ok, ONE diaper), held her hand, watched her lose teeth, score goals, climb trees, learn to read - and now she's too big for a hug from her favorite uncle.
What really got me going, though, was the similarities between my niece and my 3-year old daughter. They were both tiny when they were born (if my niece was a burrito, then my daughter was a pizza roll). They look strikingly the same at the same ages. My niece learned her ABC's and how to count at the age of 3. My daughter counted to 50 when she was 2.5 years old.
Right now, I'm the king of my daughter's world. When in doubt, go to dad. He fixes everything. He knows everything. I make her laugh. I make her feel safe. She even told me that she's marrying me someday (legal and creepy ramifications aside - I wouldn't mind that in the slightest. Anything to keep her around some more.)
During the opening of presents, my little girl got what she was waiting for - a new baby doll that cries, sleeps, eats from a bottle, etc. I don't have enough words in my vocabulary to describe the look on her face and the sound she made when she opened it - joy + rapture + happiness, combined with a little ecstasy on top. She immediately began taking care of "Mia", and demonstrating some pretty capable child care skills.
I recall about 8 years ago, another little girl getting a doll that she wanted - and seeing a very similar reaction. That little girl is now the niece who won't hug her uncle. Is that's what is going to happen to my daughter? She's going to discover boys, makeup, how lame her parents are, and make friends - and suddenly, I'm on the back burner.
My kids are growing up - that's what is making me sad this holiday season. How many more joyful Christmases do I have left with my kids? How long until she wants to spend Christmas with her new boyfriend who lives six hours away, rather than come home to see her dumpy old dad? How long until she (God help me) has her OWN kids, and can't make it home for the holidays? I want this time to continue forever - and it won't.
A bit of a silver lining - after a few moments yesterday, my niece finally relented and gave her uncle a HUGE bearhug. That made me realize that no matter how old she is, she'll love me. Hopefully my little girl feels the same way.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Christmas Is Coming
It doesn't take much to get me in the Christmas spirit. Throw up some tinsel, let me hear the first few beats of "Christmas Vacation" from the eponymous movie, wrap the Hershey Kisses in red and green foil, and we're golden. I'm ready to ho-ho-ho and go caroling and all that good-natured stuff.
This year - something's off. Maybe it's the new location. Maybe it's the fact that we're not in our real house for the first time. Maybe it's because I won't be at my mom and dad's on Christmas Eve (which usually doesn't bother me). Whatever it is, I'm a little perplexed. For the first time, I've become one of "them".
"Them" are the people that approach Christmas with a shotgun. They see it as a necessary evil, or just another date on the calendar. Them can also be the people who go out of their way to inform you of all their activities and tasks they have done or have to do before December 25th.
"I got the shopping all done, the presents wrapped, the tree up, decorated the entire house with halogen lights, got the kids' Christmas pictures taken, Christmas letter written and sent out, made 18 dozen holiday cookies and cupcakes for the church bake sale - but I still have six holiday parties, two concerts and a so much other stuff to do!"
(Note: this is nearly word-for-word what a lady in the restaurant next me recited to her friend at approximately 92 decibels. I think people in Madagascar know what she's endured this holiday season.)
Usually, I go with the flow. I don't wait until the 24th to buy my presents (not all of them, anyway). I get stuff wrapped - usually I wrap other people's gifts, too - I am using that three weeks as a professional gift-wrapper at J.C. Penny's to my advantage. I put up lights. I put up a tree. I make cookies. I go look at lights. I do the whole scha-bangy-bang. This year was no different - and for once there was some stress. Usually I don't give a rat's ass if something gets done or not.
This year - I can't figure it out. Maybe it's because I don't really want anything for Christmas. Clothes are nice. Money always works. But the really memorable Christmases had that defining moment or gift - this year doesn't really seem to have that yet. I still have to obtain the wife's big gift - maybe that will get my Noel spark lit. I know it's the season of giving - but even that isn't doing it for me. I need Clarence. I need the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Something - because in the words of the King, this is shaping up to be a blue, blue Christmas.
This year - something's off. Maybe it's the new location. Maybe it's the fact that we're not in our real house for the first time. Maybe it's because I won't be at my mom and dad's on Christmas Eve (which usually doesn't bother me). Whatever it is, I'm a little perplexed. For the first time, I've become one of "them".
"Them" are the people that approach Christmas with a shotgun. They see it as a necessary evil, or just another date on the calendar. Them can also be the people who go out of their way to inform you of all their activities and tasks they have done or have to do before December 25th.
"I got the shopping all done, the presents wrapped, the tree up, decorated the entire house with halogen lights, got the kids' Christmas pictures taken, Christmas letter written and sent out, made 18 dozen holiday cookies and cupcakes for the church bake sale - but I still have six holiday parties, two concerts and a so much other stuff to do!"
(Note: this is nearly word-for-word what a lady in the restaurant next me recited to her friend at approximately 92 decibels. I think people in Madagascar know what she's endured this holiday season.)
Usually, I go with the flow. I don't wait until the 24th to buy my presents (not all of them, anyway). I get stuff wrapped - usually I wrap other people's gifts, too - I am using that three weeks as a professional gift-wrapper at J.C. Penny's to my advantage. I put up lights. I put up a tree. I make cookies. I go look at lights. I do the whole scha-bangy-bang. This year was no different - and for once there was some stress. Usually I don't give a rat's ass if something gets done or not.
This year - I can't figure it out. Maybe it's because I don't really want anything for Christmas. Clothes are nice. Money always works. But the really memorable Christmases had that defining moment or gift - this year doesn't really seem to have that yet. I still have to obtain the wife's big gift - maybe that will get my Noel spark lit. I know it's the season of giving - but even that isn't doing it for me. I need Clarence. I need the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Something - because in the words of the King, this is shaping up to be a blue, blue Christmas.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
You're Not That Interesting
I get aggravated easily. I mean EASILY. Yellow lights. Seven questions at a gas pump. My cable company. Everyone is against me.
However, there is one phenomenon that is overtaking my hatred of everything else. It ties directly into my job, which is both good and bad. Good, because my job is pretty boss. Bad because I'm about to jerk the wheel into a goddamn bridge enbankment if this happens again.
I'm speaking to you, ambiguous Facebook poster (almost like a "Real Men of Genius" ad from Bud Light).
You know who they are. Worse, you may know who YOU are. The ones who post cryptic, dooming, damning posts on Facebook for the hope and desire that their 371 friends that they have hardly seen since high school will rush to their side with cyber support.
For instance:
"WHY ME?!?!?!?!"
(Note: if you use all caps and/or the question mark/exclamation point combo, you're a tool. Your cry for help is about to go unheeded.)
Or something like this:
"One step forward, 10 steps back - just another day in my life."
Think of it this way - you're four feet away from a Wile E. Coyote type cliff. You take one step forward, then 10 steps back. You just saved your life. Congratulations. Now please excuse me while I unfriend you. Tool.
My personal favorite are the ones who pine for love on their statuses. They are also the ones who change their profile to "in a relationship" with the poor munch who they just met at Olive Garden. Hell, they may not be out of the parking lot, and she's announcing to everyone they are engaged to be engaged. Let me tell you something, sweetie - he's going to parade you to a very select group of friends to determine if you're:
A.) Hot enough
B.) Not crazy
However, there is one phenomenon that is overtaking my hatred of everything else. It ties directly into my job, which is both good and bad. Good, because my job is pretty boss. Bad because I'm about to jerk the wheel into a goddamn bridge enbankment if this happens again.
I'm speaking to you, ambiguous Facebook poster (almost like a "Real Men of Genius" ad from Bud Light).
You know who they are. Worse, you may know who YOU are. The ones who post cryptic, dooming, damning posts on Facebook for the hope and desire that their 371 friends that they have hardly seen since high school will rush to their side with cyber support.
For instance:
"WHY ME?!?!?!?!"
(Note: if you use all caps and/or the question mark/exclamation point combo, you're a tool. Your cry for help is about to go unheeded.)
Or something like this:
"One step forward, 10 steps back - just another day in my life."
Think of it this way - you're four feet away from a Wile E. Coyote type cliff. You take one step forward, then 10 steps back. You just saved your life. Congratulations. Now please excuse me while I unfriend you. Tool.
My personal favorite are the ones who pine for love on their statuses. They are also the ones who change their profile to "in a relationship" with the poor munch who they just met at Olive Garden. Hell, they may not be out of the parking lot, and she's announcing to everyone they are engaged to be engaged. Let me tell you something, sweetie - he's going to parade you to a very select group of friends to determine if you're:
A.) Hot enough
B.) Not crazy
We can live with you not being "A". If you're "B" - well, sorry. You have a long future of Hagen-Daas and petting your 16 kitties on Friday nights ahead of you.
So - here's the thing. Try to not be psycho for a second before you post something next time. Think about anyone who would TRULY care about your URL cry for help. Does it make you look desperate? Easy? Trashy? All of the above? By all means, go ahead. Include some profile pics of you making the dumb ass "duck face" while you're at it. Just know - we're all laughing at you.
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